Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

After the communication was cut off, Nocnarria slumped down. She thought of Artoria's elven eyes that could see through the truth, and cold sweat seeped from her palms.

(It's okay...) She took a deep breath, a ruthless glint in her eyes. (Even if we're found out, we still have a last resort.)

When she returned to the hall, her face was once again adorned with an impeccable smile.

Anxiety and Restlessness (Part 2) - Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

Beneath the dome of Camelot's royal city, the air was so heavy it seemed you could wring water out of it. Ever since news of the burning of Autumn Forest spread, along with the scandal of the two fairy knights' betrayal, the once majestic royal city was now overwhelmed by the people's scorn and threatening letters. Every day, the postman nervously dropped bundles of cursed letters into the bronze mailbox in front of the palace gates, only to have them quickly disposed of by the expressionless queen's soldiers.

Amidst this undercurrent of turmoil, only a room deep within the palace maintained a facade of tranquility. The fairy knight Tristan was intently arranging the dazzling array of high heels on the display shelves, meticulously inlaying new crystals into the heels of each pair. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, dancing on her silvery hair, as if all the turmoil outside remained irrelevant to her.

'My dear little princess—is today another day of doing nothing?'

The sight of Belial leaning against the doorframe made her fingers tremble, nearly knocking over the shoe polish beside him. This man, who always showed up uninvited, was toying with her newly repaired lace-up high heels, his gaze behind his glasses carrying an unsettling scrutiny.

"Belial!" she snatched the shoe back, her fingertips white from the force. "I didn't secretly create this passage for you so you could come and go as you please!"

"Sorry, sorry~" Belial waved his hand insincerely, his gaze fixed on her flushed cheeks. "I just suddenly thought of an interesting place that might help the little princess relieve her boredom?"

'An interesting place?' The fairy knight Tristan raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but it was quickly replaced by a restless curiosity. 'My mother has been forbidding me from leaving the royal city lately, and I'm really getting bored...'

Belial leaned closer, his breath almost brushing against her ear: "I heard the little princess has been troubled by her strength? I happen to know of a secret realm that can quickly improve skills."

'Skill?' The word was as tempting as honey. As the weakest of the six fairy knights, she desperately wanted to shed this shameful label—Mordred's Sky Dance, Lancelot's Dragon Wing Slash, Gareth's Frozen Throne, Kelby's Tide Control, and even the defector Bagst possessed the all-consuming Sun Sword. As for herself, besides the Noble Phantasm sharing the same name as that sorrowful knight, all she had left were these extravagant high heels filling the room.

Belial admired the longing burning in her eyes, deliberately drawing out his words: 'However... those profound cultivation methods are truly difficult to describe in words alone.'

"Take me there!" The fairy knight Tristan immediately grabbed his sleeve, his crimson eyes gleaming with urgency. "Now!"

'As you wish, my dear little princess~' Belial bowed, a fleeting, cold smile playing on his lips.

(She's so... gullible, it's almost pitiful.)

He extended his arm like a gentleman, watching the innocent girl take his arm without hesitation, like a lamb walking towards an altar. The crystal chandelier cast interwoven shadows behind them, as if the spindle of fate was weaving a new conspiracy.

Outside the royal clan's reception hall, Kalia leaned against the cold stone wall, her silver armor gleaming faintly under the corridor lamps. She deliberately avoided the patrolling soldiers—those guards in eerie bodysuits would avoid her as if she were a calamity.

(This saves us the trouble of dealing with it...)

With a flick of her finger, several transparent familiars silently disappeared into the shadows. These magical creations would patrol the seemingly peaceful but actually turbulent city in her place.

Inside the hall, Ritsuka and Leonardo da Vinci's narration was reaching a crucial point. When they spoke of the devastation of the Autumn Forest, Nocnarria timely revealed a pained expression: "I never imagined the Queen would go to such lengths against you..." Her slender fingers lightly touched the crystal pendant on her chest, "That venomous woman, ruling Britain for two thousand years, has used countless methods to bewitch people... But after this incident, her throne may be precarious."

'We didn't want to assume the worst of others...' Da Vinci adjusted the recorder on his wrist, 'but reality is often crueler than imagined. Miss Nocnarria, what do you think we should do to deal with the Queen...'

Nocnaria raised his hand to interrupt the question, gesturing for a servant to present a scroll of parchment map. As the map slowly unfurled, the dark red symbol representing Camelot occupied the center like a malignant tumor, surrounded by the emblems of various clans.

"Look," she said, tracing the densely packed map of troop deployments with her fingertips, "the Queen's Cavalry and Queen's Soldiers number over a million." The map detailed the sheer number of bronze soldiers wearing horse-head masks and wielding battle axes.

Da Vinci's mechanical wings folded slightly: 'Even if we complete the pilgrimage, we'll likely find it difficult to confront such military power head-on...'

“Not necessarily.” Ritsuka suddenly spoke, a resolute glint in her eyes. “If we can unite various forces during our patrols, little by little…” She pointed to the scattered clan markers on the map, “it will be like a spark igniting a prairie fire.”

