The night passed without incident.
The next morning, the King of Knights and Guinevere, leading the vanguard, had already reached Camelot Royal City.
Under the brilliant sunlight, Guinevere realized with newfound clarity that the mystical realm still lingered in this era of Great Britain.
The pure white royal city before her was a colossal creation that could never have been built in the year 507 AD without the aid of magic.
"Guinevere, do you like this city?"
In this era, cities fell into two categories: fortified castles serving primarily as military strongholds, inhabited by lords and their armies, and ordinary towns, primarily inhabited by commoners and functioning as regional economic hubs.
Camelot City, with its meticulous planning and three concentric walls dividing it into outer city, inner city, and castle districts, was a rare fusion of both types.
From a distance, Camelot City appeared to Guinevere like a small mountain, its highest point being the central castle district, the residence of the King of Knights.
Extending outward from the castle was the inner city, home to officials, nobles, knights, and their families. It connected the castle to the outer city while simultaneously separating them.
The outer city itself was built on the slope of the "mountain," rising in tiers. From afar, Guinevere could only discern layers of somewhat chaotic white structures.
As they approached Camelot City, they saw the massive circular wall, towering thirty meters high and stretching over fifteen kilometers, as Guinevere had predicted. The wall was studded with crenellations and ballistae, patrolled by ordinary soldiers and knights in gleaming silver armor.
"The rumors are true after all," Guinevere murmured. "Camelot, the chalk-white ideal city."
Standing some distance from the city, they were surrounded by lush green grasslands. Shepherds tended their flocks here, and villagers greeted the party with polite bows. Yet unlike the farmers at Guinevere's own "Farmstead," these villagers lacked a certain warmth and dared not press their local produce on the group.
Near Camelot's gates, commoners and caravans converged from various roads, only to be driven back by the knights guarding the entrance.
"My King, have they detected your return?"
After dispersing the crowd, the knights at the gate began preparations for someone's grand entrance.
"Master Merlin must have returned ahead of us," the King of Knights surmised.
When she looked around for Merlin, she realized he had vanished after removing his Concealment magic. Given that she hadn't sent anyone ahead, the knights' actions clearly indicated Merlin had already delivered the news of her return.
"Let's go, Guinevere. Whether you like it or not, this will be your future home."
It had been a day since Guinevere reunited with the King of Knights. After teasing the King into a fiery temper, the two had made a pact to duel again at a later date.
Now, Guinevere possessed a counterfeit Excalibur capable of clashing with the genuine article.
"As you wish, My King."
The King's entry into the city required a formal ceremony. This had nothing to do with the King of Knights' personal preferences. If she were to charge into battle with great fanfare and return in disarray, it would severely damage the morale of the entire Kingdom.
Once the decision to enter the city had been made, Gawain took charge of the arrangements. He ordered the King of Knights and Guinevere's knights to form separate columns, each following closely behind their respective lieges.
While the knights adhered to this arrangement, Guinevere deliberately slowed her horse by half a stride, allowing the King of Knights, who had ridden all night without showing the slightest fatigue, to lead the procession.
Soon, the towering warhorses, adorned with magnificent armor, and the proud, chest-out knights approached the gates of Camelot City.
The ground was strewn with fresh flowers, and the garrison knights saluted their King. Their eyes also lingered on Guinevere, who rode half a stride behind, clad in unfamiliar armor.
To avoid unwanted gazes, Guinevere kept her helmet firmly in place.
"Your Majesty, congratulations on yet another victory!"
The speaker was Sir Ector, the King of Knights' adoptive father and Kay's biological father, considered the leader among the knights.
After his congratulations, the eyes of both Ector and the remaining knights converged on the massive Round Table, wider than the gates of Camelot City, being hoisted aloft by familiar and unfamiliar knights alike.
"Sir Ector, this is one of the gifts Queen Guinevere has bestowed upon us," the King of Knights declared. "From now on, we shall dine and deliberate at this Round Table. I hope that in the future, every knight who sits here—regardless of birth, strength, or status—will feel free to speak their mind without hesitation, finding equality and unity in this moment."
Why a Round Table? The King of Knights would inevitably ask. Guinevere's answer would simply echo the values of equality and unity enshrined in legend.
Moreover, she had brought dozens of knights on this journey. If she and the King of Knights failed to manage them well, clashes between their retinues were inevitable, especially considering her impulsive decision to send Tristan to settle the score with Lancelot.
Whether Tristan won or lost, Guinevere had already sown the seeds of conflict.
"I hope any issues can be discussed openly at the Round Table. Only when words fail should we resort to force," Guinevere said, following the King of Knights. Her voice was as clear as a mountain stream, and the knights who had never seen her face knew instantly that its owner must be a great beauty.
At the city gate, Sir Ector discerned from the words of the King of Knights and Guinevere that she had come in goodwill, at least. Her deferential position, stepping half a pace behind the King of Knights, also suggested she wasn't seeking to usurp power under the guise of equality.
Yet Ector couldn't be blamed for his suspicions. As the King of Knights' foster father, he knew the truth: the "King" was actually a woman.
This betrothal struck him as absurd. Marrying Guinevere—a woman of both strong character and martial prowess—would be less manageable than marrying a docile, decorative wife.
"Your Majesties," Ector said, bowing deeply. "Your wisdom and magnanimity will surely be sung by generations to come."
Suppressing thoughts he dared not voice, Ector bowed in a knightly salute to the King of Knights and Guinevere.
His words were sincere. While the Round Table could only accommodate a limited number of knights, its very existence symbolized the Kings respect for the subordinate knights. News of this would undoubtedly ignite the admiration of knights throughout Great Britain.
Even considering only the immediate situation, the Round Table's design was sufficient to alleviate, to some extent, the inevitable tensions between the knights loyal to the King and those loyal to the Queen.
"Your Majesties, we thank you for your ingenuity and generosity."
With Ector leading the way, the remaining knights on guard swiftly followed suit. Though the commoners and soldiers didn't fully understand what was happening, the knights' actions prompted them to join in offering deep bows to the returning King of Knights and her party.
There was no need for the crowd to rise; in fact, allowing them to do so would have been a mistake. Under the seasoned leadership of the King of Knights, the procession swiftly passed through the city gates, restoring order to the entrance as if they had never arrived.
Beyond the gates, Camelot City lived up to Guinevere's expectations.
Here, at least, she didn't immediately encounter the kind of toilet situation common in most cities of this era in Great Britain—a mess right after the city gates where there was no place to step.
"When Camelot City was being built, Merlin scoured all of Great Britain and chose the Royal Capital of Cameliard, after you participated in remodeling it, as its foundational template.
The very essence of Camelot City carries a portion of your glory."
As they entered the city gates and proceeded along the thoroughfare, a grand road stretched directly to the towering castle above. The crowds lining the road were neither overly familiar nor fearful.
At some point, the King of Knights deliberately slowed her horse, leaning close to Guinevere to whisper these words.
Guinevere had long admired the King of Knights, and the King of Knights had also been curious about Guinevere for just as long.
Otherwise, why would she have personally led troops to aid King Leodegrance's war at Merlin's urging?
Across all of Great Britain, only a handful of women had ever caught the King of Knights' eye.
Yet, thinking of this, the King of Knights' guilt toward Guinevere deepened. She felt Guinevere deserved a better fate.
"Guinevere, you..."
"My King, shall we sleep together tonight?"