Morgan, You’re Not Acting Right!

In the palace of Camelot, Morgan curiously questioned Lot about the first question on the civil service examination.

"So, why did you set that question as the first one? It was so difficult!"

She had spent a long time studying it before finally managing to solve it step by step.

Watching Morgan work through the problem, Lot couldn't help but sigh at the vast difference in mathematical knowledge between the East and the West at this point in history especially between Britannia and China.

Even in this era, the people of Britannia (who were ethnically distinct from later generations) were just as lacking in mathematical prowess as their descendants. Some things never changed.

The question was derived from "The Mathematical Classic of Sunzi" a text written in China around the same period Lot and Morgan lived in. If Lot were to take Morgan on a journey across Eurasia right now, they might even meet the book's author.

At Morgan's remark, Lot who was lying on a soft carpet, lifting Gawain playfully replied:

"This serves two purposes: to test their talent and to examine their character. Solving the problem correctly isn't the only way to pass."

"Hm?"

Morgan's expression turned curious. What did he mean by that?

Seeing her inquisitive look, Lot smirked and explained:

"By observing how they answer, we can determine what roles they're suited for if they pass the exam. I made sure they had to write out their reasoning before giving the final answer."

"How so?"

Morgan walked over, casually scooping Gawain into her arms. The child felt her head being firmly pressed against her mother's chest and pouted in protest.

Save me!

Alas, her parents were both terrible people.

Ignoring her distress, Lot continued:

"If someone actually solves it correctly, assign them to local governance. They won't be easily deceived by subordinates and can accurately audit finances and resources."

"If someone points out that no one on this island has studied this kind of problem but still answers the rest well, make them an advisor. They have the courage to challenge authority."

"If someone just makes up an answer, consider them for diplomacy. Anyone bold enough to lie to their lord's face can handle foreign negotiations."

"..."

Morgan blinked. "What if they leave it blank?"

"If they perform well in other sections, assign them as a military scribe. They're honest less likely to falsify reports."

Lot pondered for a moment before adding more.

Just then, Gawain piped up: "Father, what if there are other scenarios?"

THWACK!

Morgan immediately flicked her forehead.

"If they come up with something beyond even the lord's expectations, throw them out! What, do they think they can rule instead?"

"Why'd you hit me?! I was just asking!"

Gawain clutched her head, teary-eyed.

"When I'm stronger, I'll pay you back for this humiliation... Wait, no, I can't!"

Halfway through her vengeful thoughts, she realized no matter how strong she became, she'd never be able to retaliate against her parents.

"Waaah !"

She burst into frustrated tears.

Seeing this, Lot quickly picked her up and playfully tossed her in the air to cheer her up. After much effort, he finally managed to calm her down.

Once soothed, Gawain declared: "I'm going to train with Sir Artoria!"

Even if she could never get revenge, she could at least become a renowned knight. Then, her parents wouldn't be able to bully her so easily.

A simple, earnest wish.

(Though the chances of it working were slim.)

Unaware of this, she set off to train under Artoria.

Watching her leave, Morgan chuckled. "She really gets along well with her aunt."

"True. Let's hope she only inherits her swordsmanship and not her appetite. Camelot can't afford another bottomless pit."

Morgan nodded solemnly.

Even without the current food shortages, no kingdom could sustain two such monstrous eaters.

The couple shared a moment of perfect agreement.

Then, Morgan asked: "The exams have started by now, right? Do you think they'll go smoothly?"

"Hah! Are you doubting my policies? I've planned everything flawlessly nothing will go wrong."

Lot puffed up indignantly at her skepticism.

"Alright, alright, I believe you."

Morgan kissed his cheek and pulled him up from the floor.

"Since we've got nothing else to do, let's go see how the exams are going." She paused, remembering their earlier bet. "Oh, and Bedivere's there too. Let's see how he performs."

"Sure."

Lot was also curious, so he agreed.

And so, the two headed to the examination grounds.

At the testing site...

"This question is indeed quite challenging."

Bedivere frowned at the problem.

