My Wives Of Simulation

Chapter 23: Morgan's Shock

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"Morgan, the magic within you is steeped in darkness—this is no longer something that words alone can dismiss."

King Uther's tone was firm, but his words revealed a lack of wisdom. How could this befit a king?

Let alone a father.

Lacking the dignity of a ruler, it was no wonder he had so easily lost to his brother, Vortigern. If not for Uther's defense of the British Isles' mystical power, Camelot would have long been annexed by Londinium.

Yet now, burdened by the relentless pressure from ministers and knights, King Uther made his decision. To consolidate his authority, he resolved to abandon Morgan.

After all, she was just a daughter. She mattered little to him.

As long as the royal seer remained, his greater plan could still be realized.

To Uther, Morgan was not merely his daughter—she was Camelot's daughter. If the country demanded her sacrifice, it was only natural.

With this in mind, Uther saw no need to offer further explanation to Morgan.

---

"Father?"

On the high throne, King Uther's cold gaze pierced through the room. In that moment, Morgan realized her fate.

She had been cast aside.

A bitter smile spread across her lips as she understood the truth: all her efforts over the years had been nothing more than a cruel joke.

"Morgan, concerning the darkness within you, I've already found a solution."

Uther's tone was calculated, devoid of warmth.

"You will be sent to the City of Glory, just beyond Camelot's borders. I believe the King of Glory can purge the darkness from your body."

Uther's eyes glinted as he mentioned the name. This so-called "King of Glory," Elric, had become the talk of Britain. Not long ago, he had been a minor figure. How long had it been? A year? Perhaps two?

It was baffling. How could someone rise to prominence so swiftly? And to bear the name Pendragon—could he be from a distant branch of the clan?

In Britain, though familial ties were not as convoluted as those of the Roman Empire, it was not unusual for the Pendragon lineage, as a royal family, to have numerous descendants scattered across the land.

Uther pondered briefly which branch Reinhard might hail from, but his mind quickly returned to the matter at hand. A new neighbor of such renown was worth befriending.

After all, his primary enemy was still Vortigern. Before challenging his brother, Uther needed to rally every ally he could muster.

"Morgan, the King of Glory resides near Camelot. I'm certain he will be eager to assist you. Once the darkness within you is gone, you may return."

Seeing the disappointment cloud Morgan's face, Uther felt a flicker of pity. Yet, he suppressed it, locking it away in favor of his ambitions.

To defeat Vortigern. To secure the Pendragon dynasty's glory. These sacrifices were necessary.

Surely, his daughter would come to understand his painstaking efforts in time. Yes, she would understand.

---

"Go to the City of Glory?"

Morgan's voice trembled with incredulity as she stared at her father. Her cold, piercing eyes swept across the gathered ministers and knights.

Their gazes faltered under the weight of her power. Unconsciously, they shrank back, unable to meet her eyes.

Is it this group of cowards?

This group of spineless fools that made you, father, give up on me?

And now you want me to leave Camelot?

The realization of her unjust treatment fueled a fire within her. Morgan's lips curved into a sharp smile as she began to laugh.

"Hahahaha... hahahaha..."

Morgan's laughter was wanton, arrogant, and tyrannical, echoing through the chamber as though mocking everyone present. Her piercing gaze locked onto King Uther, whose expression flickered with surprise.

With a smirk tugging at her lips, Morgan gave her answer.

"Of course, I will go to City of Glory, Father."

Her voice carried a tone of feigned compliance, laced with an undertone of sharp resolve.

"Don't worry. I will watch over you carefully from the City of Glory in the days to come."

Carefully. Very carefully.

I will watch you, my dear father, as you destroy Camelot with your own hands and turn this kingdom to ashes.

---

This was Morgan Le Fay's choice.

---

Under the watchful eyes of many, she was escorted to the City of Glory by a convoy of knights. Although she was nominally traveling as Camelot's princess in an exchange of goodwill, anyone with discernment knew the truth.

This was a "gift" from King Uther to secure the favor of his newly ascendant neighbor, the King of Glory.

Morgan paid little attention to the knights around her, the treasures laden in the convoy, or the glittering gifts of gold and silver. Her thoughts were occupied with what lay ahead.

Damn Camelot. They truly... actually abandoned me.

I wonder, what kind of person is this King of Glory? What of his character? Is he really as handsome and majestic as the rumors say?

And my magic... Although I know it is not truly a curse, will he believe me?

Will I be welcomed into the City of Glory, or will I be cast out?

I only hope he offers me a place to stay. That would be the most ideal outcome.

---

It was 412 AD.

Artoria was yet to be born, and the Knights of the Round Table were still a distant dream. At just seventeen years old, Morgan was a young girl brimming with the ideals and emotions of youth.

Though abandoned by King Uther, the years had not yet worn down her spirit. At this time, she was still naive, hopeful, and filled with curiosity about the world.

As the convoy advanced, her mind wandered to the tales she had heard of the City of Glory and its enigmatic ruler. Her thoughts were a tangle of intrigue and apprehension, the stirrings of a girl's unpredictable heart.

Two days later, her journey came to an end.

---

The convoy arrived at the gates of the City of Glory with a fanfare unlike anything Morgan had imagined.

Boom!

As they approached, grand ceremonial music erupted, and dazzling golden magic fireworks lit up the sky.

Honor guards in resplendent attire raised banners emblazoned with the symbol of glory, welcoming her with solemn reverence.

"Welcome, esteemed guests from Camelot," a knight announced as he stepped forward. His polished demeanor matched the elegance of his surroundings.

"My king has sent me to greet you. I am Slok."

Behind him stood several maids in flowing gowns, their presence clearly intended to attend to Morgan's every need.

"Is this... City of Glory?" Morgan murmured under her breath.

The sight before her was nothing like she had envisioned. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed that such a magnificent city could have risen in just two short years.

The walls towered dozens of meters high, their surfaces gleaming with a faint silver sheen—a clear indication of potent defensive enchantments.

The roads leading to the gates were wide and pristine, and the gates themselves exuded an imposing, unyielding grandeur.

Even the townsfolk gathered nearby were dressed neatly and carried themselves with a dignity utterly foreign to the rest of Britain, a land where mystery was said to be fading.

Morgan was awestruck.

Shaken by this unparalleled spectacle, she wondered what kind of ruler awaited her—a person destined to change the course of her life.

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