The next morning, dawn broke softly.
The King of Knights departed early as usual. But as she rose, Guinevere approached her with a request:
"Could we postpone today's Round Table meeting until the afternoon? I want to prepare something special for everyone and also speak with Lady Morgan beforehand."
"Whether my proposal passes or not, a decision must be made."
Thus, prompted by this statement, more Round Table Knights gathered at the Royal Palace today. Guinevere rushed to the kitchen as soon as she woke up.
Once all preparations were complete, Guinevere first brought today's meal to Morgan, arriving precisely on time.
"Why did you make so much today?" Morgan asked.
The spread included optimized Earth Dragon Meat stir-fried with Wild Bracken, steamed egg custard, and numerous other dishes Morgan had previously enjoyed and nearly finished.
"Guinevere, you remembered what I like to eat?"
Still sensitive about being called an "old woman," Morgan had applied even lighter makeup today and wore an even more ethereal white dress than yesterday. In Guinevere's eyes, however, this was overkill.
Morgan was a mature woman; trying too hard would only make her appear...
"Are you trying to look younger?" Guinevere asked bluntly.
The smile that had been coaxed out by the dishes froze. Despite being a Mage, Morgan crushed the soup spoon in her hand. But this time, she had learned her lesson and didn't lunge at Guinevere.
Once she regained her composure, Morgan stood up and tore her white dress in half, revealing her mature figure.
Then, she saw Guinevere's calm gaze, filled with admiration and appreciation—exactly like an ordinary girl admiring the body of another beautiful woman.
In Morgan's eyes, Guinevere shouldn't be like this; her body shouldn't be so devoid of allure.
Confused, astonished, and enraged that her "bombshell" had failed to detonate, Morgan gritted her teeth and clenched her fists.
Then, using Magecraft, she summoned a sheer veil from the wardrobe to cover her sensitive areas and conjured a stream of water to wash off her light makeup.
Stripped of all artifice and regaining her usual proud, mature demeanor, Guinevere began focusing solely on Morgan's face.
"Heh, I thought you'd truly lost interest in this old woman."
Guinevere's gaze didn't waver downward, causing Morgan to chuckle softly, a wave of relief washing over her. She still possessed irresistible allure.
"Lady Morgan, I apologize for calling you an 'old woman' earlier. 'Mature' is the more fitting term."
Morgan's lips curled into a smirk, surprised that Guinevere would actually apologize and offer a compliment.
As she ate, Morgan gestured for Guinevere to join her, but Guinevere replied:
"I'll have plenty to eat at the Round Table meeting later."
"You've been preparing meals for them all morning?"
Everyone in the Royal Palace had witnessed Guinevere's tireless efforts. This had increased the number of returning Round Table Knights, making her workload even more staggering.
"Well, they are Knights worthy of sitting at the Round Table. Given their strength and achievements, I should offer them some comfort, even if it's just a gesture of goodwill."
Guinevere was preparing this "hit and offer a treat" strategy.
Having retained memories of her past life and having lived fully in this world for nineteen years, she understood the need to employ manipulative tactics when necessary.
To Morgan, however, this wasn't merely a symbolic gesture.
In this era, there was no tradition of a Queen personally cooking for her vassals.
"Last time you cooked for the Round Table, you could justify it as a reward for their service. But this time, everyone knows why you're doing it, Guinevere. You may need to cook for them again in the future, but you shouldn't do it too frequently."
"I understand, Lady Morgan."
Their gazes locked easily as Guinevere focused on Morgan's face.
To call it merely a "gesture of goodwill" was an understatement. This meal represented the Queen's highest recognition of their worth, possibly even a prestigious honor they could boast about.
But whether these assumptions would translate into reality remained to be seen.
"Sister, are you only eating the finest parts of each dish?"
Lowering her fork to take a bite, Guinevere looked up to meet Morgan's gaze. Morgan seemed to lack appetite, barely touching even her favorite dishes.
"You can be more direct. I'm just saving my appetite because I'm worried about your affairs. I won't break my promise."
Silence, then...
"Thank you."
Afterward, in the Throne Room, beside the Round Table, Guinevere remained seated beside the King of Knights, while Morgan unhesitatingly occupied the opposite side, as if their conflict never existed.
Without preamble, she demanded a vote, glaring fiercely at Gawain and the other royal heirs, and declared that the Vassal Territories under her control supported Guinevere's proposal.
"The voting is now concluded. After this meeting, messengers will be dispatched to inform the Vassal Kings of the results."
As the voting ended and the King of Knights announced the outcome, some knights cheered, others sighed in relief, while still others frowned in dismay. Yet all eyes turned to the dishes finally being served, and ultimately focused on Guinevere, who tapped the table.
"Gentlemen, this feast is my token of appreciation for your willingness to sacrifice for Camelot's future, and for granting a lifeline to commoners who were destined to perish."
By this point, over a hundred dishes had been served, prepared with the assistance of court chefs trained by Guinevere herself.
"Gentlemen, I pledge this: if the Vassal Kings sacrifice a small portion of their present wealth for the sake of our future, I will demand nothing more. Moreover, I promise to compensate their losses in the days to come."
"I harbor no ill will toward any of you. Everything I do is for my King, my Arthur. The wealth Kay has collected from the Vassal Kings is entirely devoted to the prosperity of our kingdom."
With these words, Guinevere raised her goblet and drained it in one smooth motion. She leaned forward naturally and shared a long, passionate kiss with the King of Knights.
Guinevere was deliberately showcasing her affection for the King, aiming to reassure those knights who felt she was overstepping her authority.
"Finally, I know some of you may still be dissatisfied with the outcome of the vote. Therefore, I permit anyone who objects to challenge me to a duel. If you defeat me, we can reconsider this matter."
The murderous intent and madness radiating from Guinevere's magical aura sent a chill down the spines of the knights who had abstained from voting in favor. They recalled her daily presence at the Training Ground; among Camelot's knights, only Lancelot and Gawain during the day could consistently best her in combat.
"Queen, there's no need for such measures. Though we abstained, we will obey the decision and carry it out."
They might have harbored resentment, but Guinevere had spoken with such conviction that anyone with a shred of sense knew it was time to back down gracefully.
Guinevere's combination of appreciation, reassurance, and intimidation proved far more effective than she had anticipated.
After all, they were sworn knights, and Guinevere was the Queen of the very King they had sworn to serve.
And...
The King of Knights, who had always upheld her dignity and never touched alcohol, raised her glass to them.
The saying goes, "A scholar will die for one who truly understands him." Noble knights might defy their lord for the sake of their lineage or interests, but they could also betray their heritage for their lord's favor.
Yet...
After three rounds of drinks and five courses of food, the noble knights' pent-up resentment began to boil over. Unable to challenge Guinevere to a drinking contest, they instead focused on the King of Knights, trying to get her drunk.
As for the King of Knights... she actually couldn't hold her liquor. The consequences of her drinking too much were... that she would brandish the Sword of Promised Victory, stomp one foot on the Round Table, and pound the massive table until it rattled!
"Guinevere, pour me more wine!"
Drunk, the King of Knights abandoned all pretense of dignity and became boisterously jovial. Her ahoge (cowlick) even drooped without her noticing.
"Why are you all laughing so quietly?! Your laughter lacks spirit! Louder!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
With abundant food, overflowing wine, and the King and Queen leading the way, the Round Table truly shed its traditional hierarchy of ruler and subjects for the first time.
Even the most timid Knight dared to point a finger at the King of Knights and invite her to drink.
Among the assembled company, only Morgan continuously used Magecraft to conjure dishes they had never tasted before, then discreetly vanished when no one was watching.