"Is this meant to weed people out from the start?"

He glanced around other candidates were already attempting various methods to solve it.

One man started counting on his fingers, ran out of digits, then took off his shoes to use his toes.

The moment his feet were exposed, Tristan one of the proctors winced and immediately escorted him out.

The stench had been unbearable.

Bedivere returned to his thoughts.

"...I need a proper method to solve this."

He murmured to himself, then glanced at his arm.

His eyes lit up.

After some deliberation, he wrote down his answer.

Once finished, he moved on to the remaining questions.

These were far more numerous but less difficult, covering a wide range of topics military strategy, governance, ethics, and current affairs.

Soon, Bedivere realized something.

"There's no way to finish all of these in the allotted time."

He paused.

"So… we're meant to choose which ones to answer?"

After a few seconds, he grasped the intention behind the test.

It was a test of priorities.

Did one prefer civil administration or military command?

For Bedivere, the choice was clear.

He wasn't here to be a bureaucrat he wanted to join the Round Table Knights.

Focusing solely on military-related questions, he completed his exam and handed it to the proctor.

His speed was so fast that the proctor suspected he had written nonsense.

With that done, Bedivere moved on to the martial examination.

He intended to ace every test.

No matter how backward the era, the standards for knighthood were never low.

Horsemanship, jousting, and swordsmanship were all critical.

The first two tests assessed riding and lance strikes.

Initially, the proctors frowned at Bedivere's missing arm.

"Can a one-armed man even do this?"

But Bedivere quickly proved them wrong.

Not only could he do it he excelled.

With a single hand gripping the reins, he executed advanced maneuvers that left many two-armed knights gaping.

Some, ashamed at being outperformed by a "disabled" man, quietly withdrew.

Seeing a third of the candidates leave, Tristan the head proctor was momentarily stunned.

But his surprise lasted only seconds.

"Good riddance."

He recalled King Lot's words:

"If civil officials aren't greedy and military officers aren't afraid to die, how can the kingdom not prosper?"

These dropouts lacked even the courage to compete against a one-armed man. How could they face the horrors of war?

Lot had spoken of their future mission to eradicate Vortigern, the King of Mors.

The King's brutality was known throughout Britannia.

If these men faltered here, what hope did they have on the battlefield?

So instead of anger, Tristan felt satisfaction.

Bedivere scored near-perfect marks in horsemanship.

Next came the jousting segment.

Clenching the horse's sides with his legs, Bedivere raised his lance with one arm and charged.

His speed was thunderous.

The wooden target reinforced with iron shattered into splinters upon impact.

Nearby candidates, still gripping their lances with both hands, froze in shock.

"You call that a charge?!"

They collectively paled.

Meanwhile, Morgan and Lot had arrived at the examination grounds.

Watching Bedivere's display, they were equally surprised.

[This kid's stronger than I expected.]

Then, Lot smacked his own forehead.

[Right, I forgot canonically, Bedivere fought three knights at once with one arm, and his lance strikes were nine times stronger than normal. No wonder he's this good.]

Morgan glanced at him.

Why was he so shocked?

Bedivere's skills were impressive but still below those of the ever-diligent Galahad or Artoria.

Then it hit her.

"Ah… I see."

A smirk curled her lips.

"What's that smile for?" Lot asked.

"Heh. You're always hiding things from me. This time, I'll keep my thoughts to myself. Just wait and see how you lose our bet." She tapped her chin. "Now, what should my prize be?"

"Tch. Fine, let's see what you've got."

Lot wasn't worried. He still believed victory was his.

Just then, the civil exam proctors arrived with the first batch of graded papers.

At the very top was Bedivere's.

"This guy took both exams?"

Lot took the papers and began reading.

Back at the examination grounds...

The proctor stared at the obliterated target, sighed, and nodded.

"You've passed this segment. Now, prepare for the final test one-on-one combat."

"Understood."

Bedivere set aside his lance and drew his sword.

From a distance, Morgan observed his movements and smiled.

"Just as I thought."