"My King, does Princess Guinevere truly desire a sword that can rival your Excalibur?"
After the battle, the King of Knights and her retinue had resumed their journey. They traveled at a leisurely pace, discussing the recent duel as they rode.
From the knights' perspective, Guinevere had held a slight advantage during the initial probing. However, the moment she began improvising and mimicking, she seemed to be marching straight toward defeat. Yet, all the knights believed that behind her seemingly foolish move, there must lie a trap.
After the battle, Guinevere had explained to the knights that the disparity in their weapons had limited her to less than seventy percent of her true strength. Their King, she claimed, had won solely due to the advantage of her superior blade.
"My King," Gawain spoke up, "if Mage Merlin is unwilling to help, you could give Princess Guinevere my sword."
In the eyes of the knights, the King of Knights' Excalibur was a Holy Sword forged by the Lady of the Lake—a truly rare treasure.
But only rare.
Gawain's Galatine and Lancelot's Arondight were comparable. The former was Excalibur's sister sword, while the latter, also forged by the Lady of the Lake, possessed a durability that rivaled Excalibur's.
"Sir Gawain, do not speak of this again," the King of Knights replied firmly from horseback. "Once we return to Camelot and arrange matters, I will personally travel to the outskirts of Avalon to seek an audience with the Lady of the Lake."
Gawain had merely offered a suggestion as a loyal subordinate, and the King of Knights' refusal was exactly what the other knights had expected.
"Sire, should I accompany you?"
"Let's return to Camelot first and discuss this further."
In the eyes of the knights, Excalibur was not unique. Obtaining another Holy Sword from the Lady of the Lake seemed entirely feasible.
Through repeated requests, combined with the King of Knights' genuine words, devoid of calculation, the flower-like Merlin grew increasingly flustered under the knights' scrutiny. He waved his staff, his hand resting weakly on his forehead, devoid of any authority.
"Knight Gawain, the Capital hasn't even asked me yet! How can you assume I wouldn't help obtain another Holy Sword?"
"Merlin, then you are willing to help?"
Merlin usually only offered cryptic prophecies, showing no interest in anything else. His presence at Guinevere's side stemmed solely from her pivotal role in the future he had foreseen.
"Knight Gawain, I may be unreliable at times, but I'm still trustworthy, aren't I? Besides..."
Besides what? Merlin swallowed the rest of his sentence.
Having sensed Guinevere's magical aura firsthand, Merlin realized the future he had glimpsed had already begun to diverge. But before returning to Avalon to consult with the Lady of the Lake, he resolved to keep his misgivings to himself.
As Merlin paused mid-sentence, several seconds passed before he suddenly bowed in farewell, saying with a cheerful laugh, "Alright, alright... King, I'll head back to Avalon for now. Once I have a lead on the Holy Sword, I'll send you a dream to inform you."
With that, Merlin leaped off his horse and sprinted away, faster than the steed itself! It seemed he intended to run all the way back to Avalon.
Meanwhile, in King Leodegrance's territory, Guinevere was leading her knights back to their encampment.
Having spent eighteen years in this realm, Guinevere had not only honed her combat skills and magical abilities but had also gathered a loyal following of talented individuals.
"Tristan, do you think it's dishonorable for me to seek the Holy Sword through such means?"
"Your Highness, are you underestimating the meaning of 'dishonorable'? In our eyes, a knight's pursuit of a worthy sword is perfectly reasonable."
The red-haired man, his eyes closed as if sealed shut, possessed a face as beautiful as a demon's. Beneath his thick white cloak, he gently played a weapon that resembled both a bow and a zither.
The zither's melody tinkled like water flowing over stones.
"Tristan, what do you think of the King of Knights?"
"He's a capable ruler, but whether he's a virtuous person remains to be seen."
The small British Isles were divided into over a hundred kingdoms, both large and small. Tristan, whom Guinevere had won over, was the prince of one of these kingdoms.
Tristan's father had died before his birth, and his mother perished in childbirth. Orphaned, he was raised by his uncle, King Mark.
Historically, if Guinevere hadn't invited him to join the Round Table as a knight of the Kingdom of Cameliard...
In the future, Tristan would slay a Round Table Knight who challenged King Mark, and through this fateful encounter, he would fall in love with the daughter of that knight's sister. By a twist of fate, he would personally deliver his beloved to King Mark to become his queen.
Ultimately, he would die by King Mark's treacherous backstab while playing the lute for the queen.
But at least for now, Guinevere believed Tristan's future destiny had already been altered.
Reflecting on her past life memories, the most profound impression Tristan had left on Guinevere in Fate was his parting words to the King of Knights: "The King of Knights does not understand the human heart."
"He's a good king, but is he a good person? Tristan, I entrust you to observe him closely and tell me whether the King of Knights is truly a good person."
The smile lingered on Guinevere's face as they chatted idly. The sound of approaching hooves grew louder, nearing her father's castle. But as they reached the drawbridge, Guinevere reined in her horse, bringing it to a halt.
According to her calculations, the sword she desired would surely be hers.
Therefore, her next step was to continue preparing her dowry and strive to rewrite the tragic fate etched in history for herself and the King of Knights.
Once, before learning that the King of Knights was actually Miss Artoria, Guinevere had envisioned unifying Great Britain herself to reshape her destiny.
But after learning the King of Knights was Artoria, her vision shifted. She now wished to become Artoria's Queen, working together to alter their shared destiny.
Yet, regardless of how Guinevere's plans evolved, her preparations remained consistent.
"Let's visit the farmstead."
In Great Britain, kingdoms were divided into territories ruled by various kings. Most of these kings controlled only farmsteads and small towns; few possessed cities as part of their domains.
King Leodegrance, whose territory lay along the upper Thames River, was one of the rare monarchs with a city in his domain.
But Guinevere chose to visit the farmstead rather than the city, because her preparations over the years had focused primarily on the farmstead.
"Your Highness, should we notify the farmstead guard?"
"No need. Nor do I require such a large escort. Except for Tristan and his ten knights, the rest of you return to my father and report our arrival."
The muffled thud of hooves echoed across the soft, muddy grassland. Within half an hour, herds of cattle and sheep, accompanied by their herders, began to dot the horizon.
The warring kings had only recently begun to settle their conflicts. In this era, merely having enough to eat each day was the highest aspiration for most people.
Two years prior, when King Leodegrance's territory experienced a bountiful wheat harvest, Guinevere had seized the opportunity to launch a propaganda campaign. She attracted large numbers of people from neighboring kings' lands, which in turn sparked several wars.
Of course, the outcome of these conflicts was always the same: the expansion of King Leodegrance's territory, leaving Great Britain with a few fewer feckless kings.
"Your Highness, look! The herders are bowing to you, expressing their gratitude for the food and stability you've provided."