Ford Town, located over thirty kilometers south of London, lay not far from Great Britain's southernmost coast.
Normally, snow would never fall here, and the residents had never imagined enduring three consecutive months of snowfall.
Guinevere had planned outside the town to have the army provide accommodation fees to the civilians. But upon entering Ford Town, she realized the money could be saved.
Within the town, any civilians who could flee had already fled. Most of those who remained had perished, and the remaining hundred-odd people were all huddled together in the town's most fortified church.
"Thank you for your hard work, Bishop Edward," Guinevere said.
"It's no trouble at all. I'm merely fulfilling my duty as bishop," he replied.
Had he been an ordinary bishop, the white-haired, white-bearded, and elderly Bishop Edward wouldn't have been able to protect even himself. But he wasn't ordinary. Blessed by God, he could perform divine miracles.
To Guinevere, however, these miracles seemed like mere variations of Magecraft.
After speaking with the bishop, meeting the surviving townspeople, and instructing the dozens of soldiers selected to help prepare porridge, Guinevere prepared to depart.
"Queen Guinevere, may I address you as such, Your Highness?"
Emerging from the church, Guinevere now stood behind it, where nearly every church maintained a graveyard.
Her gaze swept across the forest of tombstones: neatly arranged old graves, a newly erected tomb from three months ago, an unburied corpse from two months ago, and several unexcavated plots reserved for the dead in the past month.
As she circled the graveyard, Guinevere noticed the increasingly emaciated corpses. The most recent arrivals were completely naked, their bodies stripped bare. This sight revealed the horrors they had endured.
"During my travels through the Vassal Kingdoms, I witnessed entire villages ravaged by death. But I've never seen a town as devastated as this. Is the local lord completely neglecting his people?"
"He rebelled alongside the neighboring Vassal King and was slain on the battlefield by your hand."
"Oh... So this is partly my fault, then?"
"No. Even had he lived, he would never have aided those he considered mere rabble. Not every knight shares the King of Knights' and your own noble virtues."
Normally, a bishop's vestments in this region would be white robes adorned with gold trim. Yet Bishop Edward still wore black...
A shade of black eerily familiar to Guinevere.
"Your Highness Queen Guinevere, are you familiar with the Holy Church? We transcend sectarian divisions—Catholic, Protestant, or otherwise—respecting each faith's unique tenets. Our sole purpose is to combat heresy.
Of course, as an alliance of mystical branches from various churches, we also preach God's love and provide aid to the impoverished—just as I am doing here."
Her eyes were fixed on the corpses of civilians who had died most tragically, while her ears caught Bishop Edward's "self-introduction."
Upon hearing the name "Holy Church," Guinevere felt a sudden realization, as if her earlier suspicions had been confirmed. She raised her head, gazing at the bishop, waiting for him to continue.
"Your Highness, there's no need to look so grave..."
Having been raised since childhood with the education of the ruling class, and having saved many lives while taking countless others, Guinevere's stern gaze was even colder than that of the earnest King of Knights.
Under that piercing stare, Bishop Edward's heart trembled. The words on the tip of his tongue retreated into his throat, swirling there until he was certain they were acceptable before he slowly uttered them.
"Your Highness, thanks to your and the King of Knights' benevolence, countless humans have survived. Not just I, but all the bishops of Great Britain intend to propose that you both be canonized as Saints."
Bishop Edward bowed with exaggerated humility, as if Guinevere were already Saint Guinevere. But this obsequious demeanor only earned a scornful laugh from her, for she knew there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world.
"Why don't you tell me what you really want first, Bishop Edward? Do you think I'm blind? The people still living in the Church all worship your God, while the non-believers lie dead here."
"Your Highness, didn't you and the King of Knights also have your wedding officiated by the Archbishop of Canterbury? What grounds do you have to criticize us?"
The matter of the faithful was undeniable, and Bishop Edward made no attempt to refute it. He readily admitted that while the noble knights treated the common people as lesser beings, he himself was even worse.
Having retained memories from her previous life, Guinevere understood the Holy Church of the Fate universe far better than the secular Protestant or Catholic Churches.
This organization, primarily established to suppress heresy, contained only a sliver of the benevolence the secular Church preached.
Outwardly, they waged war against demons, vampires, Mages, and any heretical creatures who rejected their doctrines.
