DISCLAIMER: Cover image by YOHCHI (Twitter: Yohchi_e). It's clearly not mine.

Welcome back, and thank you for the kind words! Here's the next chapter, and the first (technical) smut scene of this story. Yes, it's come so soon... (pun intended!).

The Mailbag is back! As usual, it's edited for both length and clarity.
Torukeru: ...yes, I hate the crossovers I haphazardly put into the original HV-S01: RKR. Er... I think the milk will instantly kill humans like us because we'll get so high on dopamine our hearts and brains will stop. Yes, that milk is exactly what you think: a succubus's. Proto-Merlin (or Lady Avalon, if you prefer) will be in a harem, but I'm actually tackling this harem differently, so technically she's both not in any harem and in many harems at the same time. She's fickle like that.
Jumbodey, JeffersonZacharie101 & Belaire: I've made you wait! For years! Of course, if I don't improve at all in this period, then I should quit writing altogether. Thank you very much! I honesty didn't think there's any reader left like you who does enjoy seeing the process instead of the final result... because I'm exactly of that latter type. I'm tired of seeing 'excuses' about how someone '...is doing this for the first time...', '...a new writer...', etc. because they should hold themselves to a higher standard than that - which I am. (...)
Ultimate Warrior of Zera: Thanks! Unfortunately, I still haven't gotten around to designing a story with Fem!Gil in it apart from a few snapshots of their time together. As I said, there's a side story already available by another writer for you to enjoy. Just personally don't have the time or drive to focus on that right now. (...) Again, thanks a lot.
Guest (1): Yup!
MagiMari: ...you're not actually Merlin, are you...? Hmm... how suspicious.
PureSalty101 & Uday Sra: Cheers!
Mo Eazy: Heh... yeah, me too. I like Fem!Gil a lot. (...) Do you know you're the first constructive critique I receive regarding my smut scenes? Thank you for your advice. I find them very hard to write, which resulted in the shortcomings you pointed out. I should make things... 'cheaper' (if you know what I mean) so it's easier to digest, instead of insisting on the level of detail I apply to other non-sexual scenes. I put a warning at the top of every chapter, don't I? Or is it not visible enough? Should I put tags in? Do tell me your preference.

WARNING: Some M-rated scenes below. Read at your own risk. (Tags: Futanari, Underage, Voyeur)

"Master, what's wrong?" Morgan, wearing her usual fashionable garb, came bounding in with her blonde twintails swaying behind her. "Also, how many times have I told you to clean up?! Geez!"

With a tap of her staff's butt to the ground, the messy living space magically started rearranging itself. Furnitures righted, papers rearranged, strange liquid pools reverted back to where they'd spilled, some stubborn stains evaporated into thin air. The only thing her Magecraft didn't touch was Merlin's bed, chiefly because the white-haired succubus usually slept floating in the air, cushioned just in case only by her usual flower petals.

"Now, now, don't frown all the time, Morgan… You'll age much quicker if you do…" the 'Master' in question lazily replied, sitting almost curled up into a ball while gently levitating in the air, going along with the slightest breezes and moving this way and that, uncaring even if she bumped into the wall or ceiling. "Though perhaps that's your plan, hm…?"

Her student growls, arms crossed over her meagre chest to protect them from Merlin's rude gaze, before her staff, standing upright on its own beside her, began to gather Mana at an outrageous rate to blow up her teacher's residence to pieces. Well, because it's on a tall tower, Morgan's technically only aiming at vaporizing the topmost part, but it's the thought which counted.

"And is that a baby?!" Morgan shrieked, hurriedly cancelling her angry blast and redirecting it into a concentrated thin beam aimed at Merlin's butt, knocking the magus out of her airborne perch and straight into the ceiling. "M-Master… I-I'm disappointed in you! T-To think you'd engage in c-child kidnapping…! We're no longer in the past!"

She was, of course, referring to faeries' penchant for luring attractive and unassuming children to the forest away from their real families, raising them as one of their own for various purposes. Because of the Reverse Side of the World's incredibly dense Mystery and Conceptual Weight, the usually-human child would begin their transformation with amnesia, quickly forgetting their origins, before naturally choosing what their magical specialization would be as a template of their eventual metamorphosis. Once it reached this point, they would irreversibly change race into whatever Phantasmal Species they chose.

Merlin was, in fact, the person responsible for outlawing this practice many decades ago when she became one of its victims. She had no memories of her parents or her birth – merely her status as the Magus of Flowers and a succubus of the highest rank. The only reason she's vaguely aware she had human heritage was the analysis of her own blood, where it was nearly-impossible to eradicate all traces. Some say a demonic Divine Spirit 'blessed' her in the womb of her mother, others insisted the latter had unknowingly either willingly slept, coerced into, or raped by an incubus – not even Merlin knew, and she had little intention at this age to find out.

She was living happily and prosperously, casually researching Thaumaturgy while living off a generous salary from the Pendragon Clan. Since she could eat, sleep, drink, and fuck whenever she wanted, why would she want to change the status quo…?

…even as her face comically flattened against the magically-enchanted roofline of her own tower, and her body slowly sliding down onto the floor like a smashed reptile or rodent.

The commotion made the redheaded baby open his eyes, but Morgan was fast enough to cradle him. One was to shield against any potential remaining collateral from her blast, and the other was long-practiced motion when she had to babysit her little sister Altria, knowing the baby was about to bawl. "Ah, ah, ah! I-It's okay, now… D-Don't cry… Shush… Shush… Shush…" she stammered out with a low voice, realizing she was the loudest one in the room since she entered.

