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

"Tell me, what's the price you'll pay for helping me solve this problem?"

"One year."

Merlin smiled gently: "By absorbing Terena's life force, you can allow your already depleted soul to remain in this world for another year. And as long as Terena is imprisoned within your body, the Hydra poison flowing within this body can also fight poison with poison, gradually purifying Terena's soul, which has been corrupted by divine power, so that her 'origin' will not be affected. This will also take a year. After a year, both you and Terena will be able to let go of all attachments and constraints, stepping cleanly and unhindered into the stream of souls, to be reborn."

"This is my promise."

"What I want is one life, and victory in a war—"

"And a brand new future that no one knows about."

Chapter Seventy: The Tower of Glory (Part 1)

"A brand new future..."

The sunlight streaming in through the window gradually changed from golden to orange-red. Inside the reception room, the old man curled his fingers and gently, rhythmically tapped the armrest of the wooden chair. At this moment, he was not wearing his crown: "If anyone else had said these words, I would have taken it as a joke. But since the person standing before me is the renowned Merlin, then... the meaning of these words is not so funny."

"The Empire withdrew from Britain ten years ago. In the past decade, the Saxons have established a firm foothold in the east. The two brothers in North Wales, one skilled in planning and the other militarily powerful, are both ambitious and, judging from their actions during this period, seem to be planning to launch a military campaign to unify Britain. Although Scotland in the north appears peaceful and tranquil, there are deep-seated internal troubles hidden from outsiders. Once they erupt, the consequences will be more severe than people imagine. Moreover, before all this, there is the presence of King Vortigern, like a dark cloud blocking out the island and preventing even a ray of sunlight from penetrating."

"Internal and external troubles, a complete mess." Throughout this long speech, Marco didn't cough once. His tone was low, just like the heavy gaze he gave the silver-haired woman: "Although I know nothing about magic, nor do I understand methods of predicting the future like you, given the current situation, I cannot see, nor can I imagine, the so-called new future you speak of. What future can Britain possibly have now?"

"Then why don't you just die?"

Merlin tilted his head, a faint smile still on his face: "If the situation is really as bad as you say, why did you agree to Terena's proposal in the first place, even at the cost of spreading fear and turning the territory you have painstakingly cultivated into this miserable state, even at the cost of being hated and resisted by those you once valued, and even at the cost of tarnishing the crown on your head, just to struggle to survive?"

“I can see that death is not frightening to you. Or rather, other people’s lives are just a bargaining chip to you, and you can choose to give up your own life without hesitation for a greater benefit when necessary. So, the question remains—why have you persisted in living until now?”

She paused, then the silver-haired woman gestured with her hand, and a sudden, unexpected breeze swept through the room, sending flowers fluttering everywhere. In the blink of an eye, a comfortable-looking bench appeared out of nowhere. Merlin sat in this newly conjured bench, her cane resting beside her, one leg crossed over her shoulder. A smile played on her lips as she leaned slightly forward, her left hand supporting her chin, her gaze leisurely fixed on Marco. "Because," she said, "in your heart, there exists a better future. At least, a better one than the present—"

"And you intend to witness that scene with your own eyes."

A moment of silence.

"I don't deny it, but... what is the hope?"

"Although I don't know what kind of future you hope to see, at this moment, I have two cards in my hand."

Which two?

“One card represents a person following their destiny, heading towards a predetermined end. And the other card—” Merlin paused again: “Let’s talk about something more practical first.” With a casual gesture, another magnificent sea of ​​flowers appeared in the empty room. As the petals scattered, a round, mirror-like object suddenly appeared in mid-air, its surface shrouded in a thin mist, making it difficult to see clearly.

"Initially, starting from a certain day several years ago, you contracted a strange illness of unknown cause. Even after consulting renowned doctors, druids, and priests from all over, they were all helpless, and the shadow of death loomed over you—"

As they spoke, the round mirror in mid-air gradually became clearer, and the image, like water mist, flickered and changed. There was no sound, only a tall man wearing a crown standing by the window, coughing incessantly, and his back also exuded a sense of dejection.

