"They're something like my foster sons..."
Apparently noticing the hostility the four Knights of the Round Table were directing at Samael, Morgan set down her fork and took the initiative to explain.
Although he had already expected something along these lines, the Ancient Serpent listened seriously out of respect for her candor. Combining Morgan's explanation with what he already knew, he finally pieced together the entire relationship.
In truth, it was something similar to the relationship between a [Godmother] and her [Godsons].
Britannia had possessed two distinctive traditions since ancient times. One was the secretive Druidic religion, and the other was the fairy race. Both were closely tied to nature and life.
King Uther had been the leader chosen by the Druids of the Southern Realm. Morgan, as Uther's daughter who had inherited both royal blood and the blessing of nature, had actually been born with the qualifications of a Druid High Priestess.
Religions associated with life and nature often favored matriarchal authority over patriarchal authority. As such, Morgan's original position could more or less be considered that of a Godmother within the Druidic faith.
Unfortunately, Uther handed that Druidic legacy over to the Great Sage Merlin instead, successfully sabotaging his own daughter yet again.
Even so, through her innate blessing and bloodline, Morgan still managed to master Runes, Ogham characters, and Magecraft inherited from the fairy clans. She had also conducted considerable research into the recreation of artificial life.
As Britannia's native religion, Druidism had always been responsible for matters such as childbirth, warding off calamities, bestowing blessings, and healing. Naturally, people who wished to produce children with exceptional bloodlines and restore their family fortunes sometimes sought Morgan's help.
As Lady of the Isle, Morgan called upon the Mystery of Britannia and bestowed its blessing.
Gawain, Agravain, Gareth, and Gahoris had all been born in this manner.
Children conceived through such special means and blessed by nature required specialized instruction to learn how to control their powers before they could be returned to their families, lest they cause unnecessary trouble.
That was why those four Knights of the Round Table had all been raised and taught by Morgan during their childhood.
Beyond that, Samael vaguely remembered that the name Morgan Le Fay itself carried supernatural associations with both goddesses and fairies. In some legends, Morgan likewise possessed aspects of both.
There were also stories throughout Scotland and England of malicious fairies stealing or abandoning children, as well as benevolent fairies who voluntarily helped humans raise infants.
The benevolent sort were often known as "little fairies" or "fairy maidens."
Lancelot, the Knight of the Lake, for example, was said in legend to have been a human infant raised by a benevolent fairy.
In short, Morgan's role closely resembled the [Fairy Godmother] of later fairy tales, taking the place of mortal parents to raise special children and teach them their skills.
Determined to prove herself and reclaim the authority that should have been hers, Morgan had also deliberately intended to train those children into her own trusted right-hand retainers.
Unfortunately, once all four had completed their training, every last one of them sided with the King of Knights.
From a practical standpoint, their families and bloodlines needed the support of royal authority, not that of an abandoned witch.
Still, before the conflict between Morgan and Artoria escalated beyond repair, the four Knights of the Round Table retained a basic level of respect for Morgan as their "mother."
Naturally, then, they were less than pleased about suddenly acquiring a new "father."
Does that mean I've somehow been promoted to [Godfather]?
After understanding the whole situation, Samael did not know whether to laugh or sigh.
As they talked, dish after dish was brought to the table.
Seeing that Samael did not appear bothered by these so-called foster sons of hers and was instead eagerly preparing to sample Britannia's cuisine, the small knot of concern in Morgan's heart quietly loosened.
Samael, meanwhile, had deliberately saved room in his stomach for a proper feast at the palace banquet.
Then he saw the things being placed on the table under the name of "food," and his expression changed several times in succession.
He had seriously overestimated the state of court cuisine in fifth-century Britannia.
There was, admittedly, a respectable variety of meat. Goose, rabbit, suckling pig, lark, turtledove, mallard, and plenty more all appeared on the table.
But spices had once been worth nearly their weight in gold.
If the cooks sprinkled a little local parsley and salt over the meat, that already counted as decent seasoning. Expecting anything close to the flavors of later ages was nothing but fantasy.
And ever since the King of Knights returned in triumph, both palace security and food preparation had been taken over by the Round Table.
These rough soldiers who spent their lives campaigning tended to share the same philosophy toward food.
Easy to eat, easy to store, plentiful enough to fill the stomach, and technically edible.
That was good enough.
So after cutting into a few pieces of meat, Samael found some with blackened, carbonized layers that looked almost like crocodile hide.
Others were barely cooked, with streaks of blood still inside.
Even worse, there were heavy dishes such as black pudding.
And no, this was not the sweet kind of pudding.
Its main ingredient was animal blood.
The basic method was to mix the blood with oats, salt, and spices, wrap the mixture in something like cloth or intestine casing, then throw it into water and boil it.
Once unwrapped, the lingering bloody smell and pitch-black appearance alone were enough to kill Samael's appetite.
The simple stews commonly prepared during military campaigns were not much better.
Take wild rabbit, for example.
Skin the rabbit, strip the meat from the bones, cut it into chunks, then boil the meat together with its blood.
Remove it, soak it in cold water, add chopped onion, parsley, and other herbs to the broth, and bring it to a boil again.
Then put the washed meat and bones back into the pot and boil it once more.
Serve.
That was it.
Seafood was available as well, but for a banquet of this size, naturally they could not rely on fish freshly caught that very day.
Most of it had been smoked or salt-cured, which severely damaged the flavor.
Some dishes even retained the peculiar stench produced during curing.
For Samael, whose sense of smell was unusually sharp, it was practically torture.
As for vegetables...
Perhaps because of the travels of the Feathered Serpent God Kukulkan and the merging of worlds caused by the War of the Covenant, ingredients from the Americas such as potatoes, which normally would not have reached Europe until many centuries later, had already appeared on Britannia's dining tables.
But there was not much worth saying about them.
There were only so many options. Peas, potatoes, cabbage, and the like.
And the preparation method was almost always the same.
Boil them.
Every green vegetable had to be cooked thoroughly.
The prevailing belief of the time was that green vegetables were unhealthy and that eating them raw would harm the body.
Incidentally, eating fresh fruit raw was considered something commoners did.
The proper method was to boil it, cook it down into jam, or ferment it into fruit wine.
Looking over the entire table, the only thing Samael could honestly consider fit for human consumption was the freshly baked white bread.
Add some raisins, bacon, or jam, and it became barely acceptable, though the limitations of the era's baking techniques still left it rather coarse when chewed.
Even that counted as excellent treatment.
At least he was not being forced to gnaw on black bread and discover pebbles, sand, scraps of cloth, wood chips, grass stems, or other surprises baked inside.
Suddenly, Samael felt profound sympathy for the King of Knights sitting upstairs.
He could easily imagine what Artoria's life on campaign must have been like while surrounded by these beasts of the Round Table.
Living like this day after day, it was no wonder the King's stomach was doomed.