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

"I think... apart from you, Fina, probably no other girl would ask such a question."

"That's right."

After laughing twice, Guinevere fell silent for a moment, her pen scratching softly in her hand. After a while, Gawain asked again, "By the way, there's something that's been bothering me, but I don't know if I should ask."

"Go ahead and ask. We've been together for so many years, what's there to ask?"

"Then I'll ask." The sound of clothes rubbing against the chair made her seem to sit up a little more upright: "Recently, I've heard from others that... Fenna, you seem to really like that King Arthur?"

"In what sense do you like it?"

"Well..."

"I do like him."

"...in what sense?"

"Guess."

Gao Wen patted his knees twice, then turned around with a strange expression: "Didn't you tell us... that you also like women?"

Guinevere paused, her pen still on the paper spread out before her, without looking up. She casually replied, "Just think of it as me simply liking that guy named Arthur. But why are you suddenly concerned about this?"

“No, I was just thinking…” Gawain coughed awkwardly, “If that rumor is true, maybe my son Gahoris also has a chance…”

“Hello, there’s no chance.” Guinevere sighed, recalling the somewhat frail-looking boy. “I admit Gahoris is indeed very cute; he certainly impressed me when he stole Gareth’s dress. But the impossible is impossible, and these things can’t be forced… Although I feel quite sorry for Gahoris, let him give up as soon as possible. But as for Gareth…”

"Don't even think about harming my sister!"

"Yes Yes Yes."

This hopeless siscon… Guinevere rolled her eyes, put down her pen, shook the paper twice, and slowly rolled it up: “It’s finished. Please give this to my father on your way back. This gift is for Gareth, and this is for Gahoris. Please give them my regards.” As she spoke, she handed the letter she had just written to Gawain.

Sunlight streamed in from outside the tent, and Gao Wen reached out to take it: "When are you planning to go back?"

“Let’s wait a little longer. Let’s wait until this war is over. Right now, I don’t have any bargaining chips, but if King Arthur can defeat the army of North Wales, I’m sure my brother and those nobles in the country who advocate siding with Vortigern will hesitate a bit. It will be much easier to persuade Father then.”

“Fenna, you should already be mentally prepared, so I won’t emphasize how dangerous the battlefield is. However, King Lyons is a formidable enemy; even the prophesied incarnation of the Crimson Dragon might not be able to defeat him easily—”

"I see."

“Furthermore, my father has a very close relationship with King Lyons. If invited, he is very likely to send troops to assist him. At that time, Gahoris and Gareth will most likely stay in Orkney, but I will definitely go to the battlefield. Depending on the situation, I may encounter a time when I am your enemy—” Gawain paused here.

“If it really comes to that, I will do everything I can to make the battle take place at night. Your Saintly Blessing is just too much trouble.”

"It's as if you could beat me without my blessing."

"Don't forget I've won a few times these past few days. What's that saying again? It's all about human effort."

"Haha."

Gawain chuckled, put away the letter, hung the holy sword back on his waist, turned around, lifted the tent flap, and went out. Guinevere followed, and the two walked towards where the horses were tied, chatting about some meaningless topics.

Both men were exceptionally good-looking and had been immersed in various jobs, gaining considerable fame among both nobles and commoners. By this time, news of Gawain's impending departure had likely spread, and people along the way kept coming up to greet him. Gawain responded with a smile, and occasionally women would offer him handmade jewelry, flowers, and so on, which he accepted with a smile. However, he politely declined overly enthusiastic advances—at least in this respect, he perfectly embodied the image of a prince charming from legend.

After the girl left, Guinevere chuckled in a low voice beside her, "You hesitated just now, didn't you? I know, I know. That girl wasn't very old, but she had quite a lot of breasts, which was exactly your type. It's understandable that you hesitated, hahaha, hahaha..."

Before the laughter had even finished, a blushing boy approached hesitantly, holding a bouquet of flowers. After Guinevere reluctantly sent the brave boy away, it was Gawain's turn to chuckle softly.

