Every joyous feast must eventually end.
Amidst daily affairs and preparations for her grand wedding, half a year slipped by easily.
Half a year later, the Great Mage Merlin arrived alone, bearing the Holy Sword as a dowry, marking the final countdown to Guinevere's pre-wedding days.
"Your Highness Guinevere, are you satisfied with this sword?"
Merlin remained unchanged from half a year ago, his appearance eternally frozen at its most handsome and punchable.
In King Leodegrance's castle, within the same banquet hall as before, only Guinevere, Merlin, and Tristan, her guard, were present.
As Merlin drew the longsword from its scabbard, Guinevere raised it high. One moment she laughed, the next she couldn't.
Overall, the sword was identical to Excalibur in shape and form, save for the absence of any inscription on its blade.
This wasn't a pair of wedding swords; it was more like Excalibur Mark II, or perhaps Imitation: Excalibur.
Just as Merlin had said, this sword had undoubtedly been crafted by the Lady of the Lake and her faerie kin in Avalon. Even merely holding it, Guinevere could feel its immense power coursing through her.
When she lightly tapped the blade, which shimmered with a faint, natural radiance, the crisp ring that echoed confirmed its exceptional resilience, rivaling that of Excalibur itself.
Finally, Guinevere touched the tip of the blade with her fingertip. A bead of blood instantly welled up, tracing a path down the blade's edge to the hilt. The blood was absorbed upon contact, transforming into a wisp of magical energy that gathered within the blade.
"It cuts hair like silk, strikes without bloodshed, and even absorbs the magical energy from spilled blood, storing it for a single, explosive release. From what I've observed, your magical reserves pale in comparison to those of the King of Knights."
Merlin, never one for tact, completely ignored Guinevere's frustration with the sword's appearance, continuing to extol its virtues.
Guinevere nearly punched him in the face again, but this time Kay wouldn't be there to take the blow for him.
Yet she restrained herself. After all, she had only requested a sword comparable to Excalibur, making no specific demands about its appearance.
And as for the fact that Excalibur was a Holy Sword forged from starlight while this was merely a rush job by the faeries... Guinevere saw no point in dwelling on such matters.
Guinevere sheathed the sword. The scabbard was identical to the one that housed Excalibur, the King of Knights' sword, but it was merely exceptionally sturdy, lacking the ability to heal wounds or halt aging.
Naturally, it could never unleash any Noble Phantasms.
"Merlin, that will be all. I accept the sword. Return and inform the King of Knights that I will soon lead the Knight Order down the river myself, bringing a dowry worthy of this blade to complete our marriage. Also, please deliver this letter to her."
Over the past six months, Guinevere had already prepared most of her own dowry. King Leodegrance's contribution, at her request, would be ready within the next few days.
It would be a massive Round Table capable of seating over a hundred knights. At its very center, embedded within the wood, would be the Cruciform Round Shield Guinevere had obtained in battle.
The day she acquired the shield and saw the Faerie Script etched upon its surface, she knew its destiny—and realized she was still bound by fate's manipulations.
In Le Morte d'Arthur, the Round Table of the King of Knights, along with King Leodegrance's dozens of knights, formed Guinevere's dowry.
Guinevere would only add to her dowry, never privately claim the Round Table.
After seeing Merlin off, news of Guinevere's betrothal gifts quickly spread throughout the Kingdom of Cameliard.
The people rejoiced and lamented, until the Round Table, crafted according to Guinevere's specifications, was completed and their Princess ordered them to set out at the appointed time.
"Hey, Tristan, Your Highness's safety in Camelot City is entirely in your hands. Don't let her suffer any mistreatment."
"I understand..."
How large was the Round Table, capable of seating over a hundred knights? Its diameter measured a staggering fifty meters—large enough to serve as a ship on the Thames River.
It was only thanks to the lingering magic in Great Britain that even the weakest knights possessed the strength to lift over a thousand kilograms.
This allowed Guinevere's entourage to transport the massive Round Table by harnessing the river's current when the Thames was wide. When the river narrowed, just ten of the knights traveling with her could easily lift the table and carry it forward.
With the Round Table, over seventy knights, and Guinevere's demands for livestock, horses, and accompanying herdsmen and soldiers, their procession was a grand spectacle, even more impressive than the military campaigns of most small kingdoms.
In reality, Guinevere's journey to Camelot, was merely a side quest to crush any rebellious forces along the way.
"Your Highness, why did you kill the king here again?"
"He spoke insolently to me and dared to poison our water source. Did he not deserve to die?"
"But now that you've killed the king, who will govern this place? If we leave it to the slain king's heirs, this kingdom will remain a thorn between Camelot City and the Royal Capital of Cameliard..."
"Then we'll follow tradition: send the heirs to my father to be raised, and appoint three knights from our escort to temporarily govern this territory."
"Yes, Your Highness..."
Initially, some under Guinevere's command criticized her bloodthirst. But as she relentlessly provoked conflicts, systematically purging every small kingdom standing between Camelot City and the Royal Capital of Cameliard, the knights gradually understood her true intentions.
As each small kingdom was cleared, three knights would remain to be enfeoffed, their vested interests only growing as they drew closer to Camelot City, making the remaining knights increasingly zealous.
Of course, this was also because Guinevere and her retinue had cleared every kingdom along their path, leaving none standing.
By the latter half of their campaign, the few remaining kingdoms had pooled their knights into a single army, waiting for Guinevere's forces along their anticipated route of advance.
Moreover, by this point, with Tristan the only knight Guinevere had deliberately kept by her side, her most trusted knights had already been granted lands and titles. This had significantly diminished both the size and elite status of her remaining forces.
"Your Highness, this should be the final battle before we reach Camelot City."
Strings plucked, producing a beautiful melody. Guinevere's remaining knights numbered just over fifty, while the accompanying shepherds and soldiers had retreated ten miles behind the battlefield.
Opposite them stood the Coalition of the Five Kings, barely over a hundred knights, and a massed force of nearly ten thousand ordinary soldiers, arrayed in battle formation.
The fact that these five kings could muster such a large force indicated they were among the most powerful rulers in the realm.
Their kingdoms, located near Camelot City, had likely benefited from the King of Knights' rule, which demanded only obedience.
"Excellent. There are no knights of the King of Knights in their ranks."
The battlefield lay beside the Thames River, its waters roaring incessantly. The massive Round Table was bound over the river's surface, effectively bridging a section of the waterway.
Throughout their advance, Guinevere's greatest fear had been a warning from the King of Knights or, worse, direct hostility from the knights under her command.
"Your Highness, since the event you feared has not come to pass, does this mean the King of Knights, upon receiving your letter, now shares your desire for lasting peace in Great Britain?"
Tristan continued to pluck the strings of his instrument. Amidst the music, Guinevere's seemingly vulnerable forces remained calm and composed, further agitating the already strained Coalition of the Five Kings.
Finally, one of the kings could bear it no longer and drove the trembling United Commoner Legion forward as a probing force.
"Order: Retreat! Create an opportunity for the enemy's common soldiers to distance themselves from their knights."
By driving forward common soldiers instead of leading his own Knight Order in a charge, the Five Kings had forfeited all moral authority in this era's warfare, branding themselves as tyrants worthy of overthrow.
"King of Knights, you will come, won't you?" Guinevere murmured softly to herself as she retreated.