Gently holding the baby – 'H-He's a hefty boy…!' – in her arms, she started to rock him as rhythmically as she could, summoning the memories of her childhood all those years ago.

Normally, she's a calm, level-headed young girl who portrayed herself as someone twice her teacher's maturity. It's especially crucial in this past year, when she's old enough to be allowed complete freedom as she and her sister lived away from Castle Pendragon – any kind of hot-headedness and carelessness was quickly stamped out by reality's harshness. It's a trait she worried of in her sister, who'd yet to shed her youthful naivety and excess of energy.

From her place on the floor, Merlin mumbled, "I thought he's your type, so your esteemed master made the effort to… OW!"

Her shapely butt was summarily kicked precisely where it's most sensitive in the middle, Morgan's expression going back to her earlier scowl. "Shut up!" Her face was mildly red, thinking of this handsome baby when he'd grown up… then the two of them could…

- Cough! Cough! Cough!

Something suddenly appeared in and blocked her throat, so she had to let them out. That's all.

However, contrary to her worries, the baby was very well-behaved. He looked… unusual, but that's exactly what made the two women not raise the slightest eyebrow.

This was Avalon. It took on many forms – Merlin's Marble Phantasm as a representation of both her inhuman heritage and own strength; a Noble Phantasm passed down from one faery champion to another, in the form of an unbreakable and invincible sheathe and defensive Bounded Field; finally, the Reverse Side domain where the last bastion of faeries lived and was still connected with the Outer World. The embodiment of a miracle produced only by the gravest sacrifices, which evolved according to the needs of the resident Phantasmal Species.

While its situation wasn't as dire as more fanatical faeries suggested, the fact its strength was waning was a cause for alarm.

After everything was relatively neat and tidy – and the two women no longer tried to either prank or kill one another – Merlin used the aforementioned fact as the start of her explanation.

"Alaya came to me. Not sure whether the boy's related to it or not; just too good a coincidence not to," the white-haired magus explained. She was 'sitting', in a sense there's no chair underneath her as she's still levitating, but with her legs crossed in front of her mimicking said action. "There… may be a solution available for us in the future, but it's one neither of us would've liked. Or, to be more precise, I don't like it already, and you'll soon agree with me."

Instead of rebuking Merlin straightaway, just like what Morgan had done pretty much the entire time the two knew each other, the younger magus pondered on the subtleties the former inevitably or intentionally revealed through her words.

Just from the name 'Alaya' alone set of alarm bells. People like Merlin and Morgan shouldn't be in its good graces, purely because of their mixed bloodlines. Merlin's association with demons was obvious, but Morgan, too, had a mixture of dragon, fae, and Divine Spirit heritage within her. Even if they remained neutral, Alaya would antagonize them because they didn't contribute to humanity's advancement and prosperity – in fact, doing nothing might be considered as having a hand in humanity's future downfall, however easy for it to self-destruct anyway. Why would it approach Merlin, even doing it so carefully to avoid damaging Avalon? If it descended in its full might, this Reality Marble would've at least half-destroyed, and all which would remain for Morgan to find was her teacher's mangled corpse.

Not that it'd kill Merlin, mind – this woman was harder to kill than prehistoric bugs. It's just a hassle to reconstruct her because the responsibility would've fallen on and resources would've come from Morgan, or this mischievous teacher of hers would've haunted and pranked her for eternity.

Not worth the effort to shirk.

The boy… was a Counter Guardian? But shouldn't they take on the form of natural disasters, or at best, a murky silhouette of condensed power? She couldn't see the visage of a heartless killer in this quietly-blinking, innocent boy whowascutelylookingupatheraaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

"Ahem." Once again, a mysterious lump had magically lodged itself in her throat, requiring emergency expelling.

'…something Master doesn't like at all… Hmm…' She pondered.

To be honest, there's a lot of things Merlin didn't like. Work, for example. Cleaning up after herself, for example. Responsibility, for example. Monotonous daily life, for example. So it's hard to determine what's so serious it could force the esteemed Magus of Flowers to make such a serious face, hidden behind that usual lazy, seductive smile.

"What are its orders?" Morgan concluded. "I assume it's asked nicely enough?"

"Oh, more than that. But as expected of my student, you get me!" She cheerfully praised. "But, to be more precise, it's forcing Equivalent Exchange too strictly for my liking."

"In exchange for the continued prosperity of us faes? What, babysit this boy?" Morgan, her attention already mostly absorbed by indecent thoughts towards the soft, hot thing between her arms, smiled as if wishing her theory to be true.

"Exactly."

"YES!"

- Poof!

Morgan's pale skin instantly boiled red, having just realized her instant reaction was exactly the bait Merlin had laid out in front of her. Before she could justify herself however, the white-haired succubus begun explaining.

"Only in Alaya's term, not ours."

The isles were right in the middle of the Dark Ages. However, this place called 'Britannia' wasn't the illiterate, barbaric community the mainlanders slandered them casually with. Still, to describe its current situation simply was a difficult task, even for someone as learnt and cultured as Merlin, who watched over many local rulers, chieftains, petty kings, Roman governors, and others.