They laughed at each other. The horses were placed on the other side of the camp. The two walked past the entrance and nodded to the guards on duty.

A moment later, at the end of the road, dust rose and the sound of horses' hooves echoed in the distance.

"Stop—stop!"

Spears clashed, and two guards watched the newcomer with considerable vigilance. The rider removed his helmet, dismounted, revealing short purple hair and a handsome, angular face.

“I am Lancelot, son of King Franz Ban, known as the ‘Knight of the Lake.’ Are the Fisherman King and his children in this camp?”

P.S.: It seems like FF14 introduced a rabbit-eared race... Time to stock up on Fantasy Potions!

Chapter 157 The Embryo of the Covenant (Part 1)

"Lancelot, you've finally arrived!"

As these words rang out, Merlin strode over, opened his arms, and gave the other person a warm hug—the purple-haired youth turned pale at the sudden embrace and nearly fainted, but he was probably used to this kind of scene and knew that complaining would only be a waste of time, so he only patted the female magician's arm with difficulty: "Let...let go quickly, someone's going to die!"

"Ugh, she used to be so clingy, but she's become so cold after just a short time apart. I'm so sad! Ah!"

"I'm...I'm going to die..."

When Merlin finally released his grip, the once dashing young knight was now barely alive, staggering as if he might collapse at any moment. The others, seeing his pitiful state, tacitly chose to remain silent.

Lancelot's identity and background were no secret in Britain. Because the Roman Empire had been declining in recent years and was struggling to deal with a series of internal and external troubles, Britain and several provinces, including Gaul, took the opportunity to break away from the empire's rule and become independent. At this time, Gaul had been renamed the Kingdom of France, with its capital at Banwick, and was ruled by two former Roman officers, Bors and Ban, who had spearheaded the independence movement.

Lancelot was the son of King Ban and Queen Elaine.

Of course, although this queen was also named Elaine, she was not related to the Fisherman King's daughter at all. In fact, in this era when education was generally not very advanced, it was common for people to share the same name, even among the upper nobility, and not many people cared.

He was kidnapped by Vivian as an infant and taken back to Avalon, where he was raised by several witches and learned various magical skills and superb swordsmanship—hence his nickname "Knight of the Lake." After returning to his homeland as an adult, France was being suppressed by a neighboring king named Clodas and was on the verge of destruction. However, after Lancelot's return, he almost single-handedly turned the tide of the war and has not allowed Clodas to gain much advantage since.

Logically speaking, for such a pivotal figure in the war, leaving the country so easily might cause some kind of trouble. However, firstly, France and Clodas had just finished a battle, with both sides suffering heavy losses, and it was unlikely that any further changes would occur in the short term. Secondly, and this was the main reason why Lancelot decided to come in person rather than send an envoy to inquire about the situation:

A few days ago, his beloved sword, Arondette, flew away right under his nose.

Considering that only a few witches in Avalon could accomplish such a feat, and that none of the nine witches—Vivian, Merlin, Nini Anne, or anyone else—were easy targets to provoke or offend, coupled with the subtle bond of raising each other, Lancelot, after much deliberation, ultimately asked his father to conceal the news and travel alone across the sea to Britain. There, he learned from others about the Fisherman King, the Tower of Radiance, and the Wave Beast. Imagining the mythical battle that had just taken place, his heart was filled with excitement, and he had already begun to guess the true purpose of the witch who had "stole the sword."

That's why, when Lancelot arrived at the camp where the Fisherman King and the others were, and saw Merlin beaming with a big smile and opening his arms to embrace him, only one extremely helpless thought flashed through his mind: "Just as I thought..."

“If you need to contact me, I really hope you can do it in a more ordinary… gentler way.” Having finally broken free from the bear hug, Lancelot turned his stiff shoulders, listening to the bones cracking, and complained irritably. Merlin, however, still had a cheerful expression: “Don’t mind it. What kind of relationship do we have? It’s like a mother and child. What’s the big deal about a hug!”

