Simulator in Type-moon, Starting with becoming Morgan husband!

Chapter 73: Indulgence Under the Moonlight After Victories on the Battlefield

At the gates of Camelot.

Morgan, with a stern expression and complex eyes, looked at Gawain and Gareth, the two who would accompany King Arthur on this expedition.

"Mother, please rest assured!"

Gawain, clad in his dignified knight's armor, grasped the hilt of his sword and solemnly promised his mother:

"I will do everything in my power to protect Gareth!"

"Yes, yes!" Gareth, standing beside Gawain, nodded vigorously.

"Mother, please don't worry! With Brother Gawain here, even if I cause a major disaster, he'll find a way to fix it for me!"

"..."

"Gareth, you really shouldn't think that way. Otherwise, the pressure on me will be immense."

"Eh? Then how about I only cause 'minor disasters'? That way, Brother Gawain won't feel too pressured, right?!"

"..."

Seeing the two siblings getting along so well, Morgan still didn't appear any more at ease.

She spoke coldly:

"Gawain, protecting Gareth is indeed your responsibility as an elder brother."

"But Gareth, not creating trouble for Gawain is also a duty you must fulfill as a younger sister."

"However——"

"More importantly than that, I want you both to do something for me on this journey."

"What is it?"

Gareth blinked her large, sparkling eyes.

"Is it to try and kill as many enemies as possible? Isn't that a given?"

"No." Morgan shook her head.

"What I want you to do is not that."

"Then what is it, Mother?" Sensing something unusual, Gawain asked cautiously.

"It is——"

Morgan's gaze swept across Gawain and Gareth.

"To keep an eye on your father for me. Don't let him get too close to King Arthur."

"Huh?"

Gareth looked confused, not understanding.

"But hasn't Father been appointed as a general by King Arthur? Why would..."

Before she could finish, Gawain swiftly covered her mouth.

"I understand, Mother."

"Umu." Morgan nodded in satisfaction.

"Then I wish you both luck, my children."

The sound of horse hooves echoed.

Gawain and Gareth gradually disappeared into the distance.

"Brother Gawain, why didn't you let me finish my sentence!"

"Because if you did, Mother would have gotten angry again." Gawain, riding his horse, gazed ahead.

"Gareth, in the future, don't carelessly express opinions about matters like this, understand?"

"Yes, I understand." Gareth nodded, still bewildered.

"And also——" Gawain furrowed his brow slightly, as if making some firm resolution.

"Don't concern yourself with the matters between Father and the King. It would only upset Mother."

"Oh... I understand."

[Gawain and Gareth rejoined the marching army.]

[You had no idea what they were just discussing.]

[But you felt that something seemed a bit off.]

Artoria noticed your unease.

"Sir Ian, is something the matter?"

Riding atop her horse, she turned to you, her companion, and asked with concern.

This was an image that felt entirely different when viewed up close versus from afar.

At close range, you could tell it was a question coming from a young girl.

But from a distance, it looked like a king commanding her subordinate.

"Nothing." Ian concealed his emotions.

"I'm fine."

"..."

The girl pondered for a moment before continuing:

"Sir Ian."

"Could it be——"

"You're unhappy that I brought you along on this expedition?"

"That's absolutely not the case." Ian immediately denied it. "As the leader of the Knights of the Round Table, it's only natural that I bear this responsibility."

"As for your orders, I have no objections."

"Really?"

"Truly."

After confirming repeatedly, Artoria finally felt a bit at ease.

She tightened her grip on the reins, her gaze full of emotion.

"Sir Ian, do you still remember this horse?"

"This is Dun Stallion, isn't it?"

"Eh?!" A hint of surprise flickered in Artoria's deep forest-green eyes.

"Sir Ian, you still remember!"

"Isn't that obvious?" Ian smiled faintly. "This is the horse I gave you. Both sentimentally and logically, I should remember it."

Hearing this, the girl's eyes grew even more tender.

Hesitating for a moment, she asked softly:

"Then Sir Ian, can I understand it this way?"