The Roman Empire had fallen. There's no denying that. Every might force was destined to fall, and it just so happened to be the turn of the most powerful empire the world had ever seen till now. Its system had served it well, maintaining discipline, law, and order across vast swathes of land and a variety of cultures throughout generations… yet, under the weight of time and humanity's progress, its integrity was finally breached. Fertile lands with which Rome fed its armies with easily betrayed them and allied with the invading tribes nicknamed 'the barbarians'. Small but concentrated military powers started testing Rome's borders, before taking their pounds of flesh and blood with each visit, weakening the giant beast even further. Spots of corruption became dynasties of incompetence, killing Rome from within.

And, at the edge of this might empire's control, lied a mystical set of islands formerly under its control.

One would assume the Britons were glad to see the Romans out. After all, no matter how good the relationship between Queen Boudica and Emperor Nero was in the past – which was the start of Roman rule in this land – that was centuries ago. By then, the Huns, Ostrogoths, Visigoths, and Carthaginians had troubled the Roman Emperor's seat multiple times. Yes, those three – along many other smaller forces aside – had their share of failures, but their persistence eventually rewarded them when they found the various weakpoints they used to absolutely fracture the whole empire. Because of that, Rome began to treat the lands under its rule with more and more ruthlessness. Anything under the slightest suspicion of rebellion – such as gold, manpower, or grain arriving late to the capital or not at all – was thoroughly suppressed. This increasing tyranny, ironically, fuelled the people's unkind thoughts about central rule, forgetting the advancement to livelihood the Romans had genuinely brought to their cultures all those centuries ago.

However, the moment the last Roman troops left the island, the Britons… grew confused. They chased their supposed dictators away, and yet, the help they received from the Angles and Saxons to do so began to form chains around their necks. Eventually, they realized they just traded one form of servitude for another, even though the Germanic rulers were somewhat laxer than their Roman counterpart. They felt the most strain on their traditional culture, now just outposts along the western parts of the isles, as it endured not just one but two suppression, amalgamation, and eventually extinction as locals, under stress of daily living, began to embrace whatever new belief was popular in hope of the slightest bit of escape and relief.

The result was no more evident than Princess Morgan Pendragon, now Britannia's last druidic leader, when her predecessors and colleagues were numerous in the past. Most, actually, willingly stepped down and resigned under societal pressure, no longer able to keep up with the constant need to play the political game just so their particular brand of belief didn't get slaughtered to the last baby. It's much easier to go with the flow and the decline of Mystery, living as mortals or converting into the Roman – now Norse – pantheons, starting from scratch and gaining strength from those believers.

Scáthach's teachings had long gone extinct. And now, the native faeries were facing the same threat as the Tuatha Dé Danann – forced extinction owing to a lack of believer or practitioner. It's ironic the system built into the British Isles itself to ensure propagation of life above it was killing its precursor with every generation: As the gods blessed the Tuatha Dé Danann, the latter replaced the former when they went dormant. Their descendants, the Milesians, with thicker and thicker human blood in the mix, were hailed as 'heroes'… eventually replacing the former when they went dormant. Now, regular humans with some penchant for Thaumaturgy led the way, with only tombs and bedtime stories remaining for those 'heroes'.

The Age of Gods ended under the might of Queen Gilgamesh and her trusted, unnamed companions, felled under their countless legendary weapons. The Age of Heroes, as current people liked to christen their era with, was now in the same precipice of its own end.

The convenience of paved roads, hot baths, (relatively) egalitarian laws, and advancement in technology slowly seduced local Britons to their Roman conquerors. And now, having had a taste of freedom under the 'aid' of the Anglo-Saxons, their hearts wavered again, shaking their instinctive worship of their own motherland which had given up its life so their ancestors could live above it.

What the Romans chose to ignore was the Thaumaturgical threat of Britannia, now Europe's last bastion of Mystery, because the great magi and warriors of the past saw no need to shed unnecessary blood in fighting to the last man and resist the incoming invasion, and chose to live quietly among this new mix of cultures which was uniquely 'Briton'. An underlying Celtic animism supported the varying level of Christianity Jesus's apostles had spread by piggybacking Rome's own conquest paths. Now, around a century after the first Norse warrior landed on its shores, Scandinavian values and habits were beginning to spread as well.

From the Mythological, the Ulster, the Fianna, and now the Kings'… as glorified as these four cycles were, it's simply reality there's going to be a fifth one. Then the sixth, the seventh… and so on.

So, the question no longer became would Britannia survive… but who'd lead them in this new era?

Ironically, despite the disdain local Phantasmal Species, Divine and Heroic Spirits felt towards the increasing Anglo-Saxon influence and rule, their method to describe their mythology was easier to learn because of their insistence in large-scale pictography, instead of focusing on the ancient letters and numbers the Roman side of the incoming culture prioritized. In a sense, this latest 'invader' has more in common with their native Briton culture than the old Roman 'occupier'.

Obviously, it has its pros and cons. It's much easier to enact Mystery and be closer to the Reverse Side of the World – and eventually, Akasha – through simpler, baser, and 'more barbaric' writing methods. All known magic circles for rituals, Sorcery Traits, and physical enchantments all use the old runic writing system, in contrast to the 'common books' which all use Roman writing. The latter was better for standardized communication because of its abstract simplicity, but traded all of its Thaumaturgical capacity for that. It's only a few centuries later and with its merger with the Church's Sacraments it regained some of its original function, but Roman Latin simply became the vehicle to deliver religious miracles instead of being a Thaumaturgical branch in and of itself.

