63 How to train your Witch (1)

It's been roughly four months since the closure of the Italian campaign and, as expected, things haven't been easy when it comes to Constantinople.

As predicted, Emperor Zeno was not that happy to have a 'Roman Federation' replacing the Western Roman Empire, but he was willing to let it be after what could be considered a stroke of luck. Right as the conflict came to an end and Byzantium was evaluating its cards, Marcian, son of former Western Roman Emperor Anthemius and maternal grandson of Emperor Marcian, tried to overthrow Zeno and claim the empire as his.

The real stroke of luck unfolded as the Pope managed to convince us to act and send part of the combined garrison in the northern border to aid Zeno's claim to the throne. The force managed to disrupt a rally unfolding in the Balkans in favor of Marcian, and give Zeno's troops defending the capital from the main assault of Marcian's army the morale boost and the confidence to hold out for a very long time. The combined detachment rushed south, close to Thessaloniki, and then moved towards the Bosporus Crossing.

The skirmishes that ensued at Gallipoli defanged the revolt of most of its army, sending Marcian in an earlier retreat compared to how historically went. A meeting ensued between the officers of the detachment and the defenders, with Zeno going out of his way to thank us for assisting a 'Roman brother' but making no remark towards the new government in Rome. Which was both a good and bad thing.

Good because it meant we were going to be spared from any issues in the time being, bad because it didn't outright prevent issues from appearing in the next months or years. The saving grace? We managed to get a friend out of Flavius Illus. The important Byzantine general had already started to see the Federation with interest, but with the recent help we offered he was willing to consider giving open support to it. The only thing he requested was for his family to be spared of any intrigue Zeno may throw his way.

And while this may sound odd for us to prefer a general to an Emperor, the truth was that the current politics in Byzantium were far from stable: The Marcian revolt was proof of it, and, if I remembered correctly, the Dowager Empress was causing instability with her dangerous political steps. Illus himself would have rebelled a few years after this rebellion, pushed into revolt by a couple of assassination attempts waged by the woman against him.

The reason why he was so reliable was that he was loyal until put against a sword out of the blue. And if he was given a safety boat out of Mister Zeno's Wild Ride, he would happily jump for it and use his influence to wage a more vicious war against his former Emperor if push came to shove. But for now that didn't happen and Zeno was being a bit more cautious in that regard.

He couldn't fully capitulate to Illus, but he was being extremely wary around him and the possibility of a rebellion. He had the army, he had the reasons to lead a rebellion which would have influenced any mobilization to his side positively, and he was a competent general. From being helpful towards the Eastern Roman Empire, we now had a knife aimed at Zeno's jugular the moment he tried something funny. Still, with the war concluded, the various monarchs and lords went back home and this was supposed to be it.

Peace restored, Rome reforged and order preserved. Ria and I were once again moving back to the British Isles, and she didn't waste any time exploiting the now peaceful trip to further expand the option we both had in our lonesome. It was as intense as one would imagine with how Ria had been coached by Guinevere, and I was quite tempted to say that with each attempt at being close to me was a step closer into potentially messing up her secret identity.

Nonetheless, our return was smooth and devoid of issues tying with our relative closeness. Just two kings 'drinking their nights away'. Nothing unusual, only friendship of the bromance kind for most of the soldiers there, while the rest just saw it as just two kings enjoying peace and nothing more.

It was a bit odd to imagine how 'easy' at times it was to hide something so scandalous by letting it be seen as nothing worthy of concern through our behaviors. We just spent the night together, but the way we were both calm and quite normal-behaved removed any suspicion that we were doing more beyond drinking, talking about silly shit, and then sleeping on the ground.

Once we were back to Britain, we departed with the promise of meeting once more, this time with our wives. I went back to Londinium and one could say that Lucy made a bigger celebration than anyone in the whole city could have done. She was happy, in most part, that 'Rome was back' and, albeit different than any of its previous versions, 'that it was going to last forever'.