“Day by day, you are weakening at a visible rate. People are watching your condition deteriorate, rumors are spreading, and all sorts of plans are beginning to take shape in the shadows.”

The scene shifts rapidly, with blurry figures of people coming and going, whispering and discussing, secret talks under the cover of night, and a knight rushing north with an urgent letter... Finally, the image focuses on a man wearing a crown, slumped on the bed, looking ten or twenty years older than before, appearing like an elderly man with one leg in his coffin.

"Then Terena found you."

As night deepened and dews grew heavy, a crow took flight, landing in the dim forest and transforming into a round-faced girl covered in blood and looking utterly disheveled. Then, she transformed again into a wealthy woman in her early forties, donned a purple robe, and swayed as she approached the castle.

As night faded and sunlight streamed in, the king and the witch engaged in a secret conversation, each harboring their own thoughts. What followed was a series of breathtaking scene changes: one family after another was ruined and destroyed by oppressive rule; the powerful and domineering men; the people lamenting their misfortune; and even the harp music that once brought joy and peace grew heavier and more sorrowful day by day.

Marco silently watched the images flashing in the round mirror without saying a word.

"...After many twists and turns, you finally reached a cooperative agreement with Gretel. From her, you learned about Terena's abilities and devised a series of plans. On one hand, under the guise of marrying her, you brought Isolde, who was skilled in medicine, into the castle in a reasonable way, allowing her to dilute the Hydra's poison to a level that would not kill her immediately. Then, you would have her take it regularly every day, letting the poison corrode her body, so that when Terena used her divine power to turn the dead back to life, you could turn the tables on her. Even if you couldn't kill her, Terena, affected by the poison, would not be a match for Gretel."

"So not only did you not stop the relationship between Tristan and Isolde, but you also intentionally helped them. On the one hand, you wanted to keep Tristan, who was dissatisfied with your actions, by your side through your relationship. On the other hand, you also genuinely wanted the two of them to be happy."

"Unfortunately, Gretel had already died at Terena's hands before you could act. Fortunately, you had another hidden move, Royal—with Miles guiding their actions, everything went very smoothly. Royal and Lucan may not even realize that their every move, from resigning to secretly organizing their forces, was all orchestrated by you."

“A true chess player never puts all his eggs in one basket. Royal, Tristan, and yourself—any one of them could be the killing move against Terena. Or… when all three fail, there is always the final fourth move.”

The scene in the mirror changes again.

What emerged was an incomparably magnificent castle, and a white dragon with outstretched wings that blotted out the sky.

“Your Majesty, Voodoo.”

Merlin smiled: "After learning about the sword-drawing ceremony, you instructed Miles to deliberately guide Royal to call himself King Arthur, with the aim of drawing Vortigern's attention here. If all your schemes fail, the lowly king, who has noticed something amiss, will not let go of Tyrene, who caused all this—because her divine power must have some effect on someone like the lowly king."

"Similarly, if King Arthur himself were to come here—the town where Hector lives in seclusion is not far from Cornwall, so it's not impossible that King Arthur would come. If he did come, the news of Royal's self-proclaimed King Arthur activities would inevitably attract Vortigern's attention, and even the new King of Britain, as recognized by the great sage Merlin, would be hesitant to take any overly drastic actions. This would also avoid the worst-case scenario: you resolve the situation with Tyrena, only to be dethroned..."

Marco shook his head, neither denying nor confirming: "But in the end, I still didn't expect you to appear."

“No, what you didn’t expect is not my appearance, but my purpose.” The silver-haired woman snapped her fingers, and the mirror became fogged up again, obscuring any concrete image. “If I wanted to, at this very moment, the person sitting before me, the master of Cornwall, would more than 80% be King Arthur, not you. Why haven’t I done so?”

Before the old man could speak, Merlin answered his own question: "Because Cornwall is located right between North Wales and the Fisherman King's territory. It's more advantageous to do this than to directly seize this land and then face the North Welsh army head-on. Besides, the current King Arthur is still a little bit distant from the protagonist on the stage."