A comparison could be made to the Anglo-Saxon's Elder Fuþark system. Yes, they worshipped their own pantheon, but that act of divine piety only made up of a small percentage of the combination necessary to form a magical invocation. In fact, most practical Magecraft utilizing this system was, ironically, atheistic, solely focused on daily living and realistic combat instead of religious ceremonies future Church Exorcists technically did whenever they wanted to utilize Magecraft. This development was most prominently displayed by the modifications Anglo-Saxon settlers did to adapt better to live in Britannia, creating the Fuþorc system. House lighting, survival fire-building, cold repellent, pest control, food storage, etc. never invoked any sort of divine protection whatsoever, most likely because their pantheon would've been insulted instead if they had to give such minor blessings multiple times in a day.

This was more in line with the older Celtic and Welsh culture already established in Britannia, enabling cross-usage of each other's Thaumaturgical Foundation. For instance, the famed Tuath Dé Scáthach could draw power from the domain of the Jötunn Skaði, maintaining her influence on Britannia despite lacking any believer or worshipper. Technically, she didn't need any as a ruler of a death realm, but not having priests or champions weakened her to the point of inaction. Similarly, Jörmungandr could extend its influence to these isles because of the existence of Oilliphéist, who's similar in nature to it.

Thus was born the greatest irony: Britannia's Reverse Side was welcoming of the Anglo-Saxon culture, while its Outer World resisted its [Chaos] attribute. Britannia's Reverse Side loathed the destructive effect Rome's waning Thaumaturgical Foundation was enacting on it, while its Outer World secretly missed Rome's day-to-day impact on [Order] on the isles.

Morgan's eyes were filled with these thoughts as she rested at a temporary camp her group had erected when she announced she suddenly had a Divination to do. Of course, that's just an excuse to visit Merlin in Avalon with her astral body, because she sensed the fluctuation of Alaya's intrusion into their world inside that Reality Marble. She might not be its owner, but years of studying under the succubus gave her some measure of detection on whatever's going on in there.

She had to find a solution soon, not just because she was first-in-line to the Pendragon throne, but also the revelation Merlin just told her.

The mix of emotions she's feeling… was predominantly hate. Though, with the presence of Altria, Kay, and Sir Ector, she had to suppress it lest they figured out something was wrong. Fortunately, it was already late at night and the ever-dependable older knight was standing guard facing away from her, with the two younger squires resting. As fine a physical combatant Black Knight Ector was, his magical sense was woefully inadequate, with only his rich experience pushing him above Altria and his son, Kay. Hence, he didn't even realize she'd woken up from her Divination, thinking her sudden hitched breathing was because of the trance she's in.

…though, if that's true, then Morgan had lost control several times when she was unconscious. How embarrassing…

She refrained from clenching her fists together, because if not, then she'd do so with enough strength to self-break every single bone in her hands, disregarding the pain.

Morgan Pendragon was not allowed to be king. Altria Pendragon was.

"…WHY?!"

That was the question she shouted at Merlin when she was told of Alaya's designs… as well as what her teacher and her father had been concocting behind her back.

Only the baby she's holding in her hands back then prevented her from truly attacking Merlin, this time with real killing intent instead of just a jovial poke in the butt. 'Sirius' was his Roman-styled name, because his real name was a touch too foreign for the two women to properly pronounce. The sight of him frowning at their attempts was adorable beyond measure, yes, but they're not about to mangle someone's birth name for convenience's sake, unlike the acceptable custom these days because of Britannia's myriad languages and cultures.

Well, that, and the sight of her teacher's reluctant acceptance. Not just of Alaya's plan, which she'd hate simply because she disliked going along someone else's story, but if Morgan had truly assaulted her. in fact, Merlin looked downright ready if she perished right then and there at the hands of her dearest student, fully knowing Morgan likely had a countermeasure ready for her immortality.

Merlin showed a rare gesture of remorse. "I'm sorry."

"Do you think something like that is enough…?!" She murderously shot back.

However, once the entire plan was fleshed out, Morgan regained some of her calmness, having put Sirius back into his cradle as they spoke. To tell the truth, she was ready to hurl whatever she was holding in her hand at times during their conversation, even if it's him, such was the disappointment and anger she felt at what [Fate] had laid out for her.

She opened her eyes, careful not to let any Od out of her pointed gaze at Altria's tent. The little girl should still be sound asleep, since her routine these days was just training hard and resting even harder, without the discipline necessary to be a proper princess, much less Britannia's ruler.

That's one aspect Morgan had. And she would be passed over in place of this… this thing.

She caught herself and smoothly regulated her Od. As disinterested as Altria was in Magecraft, their comparable Magic Cores granted the younger sibling some supernatural detection powers, especially if it came from Morgan. The older sister felt tremendously guilty at the speed her opinion about Altria changed, knowing the latter was only so sensitive because she loved Morgan so much, wishing to protect her older as best she could even when she was sleeping.

Yet here Morgan was, plotting Altria's murder with just – from the Outer World's perspective – several hours' worth of data transmission, compared to the 10 years they spent together as siblings.

"Sir Ector."

Her soft voice startled the much larger knight. He quickly turned around. "Your Hi- Ahem, Miss Morgan. All is well," he quickly corrected himself, as they were travelling incognito.

Britannia was full of vegetation, varying between thick deciduous forests where the Reverse Side of the World still had several connecting gates, to tall meadows hiding deadly swamps among them, to primordial farmlands patrolled by both local tribal armies and bandits alike. At nights like these, the trees and shrubs were popular choices for camping spots… meaning even in a one-mile radius, there could be several groups who're resting at the same time. A mere whisper of 'Your Highness' would've put everyone on alert, since anyone with that kind of title was worth several villages' worth of gold and provision once their heads were separated from their bodies. Better yet, Morgan was a ravishing young woman with the faeries' magical beauty, meaning they'd earn a lot more from keeping her alive and playing with her.

