I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

Guinevere so vehemently opposed the proposals to make her Queen of Scotland for this very reason. Regardless of the efforts made, both publicly and privately, if she wished to replace Pat, Leo Doggland's chosen successor, she would ultimately have to engage in a fair duel with her brother, witnessed by all the powerful and influential people in Scotland.

Then beat him to a pulp.

The matter itself wasn't particularly difficult, but if she actually did it, her relationship with Pat would probably be irreparably damaged.

Having experienced the regrets of her past life, Guinevere values ​​family ties especially in this life. Although her mother passed away a long time ago, she missed out on her father and brother in her past life for various reasons, and she never had the chance to experience them at all. Now that she still has the chance, she never wants to push things too far.

Besides, what good are the benefits of being king? Does it mean you can finally play all the games you didn't have time to play in your past life, or that you can have an extra slice of cheesecake for lunch every day? Just look at King Arthur, who later unified Britain, and how desperate he was, having to choose between roast meat and Gawain's special mashed potatoes every day.

The power that many people dream of is nothing more than this in her eyes. It is certainly convenient to have it, but even without this status, with a sword in hand, she can still roam freely and be invincible.

If the Scottish throne held any appeal for her, it was probably only the royal sword technique, which only past kings could learn. As a not-so-competent martial arts fanatic, Guinevere did yearn for this swordsmanship, which was almost universally praised. However, after receiving Nuada's sword intent, this initial yearning transformed into a mindset akin to collecting achievements in a game.

Of course, a qualified king should never be greedy for personal gain or loss, but should always keep in mind his important responsibilities and lead his people to overcome obstacles—at least that's what Leod Ogland said, and he has indeed done so over the years. Pat, who has been carefully taught by him for many years, should not fail in his attitude no matter what.

"...That's right, there's no way I could compete with my brother for this position. I've never been interested in it, and the North is already in such a mess. If I go and make things worse, Father will be furious..." Guinevere held the hot soup in both hands, took a sip, and shook her head with a smile.

The main figures at this victory celebration were Gahoris, Gareth, and the other surviving soldiers, who were currently surrounded by a group of people, looking quite busy. Orkney was a place of simple, honest people. Because King Lothair was a cheerful and unpretentious man, the court rules were also very simple, with no overly strict distinctions of rank. Guinevere glanced around and saw His Majesty the King smiling as he clinked glasses with a guard, then chug down a whole glass—about half a liter—of ale, amidst cheers from the crowd.

"Oh dear..." This scene also caught the eye of Morgan Lefebvre standing beside her. Lotte's glass was immediately refilled, and the woman, her face completely obscured by a veil, couldn't help but rub her forehead: "She's already not a good drinker, and she dares to drink like this... she probably won't be able to get up tomorrow."

"Isn't there a hangover cure?" the girl asked casually.

Morgan's magic was learned from a nun, but it was more like a druidic tradition than a church tradition. Besides polymorphism, he was most skilled in healing magic and potion making. Practical and simple potions such as hangover cures and seasickness potions were always Orkney's specialty products sold to the outside world.

"Eating that stuff once in a while is fine, but eating too much can cause side effects." The woman's veil swayed slightly, and her tone sounded somewhat troubled.

"side effect?"

"I will never get drunk again."

“I see…” Guinevere nodded in understanding.

Most people drink alcohol to experience the wonderful feeling of being tipsy. If one could truly become someone who could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk, then there would be little enjoyment left.

“So let him have a headache for a while longer, he won’t die anyway.” Morgan smiled faintly. “But it’s really surprising. I thought you came here this time hoping that Orkney would support you in inheriting the throne. I didn’t expect that the Scottish crown would be so unattractive to you… But Fina, have you thought about this?”

"what is the problem?"

"The reason you've been able to be so free until now is because you still have another path to take. But once that path is blocked... the expectations of others will bind you like shackles. Believe me, at that time, you won't be much more special than other noble ladies." Morgan lifted her veil, took a small sip of ale, and although it was just cheap liquor and a wooden cup, she managed to exude an air of elegance.

Guinevere thought for a moment: "This is indeed a problem... but we have to get through this hurdle first, and we can think about the rest later."

