A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

 

This was in stark contrast to the smiles I’d been used to.

 

It must mean that the memory haunted him.

 “Semire, as she lay in her sickbed, used to hold my hand and tell me that I could lead the House well without her. Remember that I am an honorable knight, and take care of myself.” 

It reminded me of Nordic’s words at the dinner.

 

At the mention of family honor, Caradoc had listened obediently.

 

‘And to blindly follow just any command?’

 

It was as if the commands instilled in him by nightmares were haunting him by day.

 

If he’d been having the same dreams since he’d been cut down by King Vortigern, well, he had to assume so.

 

Morgana asked cautiously.

 “Did you have any other strange dreams before you were cut by His Majesty’s sword?” 

For the first time, the usually cool-headed man hesitated.

 

Caradoc stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment, then straightened up.

 “I’m a man who’s devoted his life to Britain, even in my later years, so I shouldn’t be speaking of the royal family…” 

Clearly, Caradoc was loyal to Britain.

 

And Morgana didn’t intend to rush him.

 

After all, once he’s recovered, he would be Guinevere’s shield against assassins from Avalon.

 

The table was silent, only the occasional clinking of glasses.

 

After a long moment, Caradoc spoke.

 “But it’s the least I can do for the one who saved me from a long nightmare.” 

His smile was a mixture of emotions.

 

It was a combination of regret and concern for Britain.

 

He nodded lightly to the servant.

 

No other words were spoken, but as if on cue, the maids, and servants drew the curtains on the parlor windows in unison.

 

Only after the doors had been cleared, and a careful check made to make sure no one was around, did Caradoc speak.

 “His Majesty has been anxious, almost obsessively so, ever since the oracle was given.” “Isn’t it a good thing that the oracle says the king of Britain will be born?” “Not if that king is not Lord Vortigern.” 

Morgana was speechless for a moment.

 

His breath caught in his throat as Arthur, who sat quietly beside him, stared.

 

To him, King Vortigern was just a tyrant who had purged the Pendragon family for no reason.

 

Morgana silently reached under the table and grabbed the hem of Arthur’s robe.

 

It was a gesture to hide his emotions.

 

Of course, given Caradoc’s temper, he still thinks King Vortigern was wrong in what happened to the Pendragon family.

 

But we are in Britain. It would do no good to show his feelings.

 

At Morgana’s signal, Arthur clenched his fists under the table and took a deep breath to steady himself.

 

Caradoc was serious, more so than usual after such a heavy topic.

 “Even the apothecary knows what it means when a king dies and a new one is born.” 

Dethronement.

 

In the original story, Arthur pulled the sword and killed King Vortigern.

 

He and Guinevere were on very bad terms from the start.

 

The purge of the Pendragon took place before Guinevere was born.

 

So Arthur took the innocent girl and married her according to the oracle.

 

All was as it should be.

 

Caradoc sipped his tea, obviously annoyed at having to tell such an unfortunate story.

 “Besides, since the Oracle, several kingdoms have sent assassins after him, so he hasn’t gotten much sleep.” 

Morgana coughed briefly, the lump in her throat from the tea.

 

When she continued to cough, Caradoc patted her back with his palm in alarm.

 “My, my, that was too harsh and scary for you, young lady. I was not considerate enough!” 

I’m more afraid of the pat on the back from you than from him!

 

Arthur, watching, quickly put his arm around her back.

 “I’ll do it.” 

If Arthur hadn’t stopped him, her eyes would have popped out of her head.

 

In fact, Caradoc seemed to genuinely believe she’d been patted.

 

He bent his head down and peered into her, his eyes full of concern.

 “Are you all right?” “I’m fine, cough.” “Anyway, since the apothecary has helped my family, tell me what you want. Do you have enough gems?” 

Morgana smiled awkwardly.

 

She knew that the House of Equator had mines, but she had no idea what kind.

 

It wasn’t until the morning that Morgana looked at the box in front of her and realized that the mine Nordic was trying to steal had ruby gemstones.

 

They were more of a watery pink color than the usual brilliant red, and when cut, they looked like pink diamonds.

 

It was no exaggeration to say that she could get all her jewelry for life from here.

 

Caradoc seemed willing to give her more if she asked.

 “It’s all right, I was worried that the mine had fallen into the hands of Nordic. So what happened?” “They’re supposed to sign over their signatures when a knife comes to their throats. If you want to see Nordic executed, I can do it from where I sit. He was very rude.” “No, I’m not curious!” 

Morgana exclaimed quickly, raising his hand to call for the Knight.

 

Caradoc pursed his lips ruefully.

 “The bounty is in the carriage; is this really what you want? Or how about an apothecary, with twenty decent servants?” 

When she hesitated, Cadric urged her on.

 “It’s been over a decade of hard work. If there’s anything else you’d like, feel free to ask.” 

Morgana set her glass down, grimly, and let her true colors show.

 “Then the next time I ask you to help me, will you do so unconditionally?” “Of course, if you ask me, Apothecary, I’ll do it once!” “You are right, father, I am still weak, but I will help in any way I can!” 

And that was that.

 

Morgana smiled, knowing that the Captain of the Royal Knights and the Count Equator would never be lost in Britain.

 “That’s very kind of you to say!”  “Why aren’t they coming, why!” 

Duke Fay waited impatiently for the letter.

 

It had been a while since he had heard that the guild members who were supposedly on their way with Morgana had departed.

 

Even if they had, they should have brought her back already.

 “Is she dead? I wonder if they went to Britain and encountered a demon or something…” 

The note was too clear: the guild members had arrived in Britain.

 

Duke Fay glared at the letter on his desk.

 

For a moment. He paced his office restlessly, chewing on his nails.

 

Some say a certain herb has become so valuable on the bustling streets of Britain.

 

Others say it’s just the arrival of an apothecary of rare genius, but he knows.

 “Morgana, it must be her.” 

She promised me herbs and then ran off, and here I am, walking on thin ice.

 

And now she’s walking around in Britain being treated like an apothecary with the same powers he gave her?

 

If only she had given him the right herbs, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

 

In the midst of his anxiety, there was a sharp, urgent knock on the door.

 “Who’s there!” “A message from the royal family has arrived.” 

Barton barged through the door, handing him a letter bearing the seal of Avalon.

 

He seemed relaxed, given the circumstances.

 “Barton, do you find this situation amusing?” “Well, it’s interesting.” 

It’s not always easy to get a letter from the royal court to the King.

 

Barton shrugged, and with a bow, he handed the letter over.

 

The Duke of Fay, who had grown irritable, couldn’t help but open the letter hastily.

 

「Duke Fay, how long has it been since you promised to send me the herbs, I still haven’t heard from you, so I’m expecting to see them soon.」

 

Duke Fay’s hand trembled as he held the letter.

 

It had already been quite a while.

 

Unfortunately, given that the power was a healing ability, he couldn’t use the excuse that he was sick or weak.

 

A month was all the time in the world to learn the basics of manners, even if he was still holding out on the pretense that he hadn’t yet mastered them.

 

Crumpling up the letter, he ordered Barton.

 “We’ll have to find another way.”