"Dress myself up?" Artoria looked at her hands, then at her clothes, with a puzzled expression. "Aren't I already dressed properly? What else do I need to do..."
"Let me ask you," Morgan began, hands on her hips, "in the morning, do you just wash your face with some water and call it a day?"
"How did you know?"
"And after finishing farm work, you just wash your hands and that's it, right?"
"You're spot on! You're amazing!"
Morgan sighed. As expected, her cheap little sister knew nothing. She had no idea how she managed to maintain her current appearance in such a rough environment. A strange sense of superiority welled up in Morgan's heart.
"That won't do, my dear sister. You are now the King of Britain. If you continue to treat yourself like this, the other knights will think you are a careless king."
"Eh?" Morgan's words clearly struck a chord with Artoria. She glanced at Ian, who was still waiting behind her, and started to worry.
"Then, what should I do?" the girl asked nervously. "How can I be worthy of this status?"
This was the attitude Morgan wanted. "Don't worry, I'll teach you. Come with me—"
Ten minutes later, looking at the room with a hole smashed in its door, Artoria felt a little embarrassed. She knew this was Morgan's own room. As for why the door was missing... Artoria glanced at Ian beside her and sighed helplessly.
"This is just terrible. I'll arrange for someone to fix it for you right away—"
"No need," Morgan stopped her. "Anyway... we'll be leaving Camelot for a while. Just leave it, I don't mind."
The moment she finished, the sound of hammering began. Ian had, at some point, walked over to the broken door and started to repair it.
"It won't happen again. Morgan, I promise you."
"..." Artoria was about to ask Ian where he got the repair materials but quickly dismissed the thought. There was no need to know the details of his affairs.
Artoria held back, but Morgan was a little surprised. This was the first time she had met someone like this. As someone who had no hope of inheriting the throne from the beginning, Morgan was not particularly valued by King Uther; he was even somewhat wary of her. Even when she had actively offered her help just now, there was a hint of reservation in Uther's words. Because of this, Morgan had always lived by the creed that other people were demons—though perhaps that was just a reflection of her own life, which had been devoid of support until now. Without being valued, there was naturally no status. If it were anyone else, no one would be fixing this door right now. No, no one would probably even come here in the first place.
"Sister?" Artoria waved a hand cautiously. This finally brought Morgan back from her daze. "What exactly are we going to do?"
"..." Realizing she had been lost in thought, Morgan shook her head and returned to her plan of making Artoria bloom. "It's simple, just follow my lead."
"Okay, I understand."
It had to be said, although she wasn't sincerely trying to teach Artoria how to be more charming, once it came to matters that could reflect one's status, Morgan's attitude instantly became serious. Not to mention, looking at the face in the mirror that bore a slight resemblance to her own, this forsaken child of Britain would also have fairytale-like fantasies. If I were Artoria—If the one who drew Caliburn wasn't her, but me—If...
"Alright," Morgan said with a touch of sadness, applying the final touches of light makeup for Artoria. Looking at the girl in the mirror, who looked like another version of herself with her hair let down, the Princess of Britain said softly, "Take a look. Isn't this much more pleasing to the eye than before?"
"..."
Looking at her new self in the mirror, a visible blush appeared on Artoria's cheeks. Because of her foster father, Ector, she had never considered such things before. Almost subconsciously, Artoria called out, "Ian! Come look—Right now, I..."
Halfway through her sentence, Artoria realized the situation wasn't quite right. Morgan was still here. For a "king," such an intimate gesture would seem completely frivolous, wouldn't it?
However, what Artoria didn't know was that this was exactly the effect Morgan wanted. "Want to confirm? A very rational judgment." Morgan turned, walked to Ian's side, and stopped his still-repairing hands. "Artoria is calling you. The door isn't urgent, you can finish it later."
"..." Ian nodded and walked over to Artoria.
"S-so? How do I look?" The girl's voice was already tinged with shyness. Normally, she wouldn't have such an opportunity to show her softer side to Ian. "Do I look good?"
"..." Ian didn't say a word.
Artoria's heart immediately began to pound with anxiety. "D-do I not look good?" The girl quickly tried to fix her hair, hurriedly wanting to tie it up. But just then, her hand was guided by the boy to a certain place.
"Artoria, what should I do? It's become like this. It can't help but point towards you—"
"Urk—"
Feeling the little Ian in her hand, Artoria's face flushed even redder. She had received his highest praise. But... why at a time like this!
"Well?" Morgan's voice sounded at a very inopportune moment. "Has your knight been even more surprised?"
Eek—She didn't notice?
Artoria cautiously stood up and used all her strength to push the little Ian back down. "Hold it in. Don't you dare turn around," she instructed, then forced a strained smile. "It's amazing! Thank you, sister!"
"Mmm, I knew it—" Morgan wore a triumphant smile. She knew she couldn't lose in matters like this. However, this was only the first step of her plan. Since Artoria had now realized the significance of doing this, it was time to take it a step further.
The princess walked towards a certain place. It was her wardrobe.
Swish—
The wardrobe opened. Inside were numerous women's clothes, all belonging to Morgan.
"Artoria, choose a few outfits to wear for the journey—consider it a gift from me."
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