"As expected, she refused."
The next day, at the Ford Town Church, Guinevere and her group set off again. Apart from a few stubborn residents who refused to leave, most of the survivors chose to join the procession.
Yet now, the church that should have still housed some refugees stood completely empty. Only Bishop Edward remained, standing beneath the statue, his gaze fixed on the figure cast by the candlelight.
"Cardinal Noy, Bishop Edward requests punishment."
Even before the Holy Church was formally established, they had been mortal enemies of the Mages.
Over the past century or two, as the Holy Church's faith spread across Europe, it finally gained the upper hand in its conflict with the Mages, driving most of them into hiding.
Therefore, when news broke that Camelot's Knight Academy was planning to establish a Magecraft Department, the Holy Church grew particularly alarmed.
They understood that if this initiative went unchecked, the world would once again have a place where Mages could safely develop their abilities. Their previous efforts, if not rendered entirely futile, would at least lose much of their significance.
During a recent meeting among the Church's high-ranking officials, this consensus emerged. They had already considered organizing a holy war against Camelot, aiming to subdue the kingdom through force.
Bishop Edward's faction even belonged to the more moderate wing of the Holy Church.
"It matters not," the figure projected by the flames said. "You are merely short-sighted, foolish enough to pursue such a doomed endeavor. You are not guilty."
Hearing these words from the flame-borne figure, Bishop Edward barely managed to maintain his obsequious expression. Remembering the speaker's status, he suppressed the urge to retort.
"Yes, Cardinal, I have indeed been foolish. Now, should we follow the Radicals' plan to launch a holy war, or send assassins to infiltrate the Knight Academy?"
"Bishop Edward, you're even more foolish than I imagined. Haven't you heard what Sir Lancelot has been doing in Gaul these past few days?"
"Huh?"
"He's been accepting challenges from ten knights every day and remains undefeated. This includes the current commander of the Holy Church's Order of Heretical Inquisition."
"Ah???"
The Holy Church has a massive, rigidly structured organization with clearly defined divisions of labor. The Order of Heretical Inquisition is one of its three most elite divisions.
The commander of this order undoubtedly ranks among the Church's top ten most powerful figures.
"Now that you understand, stop meddling. The matter of Camelot's Magecraft Department requires careful consideration, not forceful seizure."
"So we're just going to let the Magecraft Department be established?"
"Bishop Edward, now that you've failed, the Radicals should handle the Magecraft Department."
As Bishop Edward himself had said earlier, the Holy Church welcomes all factions—Protestants, Catholics, and others—but this comes at the cost of severe internal factional strife.
Bishop Edward has already done what his faction required. They shouldn't be the ones to pursue a suicidal course.
The Church has never lacked fanatics willing to throw their lives away for their faith.
As the conversation concluded, the influential figure on the other end abruptly ended the communication.
Meanwhile, he recalled the killing intent from Guinevere that had forced him to back down, and he broke into a cold sweat for those madmen.
It was now the year 507 AD. The Church and even the Holy Church had only been established a few centuries prior, lacking the deep foundations of later eras. In Great Britain, where the veil of mystery was beginning to thin, the Holy Church's power was particularly weak.
Turning our focus back to Guinevere's side, more than half a month had passed since her encounter with Bishop Edward. After three and a half months, the sun finally pierced through the clouds, casting a ray of hope upon the war-torn land of Great Britain.
Outside London, Guinevere gazed up at the sun, feeling the snow beneath her feet slowly melting. She tightened her cloak and urged her troops to quicken their pace, planning to set up camp and prepare meals after entering the city.
Snowmelt days were far colder than snowy ones. While the knights and soldiers could endure it, the thousands of raggedly dressed civilians they had gathered along the way could not.
Yet despite the biting cold, knights, soldiers, and civilians alike cheered and prayed to the sun, hoping for similar weather tomorrow.
Watching most of her troops praising the Lord and incidentally praising the sun, Guinevere's teeth ached.
Still, she didn't regret rejecting Bishop Edward's proposal. Recalling memories from her previous life and considering the Church's ambitions, Guinevere would have been a fool to invite wolves into her sheepfold.
She trusted in Camelot's strength and, as a transmigrator, felt confident she could overcome the Church's threat.
"Did the Bishop mean today when he said the prelude to the waning of the mysterious was nearing its end?"
Knights excelled in warfare, but their understanding of weather couldn't match that of clerics and mages. Ever since the Bishop casually mentioned this news, Guinevere had been anticipating this day.
"Kay, this phase is now over. Alert all regions to intensify epidemic prevention measures. Tell the vassal states that haven't yet rebelled to follow our orders to the letter—unless they want their entire families to perish."
"Yes, Your Highness."
After a major disaster, a major epidemic was inevitable. The continuous three-and-a-half-month snowstorm had already claimed the lives of at least hundreds of thousands in Great Britain, with countless livestock lost. If the deaths of wild animals were added, Guinevere couldn't bear to imagine the total toll.
That's why she had declared the snowstorm merely the first phase. If the thawing corpses weren't properly managed, a full-blown epidemic could erupt. Given the era's rudimentary medical capabilities, Great Britain, with its total population of barely ten million, could lose a significant percentage of its population.
"Kay, remind them again—I'm not exaggerating. If they refuse to comply this time, even if Lia forbids it, I'll slaughter their entire families."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Kay nodded solemnly, recalling Guinevere's meticulously planned strategy from the past half-month, ever since that day at the church.
He knew Guinevere's concerns were not baseless. He couldn't fathom why she insisted on boiling water before drinking it, nor why she defied everyone's objections to cremate unclaimed corpses. Beyond these measures, many aspects of Guinevere's strategy remained incomprehensible to him.
"Your Highness, we'll leave you in charge here. The knights and I will disperse across the land to deliver your orders to the Vassal Kings and lords."
"Please, Kay. I don't want Lia to return from the North to find her homeland ravaged by a plague that shrouds every household in mourning."
The horses possessed magical beast blood, and the knights were imbued with potent magical energy. By pushing both their mounts and themselves to their limits, most knights could traverse the snowy terrain with ease.
As the knights scattered, Guinevere urged the remaining troops onward.
With the knights gone, the entire force now consisted solely of soldiers and civilians, with Guinevere as their only leader. In this vulnerable state, what would happen if they were attacked by Magical Beasts awakening from their winter slumber?
"Mage Barthomeloi, I have chosen to trust you and entrust the safety of this journey to you..."
"Your Highness, on behalf of my family, I thank you once again for your trust. I also thank you for your courage in opposing the Holy Church to create a sanctuary for us mages.
We will fulfill our agreement to the best of our abilities, accomplishing what you have asked us to do—and what we are capable of doing.
This is a promise made to you by the head of the Barthomeloi family."
The voice carried on the wind, reaching only Guinevere's ears.
Through the gentle breeze, Guinevere sensed presences radiating outward, 'seeing' over a dozen robed mages scattered around the perimeter of the procession.
The mages were already at work.