A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

 “…so I’d like to see it end with you stripped of your position as court painter, perhaps, and some of your property confiscated.” 

Raves shook his head at Kellive, who remained still, not looking at the papers he’d been tossed to check.

 

Every time, he’d asked him to keep up to snuff on the latest British royal developments.

 

Now that I know, reporting takes a secondary place.

 

He’s been listening, but he’s the first to ask a question.

 “Any word on whether anyone was involved?” “You’ll have to tell me more before I can answer. If it was a demon, it’s probably getting beaten up every day, and I’m sure Britain has at least one human being who gets beaten up on the job, just like me.” 

Raves’s skin was smooth, as if he’d been resting from a long, hard day’s work.

 

With a slow tap of his index finger, he tapped the desk. His gaze was already fixed on the small gemstone on the desk.

 “I’m pretty sure you caught it.” “Me? I’m a good shot, and with the wind at my back, I’m going for the goal.” “No, not you.” 

Out of concern, I made Morgana a harness of her own.

 

It had layers of protection and convenience, but there were other features that were important to Kellive.

 “The fact that it reacted to a physical force nullifier…” 

The red gemstone he carries flickers with light when Morgana takes a certain amount of force.

 

The gem flickered once in the early hours of the morning, indicating that some physical force had been applied, though not much.

 

None of the mages on the continent were able to break his spell.

 

It was definitely not an error or mistake.

 

At the very least, it was clear that the attack had come from somewhere, but the nature of the report was such that it left out everything but the bare facts.

 

Kellive felt strangely nervous.

 

Tapping his index finger, which had increased its speed slightly, Raves swiped at his cheek in annoyance.

 “You’re in a bad mood, aren’t you?” “Just.” 

No matter how much power she had, it couldn’t raise a dead man.

 

What was happening beyond his reach bothered Kellive.

 

The signal to the gemstone had increased his thirst. He ran a hand slowly down his face, muttering to himself, as if tired of the unknown emotions.

 “This is what happens when I can’t even see you.”  

Lancelot freed Sobella from prison, as promised.

 

She had seen the light of day for the first time in days, and when he met her at her quarters, she burst into tears and hugged Morgana.

 “Thank you, Morgana, if it weren’t for you, I’d be in the ground by now.” 

Well, to hear Princess Guinevere tell it, she’d probably fallen prey to a demon.

 

But Morgana didn’t want to spoil Sobella’s mood, having just been released from prison.

 

Overnight, the atmosphere had changed quite a bit.

 

From the topics of conversation of the passing maids to the new arrivals.

 “I’m going to buy some herbs in Tir na Nog, would you like to come with me for the holidays?” “That’s great. I’ve been meaning to go.” “I heard that’s where you rescued the Princess. I didn’t realize herbs were such a big deal.” 

Unexpectedly, the viral worked, and mentions of Tir na Nog multiplied.

 

As soon as the sun rose, rumors of Moonwort spread across Britain, with knights, maids, maidservants, and royal guests alike talking about it.

 

Even Guinevere, who had never shown much interest in the stuff, was bold enough to order it.

 “You should at least thank Tir na Nog.” 

Those were the first words out of Guinevere’s mouth as she drank the gifted herbal tea.

 

Crossing her legs thoughtfully and leaning her arms on the backrest, she tilted her head and frowned.

 “I’ll give you a bounty and a nearby mountain, but do you think that’s enough?” “Yes, mountains are important to apothecaries!” 

There was no better place to grow herbs.

 

A separate bounty for Morgana the maid, and another as a shopkeeper in Tir na Nog.

 

After all, a man must have a second job.

 

Taking a mouthful of lukewarm tea, Guinevere replied with a hint of regret.

 “So, Morgana, what do you want? Let’s get you some clothes.” “I’m not exactly the type to need clothes…” 

When it comes to royal tailoring, these aren’t exactly the most common clothes on the market.

 

It was like marking who was walking around.

 

When I refused, Guinevere straightened up and sat back down, asking a serious question.

 “A vacation, then? I’ll give you a few months with pay. Why don’t you start looking for a husband now? The jousting tournaments are coming up, and the raiding parties are back, and I’m sure you can find someone more handsome than Lancelot.” 

That was a terrible idea.

 

At the jousting tournament, more than anyone else, she needed to be by Guinevere’s side on the day she was to be kidnapped.

 

There was no better position to be in than a maid.

