As Ritsuka led the Master of Masters into the grand hall of Chaldea, they were greeted by the presence of Artoria Pendragon and her loyal Knights of the Round Table. The knights stood in their usual dignified formation—Gawain, Tristan, Lancelot, Bedivere, Gareth, and a somewhat impatient Mordred. Their majestic presence filled the room, and even the enigmatic Master of Masters seemed to pause, tilting his head as if impressed.

Artoria stepped forward, her tone calm and commanding. "Ritsuka, who is this you've brought before us?"

"This," Ritsuka began, "is the new Moon Cancer. He's... a new and very unique summoning. Still figuring him out."

The Master spread his arms dramatically, bowing low with a flourish. "A pleasure to meet you all, oh valiant knights and your noble King. I've heard tales of your valor, your virtues, and, of course, your... quirks." His concealed face turned toward Artoria. "And you, dear Artoria, radiate the kind of regal aura that commands respect. Truly, an inspiration."

Artoria nodded. "You seem quite articulate for a Servant, yet your motives remain unclear."

"Oh, motives are overrated!" the Master replied with a wave of his hand. "I'm here for the sights, the stories, and maybe to nudge fate in a direction or two. Nothing sinister, I assure you."

The knights exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Gawain, ever the chivalrous one, broke the silence. "Well, if you're here with noble intentions, then we welcome you. But do not mistake our hospitality for blind trust."

The Master chuckled. "Ah, Gawain. The Knight of the Sun. A beacon of virtue and strength! Though..." He leaned in slightly. "Is it true you're not as impressive once the sun goes down?"

Gawain's polite smile faltered as the other knights stifled laughs. Tristan gave a low whistle. "It seems this one knows how to strike where it stings."

"Speaking of sting," the Master continued, turning to Tristan, "your melancholic aura is delightful. A walking ballad of sorrow. Ever think of switching to comedy? Might lighten the mood."

Tristan's face turned red, caught between indignation and embarrassment. Lancelot stepped forward, his voice stern. "You tread dangerously close to disrespect, stranger."

"Ah, Lancelot!" the Master exclaimed, clapping his hands. "The tragic romantic, the conflicted knight! I must say, you carry your burdens with such flair. Though, I'd recommend a sturdier foundation for those bridges you're burning. They might collapse under your weight."

Lancelot's grip tightened on his weapon, but before he could respond, the Master turned to Bedivere and Gareth. "And you two—so earnest, so steadfast. I'd wager you're the glue that holds this merry band together."

Bedivere bowed slightly. "You honor us with your words."

"Don't encourage him," Mordred muttered, her arms crossed as she glared at the Master.

"Oh, Mordred!" the Master said, his tone suddenly dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. "How could I forget the rebellious knight? A tempest in human form! Yet... what's this?" He leaned toward Ritsuka, speaking just loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Have you noticed the armorless look? Quite... liberating for a self-proclaimed disciplined knight, don't you think?"

Mordred's face turned beet red with a sharp glare. "You got a problem with the way I dress, old man?!"

"Not at all!" the Master replied cheerfully, his hands behind his back. "In fact, I encourage it. the young man here, you might want to tame this fiery one. She could use a bit of guidance." He mockingly raised a hand. "Blessings upon your efforts."

"Why, you—!" Mordred lunged forward, her sword half-drawn, but was restrained by Gareth, Bedivere, and Gawain.

"Calm down, Mordred!" Gawain urged, struggling to hold her back.

"He's just messing with you!" Gareth added, though her own cheeks were slightly pink.

The Master chuckled, tilting his head playfully. "Such spirit! You remind me of a storm I once met. Wild, untamed, but oh so predictable."

Ritsuka groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can we not start a fight here? Please?"

Artoria's voice cut through the commotion like a blade. "Enough." Her gaze locked onto the Master of Masters. "You're testing my knights' patience, stranger. I suggest you tread carefully."

The Master gave an exaggerated bow. "But of course, my King. I wouldn't dream of causing discord. Merely observing the fascinating dynamics of this fine ensemble."

