What is flattery?
Lot was finally getting a firsthand demonstration.
Morgan's delicate pink fists lightly hammered his shoulders—not too hard, not too soft—leaving him physically and mentally refreshed.
Especially mentally.
[This, my friends, is what we call domestic supremacy.]
Lot couldn't help but gloat inwardly.
Morgan, still kneading his back, overheard his thoughts and clenched her fists tighter.
You horndog!
You dare flaunt your "domestic supremacy" now?
Just wait until I become ruler of the British Isles. I'll make you massage me every single day.
...Actually, never mind. The horndog isn't my servant.
I'll just pay him back for today and call it even.
With that thought, Morgan delivered two harder punches.
Well, "hard" by her standards.
Though Lot was a fair-skinned, handsome youth, he was also a highly skilled knight. His physique far exceeded ordinary human limits—in a one-on-one fight, he wouldn't lose to Kay.
Morgan's little fists couldn't possibly hurt him.
Hell, even last night, her nails hadn't left much of a mark on his back.
Still, the "heavy blows" made it clear Morgan wasn't in the best mood.
Alright, that's enough.
Actually pissing her off wouldn't be good.
She'd noticed his disapproving expression earlier, and instead of getting angry, she'd swallowed her pride and asked him to share his thoughts.
Time to reciprocate.
"Morgan, you know what? The key to defeating an enemy is exploiting their weaknesses with your strengths. In a head-on fight, Orkney's forces are no match for Vortigern's—and neither am I. So we need to find our strengths and strike where he's vulnerable."
Morgan's eyes lit up at his words.
Hmm, that makes sense.
Note it down, note it down—future quote for Queen Morgan's official quote.
Seeing her reaction, Lot knew she approved. He continued:
"Then tell me, what's the one thing Orkney has in abundance?"
What's abundant here?
Morgan thought for a moment before answering:
"...Fish?"
"Yeah, true. There are plenty of fish. I do enjoy catching them."
Lot nodded sagely.
"But that's not the point. The real advantage is that Orkney is surrounded by sea. Our people are accustomed to fighting on water."
Most islanders here knew how to swim.
"Fighting on water? It's not like we can just flood Vortigern's territory."
Morgan frowned.
Even if they could, Britain would be ruined.
"What are you thinking?"
Lot facepalmed.
"I mean our people are excellent sailors. If we take ships and launch a coastal raid on Vortigern, wouldn't that be easier?"
Deep-sea navigation tech hadn't been unlocked yet, but coastal sailing was perfectly viable.
For Lot's forces, moving along the shoreline would be trivial.
"You mean attacking his army? No, wait—that's not much different from marching through mountains. So you're suggesting we strike elsewhere?"
Though initially confused, Morgan quickly caught on.
Still, inwardly, she was impressed.
Only the horndog could come up with something like this.
Unable to resist, she began massaging Lot's shoulders again—as a reward.
"Exactly. Our army is weaker than Vortigern's, so we'll hit where it hurts."
With the decisive air of a Go player placing the first stone at tengen, Lot slammed his finger onto a spot on the map.
Morgan glanced at it.
Vortigern's heartland.
Besiege Wei to rescue Zhao.
That was Lot's plan.
No ruler could afford to ignore an invasion of their core territory. Even Vortigern couldn't crush Uther while his own lands burned.
The real brilliance, though, was the long coastal assault.
Vortigern would expect attacks by land—but by sea?
Unlikely.
Another advantage: in past wars, Uther had never tried this tactic.
Vortigern wouldn't anticipate it.
By every metric, Lot's plan was superior—far more reliable than Morgan's.
Hearing it laid out, Morgan's eyes shone brighter.
"Mmm, as expected of my horndo—husband."
She barely caught herself before blurting out her mental nickname.
[Husband is fine, but why the 'horndog'? Am I that lewd? I'm a perfectly upright man.]
Lot sulked internally.
Morgan desperately wanted to retort:
You designed all those shameless outfits and begged me to wear them.
And you "invented" so many techniques without even studying.
Horndog, if you're not a natural-born pervert, then what are you?
Since she'd never seen such clothes before, she assumed Lot had created them himself.
So lewd…
But fine—she'd gotten what she wanted.
Indulging him a little wouldn't hurt.
A mix of trepidation and anticipation stirred in her heart.
As they refined the details, Morgan ended up perched on Lot's lap, nestling into his embrace.
His hands had just begun wandering under her clothes when—
Knock knock.
"Who is it?!"
Morgan sprang up, glaring at the door.
Who dares interrupt us now?!
"Your Majesties, it's Kay the Squire and Artoria the Page, here to pledge allegiance."
Kay's voice echoed from outside.
"Ah. Right."
Remembering she'd recruited them, Morgan hastily straightened her clothes. "Enter."
Kay and Artoria stepped in, immediately sensing the lingering irritation in the air.
Unsure what they'd done wrong, they dropped to one knee.
"Kay (Artoria) swears fealty to King Lot. We beg Your Majesties' approval."