While she was the most powerful in her group, Sir Ector didn't know that. In his eyes, this charge of his was merely a dabbling student who happened to receive some lessons from the court magus Merlin, capable of defending herself perfectly well with magic and supporting this party, yes, but no more than that. He had seen what Merlin was capable of as she nearly single-handedly raised the Pendragon Clan's prestige to equal other large communities from its nascent days, slaughtering armies en masse to make way for and remove the threats to the burgeoning community.

Certainly, if he knew the two women's real strength, then he wouldn't have bothered following his liege's decision to send his children away from the central political conflict. After all, the safest place was actually by Morgan's side, so why should they be afraid? Besides, in his humble opinion, while it's good for the throne's next-in-line to learn the hardships of common folks' reality, shouldn't she start on learning the intricacies of actually running a kingdom? The Pendragon might be small at this time, but year-by-year, the influx of people arriving was tremendous, meaning by the time of Uther's death in a few decades, it'd be the largest in Britannia since the Romans left.

But as a knight and occasional blacksmith, Ector shouldn't waste his time worrying about his lord's future. He only needed to follow orders and maintain his knightly dignity. Higher ambitions waned along his age, and now he's only focused on raising his son to replace him among the Round Table.

She smoothly answered, "Thank you for your hard work, Sir Ector. I shall take over guard duty."

"How can that be, Miss!" He scolded lightly. "Receiving Divination isn't something easy on the body; I know from experience!" Ector stopped himself from banging his chest to show his confidence, lest he unnecessarily woke up the two younger group members. "I can still keep going!"

"Would you like me to play with your knightly sensibilities? Weren't you the one who taught us about how tightly one's words must be kept?" Morgan patiently smiled, wearing the princess-y mask she's used to don everywhere these days. "We have agreed I shall take the third shift."

The rotund knight grumbled. "How I long for the days when you were still innocent of the world – a day when you still listen to me!"

Morgan giggled, letting their dialogue distract her from her dark thoughts earlier. Yes, while everything's been solved, and what she was promised wasn't just still valid, but infinitely enhanced, it didn't change the fact she disliked what must happen immensely.

Add to that she had to agree with her teacher, and her dislike grew even more.

After a further brief banter, Ector finally agreed to retire for the night. Instead of entering his tent, however, he showed his stubbornness by simply leaning against a tree – his weight bending it dangerously close to snapping in half – and closing his visor. This was actually the rare occasion when he's worn his armour to sleep, since doing so usually dirtied it and reduced rest quality, but they decided to do so since Morgan was incredibly vulnerable for the past few hours when she was forced to remain still. Both Altria and Kay, in fact, were also wearing theirs, however thin and basic they were as squires' armours.

While others would've been too nervous and aware Ector might be spying on them from behind his closed visor, Morgan's magical senses were able to easily discern whether he's truly asleep, notwithstanding the man despised such behaviour even when he'd gain an advantage over his opponents.

Thus, she was left alone with more time to think. And perhaps design how to destroy Altria's life more completely.

- Thump! Thump! Thump!

It's still early in the morning. Britannia was the former northernmost outpost of the Roman Empire, sharing about the same latitude as their current Anglo-Saxon invaders, who obviously had never fallen under Roman rule. It meant its weather was deathly cold at this time of the day regardless of the season, and could at times be dangerously lethal during winter's solstice.

However, nature found a way to adapt, and most animals were already up and running in this time. Even the nocturnal ones were busy rushing back to their day homes, adding to the cacophony one usually associated with 'forest noises'. Because of the vegetation's vastness, however, humans never really paid attention to how actually loud this chorus was, pushing it back in their minds to prevent mental breakdown and physical discomfort. Only seasoned woodsmen and overly-sensitive individuals could either appreciate each and every detail or be tortured by it in every waking moment.

Typically, Altria belonged to the latter. Merlin's modifications on her body since she was still in the womb, along with her and Morgan's tutelage as she grew up, ensured her Magic Cores were developed to the optimum while also passively enhancing her senses. She had too little control to focus on and boost just one – for example, Morgan often enhanced her sense of touch to 'read the ground' for all purposes – and Altria had no desire to learn that kind of Reinforcement. [Mana Burst], the Pendragon Clan's signature specialization of focusing and condensing one's Od into a particular organ or limb, was the one she focused on as a knight.

After all, when her sister became queen, she's going to need a strong bodyguard, no? Morgan wouldn't need a scry who could inform her of the latest happenings in the kingdom's furthest reaches, but a mighty and invincible stone wall, ready to strike down any opponent who could reach close enough… and in the worst case, shield Morgan with one's own body.

This was why she asked Sir Ector to focus his martial training on her constitution, much to the older man's confusion. Even Kay made fun of her for shirking the 'kingly' studies she was forced to undertake alongside her beloved older sister, saying she's wasting the education only a percentile of Britons could receive. Altria knew this well – after all, they'd travelled through slums and underground markets the same way they did across Pendragon's capital city and other metropolis of similar size – so she knew how fortunate a situation she's in… but it's hard to resist the very first personal choice she'd made in her life.

- Thump! Thump! Thump!

Ever since she was born, people around her had told her what to do: "Altria, it'll be good if you can do this." – "Altria, you should be able to do this as someone of your status." – "Altria, you'll do great things in the future! Believe me!"