Ritsuka sighed heavily. "Why do I feel like I'm babysitting two children?"

Mash gave a small, apologetic smile. "At least he's keeping things... lively?"

As Ritsuka, Mash, and the Master of Masters strolled down the corridors of Chaldea, they were stopped by a voice that carried authority and affection.

"Husband!"

Ritsuka froze as Morgan le Fay, Queen of the Fae and the ruler of the Lostbelt Britain, approached with her retinue of Fairy Knights: Baobhan Sith, Barghest, and Melusine.

Ritsuka turned to face Morgan, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. "Morgan! Uh, hey! How's it going?"

Morgan's piercing gaze landed on the hooded figure standing next to Ritsuka. "And who might this be?" she asked, her tone sharp, though her frown hinted at a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

The Master of Masters stepped forward with exaggerated surprise, clapping his hands together. "Wait just a moment! You're married? And to such a stunning and commanding woman?" His masked face tilted toward Ritsuka. "You sly dog!"

Both Ritsuka and Morgan turned a shade of pink at the unexpected compliment.

"T-this isn't what it looks like!" Ritsuka stammered, waving his hands.

Morgan cleared her throat, regaining her composure. "You didn't answer my question. Who are you, stranger?"

The Master gave an overly dramatic bow. "Ah, where are my manners? I am the Master of Masters, a humble visitor to this fine establishment. And might I say, my dear queen, your choice in a partner is impeccable."

Morgan narrowed her eyes at him. "You're avoiding my question with flattery."

Meanwhile, Baobhan Sith stepped forward, glaring at the Master of Masters. "What makes you think you can give my mother and Master your blessing? Who even are you?"

The Master turned to Baobhan Sith, chuckling. "Ah, and here we have the fiery protector. A dutiful daughter, no doubt. But tell me, do you always snarl so fiercely, or is this a special occasion?"

Baobhan's eyes flared. "Why, you—!"

Before she could act, Melusine chimed in with a casual smirk. "Oh, don't worry about him, Baobhan. Her Majesty may be our Master's wife, but let's not forget—I'm his lover."

The air in the room froze.

"WHAT?!" Ritsuka exclaimed, his face burning red. "Melusine, why would you even say that?!"

The Master of Masters gasped, clutching his chest as though wounded. "Say it isn't so, young man! How could you betray your queen like this? And with a dragon knight, no less! The scandal!"

"I didn't betray anyone!" Ritsuka shouted, his hands gripping his head in frustration.

Morgan turned her sharp gaze to Melusine, her voice cold. "Melusine. Explain yourself."

Melusine gave a mischievous grin, her wings fluttering slightly. "Oh, it's nothing serious, Your Majesty. I just thought I'd tease our dear Master a little."

Barghest stepped in, attempting to defuse the situation. "Please, Your Majesty, Melusine was joking. Let's not—"

"Oh, and what about you, my dear Barghest?" the Master interjected, turning his masked face toward her. "Strong, loyal, and possessing a regal beauty all her own. Are you sure you're not secretly vying for the Master's heart?"

Barghest's face flushed a deep red, and she struggled to form a coherent response. "I-I would never—! That's not—I mean—!"

Baobhan and Melusine immediately turned their attention to Barghest.

"Wait, Barghest, are you blushing?" Baobhan teased, a devilish grin spreading across her face.

"Oh, this is priceless," Melusine added, leaning in with a smirk. "I didn't know you had a thing for Master too!"

Barghest glared at them, flustered. "Stop it! That's not what's happening here!"

Ritsuka buried his face in his hands, groaning. "You planned this, didn't you?"

The Master of Masters chuckled, his hands clasped behind his back. "Who, me? Plan such delightful chaos? Perish the thought."

Morgan's patience finally snapped. "Enough!" Her voice silenced the room, and everyone turned to her. She glared at the Master of Masters, her tone icy. "If you're done sowing discord among my knights, perhaps you should explain your purpose here."

The Master gave a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, just observing, my dear queen. Nothing more. It's not every day you meet such... colorful individuals."