"North Wales and...your target, King Arthur's target is Pelles?"

Marco looked up abruptly, only to be met with a smiling, handsome face.

"To be precise..."

As the fog dissipated, the afterglow shone in through the half-open window, falling on the wondrous round mirror floating in mid-air. A flash of light appeared in the mirror, and in the next instant, a towering structure, enveloped in light and reaching straight into the clouds, slowly emerged from the void.

"This is..." He couldn't help but gasp slightly: "The Tower of Glory, a treasure that was fought over by countless people thirty years ago."

“Or, I prefer to call it by another name.” Merlin raised his index finger, twirled it lightly halfway around, and laughed heartily.

"For example, planetary anchors—"

P.S.: Requesting votes—I hope that when there are updates, I can get at least two or three hundred daily recommendation votes, otherwise it would be too disheartening (playing the piano).

Chapter 71 The Tower of Glory (Part 2)

The journey towards the castle proceeded without further incident. The three mostly traveled at night, finding lodging nearby as dawn approached. Perhaps due to their proximity to the King's Castle, the towns and villages in central Cornwall gradually became more prosperous. Along the way, they frequently saw small restaurants catering to passersby, offering simple, filling meals and drinks, as well as inexpensive rooms for rent.

Artoria, dressed as a man, appears to be a thin, handsome young boy. With a girl a few years younger, they look like siblings out for a stroll. Although marriage and childbirth were common at this time, few would suspect a father-daughter relationship. Guinevere hadn't yet found a way to remove her wings and dragon horns, so she usually concealed them with a large cloak when appearing in public. Although her wings took up a lot of space, even folded up, they still bulged out considerably. After much deliberation, they decided to give up and temporarily play the role of a hunchbacked, mute, communicating only through gestures.

Even though she couldn't utter any meaningful words at this moment, it was no easy task to deliberately make the soft, sweet voice of a young girl hoarse and unpleasant. In order to make the performance more realistic, Guinevere hadn't drunk much water for the past few days, and her throat was dry and hoarse, which only made the performance more realistic. Those who could run a shop and serve customers in this era were much more resourceful than others. They knew that people with physical illnesses were often eccentric, and it was better to avoid trouble. Although they were quite curious about the trio of Guinevere, they kept it to themselves and didn't show it to avoid getting into trouble. In short, the journey was peaceful and uneventful. At dawn on the fourth day, the three of them arrived at a small town near Truro.

In Guinevere's memory, this place called Truro, fifteen hundred years later, would be the administrative center of Cornwall, a port city with a population of about twenty thousand. While it didn't have that many people now, the presence of successive kings and the frequent movement of knights and nobles drew mercenaries seeking employers and warriors hoping to achieve fame and be knighted by the monarch. With the gathering of people came business opportunities, and shops sprang up one after another. The three carefully selected a relatively secluded and inexpensive inn.

On the one hand, it was to avoid being seen by others as much as possible. Otherwise, if someone accidentally saw the girl's half-human, half-dragon appearance, it would cause panic, which would be secondary. If it provoked some brave person with a strong sense of justice to step forward and "eliminate the scourge for the people", it would be another problem.

On the other hand.

They asked at four different inns from north to south, and only this one offered free and unlimited food to its guests (this is the key point). Given this promise, the quality of the food was questionable; it was definitely not delicious. But when traveling, one can't expect too much. Guinevere personally didn't value food much, and at this moment, Artoria's attitude towards food remained extremely simple.

"It doesn't need to be delicious, just enough to fill my stomach."

Looking at this poor child who had never tasted anything good since birth, Guinevere couldn't help but secretly wipe away tears that hadn't actually welled up in her eyes. She just feared that when she left tomorrow, her group would be blacklisted…

She shook her head with a wry smile, paid for two guest rooms out of her own pocket. Since there was a man and a woman, it was naturally inappropriate for them to stay in the same room. Nimiao would sleep with either her "sister" or "father" according to her own wishes. Because of her "hunchbacked weirdo" appearance, the shopkeeper only had minimal communication with her and barely even looked at her, as if afraid that looking at her too much would upset her. Compared to the usual situation where she would be chatted with for half a day, and if she met someone with a more outgoing and easygoing personality, she might even be struck up a conversation. In a sense, this was much more relaxed.