“Hoo hoo…” Morgan chuckled softly. “Then let’s continue discussing this current predicament. Neither Lott nor I can leave the castle for the time being, otherwise it might cause unrest among the people. Fortunately, King Perinoa is here and has agreed to accompany you… His reputation is, in some ways, even more useful than Lott’s, and his overly frank personality is also very helpful in this matter. With him speaking up, Lott and the lords will agree to send more men to search for Leodogran.”

"The problem is, even if we find the King of Scotland, is there a way to restore him to normal?" She shifted her gaze to the sword at the girl's waist: "You said that the power of this sword can sever the connection between a Shadow Heroic Spirit and the one it possesses."

Guinevere nodded.

“That’s not right.” Morgan shook his head, looked at Guinevere’s puzzled expression, and smiled. “If what you say is true, then there shouldn’t be another power within you.”

Given Morgan's strength, it wasn't surprising that he could sense the dragon curse within him. However, what surprised the girl was her next question: "Or perhaps, Fina, you haven't realized that this strange power within you actually originates from the same source as those Shadow Heroes?"

"From the same source..."

"Ever since I discovered that those dark enemies were transformed from our own people, I have been searching for a way to restore them to their original state. Although I haven't found any effective cure yet, I have gained some understanding of the nature of that power."

Morgan paused for a moment: "You should know about the so-called Heroic Spirits. From ancient times to the present, heroes who have performed incredible feats and are celebrated in the world, their souls will be transformed into immortal warriors after death, living in distant palaces, fighting for a more noble purpose. Through certain ancient and mysterious rituals, the souls of these heroes can be brought into the real world... Of course, the conditions are extremely harsh, and the price is also very heavy."

"First, a body is needed that is strong enough for the Heroic Spirit to exert its power. However, the power of the Heroic Spirit's descent is so immense that no mortal can withstand it. Once the ritual is performed, a powerful warrior will inevitably die. Therefore, Heroic Spirit Possession is a forbidden technique in the eyes of most sects, a trump card that is only used when there is no other choice... However, right now, Orkney alone has encountered as many as seventy Shadow Heroic Spirits."

"Moreover, most of those possessed simply don't possess the conditions necessary for the heroic spirit to exert its power. Generally speaking, before the ritual ends, the moment the heroic spirit descends, these people should die on the spot because they cannot withstand it. But in fact—"

"They're still alive."

Understanding Morgan's meaning, Guinevere's expression darkened slightly. This was precisely what puzzled her, Neov, and others who had some understanding of Heroic Spirits. Not to mention that the conditions for a Heroic Spirit to descend upon one's body were extremely harsh, and in most cases it was a suicidal act, how could it be like this clearance sale, where one could casually walk a few steps and bump into a Shadow Heroic Spirit jumping out of the bushes?

“So I have a bold hypothesis.” Morgan exhaled: “What descends upon them is not a true Heroic Spirit, but some weakened, false existence. That’s why soldiers who have undergone special training can defeat a Shadow Heroic Spirit when they unite, which is why those shadows keep appearing. Originally, my hypothesis only went this far, but when I saw you, I suddenly discovered something—the incongruous power within you is extremely similar to those Shadow Heroic Spirits. Perhaps the key to solving this mystery, Fina, lies within you.”

Even through the thin black veil, one could sense Morgan's earnest gaze fixed on them.

Guinevere was startled. She had never thought about the problem from this angle before. Because of her deep-rooted impressions from her past life, she subconsciously believed that the Heroic Spirit must have been summoned from Valhalla. Even though the current situation felt somewhat familiar, she had never tried to connect Fafnir with the current situation in the rush of events.

However, after Morgan's reminder, a sudden flash of insight seemed to strike her mind: why couldn't she retract her black armor after passing through the portal? Why did the dragon's power, which had been almost depleted, suddenly become inexhaustible? The questions that had always puzzled her seemed to suddenly have answers—Fafnir, and the other "monsters" dwelling in the depths of nightmares, the illusion she had once seen in the Void Sea, the young people who had encountered the strange occurrence, the pink-haired woman in a snow-white cloak ascending the steps into the Golden Palace in the Clouds…

"Because of a mistake my mother made, the seven of us lost our bodies and are destined to remain forever in this void..."

"This is the edge of a nightmare, a corner abandoned by the world."

“Go back to where you belong and find a way to wake us from this nightmare so that we can be freed from this eternal torment.”