Merlin even offhandedly commented she's king material. Hah! What a joke! Other than the lack of talent she could clearly feel herself, she's not even in the political position necessary to be one. Morgan was the eldest daughter, and if their father played his cards right, there's no need to relinquish the Pendragon Clan to another via marriage just because he only had daughters. Anyone who married Altria's older sister could simply be appointed king consort, and their descendants could continue the Pendragon line, instead of it having to die in their generation purely because of the sisters' unfortunate gender.

'Besides, my own condition is…' she pondered, as her heart's beats weren't getting any quieter.

- Thump! Thump! Thump!

She hadn't seen Morgan since they changed shifts, with the magus instantly sleeping the moment she laid down on the fur-lined tent floor. Altria could only watch on wistfully, since she had a lot more to say, do, and think than a simple greeting, but seeing her sister's exhaustion, she chose to let it go.

…the thing was, this impure feeling didn't subside – in fact, it's only gotten worse and worse. Perhaps what she's about to do now, in this dark early morning forest, should be the worst she's going to experience.

'W-Why am I s-sneaking in so quietly…?' She questioned herself once she noticed she's not just tiptoeing, but also being overly-careful to not rustle or snap any bush and twig along the way. However, she couldn't shed the nervousness covering her entire skin, and neither could she still her thumping heart in the slightest. It was so loud, in fact, she could've sworn she's awakening beasts left and right.

Fortunately, the season's not too damp, or she would've been miserably wet all over from the moisture Britannia's forest could maintain. Besides, they're not geared for a rainy season, so Altria's actually wearing quite thin casual clothes.

But it's precisely because of her clothes' simple, rugged texture she's having more trouble now, compared to the softer imported silk she at times wore to accompany Morgan to some fancier parties. It was… It was…

It was rubbing against her cock.

- Thump! Thump! Thump!

Kay often complained how uncomfortable it was despite the padding and extra layers he and Altria wore around their crotches, because it itched and scratched everywhere sensitive. It's even more so for the hermaphroditic little squire, since her constitution meant she's far more sensitive to stimulus, leading to a lot of awkward situations in her life.

And yes, this was the source of her inferiority complex regarding her claim to the throne. Who could tolerate a freak leading the people as a king? While this fact was still well under wraps – only Merlin, Morgan, and her long-deceased mother knew of this – Altria had very little confidence this life of secrecy could continue forever. It's going to be revealed sooner or later, so she shouldn't take the limelight away from Morgan and stay quiet at the side, lest her beloved sister would get implicated. Getting a job as a royal guard would've been good enough, since because of this condition, no noble would be willing to marry their descendants to her.

Still, it's not bad to live with it day-to-day, really. Merlin and Morgan had weaved a spell into the skin of her crotch area so most people would only see her as male. Because there's already a natural-born cock there, it's quite a simple thing to do to hide her already-hidden vagina. In fact, it's more difficult to manage the swell of her breasts as she grew older, though she's not yet at the age where she's going to get strange looks if she went about bare-chested.

What Altria hadn't realized yet was her strange hormonal balance. Because of the glamour around her crotch, she could walk into men's private spaces no problem… but the predicted explosion of embarrassment due to her female parts never came. Neither had she ever felt romantic or sexual attraction towards men, which Merlin predicted she should've had… yet. Perhaps her taste was different than most; she hadn't found a person to ignite her womanly parts as of this moment, despite them maturing quicker than her male parts.

Thus, she could live as a boy quite comfortably. The only problem was… her taste in women.

Or, more specifically, her own sister.

- Thump! Thump! Thump!

She knew it was wrong. First of all, they had the same face, almost to the point of being mistaken for twins if not for their years' gap in age. While incest wasn't entirely banned – it's quite common in nobility and royalty, in fact – the influx of Christianity to Britannia meant Altria was at least brought up knowing that's not natural. Her family wasn't a religious bunch, but their belief was closer to Britannia's native animistic religion than Rome's Christianity or the Anglo-Saxon's Nordic mythology. The latter also somewhat allowed incestuous relationship, but the aforementioned facts couldn't calm down the guilt she felt towards her sister at all. Her heart was raging against it – to see someone who was essentially her own mother all these years after their birth mother passed away as a sexual object – but her loins were certainly happy.

Her first memory of Morgan was when she was but a wee child, being lifted up into the air, laughing and flailing, via her sister's Magecraft. In contrast, she had no memory of her mother at all, but from how her father and sister often reminisced sadly about her, it's clear how beloved her mother was in the Pendragon Clan. Still, her childhood was filled solely by her sister, as Uther was busy trying to expand their territory and secure a safe environment for Altria to grow.

However, he had utterly failed in that regard, which resulted in Altria having to leave the castle and live humbly outside because of an oracle made by Merlin. She'd asked her teacher why would she publicly reveal that in the Pendragon court, creating chaos and forcing not just her, but also Morgan, Sir Ector, and Kay to accompany her. Wouldn't it be better if that oracle was uttered in private so Uther could use it for maximum political benefit – say, to leak it deliberately to select few allies or targeted enemies to achieve a certain result? That was the few parts she could still remember from her political studies alongside Morgan, so if such a simple thing was possible, what was Merlin's true aim, then?

Certainly, she's not going to just antagonize her magic teacher for such a step. Everyone could make mistakes, first of all, and Altria wasn't the type of person who'd make a decision without knowing all the details. Besides, Morgan was very close to Merlin, and Altria didn't want to cause troubles for her sister.

