The sword Joyeuse is indeed an excellent weapon.
However, it is merely a powerful armament.
Against enemies, it is undoubtedly formidable.
But the greatest danger Camelot currently faces is not these external threats.
The ongoing reduction in food production is the most pressing issue troubling Morgan at this moment.
The sword Joyeuse does not possess the ability to increase agricultural yields.
Without food, all her future plans would be nothing but empty dreams.
"The threat posed by Vortigern, entrenched in Wales, still looms over us. The northern lands of Scotland remain in chaos, and our influence cannot even reach the island of Ireland. Not to mention, the Roman Empire on the European mainland could launch an attack on us at any moment. Camelot's situation is far from stable. And now, on top of all this, we must also face a food crisis. It's simply too much."
Morgan spoke these words to Lot.
Seeing his wife's tone tinged with discouragement, Lot gently embraced her and kissed her cheek before saying, "Alright, we'll tackle things one at a time. These crises aren't all attacking us simultaneously. We'll find opportunities to address each one and overcome them step by step."
"You usually have so many ideas and solutions. Why are you so disheartened now?"
Lot lightly patted her head as he spoke.
Feeling his touch, Morgan regained her spirits and muttered to him, "Hey, patting me like that will stunt my growth."
"You're already the mother of little Gawain. Why are you still worried about growing taller?" Hearing her words, Lot knew she had momentarily set aside her worries. He then gestured to compare their heights and said with a wry smile, "Besides, you're already plenty tall. If you grow any taller, the pressure on me will be unbearable."
In this era, due to food scarcity, the average height for men was only around 160 cm slightly better than the far-eastern island nation, but still short. Even among nobles, the average male height was roughly 170 cm, with women being even shorter.
Morgan's younger sister, Artoria, wouldn't be considered short even among other women.
But how tall was Morgan now?
Already over 170 cm.
At the time of their marriage, she was 170 cm, but after childbirth, her pelvis expanded slightly, adding a bit more to her height.
And she loved wearing boots.
This made her appear even taller.
And Lot's height?
Around 185 cm.
At present, their heights matched perfectly.
But if Morgan grew any taller, it would become awkward.
"I'm only nineteen. I can still grow more."
In response to Lot's teasing, Morgan retorted matter-of-factly.
"Fine, then keep growing."
Lot waved his hand dismissively, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"You're so insincere."
Morgan pouted at him.
"Then let me tell you something sincere?"
Lot grinned at her.
"What?"
Morgan looked at him curiously.
"A happy mood contributes to good health, and good health promotes better physical development. So, Morgan, stop worrying about these things for now and do something more enjoyable!"
"Like what?"
"For example, I'm guessing our daughter isn't playing right now. We could go and have some fun ahem, I mean, educate her properly."
Lot made his suggestion with a smirk.
"Mm, alright. Let's go play ahem, educate little Gawain."
The couple exchanged a knowing smile, their expressions relaxing.
However, at this moment, Lot's mind was occupied with other thoughts.
[Good, now that I've cheered up my wife, I'll take care of these problems while she's not paying attention. That way, she'll have less to worry about later. Hah, poor me, always working so hard. I'll have to find a way to get compensation from her later. Hmm, what position should I ask for?]
Hearing Lot's inner monologue, Morgan rolled her eyes discreetly.
She thought to herself:
"This husband of hers actually plans to solve everything behind my back. He clearly doesn't want to do it but insists on doing it for my sake. No, I can't just sit back and let my Lot exhaust himself. I, Morgan, am a prodigy, a wise and brilliant queen. I must rely on my own efforts to accomplish things. How can I depend on others?"
"So, hurry up and think of a solution. I'll be the one to act on it."
With this in mind, Morgan perked up her ears, afraid of missing even a single thought from Lot.
If he came up with a plan, she would listen carefully and carry it out before he could.
Morgan silently swore this to herself.
"Now, raise your arms higher. This way, your downward slash will carry more force..."
In the palace's rear garden, Artoria was diligently instructing little Gawain in swordsmanship.
Her talent was undeniable, but the fundamentals still had to be mastered step by step.
Though Artoria usually behaved like a gluttonous girl, when it came to teaching Gawain swordsmanship, she was utterly serious.
There was not a trace of negligence in her instruction.
She ensured Gawain's technique was flawless.