"These are my conditions and my request."

When I first met Fafnir, the deep roar of the dragon seemed to echo in my ears once again.

Also recalled were Royal's words: "...According to Lady Gretel, Terenas instigated Marco to spread death and terror throughout Cornwall, her true aim being to emulate the great god Odin of old..."

If Terenas is merely a puppet controlled by Neman, then perhaps her purpose is also the same as that of the goddess.

"...Build a Valhalla of her own on this land."

Everything was interconnected. The image that surfaced in my mind finally settled within the illusion: the moment when the pink-haired woman slowly knelt down, her hands pressed to her forehead in a prayerful gesture.

In front of her, in the very center of the palace, stood a large, ancient cauldron.

Guinevere's eyes narrowed.

She discovered that she actually recognized the large cauldron.

Even though she had never seen it with her own eyes or touched it before, and only had a vague impression of its existence, at this moment, she clearly remembered its name, its origin, and its effects.

This is one of the four treasures that the people of Danu obtained from the four druid cities when they set sail. It is the treasure of Murias, a divine object held by the "Father God" Dagda.

The omnipotent cauldron that can grant any wish.

At the same time, amidst the illusory sounds of wind and rain, the voices within the palace suddenly became clear. The druid elder, draped in a bearskin, shouted in a frenzied tone: "Rejoice! Your wish will surely be fulfilled, for what you have obtained is the secret treasure of Murias, the divine cauldron capable of granting all wishes!"

“I am Maeve, Queen of Connaught.”

The palace doors were wide open, and a snow-white cloak swayed wildly in the wind. The pink-haired woman, whose face was partially obscured, spoke softly: "There is only one thing I desire but cannot have, and that is the death of my hated enemy, Connor. For this, I can give you any price you desire."

"If that's your wish."

A cold voice, not belonging to the two people present, suddenly rang out: "State your reasons, pay the price, and then—you will get what you want."

These were the words of Mananan, the "God of the Sea," that Guinevere had once heard.

Word for word.

……

P.S.: I've been quite busy these past few days, mainly because my elderly relative isn't feeling well and I need to take her back to Shenzhen for a medical checkup. If everything is alright, I should be able to resume daily updates~ Remember to vote!

Chapter 203 Confrontation in a Dream

Some things have become clear.

Guinevere had heard stories of the island of Ireland since she was very young.

Legend has it that the island to the west committed a grave error and was thus cursed by the devil, imprisoned in layers of mist, and has had no contact with the outside world for hundreds of years.

Whether it was King Uther, the once mighty Roman Empire, or the kings who ruled Britain before it became a colony, they all tried to send people across the sea to investigate the current situation of this "friendly neighbor," but in the end, they all went and never returned, and no news came back.

After losing a significant number of personnel, all these rulers, without exception, ceased their exploration of the neighboring islands.

There were also many adventurous explorers, mercenaries, and adventurers who dreamed of making a fortune. Among them were some daring individuals who would gather a group of people and cross the sea to Ireland in search of their own adventures. However, over the centuries, at least several thousand people have entered that misty land, but almost none of them have been able to return safely.

Aside from the obviously fabricated lies, someone managed to find several sailors who had indeed accompanied the expedition to Ireland—some were already gray-haired, while others were still strong young men.

But when the man found them, he discovered that these former sailors, without exception, had all become idiots who could only drool and chuckle stupidly.

After word spread, people said these people had been possessed by the devil, and their fear of Ireland intensified. The story was even used to scare disobedient children: "If you don't go to sleep, the devil of Ireland will come and eat you!"

Without a doubt, neither the girl's past life nor her understanding of that masterpiece set on the moon contained any such anomaly. Otherwise, the Irish-born Child of Light would surely have mentioned such a crucial foreshadowing. When Guinevere finally realized what was happening after Morgan's words and consulted numerous acquaintances, including Lotte and Gahoris, she discovered the problem was far more serious than she had initially thought.

No one can say for sure which year Ireland began to be shrouded in mist, but she asked almost everyone she knew in the castle, and not a single one of them had ever heard of Maeve, Cú Chulainn, the Red Branch Knights, Finn, and other organizations and figures that should have been household names.