When Altria was sick, Morgan was the one staying by her side, carefully serving all her needs. When she was sad, her sister's chest was the place she could safely bury her face into and let everything out without concern of her so-called 'friends' mocking her for it. When she failed at hunting beasts, Morgan was the one who shared her own portion, even feeding her playfully at times, making sure Altria grew as best she could under this condition.

To say her sister was the person Altria loved the most in the world wasn't an exaggeration.

However, as she grew up, that 'love' began to twist into a direction she's ashamed of.

- Thump! Thump! Thump!

It began usually early in the morning. Because of their young age and closeness, Morgan and Altria usually slept together in the same room in Sir Ector's house, as part her squire training. Perhaps due to habit, but Morgan always held Altria face-to-face and hugging her close to her chest like a bolster, as they'd been sleeping together that way since the younger sister was but a toddler.

Then, one day, Altria woke up to a pair of conflicting feelings: an incredibly uncomfortable tightness in her underpants, straining to the point of pain, and an enticing sweet smell emanating from the modest swells right in front of her face. Perhaps the latter had always been there, and that day was the first time Altria grew conscious of it, but it didn't matter to her.

Because, in the next second, her hips twitched. The pain she felt in her loins was akin to an excruciating plug holding back her piss earlier, though noticeably different, and that instant was when she felt this obstacle shooting itself out with tremendous force, launching all the liquid she's holding inside straight into her underwear and almost reaching Morgan.

Altria immediately clamped both palms across her mouth to stifle the upcoming loud moan. Her lower body was trembling uncontrollably with pleasure as the rush of her first climax died down over the next few minutes – the longest minutes in her life – praying to whichever Divine Spirit was listening she didn't wake Morgan up. She didn't dare look up and check on her sister's face, relying on the evenness of her breaths to gauge her sleeping state, as Altria's own face burnt hotter than it's ever been.

She thought she'd wet the bed… with her sister right alongside her! How old was she?! 'H-How can this h-happen…' she despaired at that time.

- Thump! Thump! Thump!

Altria didn't know how she extricated herself from Morgan's embrace without waking her sister up, but she managed it… then rushed out of the tent and ran for about half a mile. Panting and leaning against a tree, she finally regained enough calmness to actually take her pants off and check. On the way, she felt her crotch to be quite sticky, unlike the ultra-wet blotch in her pants she expected… so she wasn't quite surprised when her underpants – and some of her outerwear – was filled with yellowy-white sticky goo, parts of it already drying off against her skin and clothes.

"Altria? Why did you suddenly run…?" Morgan's voice suddenly called from behind her, causing her knees to instantly buckle.

Tears began flooding out of Altria's eyes. "I-I'm sorry… S-Sister, I'm s-sorry… I d-dirtied…"

Morgan titled her head in confusion, before she approached her younger sister, nose sniffing the air all the time, before her eyes settled on the state of Altria's lower half.

Altria couldn't really remember what Morgan explained to her and how she calmed the former down – her sister always had a knack for that – but all was well when Morgan didn't blame her and kept the incident a secret. But as time went by, the questions started to pop in her head: How could Morgan chase her that quickly? Was Morgan awake and aware all this time? What's wrong with her body to the point Morgan sympathized with instead of chastising her?

…did Morgan do it on purpose? 'Does… D-Does she love me the same way…?'

She didn't dare ask the question personally, for fear of rejection.

So, all she did was endure. It grew more and more torturous with time, as Morgan didn't change the way she treated Altria even as they grew older and the former's body began to ripen, forcing Altria's crotch to grew more and more painful with each brush of their hands or the occasional familial hug. Her older sister had taught her a meditative self-hypnosis to calm herself down, and fortunately, Altria had at least enough magical talent to master that despite her general disinterest towards Magecraft lessons held by Merlin. This was related to her social life! How could she wander about with her cock pitching a tent everywhere?!

And, the evilest of all… Altria began to do what she hated: seeing Morgan solely as an object of sexual relief, just like those villains Sir Ector lectured them on when they're learning knightly behaviour and how to respect a woman properly.

But… she couldn't help it. Her older sister was too beautiful, smells too good, felt too soft, and much too innocent to understand her penchant for rubbing their bodies together as a way to express affection… was doing evil things to Altria's psyche. At first, she only needed to meditate once every three days to deal with this problem.

Now? She'd count herself a saint if she could maintain a frequency of thrice a day.

- Step.

As her mind was filled with nothing but pink-coloured thoughts, she unknowingly arrived at her destination. Long practice of this exact manoeuvre had allowed her to travel silently even when distracted… which was a lot of the time, as she constantly imagined the picture she'd long burnt into her mind.

Carefully, oh-so-gently, she pushed her face into one particular bush she'd marked for their current stay in the woods. It's thick enough to conceal her figure entirely, tall enough she didn't have to uncomfortably bend herself low to do this, but with certain sparse spots her eyes could clearly see through.

- Thump! Thump! Thump!

Collecting water source was vital in a survival situation. Thus, Sir Ector had drilled into them the importance of camping near a large enough body of flowing water to maintain a steady, clean supply. Even though Magecraft had made this necessity redundant, he always maintained the what-if, worse-case-scenario attitude of some random, perfectly-normal person without magic or powerful physiques. As such, currently, Altria was sitting behind her favourite bush beside a cold, rushing river.

Her eyes immediately latched onto the completely naked figure of her older sister through the gaps in the bush.