I wasn't sure about that last bit as I was still relying on a lot of known monarchs and would have to keep an eye on their successors. Also, technology was mostly restricted when it came to ship-making and tide-changing tools for wars. I didn't have any reason to forward this kind of device beyond borrowing it during wartime. And even then, those would be manned by 'my' men, not theirs.

Mya looked relieved to see me, and she was holding Gabriel in her arms while Mordred and Lyanna kept by her side. Just as I approached them, a certain furred familiar bolted eagerly and tackled me onto the ground, tongue out and instantly setting a couple of wet layers of drool on my face.

"B-Barghest! You little rascal~!"

The big pup looked excited and I gave her some extra ear-scratches and belly rubbing before being finally allowed to approach my wife. It was a tender reunion and one that Mordred and Lyanna 'ruined' by pestering me about questions over the war and then telling me how things have been here back home. Turns out that the infrastructural reforms I had implemented a while ago in Pictland was finally yielding some results as the main road connecting Londinium to Dùn Èideann (Edinburgh) known as the 'Via Britannica' had been finalized and was now allowing an easier within the entire land.

Faster movements meant higher chances of rapid relocation of people trying to look into creating new villages and thus allowing the formation of new settlements to keep up with the population growth that had been rising in the last few years. More food, better healthcare, literacy campaigns and a general lack of crime-related or warlord-related killings. Ria and I actually did it, the British Isles were rising up to be a prominent region within the European Continent.

And I could just imagine at this point how this was going to influence history. Britannia had conquered hegemony over the medieval times and… I hoped my heirs were going to preserve it after my passing. It also didn't help that Felicianus was 'fine' with the possibility that the growing bellies both Scathach and Lucy had started to sport in these months may have a connection with me being the potential father for both. Would the kingdom approve this matter?

I was quick to say yes due to Charlemagne, but I was also worried about how I was supposed to divide the inheritance by my passing. I may not force any of my kids to have a throne to sit on, but I knew a couple of them were going to claim some relevant job for royalty's sake.

As I mused over the limitation of my mortality, I received news that a certain witch had requested my presence in her room. Morgan had something in mind, that much I could tell, and I was sure it wasn't anything to be happy with. She had been quiet for some time, and I had a feeling that jealousy had stirred in her at the sight of a happy family growing this fast.

Soon I was walking to check on her and see what she was up to. Morgan was still reading when I entered her 'prison', yet she glanced at me briefly while I stood at the entrance of the room, nodding as she 'allowed' me to walk inside. There was no major interaction at first, which already told me she was trying to set up an atmosphere for something serious and… something I was going to lament about. Just as predicted after dealing with this woman for a while, I was quickly provided with the proper reason to groan at her.

"I seek a change in our agreement."

"No."

To her credit, the pale lady didn't look that fazed by my immediate rejection. "You didn't even hear my proposal."

"I have known you for long enough to know I will not like it regardless of what counter-deal you may offer."

"That sounds dishonest," Morgan pointed out and I snorted. "What I look to gain from this is something you will

"I will not bed you."

She blushed a bit and scoffed back. "N-Not the current plan in mind, no. What I am seeking is something which would benefit the kingdom as a whole and make your life easier."

"I'm not doing it."

…

"And what if this would allow me to change into a better person?"

"We have been at this for years now, you are not going to change just because I go through a favor."

"I meant in a more radical and metaphysical way," The witch argued, growing impatient with the refusals. "And I believe your friend Altuos will support my point if you present it to him."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Morgan paused for a moment, then sighed. "My nature as a witch is way more complicated than it may appear. While it's true that I am considered a Fae, it would be erroneous to say I am without bounds to avoid my conceptual rule and enforce the rupture of Britain as a whole."

…

"What?" What the hell did I just hear?

"Where Artoria was born the Human King of Albion, do you think for once I was vengeful of my claim out of spite and not something more?"

"Spite can take people to great lengths," I argued and she nodded in agreement.