"You——"

"Truly have me in your heart, don't you?"

"..."

Ian only smiled without replying.

But that was enough for Artoria to misunderstand.

A surge of boundless strength welled up within the girl.

She raised Excalibur – the symbol of royal authority – high into the sky.

"Knights of Camelot!"

"March with me!"

"Oooh——!!!"

The king's presence always inspired her knights.

But the knights had no idea who was truly inspiring their king.

[Even when alone with you, she remained a pure and innocent girl, yet Artoria never lost the majesty a king should possess.]

[Though her frame was petite, on the battlefield, she was braver than any knight.]

[She always led the charge, unafraid of injury.]

[She even considered directly shielding you from any danger.]

"Sir Ian, stand behind me."

The young girl, bearing the title of king, firmly gripped calibur, exuding unmatched bravery.

At this moment, no one could doubt her worthiness as the King of Camelot.

"I will protect you!"

"I suddenly feel like you're underestimating me."

Ian drew the longsword at his side.

"Artoria, don't forget that I'm a knight too."

"When it comes to the speed of defeating enemies, I might not lose to you."

"Is that so?"

For once, Artoria's eyes sparkled with a rare sense of competition towards Ian.

"Sir Ian, shall we see who can defeat more enemies?"

"Exactly what I was thinking."

With that agreement, the two charged in opposite directions.

[You and Artoria began a competition known only to the two of you.]

[In the heat of that contest, the morale of the knights under your command soared.]

[The army swept through the battlefield like a storm.]

"Brother Gawain, Father is amazing!" Gareth exclaimed, her tone filled with admiration for Ian.

"Of course." Gawain's pride was unmatched.

"Father is the one who taught me swordsmanship!"

"Gareth, we must ensure we don't tarnish Father's reputation!"

[Talent "Final Honor" has been upgraded to "Final Honor+".]

[Your valor on the battlefield rivaled that of King Arthur.]

[The knights aspired to become a knight like you.]

[Gareth often pounded her chest and proclaimed: "The strongest knight is my father, and I'm his most talented daughter."]

[The knights who didn't know the full truth often revered Gareth – until the story ended with Gawain knocking his sister on the head and explaining the reality to everyone.]

[You and your forces achieved three consecutive victories, extending the borders of Camelot significantly.]

[After the glorious triumph, Artoria led you to a tent within the military camp.]

"Leave us."

"I need to discuss the next strategy with Sir Ian."

Artoria, her armor still stained with blood, ordered the guards.

"And without my command, no one is to enter."

The guards had never doubted King Arthur – and this time was no exception.

"Understood!"

The surroundings immediately became silent.

Before Ian could speak, Artoria stepped closer to him.

The girl in armor stood on her toes and gently placed a kiss on his lips.

It was a kiss tinged with the faint taste of blood, sweet and metallic, damp and warm.

For a long moment.

Artoria reluctantly pulled away from Ian's lips.

"Sir Ian, I've finally had the chance to do this."

"Yes."

Ian softly ruffled Artoria's hair.

"Because before, we had more important things to take care of, didn't we?"

"Yes." Artoria nodded.

"But I still want to say this."

"Sir Ian—"

"Your performance has far exceeded my expectations. Indeed, my choice was not wrong!"

"…"

Ian simply smiled, not responding to Artoria's praise.

He would not let her know the trials he had endured.

And the girl had no intention of probing further.

She raised her hand and gently wiped the bloodstains from his forehead.

"Sir Ian."

"Artoria, what is it?"

"Come to the small forest beside the camp tonight. I'll be waiting for you there."

"…Understood."

[Although uncertain about Artoria's intentions, you decide to comply with her request.]

[While enduring the admiration of the knights, you quietly await the arrival of night.]

[Time passes, and darkness silently cloaks the world.]

[Avoiding the knights' gazes, you venture alone into the small forest.]

[You are absolutely certain that no one else will come to this place.]

It was a small forest.