"I don't remember when I gained another mother."

"Could it be... that you've always considered me your father?! Oh dear, this is truly..."

"not at all!"

"Well, let's just pretend it never happened. But you've come at the right time; I happen to need your help with something."

"what's up?"

"Don't worry, there's no need to be so wary. When has your Merlin ever tricked you? ...Alright, alright, you'll find out soon enough. Come with me."

If there was even a hint of seriousness in the atmosphere when he announced his name to the guards, it had vanished completely. After a few more words of banter, Merlin led him to the tent in the center of the camp. She had been discussing future matters with a group of nobles there when she heard from the guards that a knight calling himself Lancelot had come to pay his respects, and she had come out to greet him with pleasure.

At this moment, Merlin lifted the curtain and led the young man into the tent. Seven or eight pairs of eyes immediately turned to him, some wary, some doubtful, some expectant, and so on. Merlin smiled and stepped aside, saying, "Let me introduce you all. This is Lancelot, the distinguished guest I mentioned earlier. Of course, I believe that even without my introduction, you have all heard a thing or two about him—"

"The 'Lake Knight,' who single-handedly defeated fifty-five knights three years ago, forcing hundreds of enemy troops to retreat overnight, and then captured three castles in less than a week with only a few squires, is naturally famous and known to all."

The speaker was an elderly man with graying temples, wearing armor and a long sword at his waist. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's, and his aura clearly indicated that he was a veteran who had experienced many battles. Contrary to the content of his words, his tone was slightly harsh and even sarcastic, and his gaze in this direction was also slightly unfriendly.

Lancelot met his gaze. At the same time, he casually glanced around and took in the scene inside the tent: besides him and Merlin, there were eight other people gathered here, standing around a long table. The three people standing at the head of the table, and the old man in the middle with a full head of white hair and an air of decay, should be the "Fisherman King" Pelles himself, who had been missing for many years.

Standing on either side of him were a man and a woman. The man, who held a scepter and resembled a fisherman, was someone he had once met by chance at a duke's banquet; he remembered his name as Fisher, the de facto ruler of this territory for nearly thirty years. The woman on the other side had long, flowing blue hair, closed eyes, and held a shimmering jewel in her hands…

Even after searching through his memories, Lancelot couldn't match any name with her.

The others were generally recognized, their names and general personalities were known, and some even recalled their famous deeds.

Like the old man who spoke earlier, named Barristias, a baron from South Wales, was an exceptional swordsman who had participated in dozens of battles, large and small, and was a renowned warrior who was deeply trusted by Pelles.

But perhaps influenced by the tragedy of thirty years ago, he seemed to have become timid and cowardly ever since. His words and actions in recent years have made people wonder if this once-veteran general has completely fallen from grace and is no longer capable of shouldering heavy responsibilities. These reports came either from spies sent by France or from the unique intelligence network among the nobility. They were a mix of truth and falsehood, and most of them were unreliable, but they could at least be used as a reference.

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Lancelot smiled and first bowed to the Fisherman King in the main seat—a flawless gesture, yet neither servile nor arrogant, ensuring no one felt offended—before turning to Balestias and bowing in return. But the order of these gestures made the old knight's expression turn somewhat unpleasant.

He couldn't help but cough, turning somewhat awkwardly to glance at the long-absent old king. Ever since Pelles disappeared, he had subconsciously adopted a superior attitude when dealing with juniors like Fisher, acting unrestrained for too long. He hadn't had time to adjust his mindset yet, and for a moment felt both annoyed and somewhat ashamed. Fortunately, Pelles simply smiled gently, nodded at him, and then looked away at the young man beside Merlin: "Lord Lancelot. I've heard that your country is at war with another powerful kingdom."

"Exactly."

"Is that a formidable enemy that even a valiant knight like you couldn't defeat?"