On one hand, her own perfectionism and Gawain's earnest attitude moved her deeply. On the other, she was acutely aware that she was eating food provided by Gawain's parents. With no battles to fight at the moment, the least she could do was train little Gawain properly lest she be accused of freeloading.
Of course, there was another reason.
Artoria had often used Gawain's name to sneak extra portions in the dining hall.
Naturally, she had to repay the favor.
Otherwise, she wouldn't feel right about it.
"Understood!"
Little Gawain lifted the greatsword its weight far exceeding her own raising it high above her head.
Her teeth clenched, veins faintly visible on her forehead.
She knew Artoria was doing this for her sake, so no matter how exhausting it was, she endured.
Strength.
I want to grow stronger.
Even though I'm small, I want to contribute.
Gawain gritted her teeth, steeling her resolve.
"Ha!"
She swung the sword forward with all her might.
A sharp whoosh cut through the air as the blade struck the ground with a heavy thud.
"Not bad. That form is starting to look proper."
Artoria nodded in satisfaction at Gawain's strike.
Indeed, while her power and precision still needed work, considering Gawain was merely four months old, her current skill would already make the entire island of Britain question their lives.
"Next, we'll move on to the next technique."
Seeing that Gawain still had energy to spare, Artoria prepared to teach her another move.
But before she could begin
The white-haired trickster Merlin appeared beside her.
"Though she seems to have stamina left, learning too much at once will only hinder her mastery."
Merlin stopped Artoria's actions.
"Yes, Master. My mistake."
Artoria nodded sheepishly.
"It's fine. This is your first time teaching. You'll gain experience with time."
Merlin smiled encouragingly at his pupil.
"Hehe..."
Artoria scratched her head awkwardly.
Then, she turned to Merlin and asked, "By the way, Master, why are you here? Weren't you...?"
Didn't Queen Morgan strip most of your authority? Shouldn't you be holed up in brothels right now? What business do you have in the palace?
Not that we'd turn you away, but there's no reason for you to be here!
"Oh, just taking a stroll."
Merlin chuckled, then studied Artoria closely.
"Seems your strength has improved quite a bit recently."
Artoria had undergone Scáthach's brutal training. And unlike a certain husband of hers who abandoned his training to laze around with his wife, child, and fishing hobbies
She had continued practicing diligently, following Scáthach's regimen.
"Yes, it has."
Artoria replied with confidence, her eyes shining with admiration for Lot and Morgan.
Seeing this, Merlin sighed inwardly.
This disciple's personality won't change so easily.
Looks like I'll have to arrange for her to go on a solo adventure.
Only through real trials will she grow into Camelot's true king.
As Merlin pondered, Artoria sensed her master was scheming again.
Can't let him plot like this.
She cleared her throat.
"Master, look it's getting late. The dining hall will be serving food soon. Shouldn't you be leaving?"
Merlin's smile froze.
My own disciple is kicking me out?
Such filial piety.
His gaze shifted to Gawain standing nearby.
This knight's gender might have changed slightly, but her potential remains the same. Maybe I can coax her a bit...?
Just as he was about to speak
Little Gawain quickly backed away.
"Hello. My parents told me that if I ever meet a white-haired man in white robes, I must never talk to him. Otherwise, I might get kidnapped."
Gawain recited this very seriously.
Merlin's face darkened further.
Then, laughter echoed from nearby.
A man and a woman approached, their eyes brimming with amusement as they stared at Merlin.
Merlin met Lot's gaze calmly.
He had, of course, sensed their arrival long ago.
Wait, didn't Lot completely block my Clairvoyance? How could I detect him?
Simple when everything else is clear, a sudden blur in one spot is a dead giveaway.
And in all of Camelot, only Lot could do that.
So Merlin had known all along.
Facing their accusatory stares, Merlin remained unshaken.
"Ah, King Lot, I've come to collect my salary. Surely it's time for this month's payment?"
[Damn this shameless white-haired bastard!]
Lot and Morgan cursed in unison internally.
The audacity of this man.
"Sorry, no salary for now."
Lot patted Merlin's shoulder amiably.
"As you know, Camelot is facing a severe famine. We must all endure hardships together. So I've decreed that officials' wages will now reflect their actual work. Merlin, since you've been slacking off lately no pay."
Merlin's thick skin was no match for Lot's.
Of course, Merlin didn't buy this excuse.
Yes, Camelot's food production has declined.