Nocnarria clapped her hands and chuckled. "An interesting idea. Our royal clan is willing to fully support it." Her tone suddenly shifted to the corner, "But Caster, you've seemed preoccupied since earlier?"

Artoria snapped back to reality, her fingertips unconsciously clutching the hem of her clothes: 'Ah... I just didn't think of a way to confront His Majesty head-on...' Her forced smile carried a barely perceptible wavering.

Nocnarria rose gracefully. "That's enough for today. After all..." she said meaningfully, glancing around at the crowd, "I also need the consent of my entire tribe."

As she turned, the hem of her skirt swept across the shadows of the porch. Kalia's familiar was silently lurking in the cracks of the stones, recording every subtle movement.

The meeting adjourned after Nocnarria left. While the others inside were still enthusiastically discussing the follow-up plans, Artoria quietly slipped out of the noisy hall and went alone to the old tree in the courtyard. She sat down, hugging her knees, and buried her face in her arms.

(Why...why did it turn out like this...)

The truth she saw through the fairy's eyes suffocated her—every word Nocnarria was entwined with the vines of lies, every smile concealed a poisoned scheme. Her dearest friend, who had once shared bread with her and sworn under the stars to build a beautiful fairy kingdom together, had now become a demon destined to drag them into the abyss.

'So you finally found it?'

Kalia's voice came from above. Artoria looked up, her emerald eyes brimming with shattered light: 'You knew all along? Why didn't you tell everyone?'

'So what if I expose her?' Kalia sat down beside her, her armor clanking against the ground. 'Over the years, Noknarria has embezzled taxes, oppressed its people, and secretly colluded with other forces... She's no longer the girl you knew.' She handed over a crystal ball containing evidence of her crimes. 'Want to see this irrefutable proof?'

Artoria abruptly turned her face away, her nails digging deeply into her palms: 'No need! I must expose this fraudster in public! If…'

Kalia quickly pressed down on her excited shoulder, activating the crystal ball at the same time. Nocnarria, appearing in the light and shadow, was lounging on a velvet couch, chatting and laughing with Sekel and Aurora on the other end of the communication crystal.

'The plan went smoothly,' Nocnarria said, swirling her glass. 'Those naive outsiders were so easily fooled!'

Aurora's shrill laughter pierced the eardrums: 'After all, that foolish prophetic child still considers you his most trusted friend.'

'That country bumpkin?' Nocnarria's red lips curled into a cruel smile. 'She'll believe anything I say, after all, we're 'best friends'!'

The laughter from the crystal ball pierced Artoria's chest like icicles. She trembled violently, as if she could see the apple tree they had planted together in their childhood collapsing before her eyes. Those shared mornings and evenings, those shared dreams and secrets, now turned into sharp fragments, shattering her last shred of faith in friendship.

(So ​​all along... I've been living in the lies you wove.)

Tears fell silently, congealing into cold pearls under the moonlight.

'It's not true... This can't be!' Artoria's voice trembled with sobs, her nails digging deep into her palms.

Kalia slammed her hand on her shoulder, lowering her voice: 'Calm down! Do you want everyone to hear this? Don't you understand our situation?'

"Why should I calm down!" Artoria shook off her hand, her emerald eyes burning with rage. "Are we supposed to continue living in this deception? Watching that traitor push us one by one into the abyss?"

That's enough!

A sharp slap pierced the night. Artoria staggered back, a bright red handprint appearing on her cheek. Tears streamed silently down her face, leaving glistening marks.

Kalia grabbed her collar and pulled her close: "This slap is to wake you up! Every impulsive word you utter could cost the lives of five of your companions!" Her voice was filled with suppressed anger. "His Majesty has trained you for so many years, is this how you act on impulse? Think about how many troubles you've caused because of your rashness!"

Senji strode in, the door slamming shut behind him. His stern gaze swept over them like a blade: 'Kalia was right! Are you confident you can take them on alone? Do you want Merlin to go after Ritsuka again? Don't be so selfish!'

'Selfish?' Artoria suddenly laughed, a laugh tinged with broken despair. 'Fine... since I'm always wrong, and you don't need me anymore...'

She abruptly broke free from Kalia's grasp, tears glistening in the moonlight: 'Let me continue to be deceived! I don't care anymore!' Her voice ripped through the night wind, 'I hate you... I hate you all the most!'

The figure turned and ran away, disappearing at the end of the corridor, leaving only swaying tree shadows and two silent watchmen.

Crisis - Fairy Round Table Realm, Poem of Eternal Mist

In the uncharted northern border of the Fairy Kingdom, the Strand Islands are shrouded in ice and mist year-round. On this forgotten icy plain dwells a mysterious race, unrecorded even in historical texts—the Ioruf. Since the beginning of the Queen's calendar, they have lived and thrived in this secluded paradise, their very existence a closely guarded secret of Queen Morgan.

Legend has it that this unique ethnic group was once one of the six major clans, but chose to retreat into seclusion during ancient conflicts. In the millennia of solitude, they used time as their shuttle, weaving a distinctive civilization whose wisdom and skills have long surpassed worldly understanding.