It was dawn, and only a few drunkards who had been drinking all night remained in the hall, seemingly restless, but seeing the longsword at Artoria's waist, they ultimately refrained from attacking. Guinevere, who had just gone upstairs to rest, suddenly froze the moment she pushed open the door.

There was already someone in the room.

A silver-haired woman wearing a snow-white robe, her body exuding the fragrance of flowers.

She sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, a cane beside her, one hand supporting her chin, her posture relaxed and content. As she met Guinevere's gaze, she gave her a faint smile.

"Nice to meet you..."

The words paused.

The unfamiliar woman suddenly turned her head and sneezed.

"...Excuse me, could we try again?" Turning around, she tapped her outstretched right hand with her left index finger, indicating a pause.

Guinevere nodded.

乓。

Once the door closed, she obediently left.

……

Even long afterward, Guinevere still couldn't help but chuckle when she recalled her first encounter with the great magician. Even through the door, the power of the Wind Mark allowed her to clearly hear the person inside muttering something after the door closed:

"Damn Vivian..."

But in situations like this, pretending not to hear is the proper adult way to handle it. From this perspective, Guinevere felt she could already be considered a mature member of society. She deliberately waited another two or three minutes before pushing the door open again, only to see the silver-haired woman once again displaying that nonchalant, detached demeanor... Apart from a slightly red nose, she was completely behaving like a wise, reclusive sage.

"Nice to meet you, Your Highness, Princess of Scotland." She smiled and gestured for us to come in. "It's a bit warm. Please come in and take off your cloak."

"You are……"

Beneath her cloak, Guinevere's gaze lingered for a moment on this uninvited guest: "Merlin?"

“Of course, I didn’t expect you to remember me. Speaking of which, your voice is a bit hoarse. Although it does sound sexier, it’s not good for your throat. You should drink more water.” The silver-haired woman said, casually snapping her fingers. With a snap, Guinevere’s cloak suddenly floated up, swaying, and drifted to the hook on the wall where robes were hung. Guinevere instinctively reached out to grab it, her fingertips brushing against the corner of the cloak. When she turned around, she met the woman’s intrigued gaze.

"This is truly... a masterpiece." The voice was tinged with laughter.

Guinevere awkwardly touched the horns on her head. "I don't think so. But... can you understand what I'm saying?"

"Is this difficult?"

“It probably wouldn’t be difficult for Merlin.” She shook her head. “You said I remember you? Have we met before? I don’t recall.”

“Oh, well…” Merlin’s smile suddenly turned a little mischievous: “You’ve probably forgotten that when you were just a month old, I held you in my arms and changed your diapers.”

Guinevere was stunned for a moment.

“Impossible!” she replied firmly.

"Yes, I was just kidding."

Merlin shrugged and readily admitted it.

But then she held up one finger: "Now, let's start talking about some real things that aren't lies. Like the sword in the stone that you broke, like the Star Sword that Terena stole and gave to you, and like... the dragon curse on you."

"I wonder if Your Highness has ever heard of the names Siegfried and Fafnir. This is a true story that happened about a hundred years ago across the sea. A brave swordsman slew a dragon and bathed in its blood, thus gaining invulnerability. However, due to the curse of the dragon's blood, the swordsman named Siegfried eventually became another ferocious dragon."

"The Ring of the Nibelungs..." The girl had naturally heard this story before, and she murmured to herself.

Merlin glanced at her, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes for the first time: "You are truly knowledgeable. It seems I don't need to explain in more detail. Simply put, the wings, horns, and claws on your back are the initial signs of dragonification. If left unchecked, in less than a year, you will completely transform into another Fafnir—an evil dragon rejected by the world."