She didn't believe it was simply because the people of Orkney were ignorant—King Lot was both a scholar and a warrior, understood the importance of knowledge, and never hesitated to support it. There was even a Roman scholar living in the capital who was responsible for teaching his children history. Occasionally, when Guinevere came to visit, she would sit in on the lectures and realized that he was indeed a white-bearded old man with real skills.

However, upon hearing the names she rattled off, the old man simply stroked his beard, his face full of doubt: "I've never heard of these people... your friends?"

Her expression didn't seem feigned. The girl casually replied with a few perfunctory words, but after the old scholar left, her expression turned serious.

She had never paid much attention to the anomalies of the western island before, or rather, lacked the motivation and means to explore it further. Perhaps she would have the urge to explore it when she was stronger enough in the future, but the sudden opening of a new page in the illusion linked the enigmatic island of Ireland to the current crisis in the North. The people of Danu had crossed the sea and set foot on the island of Ireland. The pink-haired woman who made a wish to the Cauldron of Secrets called herself Maeve—Guinevere naturally knew this name, the infamous villainous queen from The Bull's Tale, and also the lifelong nemesis of that unlucky E-rank spearman.

She is also Irish.

If the girl's memory is correct, Cú Chulainn's active period should be around the first century AD, that is, about four hundred years ago, when Maeve, in what appears to be the Golden Palace in the Clouds, made a wish filled with hatred, witnessed by an old druid.

Her seven sons then transformed into terrifying monsters and were trapped in a nightmare ever since.

The fifth child transformed into the monster Fafnir, the infamous dragon.

This may be the price Maeve pays for her wish.

But what exactly is this so-called nightmare? Is the Omnipotent Cauldron, one of the four great treasures of the Danu, related to the current resurgence of Neman and Macha? And why was Krausolas, also one of the four great treasures, sealed in the Inner Sea of ​​the Stars until Merlin brought it out and repaired it into the Sword in the Stone?

More questions arose in Guinevere's mind. She had a vague feeling that the changes in Ireland, the "Hall of Heroes" that Neman wanted to build, and even the remnant soul of Macha that she had encountered some time ago, and the deity Mananan in the Trident of Poseidon, were all inextricably linked to that omnipotent cauldron.

"So, Mrs. Morgan, you suspect that the last portal we couldn't activate actually leads to the interior of the palace? And inside, lies the long-lost Danu treasure, the Cauldron of All Power?"

"It's just a hypothesis. Compared to the complete lack of clues before, Fina's clue does point us in a possible direction—the goddess's purpose."

Since the two sides were allies and it was a life-or-death moment, the girl did not harbor any more suspicion or concealment, and told Pigeon Neoff, Lott, Morgan Lefebvre, and several others about the illusion she had seen.

One person's plan is short-sighted, but two people's plans are long-sighted. Besides, these people are all outstanding figures of their time. After listening, they remained silent for a long time before they began to seriously discuss the issue. However, they didn't have much information at hand, so the scope of their exchanges was naturally extremely limited. As Morgan said, it was only slightly better than when they were completely clueless before.

“We’ll try to investigate, Gu. If the Omnipotent Cauldron truly exists within the palace, even if it’s unrelated to this matter, it’s still an extremely powerful sacred object. It will definitely be useful, Gu.”

“This is troublesome. If I weren’t tied up, I would really like to go and see your Sanctuary…” Morgan’s eyes sparkled when she mentioned Tirnano, a place that only existed in legends. Clearly, as a magician, she was quite interested in this legendary place.

As the maintainer of the barrier, and also a renowned healer in the North, Morgan's status was in some ways no less than that of King Lotte. With her in charge of the capital, most of the wounded soldiers and civilians could be saved as long as they had a breath left—a miracle that had been proven countless times over the past few years. It was because of this that they were able to muster the courage to challenge the monsters that roamed the great forest, just as they had faced enemy armies and bandits in the past.

If King Lothar is an invincible sword in the hearts of the Orknis, then Queen Morgan le Fay is the banner that unites them. Especially when such a crisis is lurking, they should not easily leave the capital.

Although Morgan understood this, he was still quite disappointed until the pigeon Neover promised that once everything was settled and they were both still alive, he would formally invite her to Tirnano. Only then did this noblewoman, who sometimes acted like a child, smile and nod in agreement.