"True. However, do you think spite alone would have led me to accept being Lot's wife for so long?"

"Yes?"

"Then I'm sorry to disappoint you and tell you that I had another circumstance that forced me into doing this. And it was tied to something my father caused by allowing my birth and then shunning me away," The woman argued. "My birth was the birth of the 'True King' of Albion by concept alone, while Artoria is still a 'Human King' regardless of what that fool Merlin thinks he can try to do against nature itself."

"And your plan is?"

She offered a smug smile, finally realizing I was giving her the chance to speak out and give me something to think about. "In my old home there is a special knife which I made in my youth. It was a chance I didn't take, a hope that, right now, I seek to regard once more for the sake of being allowed an evil-free existence."

"And that is?"

"A knife I made to divide Vivian and me."

…

"You two are connected? How?"

"Vivian was created as a positive representation of mine. I channeled the 'evil' side of me as my role demanded due to usurpation. Even now, bound to you, I claim that crown in her head. Yours… I can't claim that."

That sounded awfully confusing. "Why not? I claimed the kingdom you consider yourself the sole ruler."

"There is a difference between a claimant and a rival ruler," The woman admitted. "Or that's how I can justify it. You stand as the ruler of something different than what my father enforced as Albion. Where our legacy stems from Celtic origins, yours is still Roman by nature. Preservers against Invaders. Traditionalists against Reformers."

...I despise whoever decided to go this deep to try making magic so messy.

"And you think this knight would make you… a good person?"

"It would give me the actual chance to," She replied quickly. "And it would give me the chance to finally court you."

"...That will not happen."

"Love is mysterious, Joseph. I can assure you that I know of ways to make any lover of mine crave bedding me multiple times."

"And you may keep that knowledge to yourself," I flatly halted her flirting. "And this conversation is over."

She looked annoyed, but her blue eyes gleamed with intrigue and amusement as she could tell the seed of doubts she sowed were now going to cause a chain-reaction on what I was to do. In fact, I looked into this matter and… Altuos confirmed this when I sought his advice. He admitted that, if the situation was indeed like that, then Morgan's inability to change could be mostly tied to this flaw within her conceptual existence.

She was meant to be the 'bad side' of a whole thing, with Vivian serving as the 'good side' of that. If they were to split there might be some uncertainty on their individual survival, however both had reasons to be able to outlast any withdrawal effect this rash decision would enforce.

While I wanted to refuse this and not risk it, I was tempted to see how honest she was about it. How that could really highlight something which would 'kill' the old Morgan and allow a new one to be born out of this mess. Plus, after four months of staying back at home, playing with the kids, loving my wife, and tending both Scathach and Lucy with their newest needs, I was craving to go for a walk.

And I had a strong feeling that what I was going to find in the north region was going to make up any worry I had on the matter.

The journey proved to be quite arduous, but nothing of genuine concern as it forced me to just check Dùn Èideann and Pictland as a whole as I had planned months ago.

The city was improving with each day as buildings were being made, products from England were reaching and providing the pseudo-Scots with comfier clothes while allowing them to keep their traditional garb if they so wished, and Christian rites happened together with Druidistic ones. After going through the usual large loving crowd, I was finally allowed to scour north and reach Oakley. Morgan's former castle lay in pure desolation.

No one had occupied it since Lot had died, and thus it was supposedly devoid of any issues. I didn't ask Morgan for any trap, but I found none as I ventured inside. Could it be possible the woman just didn't find any purpose for tricks to stop anyone from snooping about her things? It looked to be the case, perhaps because her servants had been controlled via magic, preventing any spy from accessing her magical knowledge.

Still, the castle was desolate as Lancelot and I began looking more into this matter. The man had been quite eager to come and join me since he had been receiving hundreds of love letters from a single woman in Northern France who wanted his babies. And no, I wasn't being excessive about it- she literally started to press up about potential names for their future children. I may have had to hold my laughter when 'Galahad' was brought up, trying to hold back how, in this version, the lady trying to tie the know with the knight was trying a different but still obsessed approach with her love interest.