"And I happen to know how to break this curse. In exchange, I need you to do three things for me. Don't worry, they're not difficult. Once these three things are done, all 'debts,' including the sword in the stone, will be wiped clean."

“I would like to hear the details,” Guinevere replied.

Merlin smiled slightly.

“Very good, then the first thing is—”

Seeing the blonde girl holding her breath at those words, she smiled and winked: "Go to the next room and call Artoria and Nemia over. I have something very important to say."

"……that's all?"

As if punching cotton, Guinevere was dumbfounded and couldn't help but blurt out.

"Yes."

Merlin nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

P.S.: I saw someone say they'd forget if they didn't ask for votes, so I'll ask anyway.

Also, Artoria's pseudonym should be Artorius; the previous one will be corrected when we have time. Please be aware.

Chapter 72 The Tower of Glory (Part 2)

On the second floor of the hotel, morning light shone into the room at the end of the corridor, accompanied by a barely perceptible soft sound.

With a snap, half a branch quietly fell into an empty wooden cup on the bedside table. Merlin picked up the other half, examined it several times, and then turned around. She had been standing facing the window, without a hood, and the morning light slanted in from outside, illuminating her cascading silver hair and profile with a golden, dazzling glow.

As she turned around, her right hand loosened its grip, and whatever she had been holding vanished like smoke. At that moment, the half-closed door was pushed open, the long-neglected hinges emitting a piercing, teeth-grinding sound. Then appeared Guinevere, cloaked, and two people, one large and one small, standing behind her. To avoid being seen, even though Artoria's room was just a few steps away, Guinevere had put her cloak back on as a precaution.

"It's been a long time, Artoria. Even so, this seems to be the first time we've met like this, outside of a dream." Merlin smiled and beckoned the three in. "This must be the little girl you found in that forest, right? I think... her name is Nemia?" As he spoke, his gaze swept over the timid-looking purple-haired girl. But he didn't linger long, only four or five seconds before looking away as if completely uninterested.

She then pointed, and Guinevere's cloak floated up again, hanging on a hook on the wall. Having learned from her previous experience, the girl was not startled this time, nor did she try to grab it again.

"sit."

As soon as she finished speaking, the silver-haired woman clapped her hands, and three chairs suddenly appeared out of thin air in the room, each appearing behind one of the three people. And, presumably because of the dragon wings, only the chair prepared for Guinevere had no backrest. Nemia looked around, her eyes wide open, clearly quite surprised. Merlin smiled and gestured for her to sit down, then sat down beside the bed first.

Seeing the three of them sit down, she propped her left hand up and rested her cheek on it: "Speaking of which, why do you seem not surprised at all?" Although she didn't use a title, the question was clearly directed at Artoria.

“To be honest, I am a little surprised.” The latter paused for a moment, as if thinking, but finally replied, “But I have long understood a principle—if I am surprised by everything you do, Merlin, I probably will not have time to do anything else.”

"Haha, that doesn't sound like a compliment... But never mind, the magnanimous Merlin won't mind such a small thing. Besides, this isn't just to scare you, there's a reason I have to do it." He rested his chin on one hand, and held the severed branch in the other, waving it casually. With that sway, Artoria and Guinevere's gazes both fell on the cut end of the branch.

Merlin took in their expressions, his smile deepening. "First, there are at least twenty pairs of eyes watching Marco's castle closely. The Saxons, the two brothers from North Wales, and Vortigern's men, because Sir Royal calls himself King Arthur, have focused most of the island's attention on Cornwall. So, let Royal and Tristan go to the castle to explain the situation; there's absolutely no need for us to get involved."

"As for the second point, there are less than two months left before the curse on Her Highness the Princess takes full effect. At that time, she will become a mad dragon, an enemy of mankind, who only knows how to kill and destroy. Hey, Artoria, don't be in such a hurry. I've told you many times that you should stay calm no matter what happens. The more panicked you are, the less good solutions you will come up with... But then again, Her Highness the Princess herself doesn't seem to be panicking at all." Merlin raised a branch and gently pressed it down, interrupting the restless Artoria who was about to ask a question.

"—"