Fairy Palace, dining room.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, modified by Morgan’s magecraft, casting light upon the exquisite long table.
The air was filled with a blissful aroma of caramel and milk.
“Mmm…
this texture…” Artoria sat at the dining table, her silver spoon trembling slightly.
Before her sat a specially made pudding, bouncy and smooth, drenched in caramel sauce.
She carefully scooped up a spoonful and put it into her mouth.
In an instant, those emerald eyes seemed to light up, sparkling brilliantly.
The ahoge on top of her head, which usually represented the majesty of a king, was now twitching happily like a radar.
“So…
delicious!” Artoria exclaimed in genuine admiration, two happy blushes appearing on her cheeks, “The sweetness is just right, the ratio of egg to milk is perfect, and this smooth sensation…
this is a miracle that even the royal chefs could not achieve!” Compared to the icy Knight King on the battlefield, she now seemed more like a little girl who had finally received a candy reward.
“It’s just an ordinary pudding, is it really necessary to make such an unsophisticated face?” Morgan, sitting at the head of the table, held her black tea elegantly, a mocking sneer hanging on the corner of her lips.
She watched Artoria’s defenseless eating manner, her disdain almost overflowing: “Truly…
completely lacking in royal decorum.
Is the King Arthur of Pan-human History just a reincarnated glutton?” “This has nothing to do with decorum, Lady Morgan.” Artoria swallowed the delicacy in her mouth and retorted solemnly (though a bit of caramel was still stuck to the corner of her mouth): “Replenishing mana is the duty of a Heroic Spirit, and savoring delicious food is the greatest respect one can show a chef.
On this point, I believe that maintaining restraint in front of the food Arthur makes is a waste.” Having said that, she consumed a second pudding with astonishing speed.
“Heh, to be able to talk about gluttony in such a refined and unconventional way, you really are a talent.” Morgan rolled her eyes and turned to look at Arthur, who was cutting fruit in the kitchen, her tone instantly becoming coquettish: “Arthur, I want some too.
But I don’t want to do it myself, you feed me.” Arthur smiled and walked over with a fruit platter.
He was long accustomed to this kind of territorial behavior from Morgan.
He skewered a piece of apple cut into the shape of a rabbit and held it to Morgan’s lips.
“Yes, yes, yes, my Queen.” Morgan opened her mouth and bit down with satisfaction.
During this process, she deliberately glanced at Artoria with a provocative look, as if to say: Did you see that?
This is the treatment of the true queen.
You only have pudding to eat, while I have my husband feeding me.
However, Artoria did not receive this signal at all.
Because her attention was entirely on the remaining pudding on the plate.
Even, she raised her head and looked at Arthur with eyes full of hope: “Um…
Arthur, may I ask…
is there any more?” Arthur: “…” Morgan: “…” This ahoge king is hopeless.
“Sakura, go get another portion for Saber,” Arthur said, rubbing his temples helplessly.
“Okay, Brother!” Sakura, who had been hiding behind the door secretly observing, ran out holding a tray.
She walked to Artoria’s side somewhat shyly and set down the new pudding.
Sakura felt a natural affinity for this big sister who looked like a “female version of her brother.” “Th…
thank you, Sakura.” Artoria looked at Sakura, her eyes softening.
She could feel the lingering traces of magical modification on the girl, as well as the magical protection left by Arthur and Morgan to heal her.