One day... two days...
March, April, half a year passed...
From the day she took Morgan to visit her parents' graves, the King of Knights, Guinevere, and Morgan began sharing regular evening meals.
They would lock the doors, soundproof the room, and, since all three were hearty eaters, the meals would often last over an hour.
But this very pattern—the absence of servants and the unusual duration—began to fuel speculation.
Rumors even started circulating among the common folk that the King of Knights and Morgan were having an affair, and that their shared meals were actually part of a ménage à trois.
"Head of the Barthomeloi Family, are you certain the Holy Church is behind these rumors?"
"Based on my understanding of the Holy Church, they couldn't possibly remain idle after the establishment of the Magecraft Department. Their inaction thus far can only mean they're biding their time, preparing for something far greater.
Currently, the Knights have only traced the rumors' spread to the Vassal Kings, but my experience tells me the Holy Church must be involved."
Outside Camelot City, beneath the Knight Academy, in the corner housing the Magecraft Department, the Magecraft Family Head—who had formed a contract with Guinevere at the end of the snow disaster—wore a grim expression as he worried about the future of Camelot and the Magecraft Department.
In his eyes, the Holy Church's attack should have come long ago; their continued delay only signaled a more ominous plot brewing.
"But I've already sent Kay to investigate the Vassal Territories again. Despite his capabilities, he found no evidence of the Holy Church pulling strings behind the scenes. They also vehemently denied any contact with the dozen or so 'mercenaries' we captured."
Initially, Guinevere saw nothing wrong with the three of them dining together in private. Given the King of Knights' and Morgan's playful antics during meals, secrecy was essential.
But once the rumors gained traction and reached their ears, Guinevere's lips twitched slightly, giving her the unsettling sensation of witnessing history rewriting itself.
Yet she understood that abandoning their meals due to gossip would not only displease them but also fail to quell the rumors.
By the time the rumors had spread from the taverns of the Lower District to the highest echelons of the Royal Palace, they had become impossible to suppress.
All she could do was find a new rumor to overshadow the current sensation and dispatch agents to uncover the source of the rumors, severing the hand that spread them with brutal efficiency—a lesson by example.
"Queen, if you're willing to hear my theories, does that mean you believe them?"
"Yes, I believe them. That's why I came here, and I await your... personally volunteered service."
The Barthomeloi Family Head was young, at least in appearance. Having been hunted like a stray dog by the Church for years, this noble-born man had long abandoned any pretense of aristocratic etiquette.
As Guinevere accepted the red wine he poured, raised her glass, and took a delicate sip, he abandoned all pretense.
"Queen, leave the investigation to us. But I have another request. Could your Magecraft Department be expanded into a full-fledged Magecraft Academy, with separate departments based on each Mage's specialization?
You might not understand, but while we are all Mages, our research focuses vary greatly. Organizing into specialized departments would greatly benefit both our individual research and the education of students."
"So, you're asking for more funding?"
"No. As Mages, we have no shortage of funds. What we need is your permission, Queen. After all, you are the true ruler of this land.
Of course, if possible, I would prefer the reorganized Magecraft Academy to be built separately from the Knight Academy, on a new site. The existing Magecraft Department here could then be used as bait."
Hearing this, Guinevere finally understood. The man before her, whose name she recognized—the current head of the Barthomeloi family, one of the three founding families of the future Clock Tower—was indeed being relentlessly pursued by the Holy Church.
He wasn't just volunteering for this mission; he could no longer endure the Holy Church's ever-present, never-fired arrow, aimed at him from who-knew-where.
This mage intended to expand his underground sanctuary.
"Very well, then proceed. I entrust you with the reassessment of the Vassal Kings and the selection of a location for the New Magecraft Academy. Lady Morgan will retain responsibility for the Magecraft Department here. She's been unexpectedly diligent these past few months."
"Yes, Your Majesty. We've all witnessed Lady Morgan's tireless efforts."
As a mage, the Barthomeloi Family Head truly cared only about Magecraft itself. Now that his desires had been acknowledged, he wouldn't be foolish enough to gossip about the relationship between Guinevere, the King of Knights, and Morgan.
Even if the rumors were true, this ménage à trois would still be considered relatively tame compared to the rampant debauchery in the various European Royal Courts.
In the future, should the human creation Magecraft he had discussed with Morgan ever prove useful, he would only care about the results of the magical experiments.
"Your Majesty, I'll take my leave now. Oh, and one more thing: one level below this is Lady Morgan's Magecraft Workshop. Feel free to visit if you're interested."
In recent days, though Morgan continued to feign animosity toward the King of Knights, her foolish younger sister act had diminished. She no longer fought the King of Knights for every morsel of food.
Guinevere knew what Morgan had been occupied with: Morgan had requested blood from both her and the King of Knights, and they had both willingly provided it.
To further demonstrate trust that she wouldn't use the blood for curses, the King of Knights had even offered to temporarily entrust her with the Scabbard, capable of healing all wounds and ailments. Only Guinevere's intervention had prevented it.
"Lord Barthomeloi, you may leave. But I'll postpone visiting Lady Morgan's Magecraft Workshop for now."
Even after relocating the King of Knights' mother's grave and sharing nightly meals for months, Morgan's cooperation had only been secured through these measures. Naturally, caution remained prudent, yet trust was also essential...
Especially now, with Morgan's emotional volatility—often shifting abruptly from laughter to cold detachment—Guinevere had no intention of provoking her needlessly.
The problem was, even without Guinevere seeking her out, Morgan herself came to Guinevere after Lord Barthomeloi departed.
"What did he say to you?"
"He said he exchanged some Magecraft knowledge with you. Speaking of which, is it really impossible for someone without magic circuits like me to learn Magecraft?"
"Of course not. You have power and authority. You can simply find a Mage you like and forcibly transplant their magic circuits and crests."
"I see. Then I'll hold off for now. Even if I got the transplant right away, I wouldn't have time to train my Magecraft."
In the not-too-small basement, Morgan's attire remained unchanged. Her navel, which she usually left exposed, was still visible, allowing Guinevere to feast her eyes once more.
"Guinevere, you should start preparing your fake pregnancy belly."
"Huh?"
"If you don't disguise it, do you intend to let this already-formed child be rumored to be the offspring of me and my foolish younger sister?"