"Pardon my ignorance, but I'm unclear why you summoned me to escort you to Edinburgh. We have no quarrel with Noknarey, do we? And frankly, I don't believe making an enemy of her is wise."
Riding alongside Redra's carriage on her white destrier, the white-armored knight Kundrelia looked puzzled as she addressed Guinevere and company.
—Before setting out for Edinburgh, you lingered in Salisbury while Oberon returned to Lentyne to fetch Percival, who should have been defending the city.
"As we explained," Artoria beamed, "we're enacting the beauty-trap strategy—using handsome knights to charm her!"
"That, of all things, is what troubles me most," Percival admitted with an embarrassed scratch of his head. "This beauty-trap… is it the same one I know?"
"Good question—how do you understand the beauty-trap, Percival?" Guinevere asked.
"Traditionally, it mirrors the classic honey-trap: deploy a strikingly handsome man to seduce a high-ranking female leader, thereby achieving strategic aims," Percival said hesitantly. "Am I correct?"
"Oh, you have it exactly!" Artoria laughed. "But don't worry—I'm not asking you to betray her affections. Noknarey is my dear friend; I genuinely want to help her find true love. If you two hit it off, the Round Table and the northern fairies could forge a peaceful alliance. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
"But that's precisely the problem," Percival murmured, still looking troubled—like a bashful boy despite his armor. "You see, I'm already… attached."
"Ah?" Artoria's eyes went wide, then she hurriedly bowed her head. "I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have dragged you into this without knowing. My apologies!"
"No, you needn't apologize. She is not my fiancée." Percival hurried to reassure her.
"Then perhaps you already have a betrothed?"
"Um… no." Percival hesitated. "Our bond is… more like sibling and mentor."
"Siblings? Mentor and pupil?" Artoria's gossip instincts flared. "Such a forbidden romance—do tell!"
"No, no—you've misunderstood. My feelings for her aren't romantic. If anything, it's a familial love."
"Ah…" Artoria's scandal-hungry excitement fizzled when Fairy Eye confirmed Percival's sincerity. She deflated.
"In that case, you're still free to find another lady to adore," Guinevere interjected. "I'm sure she'd bless your courtship."
"Well… I have so many Round Table duties now, I doubt I could make room in my heart for someone new." Percival sighed.
"Come now—people often believe they have no need for romance until they meet their destined partner!" Artoria folded her arms like a seasoned veteran and shot Guinevere a knowing glance, nodding vigorously. "Yes, trust me! Don't ask how I know."
Everyone—including Redra and Kundrelia—understood exactly what she meant.
"Very well, I'll give it a try," Percival said reluctantly. "But how could someone as ordinary as I capture the heart of a northern queen?"
"Why do you say that?" Artoria chided. "By any measure, you're the perfect knight: formidable, honorable, handsome, young, and leader of your own realm. Who could find fault in you?"
"Indeed," Guinevere agreed. "Modesty is a virtue—but undue self-deprecation can border on false humility. A true knight should acknowledge his strengths."
"I… I didn't think I was being humble. I simply feel that way. But if it causes concern, I shall correct myself." Percival bowed.
"Exactly," Guinevere nodded.
"Yet—even so—I cannot compare to you, Lord Guinevere. In character, valor, or leadership, you surpass me." Percival looked earnest.
"Oh?" Guinevere blushed. "No one surpasses Sir Percival—"
Before he could finish, Artoria interjected:
"Even if Percival trails you slightly, Guinevere, losing to you is no shame."
"Wait—Artoria, that's a bit biased. Please remove your rose-tinted glasses…" Guinevere protested, but Oberon quietly joined in:
"I cannot say otherwise. You did save Norich and bested Percival in single combat. And since my return, Lentyne has flourished under your influence. I detect no partiality in Artoria's words—unless you think I misstate the facts?"
"Ah…" Guinevere stammered.
Finally, Percival offered a summary:
"Lord Guinevere, forgive my boldness, but in our days together, I've noticed your difficulty in recognizing your own merits. Yet… excessive humility is harmful. A knight must honestly acknowledge his strengths—something you taught me."
"R-Really?" Guinevere pressed his temples, leaning against the carriage as if waking from a dream. Could he truly be so commendable? Unbelievable.
"No, it must be because Artoria has poured so much 'investment' into you," the real-world Guinevere chuckled wryly. "With skills that let you grow by spending money, and a billionaire patron… even a pig would soar!"
Though his own efforts bore fruit, it was nothing compared to that wild spending spree.
"Still… it feels absurd." Guinevere lay back on his cot, murmuring:
"Is this simulation reliable? Could reality yield the same results?"
"If Artoria truly showered me with resources…" he trailed off, chuckling.
"Yet surpassing even the spirit-hero Percival… I can hardly imagine."
…
[With Percival reunited, you set out again for Edinburgh in the north.]
[Passing through Camelot toward the northern border, you unexpectedly entered a vibrant chocolate field.]
[You were astonished to see chocolate literally sprouting from the ground.]
"Yay—snacks!" Artoria's eyes sparkled as she dashed into the field.
"Oh! These are the remnants of Lady Aurora's finest sweets—so many!" she squealed. "Not carrots, but the supreme delight!"
Redra charged in after her.
"No—wait! You two shouldn't help yourselves to another's crops without permission…" Percival called after them, to no avail.
He looked to Guinevere for help:
"Lord Guinevere, could you persuade them? Artoria would listen to you."
"You're right," Guinevere said, stepping forward and plucking a piece of chocolate from the field's edge. "Better to stand here and pick."
He crunched it alongside a biscuit from his pocket, muttering, "Chocolate with biscuits? That's Pocky."
"This…" Percival turned to Oberon, who was smiling serenely.
"Surely there's no harm—everyone seems happy."
"But these fields belong to Lady Noknarey. We came to seek her alliance, yet we're raiding her chocolate…" Percival bowed his head in shame.
Oberon laughed:
"Consider this: our past envoys to her court never even met her face to face. Perhaps our snacking will serve as an icebreaker."
"Eh? What do you mean?" Percival looked bewildered.
"Look." Oberon pointed toward a distant hill.
Over the crest tumbled a group of shirtless soldiers wearing iron masks that concealed their faces—chanting bizarre war cries like "Weeeeeei\~hoooooooo!" As they surged toward you, perfectly surrounding your party, they parted to form a path.
Then, atop the columned soldiers strode a figure wreathed in immense mana, clicking heels echoing:
"Enough of this! You shameless intruders frolicking in my gardens! Do you wish for my descendants to toil as slaves for all eternity?…Wait—Artoria? Why is your innocent face here?"
At the sight of Artoria, the rose-haired queen froze in stunned recognition.