But that has nothing to do with the treasury.
In fact, after confiscating nobles' assets, the kingdom's wealth has grown. I know you've been raising officials' salaries left and right. Yet when it comes to me nothing?
This is blatant bullying.
But Merlin didn't particularly care.
Fine, I'll just visit fewer brothels and hole up at home for a while.
"In that case, I shall share in the kingdom's struggles. I'll take my leave."
Merlin bowed gracefully and turned to go.
But as he did, his eyes caught the sword at Lot's waist Joyeuse.
His pupils dilated slightly.
Lot noticed his gaze and deliberately adjusted the sword's position.
Once Merlin had departed, Lot turned to Morgan.
"From now on, tell the palace guards not to let Merlin in anymore."
"I find this proposal quite acceptable."
Morgan nodded in approval.
Beside them, Artoria spoke up somewhat helplessly: "Um, shouldn't you refrain from speaking about Master Merlin that way in front of me?"
"Oh, I forgot you were here."
Lot acted as if suddenly realizing her presence.
Then, he said to Artoria, "Why don't you go eat first? We'll stay here and continue our... commentary."
"..."
Artoria didn't know what expression to make.
"By the way, what are you two doing here?" Morgan suddenly asked, as if discovering something new, her eyes fixed on Gawain holding the greatsword.
"I..."
Little Gawain's face flushed red, trying to hide the truth from Morgan.
But Artoria had no intention of covering for her.
Hearing Morgan's question, she answered directly: "Your Majesty, Princess Gawain wishes to learn swordsmanship."
"You want to learn swordsmanship at such a young age?!"
Hearing Artoria's reply, Morgan and Lot exchanged glances, visibly surprised.
Seeing that her secret was thoroughly exposed, little Gawain simply nodded and admitted: "Yes, I want to learn swordsmanship to help Father."
Hearing her daughter's words, Lot's face broke into a gratified, fatherly smile.
Meanwhile, Morgan looked at Gawain and asked pointedly:
"So... no thought for your mother?"
"Of course Mother too!"
Little Gawain's survival instincts kicked in instantly, answering without hesitation.
"Mmm, that's my good girl."
Satisfied, Morgan finally smiled.
Then, looking at little Gawain, she said: "But right now, your father and I can handle everything Britain is facing. Gawain, you don't need to worry about it yet. Your main task is to be a happy child and enjoy playing every day."
[And be played with...]
Lot silently added in his mind.
Morgan shot him a glare.
Must you state the obvious?
Meeting Morgan's gaze, Lot felt utterly wronged.
I only thought it in my mind I didn't actually say it out loud. How does my wife always know?
Is this what they call a shared mind?
Little Gawain, however, resisted her mother's suggestion: "No! I feel I can do more!"
"Alright, when you're older, I'll let you take on more responsibilities. But for now, focus on playing and training."
Seeing that Gawain wouldn't be easily persuaded, Morgan simply picked her up physically removing any chance of resistance.
At the same time, Morgan glanced at Artoria and said: "Also, Sir Artoria, why are you still here? When I mentioned the dining hall earlier, I wasn't lying."
"Ah?!"
The moment food was mentioned, Artoria sprang into action.
"Your Majesty, I shall take my leave then!"
With those words, she dashed toward the dining hall at remarkable speed.
Watching her sprint, Lot mused to himself: [At that speed, she'd never go hungry even in high school.]
High school? What's that?
Morgan filed away another of Lot's strange terms for later.
With Artoria gone, Morgan and Lot sat on a bench with Gawain, enjoying the flowers.
Morgan played with little Gawain in her arms, while Lot lay on the bench, seemingly stargazing.
In reality, he was contemplating their next steps.
[Intensive farming and fishing are essential. Though the impact may be small, we can't afford to neglect them just because they're not immediately effective. The Age of Gods seeks our extinction we must fight back with everything we have.]
Morgan listened carefully, committing each thought to memory.
These measures were non-negotiable.
[Beyond that, resolving the immediate crisis is critical. Most importantly, we need a large stockpile of readily available food to weather this disaster.]
Yes, that was indeed the priority.
But where would they obtain such quantities of grain?
[If we're ruthless and willing to gamble everything we could stake Camelot's fate on an attack against Vortigern to seize his supplies...]
Wait, that's too extreme.
Vortigern's forces were invaders morally, targeting them wasn't an issue.