“Your Majesty, there is a saying in my hometown: ‘Even a mighty lion cannot defeat a pack of wolves when alone.’” Lancelot replied, “My father and King Bors were both fierce warriors who fought their way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Every warrior in France could take on ten or a hundred men. Unfortunately, King Crodas was very wealthy and used gold and silver as bait to attract many outstanding knights. Although these greedy fellows were insignificant in one-on-one combat, on the battlefield, the difference in numbers was enough to make up for it.”

"Number of people..."

Peres shook his head, remained silent for a moment, then turned and whispered something to Fisher. Elaine remained silent, still holding the Pearl of the Illusion. Since waking up, she had only spoken a few words to her father and brother, and had never uttered a word in front of outsiders. She seemed oblivious to all the probing gazes. On the other hand, Balestias opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then looked towards the main seat and ultimately remained silent.

"But may I ask, Sir, what brings you here so specifically?" another man in his thirties with a short beard inquired. Lancelot first looked at him—Uphius, a baron also from South Wales, not skilled in martial arts but possessing superb political acumen, and a staunch supporter of the Lowly Kings for several years. This revelation caused Lancelot's gaze to darken slightly, but he didn't immediately answer Uphius's question, instead glancing sideways.

Merlin stood to the side with a faint smile on his lips, like a detached bystander. But when his gaze shifted, he saw the female magician wink slyly.

"Your chance is here—"

She mouthed the words silently.

Looking at that smile, Lancelot felt an urge to shake his head and smile bitterly. Of the witches he knew, Vivian had no interest in such worldly affairs, and Nini Anne seemed to have nothing in the world that could interest her. Only Merlin had been enthusiastic about participating in these matters for a long time, but few people knew that she chose to be involved not for fame or fortune.

This is the most difficult part.

Because she has no desires or wants, she has no weaknesses. All Merlin seeks is whether something can bring her pleasure.

Therefore, she might suddenly lend a helping hand to someone, or easily betray either side; her personality is as unpredictable as the morning mist. The only saving grace is that she is not currently his enemy.

Rather.

Merlin actually gave him a choice, and even though the process was somewhat complicated, Lancelot understood that this was an extremely rare act of kindness from this eccentric female magician.

That being the case.

His answer has already been decided.

"I came at the invitation of Ms. Merlin. Along the way, I learned about the events that had occurred not long ago through various channels."

Lancelot deliberately emphasized the word "invitation" as a subtle form of protest—though, judging from Merlin's expression, the effect was negligible. He looked at the white-haired elder in the main seat: "...So before answering Sir Uphius's question, may I ask what His Majesty's views are on the future of this land?"

P.S.: Happy Lunar New Year's Eve everyone~ I was eating New Year's Eve dinner, listening to the Spring Festival Gala, and writing all at the same time. I finally managed to finish this chapter before midnight, so... you know what I mean (kira~)

Regarding updates, although I'm gradually getting back into form, there are still some things to do before the year ends. I should be able to resume daily updates soon, so while my thoughts are still flowing, I'll try to write as much as possible.

Chapter 158 The Embryo of the Covenant (Part 2)

Inside the tent, this unexpected conversation didn't last long. On his way from France, Lancelot had roughly guessed why Merlin—or perhaps the other witches—had deliberately used this roundabout method to lure him here. Now, facing "Fisherman King" Pelles and the others, he remained calm and spoke eloquently. Soon after, an agreement, temporarily only verbal, was established without many people knowing.

Ultimately, the predicament that Pelles and his men are currently facing is, in some ways, quite similar to the current situation of the Kingdom of France: Firstly, they both have an extremely powerful opponent. France is ruled by the wealthy King Crodas, and as the saying goes, money makes the world go round. After all, very few people can remain poor and unwilling to betray their sense of justice in the face of such a generous reward. On the other hand, the Fisherman King is ruled by the giant, Lanes, who reigns supreme in North Wales.

