Blue-Eyes White Dragon: Adopted by the King of Knights [29]

Bluey and Wenna continued exchanging information about the Red Dragon King.

They weren’t quiet about it, not in the least. They spoke loudly, right in front of the third person present, as if this weren’t the kind of world-shaking secret that could decide the fate of an entire island—just casual gossip for after-dinner conversation.

But Morgan couldn’t help getting drawn in.

She swore she hadn’t meant to listen to whatever those two were saying. Ingredients on a butcher’s block didn’t need to know whether they were destined for the stewpot or the roasting pan, and she didn’t care to know whether her fate would be steamed or braised.

And yet—

She’s the second Red Dragon.

…Huh? Second?

Then who’s the first? Father?

She looks a lot like that younger girl with the ahoge.

Ahoge girl? Who?

Sounds kind of cute, actually.

They’re sisters—twins born of the Red Dragon. One holds its ‘authority,’ the other its ‘power’.

…???

Sisters? Twins? Authority and power—what are they even talking about? Why doesn’t any of this make sense?

The exiled princess, full of questions, slowly opened her eyes.

Gossip, after all, was part of human nature. Even someone prepared to die couldn’t completely ignore a juicy story—especially one that, apparently, directly involved her. From the way that white dragon was talking, it sounded suspiciously like her father had a secret daughter out there somewhere… and even intended for that girl to inherit the throne of Camelot?

“No, you’re mistaken.”

Phew— “I knew it! There’s no way Father would have some secret love child.”

“No, what I mean is—it’s not ‘planned.’ That ‘love child’ has already inherited the throne of Camelot. She is the Red Dragon King now.”

“!!!”

“Morgan doesn’t even know about Artoria?”

Wenna was genuinely surprised.

After all, “Artoria Pendragon makes a covenant with the gods and becomes the chosen Sacred King” had become the hottest news on the entire island. You couldn’t step into a tavern without someone singing about it. Even random kids in the streets—sticks in hand, pretending to be knights—could chant the lines “I forge a covenant with you, to build an ideal kingdom.”

And Morgan—this woman who had spent ten years in the shadows building power, who even had her own secret organization, the Dark Madonna—somehow hadn’t heard?

“I-I don’t really go out much.”

Faced with the pressure radiating off both dragon and girl, even the proud Red Dragon Princess seemed to falter, averting her gaze slightly.

In truth, “don’t go out much” was putting it mildly. She never left at all.

Her identity was sensitive. As King Uther’s publicly acknowledged heir, she’d always been the target of “benevolent attention” from the other Britannic lords—at least, until Artoria emerged.

Everyone knew that if they married her, they’d gain a legitimate claim to the Red Dragon’s mantle—and maybe even the entire island.

So Morgan stayed hidden, as much as humanly possible.

As for her so-called Dark Madonna…

Let’s put it this way: Wenna was already faking it by calling herself a “magus”—she couldn’t cast a single proper spell. At most, she could make her body glow faintly.

And even so, among the members of Dark Madonna, she was more genuine than gold.

At least her body had been strengthened by dragonblood. She could lift a tree that normally took four people to carry. Her soul was blessed by Bluey, making her immune to all illusions and resistant to any curse not cast by a divine-class being.

“Magus? Please. They’re more like a bunch of budget thieves siphoning funds. Trading fake intel for real gold from the exiled princess—and when it came time for real work, they all conveniently played dumb.”

It sounded ridiculous, but considering the reality of this glorious British Isles bureaucracy…

Well, let’s just say: whether ancient or modern, government logic was always the same.

“We can’t investigate everything, right?”

“What if we actually find something? What if the boss tells us to act? How are we supposed to keep collecting salaries while doing absolutely nothing?”

…

Only a few seconds had passed.

But in that span of time, Morgan’s heart was flooded with a storm of emotion.

There was resentment—resentment toward her father, for hiding the truth from her all this time.

There was fury—fury that a bastard daughter had somehow been deemed worthy of inheriting Camelot, when she was the rightful heir in both blood and law.

There was shame—shame that her decade of scheming and quiet preparation now seemed like a joke. Maybe she really didn’t have what it took to lead. Maybe she’d nearly doomed her cause through incompetence.

There was relief—relief that she wasn’t the one burdened with that throne. Relief that her farsighted father had left a true successor behind. Even if she died here, that half-sister she’d never met would still raise the banner of the Red Dragon once more. The name Pendragon would echo through Britannia again.

And at last—when all the resentment, rage, shame, and relief had drained away—what remained in her, the only thing that had ever truly belonged to her, was pride.

“AaaaAAAAHHH!!”

Morgan let out a low, feral roar—one filled with resolve—as she faced the enormous white dragon she could never hope to defeat.

The sound was rough and primal, like a lioness mid-hunt—low-pitched, ragged with breath. It clashed completely with the image of a graceful princess, yet somehow suited her perfectly in this moment.

There was never any such thing as “nobility by birth.” Thrones were forged from strength and blood. The title Red Dragon Princess had never been about being a princess.

It had always been about the Red Dragon.

VMMM—

The magic in the air surged toward Morgan.

She was the island’s acknowledged Mistress of the Land, even if she’d never received a single day of formal magical training. And now, pouring every ounce of her strength into one desperate act, she barely managed to form a glowing orb of mana—no bigger than a basketball.

It wasn’t her limit. She could pull more from the island.

But her fragile human body simply couldn’t contain it.

Still, she threw it.

With the last of her strength, Morgan hurled that tiny sphere of magic straight at the mountain-sized being before her.

“O White Dragon King!”

“I, Morgan le Fay, daughter of Uther—”

“—have come to make my stand!”

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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!