Summer, 509 AD.
Following the King of Knights' decisive victory in the Northern Campaign, all of Great Britain officially fell under her rule.
Guinevere no longer needed to maintain the False Pregnancy Magecraft. Mordred, the future King of Great Britain who bore the Pendragon name from birth, had finally arrived.
Five more years passed, and Great Britain enjoyed bountiful harvests and thriving animal husbandry, with agricultural and livestock production reaching new heights annually. The Knight Academy alone provided nearly a thousand qualified knights to the realm.
As a result, Great Britain's titles and land were quickly running out. Driven by their desire for nobility and fiefs, the new generation of knights eagerly awaited war against Gaul and Rome.
On the European continent, news of Camelot's Knight Academy had already spread far and wide. Alarmed by this, some smaller nations had begun to emulate it.
Soon after, word reached them that Camelot, having purged its own church through the Purification Plan, intended to strike against Gaul and Rome.
While Gaul and Rome scoffed at Camelot's audacity, they were also secretly preparing for war, influenced by certain powerful forces.
By this year, Gaul and Rome could no longer restrain themselves and were eager to launch the first attack.
"Sir Lancelot, has Emperor Lucius of Rome truly amassed an army of ten thousand?"
Deep within the Royal Palace, Guinevere watched Mordred and Galahad playing together. The two young ones, being of similar age, were practically childhood sweethearts.
With Galahad present, Lancelot and his wife were also in attendance.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lancelot replied. "According to my informants in Gaul, Emperor Lucius has not only recalled knights from distant occupied territories like Egypt and Cappadocia but has also sought aid from Greece, Cyprus, Macedonia, and other nations. Sixteen kings alone have rallied to his banner."
"And these sixteen kings aren't mere vassal kings, but true monarchs with vast domains and hundreds of knights under their command."
"Heh, since they've already gathered such a large force, what's the point of even bothering with a pretext for war?" Guinevere said with a chuckle. She smiled at little Mordred, picked up the feather-stuffed leather ball that had rolled to her feet, and tossed it gently to the child.
"I recall that just yesterday, those twelve envoys demanded that Lia acknowledge Emperor Lucius of Rome as her monarch and demanded that Camelot pay the back taxes for the past twenty years?"
In the days of King Uther and even earlier, Great Britain had been a Roman vassal, obligated to pay tribute to Rome. Great Britain's independence hadn't come through resistance, but simply because a weakened Rome was unable to govern its distant overseas territories.
Now, with both sides itching for war, Emperor Lucius of Rome had dispatched twelve envoys bearing olive branches to Camelot City, seeking a just cause for war. They were currently in the Round Table Hall, displaying their arrogance and insolence.
"Yes, those were their demands," Lancelot confirmed.
Five years had passed. Watching Galahad and Mordred grow up day by day, and sharing nights with his wife, Lancelot rarely thought of Guinevere anymore. Only occasionally did her beauty still captivate him.
Five years had passed. His wife had matured into a woman of full-bodied grace, while Guinevere's beauty remained frozen at twenty.
"Your Majesty," Lancelot asked, "regarding the favor the King requested from Great Mage Merlin on your behalf, might I still have a chance to request another such favor?"
Lancelot hadn't completely let go of Guinevere, but his gaze now held the warmth of a husband and father.
Princess Elaine's initial confidence had been half-realized through her relentless efforts.
However, while Princess Elaine harbored no resentment toward Lancelot, the five-year-old Galahad held a profound grudge against his own father.
Just as Lancelot had feared when he fled back to Gaul five years ago, the Gallic nobility had hidden his wife and son, forcing him to make numerous life-or-death decisions before finally finding them when Galahad was two years old.
During that time, Galahad had heard daily: "Your father doesn't want you anymore. He abandoned you and your mother for Guinevere, another man's wife."
How could Galahad not resent his father? And when they finally reunited, Lancelot, disdaining to lie about this half-truth, offered no excuses.
"Sir Lancelot, you're asking me? I have no idea either. But didn't you grow up in Avalon? Why not ask the Faerie directly?"
"I'm sorry, but that replica Scabbard is a treasure Lia gave me. I have no right to give it away, and even if I did, Lady Elaine wouldn't want it."
A moment of silence hung in the air as both men turned to watch Lady Elaine playing with the children, along with the King's sister, Morgan.
"Queen Guinevere," Lancelot ventured, "forgive my impertinence, but is there any truth to the rumors about you, Lady Morgan, and the King?"
Lancelot was grasping at straws, but he genuinely wanted an answer. The rumors had become so persistent that he was starting to waver in his disbelief. Guinevere could do nothing but grind her teeth in frustration.
And who could blame her? She was constantly pushing Mordred to study, assigning endless homework, while Morgan always brought the child treats and toys, forcibly dragging her away to play.
As Morgan put it, "You agreed to let her call me 'Mother,' and even before she was born, you promised me I could participate in her training as a Knight."
Yes, Mordred called the King of Knights "Father," Guinevere "Queen Mother," and Lady Morgan "Mother."
The more often the little one used these titles, the more rampant the rumors of the trio's scandalous affairs became. Even tales of Guinevere being bullied by both "Artoria" faces circulated with lurid detail.
"Lancelot! If you know this is disrespectful, why do you dare ask? Or would you believe me if I said it wasn't true?"
"I..."
Lancelot fell silent. Deep down, he secretly hoped the rumors were true. Only then would there be a chance the Queen might stray, and that tormenting part of his mind could finally find some satisfaction.
But before he could speak, Guinevere swept past him, scooped up little Mordred, and kissed her soundly. Lancelot found himself envying the child.
What truly shattered his composure, however, was when he reached for Galahad, only to be met with evasion and a look of disdain.
"Galahad, stop it! It was Father's fault back then! He already knows he was wrong!"
"You still dare look at Sister Guinevere like that? You don't seem to regret anything at all."
Little Galahad stood with his hands on his hips, showing no respect for his father and freezing the atmosphere in the small garden.
"Pfft, ha ha ha!"
Morgan laughed. She loved seeing Guinevere's mix of disdain and reluctant politeness toward Lancelot, who was too useful to scold outright.
Her laughter earned her a playful pinch on the cheek from Guinevere. As long as it didn't involve overnight stays or anything too intimate, Guinevere didn't mind friendly touches with Morgan.
Deep down, she knew that no matter how scandalous the rumors might become, a relationship between her and Morgan was impossible—unless she could somehow travel back in time to when Morgan was still unmarried.
Amid their playful banter, the King of Knights appeared, looking serious and visibly headache-ridden from the day's tumultuous Round Table meeting.
"Ah! It's Father! Little Morded wants Father to give her kisses, hugs, and a piggyback ride!"