King Arthur Won't Die by Accident

Under Arthur's watchful gaze—and the eager stares of the magicians observing them like a swarm of curious white mice—Lancelot bravely stepped forward.

First, Morgan stabbed him in the waist.

Then, without hesitation, he picked up a vial of glowing green potion and downed it in one gulp.

"This is a healing potion developed entirely with Camelot-sourced ingredients," Artoria explained sweetly. "It's easy to produce in large quantities. While it can't fully repair internal injuries yet, it's very effective for external wounds. We're already working on the next iteration."

Arthur inhaled sharply.

Can't heal internal injuries?

Then why did Morgan stab Lancelot in the waist?

She had to know. As the potion's creator, she'd be the one who understood its effects best.

This was clearly personal. Deliberate. Revenge.

Arthur glanced at Lancelot—whose wound was now healed—and watched the Knight of the Lake twitching slightly, his face trying and failing to hide the pain.

Arthur swallowed hard.

"Sir Lancelot, are you... alright? Maybe we should call it a day and let you rest."

"No, my king!" Lancelot declared fervently. "It is my honor to serve Camelot. If this pain helps spare future soldiers suffering, then it is more than worth it!"

He didn't look injured—just... unnaturally enthusiastic.

Arthur frowned. Have I overworked him? Look at this poor man. He's clearly broken.

"Well, just don't die on me."

"Yes, my king!"

The magicians took notes. The experiment proceeded.

Morgan, annoyed that Lancelot was still standing, smacked her lips and gave a discreet wink to a magician in the queue.

The man stepped forward, looking calm.

Then, without warning, he slapped Lancelot across the face.

"...What are you doing?" Lancelot blinked in disbelief.

The damage wasn't much, but the insult was enormous.

Guinevere covered her mouth with delight, eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

Pump him! Punch harder! Hit him 'til he croaks!

In her naive little mind, she still believed that if Lancelot hadn't existed, she might have become Arthur's queen.

"This is in front of the king," the magician shrugged. "He didn't say anything. So bear with it."

And then—

SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

The magician found his rhythm, like a musician with a drumbeat, delivering slap after slap with professional gusto.

Arthur, watching in growing horror, instinctively hid behind Morgan and covered his own face.

Scary. Very scary.

Are these magicians planning a rebellion?

Wait, no. It's Lancelot getting slapped. He's durable. It's probably fine.

Eventually, something snapped.

Lancelot, red-faced and shaking, reached forward.

But before he could grab the magician, Artoria acted fast—shoving a bottle of blue potion into his mouth.

Gulp.

Instantly, all the fury drained from his face. He retracted his hand.

"H-Huh? What did she just feed him?" Arthur stammered.

"Oh~ let me see~" Merry sang, flipping through a notebook. "Ah-hah! A calming potion for manic mental states. Effect lasts ten minutes. Keeps the user in a perfectly calm, rational state—great for generals making high-pressure decisions!"

Chubby Merry. (JPG not included.)

Oh no. This isn't good. Lancelot... did you forget why you were angry?

"Seems like it's working nicely," Morgan observed. "Guinevere, your turn. Go wild."

The princess didn't need to be told twice. She ran over and started kicking and punching Lancelot with glee.

She was out of breath within seconds.

"Sir Lancelot," Morgan said smoothly, "any thoughts? Want to retaliate?"

"How could I?" Lancelot replied calmly. "Even if we're married in name only, she's still my wife. As the chief of the Knights of the Round Table, personally appointed by my king, I must never raise a hand against a lady. Even one as irritating as her. Besides, it's just a little beating—it won't damage Camelot."

His voice was serene, as if the abuse hadn't happened at all.

Even his hatred toward Guinevere had vanished.

Creepy. But effective.

Emotionally suppressive, but cognitively intact. In the right hands, a great asset for battlefield strategy.

"Impressive, right?" Morgan beamed. "Now, before the potion wears off, let's begin the third experiment. Subject, pick up the red potion and drink it."

"Yes, ma'am," Lancelot replied like a student answering a teacher.

"This one induces a state of frenzy in soldiers—but without impairing judgment. They'll retain their combat instincts and awareness of allies and objectives," Morgan explained.

"Sounds promising," Arthur said. "But Sister, are you sure mixing a calming potion and a frenzy potion won't cause... complications?"

As if in response, a violent surge of magic burst out.

Lancelot's eyes turned red.

His body tensed, predatory. He growled like a beast, ready to tear someone apart.

"Not good—!"

"Fuwu~!"

"Protect the king!"

Magicians and soldiers leapt forward—but someone was faster.

Petals spiraled into the air as a pink halo coiled around Lancelot like a rope, binding him tight.

"My, my, Morgan," Merry said playfully. "How naive. Just because it works on paper doesn't mean it'll work in reality. When experimenting with magic, you have to account for field conditions too."

She gave her wand a twitch. Lancelot roared and struggled.

"Oh no, he's so strong!" Merry said dramatically. "I can't hold him much longer! My king, you'll have to calm him down personally~"

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

Wait a second...

Are these two playing me?!

-End Chapter-

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