I was tempted to just push him to approach and say no, but I wasn't completely sure the woman was going to allow him to leave without using some love potion and do horrible things to him without his consent. I wasn't going to let him be forced to do anything he didn't want regardless of how stringy he was about settling down with someone. There were pretty women around and he was just using his 'knightship' excuse to not handle the awkwardness of speaking with potential romantic interest. Coward, but still my buddy in this sort of stuff.

Our dwelling eventually took a pause as we finally found Morgan's lair and we began to look into where the knife could have been. Morgan provided a description for it before I left, and I knew the detail to keep an eye on was the words 'Gearr' written in its hilt. We split as the room was fairly big, and I saw no point in Lancelot keeping this close to me and wasting twice the time we could do if we divided the chore between us.

As I started to look around, I began looking into some of the papers. Morgan didn't stop just at experimenting direct ways to screw with Ria. Some of the failed projects entertained ways to outright poison the rivers in Camelot while, at the same time, presenting an antidote which would have cleaned the taint. The poison was easy to find, the cure was not. Project was deemed among the first failures reported. The more I looked into the papers, the more I noticed that among the papers there were pieces of… some gray shell. I was perplexed by the sight, but thought of those as ingredients for some magical potion.

And as I was looking more into this matter, I failed to realize something was in the room with us. The pieces of gray shell were the starting hints of that, but I failed to realize it even as the creature within started to observe us, or rather- it began staring at me intensely. I was busy looking as the critter approached silently, head tilting in curiosity while I quietly read some of the documents I was looking into and then- then I read something that made my mind go still.

The gray shell- it was an egg. An egg she created in an effort to create an actual dragon. Morgan couldn't get one by nature, however she could recreate the magical conditions needed to enable one to be formed and then be birthed in an egg. This egg hasn't hatched due to something preventing its completion. Morgan didn't have clues on what had blocked this phenomenon as she had been confident that she did everything right. She did not as I noticed a mistake right as I thought of Scathach's knowledge about runes. She used the 'Death' rune to try and create a finite creature rather than a proper immortal dragon. The reasoning was sound as she knew that the birth of a full dragon would have caused shifts within Britain which would have been more negative for her to handle. Still, the rune used lacked some 'moderation signs' to prevent the concept from being interpreted in a more simplistic way.

And from the way it was engraved into the drawing of the shell she left on her papers, the egg was meant to hatch the moment someone carrying the concept of 'Death' around was to get close enough to it. The egg shells were still warm and wet. As this realization sank in I heard something quietly growl behind me, and I slowly turned to see something mostly black standing on the table behind me. It stood on its hind legs, its body purely dark-colored with soft violet accents here and there. Its pure yellow eyes stared at me with curiosity, almost judging me as I frowned back at it.

Silence reigned for a while, and as I evaluated what to do with this development, the creature seemed to have made its mind and tensed up a bit… before keeping its arms up and gesturing to me to come closer.

"Skree~?" The adorable squeaker 'inquired', and I was tempted to say that it wanted to… be picked up?

I took a step forward, the little drake doing nothing even as I took another. Finally, my hands grasped at its thin waist and I saw its tiny wings flap in excitement as I brought it close to my chest. The dragon purred as soon as it felt the warmth coming from my chest, its claws clumsily latching onto my armor as I tried to reason what happened. It was at that point that I heard a certain knight calling for me.

"Your highness, I found the knife."

I nodded, looking back at Lancelot.

"And I found a little dragon, Lancelot."

The knight's face was as stunned as skeptical… before I actually turned around and showed the little thing now nestled against my chest and purring while getting its head scratched to its heart content. At that point, I had yet to know that the little dragon was more than just that. After all, Morgan wouldn't have created a monster without putting a biological leash in it. In this case, Fae's blood was used as a reagent and…

It meant I was up for a surprise or two once I got back home with our newest 'familiar'.