 

Morgana clenched her fists and shouted like a madwoman at work.

 “What an inconvenience! I shall surely, surely, postpone my vacation by a month!” 

After the jousting tournament, the tribesmen would return, and it would not be long before Excalibur would be drawn.

 

‘Arthur will be back, too.’ 

 

It would be embarrassing for both of them to see a former employer as a maid, so Morgana thought she would hand in her resignation before then.

 

In lieu of a vacation, Morgana cautiously asked Guinevere.

 “My lady, don’t you think it would be a good idea to get rid of Alec’s paintings first?” “Ah, yes.” 

After Galehaut’s confession, the painting was still hanging, awaiting disposition.

 

With the involvement of the minor Count Mellorwart, it seemed that the investigation was being conducted in secret, except for Lancelot, Morgana, and Guinevere.

 

Guinevere called out to Mauren, who was standing in the distance.

 “Go to my father and tell him that Alec’s paintings must be taken down.” “Will the king allow it? It was he who ordered the painting to be hung.” “Oh, he doesn’t want me to see it. Tell him I’ll gather the buds and use them for kindling.” “I’ll deliver it to the palace first.” 

Mauren, bowed, often paced to give instructions.

 

They both listened attentively for any mention of the 13th painting, but neither seemed to know anything about it.

 

After dismissing her, Guinevere spoke offhandedly.

 “I’ve asked my father to authorize Morgana’s honorary title.” “A title?” “I beat him to it, in case you happen to marry Lancelot and need a title!” 

The smirk on her face was sinister.

 

A title conferred by royalty other than the king was a non-heritable title of semi-nobility.

 

Usually, a title of nobility meant that the recipient was indebted to the crown.

 

At least in Britain, it was a given that the favored royal family would benefit greatly from their reign.

 

Especially in a time of turmoil with the Oracle, Guinevere’s grant of title was a tremendous shield.

 

‘My lifeline…!’ 

 

At least with this, I could put aside the worry of being turned against them later on.

 “Thank you! Oh, thank you so much!” 

When I thanked her curtly, Guinevere muttered something gruff.

 “My father will have to give his permission soon.” 

It was a calm tone, in contrast to her usual bravado. Perhaps she knows, even if she doesn’t want to.

 

‘He hasn’t shown his face in all this commotion…’ 

 

The servants of the Princess’s palace had become so adept at their duties, a shield that had been created by the manipulation of those beneath their command.

 

Guinevere knew nothing of the curse.

 

But if she didn’t know the details, she knew the intent, instinctively.

 

‘To know that you would walk through the curse, to kill your daughter, to keep the throne…’

 

Morgana thought of her mother, the last person she’d seen before she entered this world.

 

It was a stark reminder that power and money meant nothing in the face of family.

 

In a way, she saw a reflection of her pre-possession self.

 

‘All right, let’s get this jousting tournament over with.’

 

Arthur will be the first to slit King Vortigern’s throat when he returns, so we just have to wait until then.

 

Morgana said sweetly as she arranged the teacups.

 “Shall I get you another cup of tea?” “That’s it, I’m going to take a nap, Morgana, stop babysitting and get some rest. Oh, and I left a present in your room, did you check it?” 

Without a care in the world, she flopped down on the couch, one eye squinting proudly at the end.

 

As Morgana made her way back to her quarters, she fumbled in her pocket for the royal map.

 

‘If King Vortigern himself had ordered the painting to be hung…’

 

There were many paintings hanging in awkward places.

 

Even Lancelot’s suggestions for locations were out of place. There were awkward spots such as the pathway to the ballroom and the entrance to the kitchen.

 

‘If King Vortigern’s curse is a painting that he moved around after he cast it, it’s not in the right place for no reason.’

 

When they reached their room, Morgan’s mouth dropped open as he took in the opulence of the room.

 

The bed, the desk, the closet, minus Morgan’s luggage. Everything had been changed.

 

Even the expensive fountain pen, sitting on the desk with ink, resembled a nobleman’s office.

 

The sun shone through the window in the center of the room, making the gold rim glisten in the reflection.

 

‘Oh, this is a gift!’

 

As Morgana sat up in bed, the fluffy sensation was like nothing she’d ever felt before.

 

Sitting up, Morgana spun around halfway around the room and stared back at the map of the palace.

 

Picking up a fountain pen, Morgana circled the picture, her eyes gradually widening.