Meanwhile, Fisher—or rather, Elaine—had recently killed an envoy sent by the Lowly King. Even if the envoy's true aim was to seize the Scepter of the Sea God, the killing of the envoy was still a grave offense. Furthermore, the breaking of the seal on the Wave Beast, even if not orchestrated by Vortigern, was certainly related to him. This grudge had been effectively formed. Compared to Lyons, this true ruler of Britain was undoubtedly more formidable. The main point of contention among the nobles during this period was precisely what kind of stance they should present to the Lowly King.

To show weakness? But Vortigern was notoriously capricious and tyrannical. Even if they adopted a submissive stance, the other side was highly likely to make unreasonable demands, whether it was to hand over the Sea Mystic Treasure or to demand the heads of Fisher or Elaine. They could not possibly agree to such demands. Even Uphius, who was suspected of secretly siding with the Lowly King, could only remain silent on this issue.

But if we want to be their enemy.

Yet they saw no chance of winning.

What lay before them seemed to be a dead end, blocked at both ends. This was precisely why Merlin's proposal received such unanimous approval so easily. Because it seemed there was no other path to choose but to ally with King Arthur.

The same is true for France. Rumor has it that the rise of King Clodas was secretly supported by the Roman Empire. Although the newly enthroned emperor was young, he had already shown terrifying strength and ambition. Although the empire was still focused on attacking Spain and the surrounding small countries, many people speculated that once this behemoth had freed up its resources, its next target would be the two former provinces that had rebelled against the empire.

Given their similar circumstances and relatively equal strength, Lancelot represented an alternative in the eyes of the nobles, compared to the enigmatic King Arthur. He seemed an ally who was less likely to slip out of their grasp.

Therefore, after Lancelot appropriately made a move, without Pelles speaking, the other nobles quickly advanced and finalized the basic outline of the alliance. Of course, if a formal alliance were to be formed, Lancelot alone could not make the decision; he would need to return to his country to consult King Ban. But in any case, since they had already shown their attitude, whether the alliance succeeded or not, they would suffer no loss.

After the brief meeting concluded, Lancelot politely declined the invitations of several nobles and left the tent with Merlin. Everyone understood the close relationship between the "Knight of the Lake" and Merlin and the other witches of Avalon. While having people prepare a place for Lancelot to rest, Pelles began preparing for the evening's banquet. Since Lancelot himself didn't want news of his presence to spread, everything was kept simple, with only some light drinks and roasted meat prepared. However, the comings and goings still made the camp slightly more lively.

Merlin led the way, and the two walked through the camp, constantly attracting curious glances from all around.

How was my performance just now?

"good."

"Just okay?"

"If you want me to praise you, just say it honestly. Otherwise, you can squat down here now, and I can pat your head like I used to."

“Never mind. I’m not that old anymore…” Lancelot shook his head. “So, now that we’ve finished the important business, it’s about time we returned Aarondette to me, right?”

"Hey?"

"Hey?"

"Hahaha, of course I'll give it back to you. Don't give me that 'what mischief are you up to now?' look. Even if that's what you're thinking, you can't show it so obviously, or I'll be sad. By the way, what's with that scared look on your face right now?"

"No, it's just... I didn't expect Merlin to be so self-aware, I was just a little surprised."

"The consequences of making me angry are serious. Who knows, your Aaronette might suddenly—disappear again sometime."

"……sorry."

"Yes, yes, that's a good boy." The female magician nodded in satisfaction. In the course of these few words, the two had arrived at a relatively quiet place. With a flick of her hand, several flower petals fluttered in the air, and a gleaming longsword suddenly appeared in her hand. She handed it to him, and Lancelot hurriedly took it, as if afraid that she would change her mind, and quickly put it back into the empty scabbard at his waist.

He only breathed a sigh of relief after hearing that clang.

"Are you relieved now?" Merlin asked with a smile.

"Not bad." Lancelot deliberately used the exact same words and tone as before to answer, but only received a soft laugh from Merlin in return.