If someone were determined, the entire area could likely be cleared in just a month or two.

On the forest floor, there were traces of hoofprints.

Ian recognized that someone had ridden a horse here — it had to be Artoria.

At this time of night, riding a horse—what was she planning?

Ian's curiosity did not linger long.

Because, following the trail, he quickly encountered a mesmerizing scene.

Under the bright full moon, Dun Stallion stood still at the heart of the forest.

The silvery light illuminated its meticulously groomed mane, imbuing the horse with an air of nobility, like the aristocrat of equines.

But at this moment, the horse was not the focus of attention.

The true centerpiece was Artoria, sitting astride its back.

Her slender, fair legs seemed to blend seamlessly with Dun Stallion's silvery mane.

Her pure, unblemished body sat gracefully atop the horse, free from the armor of a king and the delicate charm of her white dress.

The moonlight bathed her figure, each contour glimmering like the first snowfall, creating a soft yet strikingly beautiful image akin to a blooming flower.

The young maiden lowered her usually proud head, as though awaiting something, a faint shyness and nervousness in her demeanor.

The sight was so breathtaking that Ian needed a moment to regain his composure before softly calling her name:

"Artoria."

The girl startled slightly, then turned her head, her eyes lighting up with a joy reserved for someone dear.

"Sir Ian, you've finally come."

"Come here, get on the horse."

"…"

Without much hesitation, Ian accepted Artoria's invitation and mounted the horse he had gifted her long ago.

As soon as he settled in, the girl leaned back into his embrace.

She asked softly:

"Sir Ian, does seeing Artoria like this… make you feel uncomfortable?"

"How could I..."

Ian felt the smooth, jade-like skin of the young maiden, his heart stirring with uncontrollable emotions.

"It's just that I didn't expect you to do this."

"If discovered, it would be hard to explain, wouldn't it?"

"Yes." Artoria nodded shyly. "But I trust that Sir Ian would arrive here sooner than anyone else."

"That's why I'm not afraid."

"..."

It wasn't deceit, nor flattery.

Just the pure resolve of a maiden wanting to offer her best to the one she cherished.

Ian didn't know how to respond.

As he pondered, the girl's voice rang out again.

"Sir Ian, you don't need to feel tense."

Artoria held his hand.

"I… just want to show my best self to you."

"I don't ask for anything in return, nor do I need you to take on any burden because of this."

"I just want you to look at me a little more, and that's enough."

"..."

Artoria was as cold as ice to others, but before Ian, she burned with warmth.

Clearly, Ian had only intended to mold her into a puppet he could manipulate, but he realized that she wouldn't mind being his toy at all.

How could he respond to such heartfelt devotion?

Ian lowered his head, wrapping his arms around the young maiden's frame.

"Then perhaps just looking a little more isn't enough, Artoria."

"I think I need to feel it a bit more for myself~."

"Eh—?"

Artoria was slightly startled, but eventually nodded, obediently yielding.

"U umu... I... I think so too."

The maiden's clear voice echoed through the small forest, blending harmoniously with the chirping of nearby birds.

It all began with the hand of a knight, a hand imbued with the essence of dragon cave.

Every tender melody was composed by him, every stroke painted by his hand.

The bubbling brook murmured softly, and gentle tunes resonated beneath the night sky.

Yet, Dun Stallion remained steadfast, exuding the calm and noble demeanor of an exceptional steed.

It understood that it had become the bed for a pair of lovers—yet maintained its characteristic silence. (t/n: poor)

For a steed, the most crucial thing was loyalty to its current rider.

And as for who that rider was, it didn't really matter.

[You and Artoria shared a perfect evening with minimal restraint.]

[Apart from you, none of the knights knew that their King of Knights harbored a fiery maiden's heart.]

[All of it was quietly buried in the scenes of the battlefield.]

[You are the greatest knight of the king, and she is the greatest king of knights.]

[You secured yet another victory on the battlefield.]

[But at this moment, a knight introducing himself as Percival appeared before you.]