This is essentially a statement: even if the Nieman issue is resolved, the remaining Picts will no longer be enemies of the Northern Kings, and in the North, at least on the Orkney side, they will no longer cling to past grudges and insist on exterminating everyone. Both sides are intelligent, and after reaching a consensus, they can proceed with more practical cooperation.

Only a few hundred Picts survived, and of those, only a handful were still combat-ready. Neof's main asset was herself—a "natural spirit" formed from the fusion of multiple spellcasters, a being that was somewhat similar to a Heroic Spirit. The heavy sacrifice brought with it immense power. This pigeon could not only create numerous clones—up to a maximum of thirty-seven, the same number of druids who had sacrificed themselves—serving as communication channels between various factions, but it also kept a close watch on every rustle of the great forest.

If it weren't for the fact that revealing his aura might attract Niman's attention, and considering that the other party is one of the true Danu gods, and might know other ways to enter Tirnano, thus endangering the remaining members of his tribe within the sacred land, Nioph wouldn't have gone to such great lengths, having Musashi and the tribe's warriors painstakingly search for Leodogran's whereabouts.

After discussion, Lott agreed to allow Neover to leave a clone in Orkney to ensure she could maintain constant contact with Tirnanor and Guinevere. Orkney would also send additional personnel to assist in the search for the missing King of Scotland. Leodogland's safety was crucial to Scotland's future actions, making it of paramount importance.

As for Guinevere, after resting in the room specially reserved for her that night, she would rush to the Wall of Antony before dawn the next day, accompanied by the pigeon Neof, King Perinoa, the young Percival, and the young merchant who had been exceptionally recruited as a knight some time ago, to inform her brother Pat of the news of Neman.

If it's the King of the Islands speaking, no one should openly object. Regardless of public opinion, at this moment, Scotland must unite...

With that thought in mind, she slept soundly for the first time in a long time that night in the royal city of Orkney.

In her dream, the girl seemed to see the same bright moon that she once saw in the small village. Everything had changed; the villagers and Uru were all dead. What was the "boy" who had been by her side back then doing now?

Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a silvery glow on the floor. In the dim room, a rainbow of light danced, and a dove spread its wings, transforming into a woman with purple hair and red eyes. She came to the bedside and gently tucked the sleeping girl in. The doors and windows weren't fully closed, and the faint sounds of the guards talking outside could be heard in the gentle night breeze, which only emphasized the quietness of the room.

She stood by the bed, looking at the girl's round face without saying a word. After a long while, she suddenly reached out and quietly drew several mysterious runes on Guinevere's forehead. As the magic surged, the girl seemed to sense it and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. But the next moment, the sword of light beside her suddenly trembled, and the soft light flowed like water, or like an invisible hand, gently smoothing away the furrowed brow.

"Thank you," Neof said with a slight smile, mouthing the words.

“I understand you mean no harm. But if you disturb my lord’s precious dream—” Clausolas’s cold voice resounded from the depths of his heart.

"clear."

As the slender, pale fingers drew the final stroke, the runes, imbued with mysterious power, overlapped, and a faint gray mist suddenly appeared around them.

The gray fog spread, instantly enveloping the entire room. The purple-haired woman was not surprised. She lowered her hands, and her bright red eyes, which seemed to contain flames, appeared to pierce through the layers of gray fog and see something on the other side.

She smiled slightly: "There are some things I'd like to confirm with you personally. The infamous dragon Fafnir, would you do me the honor of meeting me?"

The air suddenly seemed to freeze.

"You have a lot of guts."

Gray mist condensed, vaguely revealing a huge outline. Dark red pupils suddenly opened, looking down from above.

"Thank you for the compliment..."

"What I mean is, you really have guts to act stupid like this."

The dragon's roar echoed far and wide.

Nioph's expression froze for a moment before she chuckled and said, "Anyway, she can't see—can't see, huh?"

"When the day comes that you are assassinated by the divine spear, I will mourn. But for now, let me hear why you are willing to use primordial runes to communicate with nightmares and talk to me."

When the conversation turned to business, the purple-haired woman's expression became serious: "We've already heard about your affair with this Scottish princess from her. But what we want to know is whether you genuinely want to help her this time, or if, like with our poor kin, you simply want to possess her body and descend into reality?"