Recent Months...
Mordred's infiltration had gone flawlessly, allowing Camelot's enforcement against the Fallen Knights to proceed without incident.
The purge left over thirty empty seats at the Round Table, which could accommodate more than a hundred knights. However, most of those who departed had simply taken the opportunity to retire, sending their successors to the Royal Palace or the Knight Academy for pre-ennoblement training as required.
After all, Guinevere hadn't targeted them completely. She hadn't forbidden knights from pursuing political careers after passing the civil service exams.
"Arthur, look! I'll show you how to bite a Fire Gem!"
The purge had left the surviving knights far more solemn. Yet, when Guinevere invited them to a barbecue, they couldn't refuse.
This time, Lancelot had returned with over a hundred knights to be formally invested as the Grand Duke of Gaul. These were the knights who wished to return to Camelot after the decision was made for Gaul to become independent.
Over the past decade, nearly three hundred of the thousand-plus knights who had remained in Gaul had fallen in battle. Another five hundred had settled down there, swayed by the subtle influence of the Gallic nobility.
They couldn't be blamed. Their marriages had been approved by Camelot, and they never imagined the day would come when Camelot would relinquish its hold on Gaul.
"Arthur, where are you looking? Look at me!"
Outside Camelot City, Guinevere's barbecue wasn't just for the knights; she had extended the invitation to all residents of the city.
As a result, the grasslands outside the city were dotted with bonfires. Active Enforcement Knights patrolled everywhere, ensuring the barbecue didn't spark a wildfire.
All the food for the event was provided by the Camelot royal family!
At the center of the grasslands, where Guinevere, the King of Knights, Morgan, and numerous Round Table Knights had gathered, Guinevere—dressed in a practical skirt—was preparing to light the largest bonfire.
She looked at the King of Knights, whom she could only call "Arthur," and held a mana-infused ruby between her teeth.
As soon as the King of Knights turned to look, Guinevere bit down on the ruby. Flames erupted from her mouth, instantly igniting the bonfire, which stood taller than a person.
"Whoa! It's lit! My hair's on fire!"
-
"The Queen... she's still so childlike."
Dressed in a slightly tight-fitting formal suit, Lancelot deliberately flexed his masculine muscles. Beside him, his wife smiled warmly.
They both knew the truth of the final act and were willing to cooperate with Guinevere to deceive 'Human Order'. However, as rumors spread that Lancelot was a young Faerie girl, the soon-to-be-appointed Grand Duke of Gaul often found his mind wandering, while his Duchess frequently struggled to suppress her laughter.
She had succeeded—she held ninety-nine percent of Lancelot's heart in her hands.
"Elaine, you're laughing at me again. You haven't stopped."
"How can I help it? My dear Sir Lancelot is so bothered by these rumors that he's even wearing clothes that scream 'male.' But..."
"Wow, it's Sir Lancelot and Lady Elaine! Sir Lancelot, did you use Faerie Magecraft to turn into a man again today?"
After her Fire Gem performance, Guinevere's lips were slightly blistered. But thanks to the Replica Avalon Scabbard, her injuries healed within seconds.
As she approached Lancelot and his wife, hand-in-hand with the King of Knights, her mischievous streak hadn't diminished. Her first words were designed to provoke him.
After ten years with almost no contact, and with Lady Elaine by his side every day, any love Lancelot once held for Guinevere had long since been replaced by the affection he'd cultivated for his wife.
Because of their long separation and Guinevere's gender-bending rumors, Lancelot's feelings for her had dwindled to mere admiration for her beauty.
"Queen, let me state this formally: I am not a white-haired young girl, nor will I ever become one."
"Yes, yes, I hear you. But Sir Lancelot, you're far too concerned. Look at Sir Tristan—he doesn't mind being called a red-haired Faerie girl. I hear he's even composed several poems and songs on the subject."
Where there was a feast, there was music. Tristan, his eyes always closed, had sharper ears than anyone. Amid the din, he caught Guinevere's boastful words.
His harp playing faltered for a moment, but he merely sighed.
After tonight, Guinevere planned to announce that the Holy Grail had sought her out again, and she would be retreating to a convent for a period of spiritual purification.
According to her, the burning at the stake wasn't strictly necessary, but she needed to provide a sense of closure for the Knights who had survived the recent purge.
Moreover, her prestige had grown too immense. If she didn't find a way to exit the stage, many Knights would seek her out before turning to Mordred.
"Sir Lancelot, are you alright with this? The common folk will soon be whispering that I'm retreating to the convent because of a falling out between you and the King of Knights."
"Queen, why must you tarnish your own name like this..."
A sigh escaped Lady Elaine. She had always been troubled by the rumors surrounding her partner and Guinevere, yet as a woman, she could understand why Guinevere was willing to make such a sacrifice.
In any era, when two people truly loved each other, they would willingly give anything for the other's sake.
"Lady Elaine, I'm merely ensuring there are no loose ends. Besides, I've never been one to care about appearances."
Elaine secretly envied Guinevere. Guinevere had someone she loved with unwavering devotion, and that person was willing to change herself for her.
That Lancelot... he never even whispered sweet nothings in bed! All he ever did was ask if Galahad was doing well in Camelot and if he had written back.
"Ahem. Queen, after you leave, the King of Knights will soon begin Prince Mordred's final trial for the throne, won't she?"
"Yes. Lia is eager to join me, and Mordred is anxious to become king as soon as possible."
The wind seemed to muffle their voices, ensuring no unintended ears overheard their conversation.
After a moment of silence, Lancelot abruptly drained his cup, then drew his sword and pointed it at Agravain.
This was his stage, his performance. Here, he would...
"Agravain! You have sullied my honor! I challenge you to a duel! The loser will change their name, as if they had died in the fight!
"You, you, and you! You're all on my duel list!"
Lancelot's challenge was abrupt, but considering he'd been forced into wearing tights, it seemed reasonable enough. Besides, the loser wouldn't actually die—only their name would.
"Yes, yes! Fight! Fight!"
"Hah!"
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Some reveled in the chaos, while others were eager to see how much they and Lancelot had grown in the ten years since they'd last crossed swords.
First Agravain, then Gareth, then Gaheris... Lancelot challenged them all. Only Gawain, who refused to duel unless it was at noon, agreed to fight Lancelot at a later date.
In Le Morte d'Arthur, the knights Lancelot killed while capturing the Queen or during her rescue from the pyre were all challenged one by one. They lost their names, achieving a death in the literary sense.
And after tonight, though Agravain and the others would continue their duties, their names would vanish even from unofficial histories.
In the future, Guinevere wouldn't even need to sling mud. Chroniclers would likely speculate and weave their own narratives based on the existing unofficial histories.
As for Mordred—who, in the original story, would have been gravely wounded while catching the lovers—she also dueled Lancelot...
She was still severely injured, but she fought Lancelot for over an hour, even managing to suppress him at one point.
Thus, Mordred's defeat was honorable. Many knights who had previously dismissed her now praised her, saying things like, "A tiger father has no dog son," and commending her as a worthy son of the King of Knights.
At the same time, they grew even more terrified of Guinevere, who had dominated them on the training grounds for nearly seventeen years and had recently subdued Mordred with ease.
"Queen, will you fight Sir Lancelot?"