But could they guarantee victory?
If they lost...
Camelot would be plunged into unimaginable peril.
[Too risky. I'm not some fool who'd gamble a kingdom's survival.]
Hearing this, Morgan sighed in relief.
Thankfully, he wasn't seriously considering it.
Had Lot actually proposed such madness, she wouldn't have known how to react though she suspected she'd have cursed him internally before joining his recklessness anyway.
[We must find a peaceful way to secure food.]
Morgan perked up her ears.
Meanwhile, the little girl in her arms squirmed uncomfortably.
I know you two are soulmates, but must I be treated as an afterthought?
Father spacing out is one thing...
But Mother's hugging me so tightly while focusing entirely on him it hurts!
Waaah...
I don't want to be a child anymore.
Gawain lamented internally.
Lot's planning continued:
[Even neighboring Scotland and Ireland face the same food shortages. Relying on them is impossible. That leaves only one option...]
[France. Only the French lords can supply us.]
Morgan brightened but doubts lingered.
Importing from France makes sense...
But their nobles are no fools.
They'll never trade at a loss.
They'll inflate prices, and our coffers are already stretched thin. We can't possibly spend everything on food can we?
[Those opportunists will try swindling me. But who am I? The most dazzling man in all Britain! They think they can outmaneuver me? Please.]
I suspect the "advantage" they want differs from what you're implying...
Morgan dryly noted.
[Time to orchestrate something grand something that'll leave those French profiteers regretting they ever set foot here.]
Morgan focused intently.
[Their leverage comes from controlling the food supply a seller's market where they dictate prices for outrageous profits. This time, I'll flip it into a buyer's market and take their grain at rock-bottom prices.]
Huh? What?
Morgan blinked, thoroughly lost.
Every word makes sense, yet together, they're incomprehensible.
What's he planning?
Creating a market?
How would that help?
Then, Lot's next thoughts clarified everything.
[...First, spread rumors that Camelot is desperate for food, willing to pay exorbitant prices. Lure French merchants across the channel with promises of easy profit. Once they've all arrived, I'll blockade the port. With their cargo stranded, we'll have them over a barrel and secure vast quantities of cheap grain.]
"..."
Morgan stared blankly for a long moment.
This husband of hers...
How does he devise schemes this devious?
It's...
Brilliant.
Thrilled, Morgan unconsciously tightened her grip on Gawain.
Squeeze.
Gawain stopped struggling.
Despair. I'm in despair.
This world where parents are soulmates and children mere accidents I give up.
[Right, this is the plan. Time to prepare.]
Seeing his resolve, Morgan decided to act first.
Hehe...
Lot, watch me maximize those gains.
She agreed with Lot's approach but believed it could be refined.
Placing Gawain into Lot's arms, she announced:
"Lot, look after Gawain. I just remembered some administrative matters to address."
"Now? You should rest instead."
Lot frowned slightly.
[Is she truly recovered? I diverted her earlier to prevent burnout has she actually regained her energy?]
"Don't worry, I'm perfectly fine now."
With a solution in hand, I'm bursting to implement it.
How could I possibly feel down?
She kissed Lot's cheek, then smothered little Gawain's face with kisses.
Gawain looked utterly defeated.
"Very well."
Seeing Morgan's enthusiasm, Lot relented.
Morgan left Lot and first sought out Artoria.
"Come, accompany me as my guard."
"As you wish."
Next, she brought Artoria to Galahad.
Her plan required Galahad's consent.
"We may need Lancelot's assistance. Would you permit his release?"
Morgan posed the question.
Lot's plan relies on convincing the French but mere rumors might not suffice.
We need someone with unquestionable credibility.
And Lancelot is perfect for that role.
"If it benefits Camelot... then yes, Your Majesty. I agree."
Galahad accepted without hesitation.
After months of imprisonment, his hatred for Lancelot had faded though the sarcasm remained ingrained.
"Good."
Satisfied, Morgan proceeded to Lancelot's cell.
Guided by Galahad, she found Lancelot in a spotlessly clean prison, practicing sword forms clearly still smarting from his defeat.
"Knight Lancelot, you seem quite comfortable."
Morgan teased.
"Why have you come?"
Lancelot ignored the jab, cutting straight to the point.
"Tell me do you wish for freedom?"
Morgan smiled as Lancelot's breathing grew rapid.