Inwardly, they were equally ruthless and merciless, willing to do anything and sacrifice everything to achieve their goals, their moral standards on par with those of most Mages.
When the Holy Church took an interest in Guinevere and immediately offered her the title of "Saint"—an honor bestowed no more than once a century—alarm bells rang in her mind.
Noticing Guinevere's apparent lack of fondness for the Holy Church, Bishop Edward's smile faded. He realized that Guinevere...
"Your Highness, it seems you harbor some misunderstandings about the Holy Church. Let's cut to the chase and make a deal: I've heard you plan to establish a Magecraft Department at Camelot's Knight Academy. Would you... consider handing over all the Mages drawn to Camelot to us?
Since the founding of the Holy Church, we have hunted Mages relentlessly. They refuse to acknowledge Him as the Holy Child, even attempting to desecrate His remains, treating them as precious Magecraft materials. They are enemies of God.
Your Highness, if you hand over these heretics to us, the Holy Church can accomplish everything you expect of those Mages—including what you expect Lady Morgan to accomplish for you."
As Guinevere listened, her gaze gradually sharpened with danger. She didn't understand how Bishop Edward had learned of this matter, but considering the Church's vast resources, she believed they possessed such intelligence-gathering capabilities.
This revelation ignited Guinevere's desire to uncover the source of the leak and eliminate it.
However, because Morgan was a Mage, Guinevere refrained from suspecting her directly, believing this might be a Church ploy to sow discord.
In Guinevere's past-life memories, the Church had been founded in the first century AD, while the Son of God had been born several years before the Common Era.
In terms of historical precedence, Mages had existed for millennia before the Church and the Son of God. Even the oldest surviving Mage organization traced its founding back to around the time of Christ's birth, possibly predating the Son of God's birth itself.
Guinevere understood why they would consider the Son of God's remains a Magecraft resource. She also recognized the immense assistance she could gain by accepting the Church's proposal.
But... she couldn't trust the Church. Their influence was already overwhelming, with even the King of Knights and the monarchs of other nations requiring Church endorsement for their coronations. Guinevere refused to allow the Church's power to expand further in Great Britain.
"Bishop Edward, the Holy Church inspires far less trust in me than the Mages."
She paused, a palpable killing intent radiating from her, causing Bishop Edward to instinctively recoil.
"Your proposal aims to sever Camelot's ties with the Mages. But remember, Merlin—Camelot's revered prophet—is himself a Mage. Moreover, Great Britain remains steeped in mystery, a land you consider heretical.
I, Guinevere, will tolerate the regular Church's missionary activities in Great Britain. But the Holy Church? I have no intention of welcoming you. If the Holy Church insists on meddling where it isn't wanted..."
As she spoke, Guinevere merely smiled, but Bishop Edward felt his head might be severed from his neck at any moment.
He held his breath, nearly suffocating under the weight of Guinevere's murderous intent, until a holy artifact he carried activated, dispelling the illusion that had gripped his mind.
Yet even after this stark warning and personally experiencing Guinevere's hostility toward the Holy Church, he refused to give up. He had gone to great lengths to secure this mission, arriving long in advance to wait for her.
After all, why would a regional Bishop-level figure waste his time in a small, unremarkable town?
"Your Highness," he persisted, "this is the title of 'Saint'—the friendship of the entire Holy Church."
"You're right," Guinevere countered, "but if word spreads that I rejected your offer, I'll gain the friendship of all the Mages. I'll assure them that once Camelot unifies Great Britain, it will become a paradise for all Mages."
Their gazes locked. Bishop Edward couldn't understand why things had turned out this way. He knew he had been rash, eager to prove himself, but Guinevere's response left no room for negotiation.
As for threatening her with more sensitive information, such as the fact that the King of Knights was a woman, Bishop Edward believed that would truly cause the Holy Church to vanish completely from Great Britain.
"Your Highness, please reconsider. Everything can still be negotiated. Once the heralds of Great Britain's mystical decline cease with the arrival of spring, a specialist from Headquarters will come to Camelot City to meet with you.
I believe that when Great Britain's mystery decline truly begins, the Holy Church will prove far more trustworthy than self-serving and utterly unreliable Mages."
Bishop Edward's demeanor grew increasingly humble.
He knew that if only the Holy Church in Great Britain—not the secular Church—were eradicated, the devout knights under the King of Knights would agree, and they possessed the power to accomplish it.