While Magecraft could solve the drinkable water issue, it's still best to physically bathe in a clean, flowing stream instead of using anti-microbial spells to clean oneself. At this time of the day, Sir Ector and Kay were fortunately still sleeping owing to their respective shares of night guard shift, so the only people who's awake were… Altria and Morgan.

'She should think I'm still sleeping, right…?' Altria whispered to herself, as she felt a familiar intense wave of heat travelling down her spine into her cock. 'You're so beautiful, Sister…'

Indeed, despite them having the same face, Altria felt there's no one more attractive. Shining wet golden hair sticking onto her moist body, covering parts of her skin like the finest gold shawls. The petite, feminine face smiling a touch from the bliss of clean water washing off the previous day's fatigue. The ever-growing breasts, proudly sticking out of her otherwise flat torso, with her pink nipples erect due to the cold surroundings. And down below, at that triangular part of her body…

'Ah!'

Altria bit down a surprised yell when her vision was suddenly obscured, fearing she was found out. However, she soon calmed herself when she realized it's just various large globs of water floating about, flying and dancing in the air according to Morgan's will. Her speciality was [Water] – aside from the Pendragon Clan's various Sorcery Traits – and it was child's play to have just the perfectly-pleasurable amount of water to wash her entire body, instead of having to adapt to the river's flow.

Before her consciousness could catch up, Altria had already lowered her pants and held her cock in her hands. It's a small thing, fitting comfortably within her equally-dainty palms, but it's pulsating with a heat intense enough she felt she could burn this bush in front of her to ashes straight away. She had to remove one hand straight away to place it across her mouth, as an uncontrolled moan threatened to escape from her throat, but the remaining one began to stroke her length.

- Schlick… Schlick… Schlick…

Slowly at first… then faster and faster, following the rhythm of Morgan's movements.

In Altria's eyes, every shift of her ever-so-perfect sister's body was an intricate dance, revealing and emphasizing certain parts of her tender flesh for Altria's ravenous eyes. Her long golden hair was first, bunched up into a large, complex, yet loose bun where a sizeable ball of water furiously spun every which way, diligently washing every strand. Morgan lifts both her arms upwards, allowing a thick tentacle of water to wrap and scrub along her stomach, inadvertently emphasizing her breasts' curves and perky nipples. As the water-tentacle moves up to do the same to them, Morgan let out a cute squeal at the freshness travelling across her skin.

- Drip…

Altria felt a trickle of blood coming down her nostrils when she saw Morgan's adorable giggle, her other hand pumping for all its worth. She couldn't feel her legs anymore, as all of her concentration went into her eyes and cock, precum dribbling from its slit.

- Schlick… Schlick… Schlick…

From previous 'sessions' watching her sister bathe, Altria knew what's coming would be even more outrageous, and the only reason she could hold back her orgasm until now. Instead of cumming early, it's much better to wait until the main dish was served…

…and behold, Morgan, having finished scrubbing her upper body clean, manipulated a small cyclone of water upwards from her feet. She bent down a touch, spreading her legs wide so the spiralling torrent could wash both them and her crotch area. But because she also turned around so her pert asscheeks were facing the peeking Altria, the action also gave the little sister a great view of her sister's forbidden areas: her budding asshole and a glimpse of her tight pussy, with nary a hair growing on them.

- Schlick! Schlick! Schlick!

Her sight was somewhat obscured by the water, but it's clear enough. It's impossible to see in this detail, but she imagined the array of erect cuticles covering Morgan's ass and pussy lips due to the cold, each holding droplets of water rolling down her sister's body seductively, forcing Altria's imagination to morph into her extending her tongue and licking off every stray dribble, earning her Morgan's moans…

With each minute movement, she observed those two 'flowers' opening and closing, as if inviting her to touch and caress them, gasping hot breaths out from deep inside Morgan's body. The older sister then turned back around, nearly causing a loud gasp to escape from Altria's covered mouth as Morgan bares her naked front towards her again… only this time Morgan crouched down, spreading her legs open and giving her younger sister a clear view towards her genitals.

A trickle of clear liquid began to shoot out, and Altria couldn't hold back any longer.

- Splurt! Splurt! Splurt!

"Mngh!"

Her cock throbbed, and she screamed into her palm as she ejaculated a thin, feeble stream of semen onto the bush.

Tears began pooling in her eyes from the guilt of figuratively raping her sister's naked figure in her mind, but fortunately, it didn't blind her outright to what's happening right next instant.

Without wiping her cum off, she quickly put her pants back on and turned around, escaping as fast as she dared as quietly as possible.

Just then, in her sight, Morgan tensed. Altria didn't need to wait for her sister's Od exploding out of her body and sent lethal water bullets towards where she was crouching earlier, ripping everything including the trees and earth at that spot. All of this was done even before Morgan was done turning around sharply, glaring back to the now-destroyed bush.

'She didn't see me she didn't see me she didn't see me she didn't see me she didn't see me she didn't see me she didn't see me she didn't see me she didn't see me…!'

Altria's chest felt like it's about to burst open from how hard her heart was thumping against it, repeating that mantra over and over again in her head as she made her way, as silently as ever, into the Pendragon siblings' tent and pretended to go back to sleep.

Several minutes later, she heard Morgan returning and shuffled around. Altria only sighed in relief when she felt her sister's gentle hands shaking her awake, her expression as kind and loving as always.

Making her way back out of the tent to do the chores Morgan had assigned to her for today, Altria missed the calculative glint shining in her older sister's eyes, primed at her back.