Blue-Eyes White Dragon: Adopted by the King of Knights [57]

Royal Palace, Round Table Hall.

After calming the knights' petty squabbles, the King and her knights took their seats to begin a new round of discussion:

The Holy Grail War.

…Which, honestly, wasn’t much of a discussion at all.

Seven Heroic Spirits summoned to fight one another. Once only two remained, the Grail would appear. The last one standing would win.

That was the gist of the rules.

But by now, no one really cared about the rules.

"Victory? In the Grail War? Who cares."

That was the unspoken consensus shared by every Round Table knight present.

If it were just outsiders involved, perhaps the others might have been tempted to fight seriously for it.

But now—even she, the knight who once sat upon the seat of calamity and yet radiated the purest of light—had been summoned into this age.

With her in the mix, there was no suspense.
No one would challenge her for the Grail, and no one could take it from her.

Everyone knew that.

But at the same time, they also understood—this war wasn’t about the outcome.
It was the process that mattered.

Because seated here… were knights with long-buried grudges.

"Then let’s settle this the proper way—through a righteous duel between knights?"

"Understood, Your Majesty."

"With this sword, I’ll take the head of that disgraceful traitor. I’ll not allow your honor to be sullied."

Gawain spoke with humility befitting a knight of the Round— but his eyes never once left Lancelot.

What infuriated him more than anything was that Lancelot never even looked back.

The former First Knight of the Round sat in silence, seeming lost in thought the moment he returned to this land—once a place of both glory and guilt.

No one asked what was on his mind. They already knew.

Guinevere.
That name said it all.

“Umm… maybe calm down a little, brother.”

Gareth and Gaheris, caught between Gawain and Lancelot, tried awkwardly to ease the tension.

A little farther away, Mordred was fanning the flames, gleefully egging them on with things like “Come on, fight already!” and “Guinevere’s watching, y’know!”

The whole mess was enough to make the living knights of this era stare in disbelief.
These are our legendary comrades?

Honestly, the atmosphere was more “blood feud” than “round table.”
One more word, and it looked like someone would draw steel.

Just as things reached a boiling point—

“Your Majesty, I have a request.”

A pale-faced knight with an expression like carved stone stood up from a distant seat, completely ignoring the chaos of his companions.

“In the original history, I served as your secretary—and oversaw matters of justice and discipline.”

“During this brief window in the living world, I’d like to resume that role, to lighten your burden where I can.”

“Also… I’d like to request an audience with the Baroness—no, with Morgan. There are matters I wish to discuss with her.”

The Baroness Morgan.

The moment that cold-faced knight uttered that near-taboo name, the previously rowdy hall went still.

Artoria turned toward the knight sitting quietly in the corner—ostracized by his peers—with a look of surprise in her eyes.

Then her expression softened into something like understanding.

Ah… I see now.

So this man—the one whom all the others pushed to the edges—he was the one who actually held the Round Table together. The one who kept its fractures from breaking.

“Sir Agravain, is it? Of course, I accept.”

“Though… in this country, Morgan is not a ‘Baroness.’”

“She is a highness—a royal.”

“Be mindful how you address her. She’s very sensitive. If you make her angry…”

She smiled playfully.

“…even I won’t be able to save you.”

---

Citadel, Chapel of Light.

After showing Mashu around the city and giving her a taste of its customs and hospitality, Bluey led her back to the sanctuary—built specifically for him—and found Morgan inside, brewing alchemical draughts alone.

Wenna was gone.

After delivering a loud and passionate scolding, Morgan had finally come to terms with the fact that Wenna simply lacked the talent to become a mage.

So she’d sent her out to the rear gardens—with a shovel.

If the brain doesn’t work, better put the body to use!

Since this temple stood at the threshold between the surface and the Reverse Side of the World, it was saturated with purest mystery. Morgan, ever practical, had decided the gardens should become a full-fledged herbal cultivation zone.

“What, bringing me another free laborer already?”

“With all due respect, she doesn’t look very useful—unless she’s just another one of those wide-eyed kids curious about magecraft.”

“If that’s the case, she might as well go hang around that magus of yours. She’s cute enough—maybe he’ll spare a few seconds to show her a parlor trick or two and make her laugh.”

Fresh off her failed attempt at education, Morgan’s already prickly personality had turned even more cutting.

Anyone else—especially a shy little girl—would probably flinch at the sheer venom in her words.

Even one of those bubbly, sunshine-type girls might’ve shrunk back in fear.

But Mashu didn’t.

The timid-looking girl in question met Morgan’s biting words head-on.
Not only did she not flinch—she actually peered at Morgan with genuine curiosity.

This kind of chaotic, beautiful mess of a woman wasn’t unfamiliar to her.

The female researchers in Chaldea, especially after a failed experiment or a month of forced overtime, could look exactly like Morgan did now.

—Actually, some of them looked even worse.

---

This is a fan translation of 综漫：青眼幼龙，被骑士王捡到了 by 歌冰丽月. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!