That afternoon, after lunch, Guinevere set out directly for the Magecraft Academy near London.
The discussions with the mages didn't take long. Their fates were inextricably linked to Camelot's—they prospered or perished together.
If Camelot fell in this battle, returning to Roman and Holy See rule, the mages, who had only enjoyed five years of stability, would once again become homeless wanderers.
Conversely, if Camelot triumphed and annexed Gaul and Rome, the mages could finally return to their ancestral homes on the European continent.
"Queen Mother, are those mages really reliable? Weren't they hunted down by the Holy Church until they ended up like this?"
Guinevere had originally planned to bring only Tristan and a squad of veteran knights from the Berserker Knight Order. But when Little Mordred insisted on coming, Guinevere brought her along.
With Little Mordred present, Morgan wouldn't stay behind in Camelot to face the King of Knights alone.
As a result, during their twilight return journey, Little Mordred nestled in Morgan's arms and posed her question to Guinevere, making Guinevere so jealous she barely wanted to speak.
"Mordred, you must show proper respect to Old Man Barthomeloi and the others. It's true they're no match for the Holy Church, but they are far from weak. When you become King, you will need their help.
"Besides, if I hadn't considered them your future allies, I wouldn't have brought you to meet them so soon."
Guinevere's horse rode alongside Morgan's. Since their official business was concluded, the party could travel at a more leisurely pace than on their outward journey.
Taking advantage of the trip, Guinevere also wanted to observe the effects of the recent heatwave on the populace.
Five years had passed. The Vassal Kings who had not rebelled remained loyal, while the territories of those who had rebelled were all converted into Knight's Fiefs, now completely subordinate to Camelot's commands.
Why continue granting fiefdoms instead of centralizing power entirely? Even under central control, Knights would still manage the territories, while commoner officials would remain confined to advisory roles.
If Guinevere truly wanted to change this—to abolish land grants—she would first need to transform Knights and commoners into "the same species" and prepare for the chaos that would inevitably follow.
"Sister, isn't that land ahead Knight Gaheris's fief?"
"I couldn't care less about those rebellious brats. I only need Little Mordred, right, Little Mordred?"
"Mother, don't you like Brother Gaheris? Then Little Mordred won't play with him anymore. When I grow up, I'll kick his butt hard!"
"Good Little Mordred! Just like Mama's best boy!"
Listening and watching this exchange, Guinevere's teeth ached. She had only been pressuring Little Mordred to study more, yet Morgan had already won her over so completely.
As a novice mother, Guinevere was utterly outmatched by Morgan, the seasoned veteran, when it came to winning a child's affection.
"Tch..."
Guinevere clicked her tongue but said nothing more. Little Mordred was already reaching out to her, tilting her head for a hug.
The little one still loved Guinevere, of course, just not as much as the King of Knights or Morgan—Guinevere ranked third in her affections.
When little Mordred hugged her, Guinevere's anger dissipated after playfully pinching the girl's cheek in mock ferocity.
Deep down, Guinevere understood that parents who forced their children to study and do homework could never win their hearts like those who indulged them with play and treats.
Yet she had to play the villain. If she didn't, who else would? Would she rely on the King of Knights or Morgan to do it?
"Hehe, at least Little Mordred hasn't completely forgotten her Queen Mother!"
With such low expectations, satisfaction came easily. After cuddling Mordred for a while, Guinevere set her down in front of her and turned her gaze to the grassy fields lining the road, where listless cattle and sheep grazed... along with their equally listless shepherds.
"Hah!"
Without needing reins, a gentle nudge with her foot was enough for her warhorse—equipped with an improved saddle and stirrups—to turn instinctively toward the shepherds, who were uncertain whether to approach.
Early summer had brought several days of scorching heat, turning the grass brittle and yellow. The sweltering shepherds wore only knee-length skirts and carried linen cloths.
Far from elegant, but certainly cool. To ward off mosquitoes, they had even draped themselves in whole sprigs of lavender, filling the air with its pungent aroma.
At around thirty degrees Celsius, this was the perfect temperature for lavender to thrive.
"Greetings, Your Majesty the Queen, Lady Morgan, the Little Prince, and Sir Knights!"
Six or seven shepherds remained composed despite being surrounded by a full squadron of knights, a testament to their trust in the knights' integrity. Since transitioning from Vassal King rule to Knight rule, they had rarely suffered from the abuses of power—forced marriages, exorbitant taxes, and other oppressions.
Now, all the regulations they were bound by stemmed from the Kingdom's unified legal code, first promulgated four years prior and continuously refined and supplemented in the years since.
Their composure relieved Guinevere of the need for questioning. It was clear that Knight Gaheris had governed his fief well.
"How have things been lately? Any challenges you're facing?"
Though initially composed, the shepherds grew uneasy under the knights' intense gaze and the questioning of the faerie-like Queen.
Their discomfort stemmed from their summer attire. They had adopted the Northerners'... no, the New Camelotians' style of wearing knee-length skirts without undergarments.
Shifting nervously, they remained kneeling, unwilling to rise. The knights tactfully avoided circling behind them.
"Your Majesty," one shepherd finally spoke, "if we're talking about challenges, I want to know—are we truly limited to merely watching? The Kingdom has been preparing for war against Gaul for five years now, hasn't it? We want to enlist too, even as auxiliary soldiers responsible for transporting supplies!"
"Five years ago, if you hadn't initiated the Judgment against the Church, I would never have learned that my daughter had been murdered long ago in the Convent."
"My daughter's vengeance has been served. The ringleaders have all been burned at the stake. After the Purification Plan, the Church will reopen to the public, allowing citizens to supervise and report any wrongdoing.
But the Church in Gaul remains unchanged. I yearn to punish those hypocritical demons in the Lord's name, and do it quickly!"
As she listened, Guinevere's expression froze like a mirror. The shepherd's request pleased her, proving that the people's hearts were ready to be swayed.
Yet the Lord's faith remained so deeply ingrained, extinguishing her joy as quickly as it had ignited.
"Shepherd, for now, you need only pray to the Lord—pray that Camelot achieves a swift and decisive victory."
Guinevere didn't deny the impending war. With Emperor Lucius's envoy expelled this afternoon, news of the conflict would soon spread across the land.
"This war currently belongs to the Knights alone. Camelot does not yet require auxiliary troops or cannon fodder."
With that, Guinevere turned her horse, preparing to move on to another area.
Having endured so much hardship and only recently begun to see a glimmer of improvement, the shepherds were easily satisfied. Perhaps their inability to see the difficulties ahead stemmed from their deep-seated belief that the Kingdom could never alleviate their existing struggles.
For instance, in this prolonged drought, it never occurred to them that the Kingdom might be able to conjure artificial rain.
During her visit to the Mages, Guinevere made a specific request: she wanted them to induce rain in key areas to alleviate the drought.
As an island nation, Great Britain had no shortage of moisture. The lack of rainfall was solely due to the Decline of Mystery, which had disrupted weather patterns, causing inland clouds to drift out to sea before releasing their precipitation.
This meant artificial rainmaking was possible, whether by summoning winds to push maritime clouds inland or by inducing rainfall from clouds still lingering over Great Britain. Both methods remained within the Mages' capabilities.
Was rainmaking a divine prerogative? Were humans limited to mere prayer? Even if Guinevere believed it, the Mages would never fully accept it.
Or perhaps, even if they knew this to be true, they remained confident in their ability to replicate such feats.