At this moment, the homeland of the Ioruf tribe is being consumed by flames.

The blue sea of ​​flowers withered in the fiery rain, and the blonde girl stood frozen in the center of the scorched earth. A blood-stained envelope slipped from her fingers, and sparks flew like fireflies across her unfocused pupils. The heat distorted the air, yet she seemed nailed to this burning homeland, letting her long hair fly wildly in the hot wind.

(Where can I escape to...and where can I even escape to...)

She reached out her trembling hand and caught a falling ash. The sound of collapsing beams and pillars in the distance sounded like the final lament of her homeland.

Ugh!

Kelby awoke from a nightmare, cold sweat soaking her tattered collar. She huddled in the shadows beneath the stone bridge, grime accumulating in the seams of her armor, salt crystals clinging to the edge of her eye patch. Wiping the dust from her face, she kicked aside the noblewoman's corpse at her feet—the body she had plundered lay twisted in the mud.

(It's that dream again...that damned ice field...)

She leaned against the damp bridge pier to her feet and emptied the jewels she had just looted from her bag. The diamond necklace glittered between her fingers, reflecting her scarlet eyes.

'Orkney should be just ahead...' She licked her chapped lips, stuffing the jewelry back into her bag. 'This should be enough to exchange for a lot of gold coins.'

The bruises on the corpse's neck gleamed bluish-purple in the morning light—a rare display of 'mercy'. Kelby glanced one last time at the noblewoman's wide-open eyes, then turned and disappeared into the morning mist. His boots crunched over the pool of blood, leaving a trail of dark red footprints that faded into the distance beneath the bridge.

The ruins of Darlington, abandoned for a century, lay silent amidst rampant vegetation. Hobbes parted the knee-high weeds, the rusted city gate groaning beneath his touch. The inscription 'Darlington' had long been swallowed by moss, and vines coiled around the crumbling stone walls like veins.

(What a perfect hiding place for rats...)

He knelt on one knee and took out a metal disc engraved with Camelot's emblem from his robes. The moment the device touched the ground, blue ripples spread out like waves, tearing apart the carefully woven illusion—a gloomy villa suddenly appeared, its walls covered with dark purple magic patterns.

'Found you.' Hobbes traced a line of his finger across the ground, and a golden magic circle silently appeared. A wave of sound surged from the underground space:

"Where is Kelby?!" Sekel's roar echoed through the stone walls. "And what happened to the 'Eternal Lamp'?"

Diana gazed at the empty display shelves, where the lamps had once stood, now only dust remained: 'Could it be her...?'

'That lamp carries the secret of immortality of the Iorph race!' Sekel kicked away the device at his feet in frustration. 'It can absorb wandering souls to sustain the life of its holder! That's what we stole from Ensos...'

"So noisy!" Meryl leaned against the doorframe, tea set in hand, her robe loosely tied. "Making such a fuss over a fake, how unsightly!"

'A fake?' Seckel turned around abruptly, knocking over a flask on the lab bench.

The silver-haired witch slowly poured tea: "The real one was switched long ago. Otherwise, why do you think that water sprite suddenly defected?" She blew away the tea steam, her red eyes gleaming in the vapor, "How could the sacred object of the Ioruf tribe fall into your hands so easily..."

Hobbs held his breath, the listening array at his fingertips trembling slightly. Just then, the warning crystal in his arms suddenly emitted a blinding red light—some kind of anti-reconnaissance barrier had been triggered!

(Oops!)

He swiftly erased the magic circle, his figure disappearing into the overgrown weeds. Meanwhile, deep within the villa, Meryl suddenly looked up at the ceiling, a mysterious smile playing on her lips.

Merlin's words exploded in Seckel's mind like a thunderbolt. If the Eternal Lamp was indeed a fake, then Kelby's defection and disappearance suddenly had a new explanation—she must have gone to the North with clues to find the real one.

Meanwhile, Hobbes, hiding in the ruins, was on high alert and about to flee when Merlin's languid voice pierced through the stone wall:

"Speaking of which, Sekel, shouldn't we 'welcome' this uninvited guest? Eavesdropping isn't exactly gentlemanly behavior, is it?"

'What--!'

Before Hobbes could react, he was slammed against a stone pillar by an invisible force. A pink magic circle suddenly lit up behind him, and electricity coiled around his limbs like venomous snakes, the excruciating pain almost crushing his teeth.

Merlin strolled over, her skirt brushing against the rubble. She bent down to examine Hobbes's face, contorted in pain, and lifted his chin with her fingertips: 'To remain conscious under my sister's magic is commendable~ So, who sent you to be the little mouse?'

"Don't even think about getting a single word from me!" Hobbes spat out the words through clenched teeth, his hateful gaze shooting like arrows at the witch.

'How stubborn!' Merlin chuckled, the magic circle suddenly contracting. 'Perfect, let's see how many layers of illusion you can withstand.'

Space distorted in an instant. When Hobbes opened his eyes again, he found himself swept into the raging torrent of the River of Tears. He desperately clung to the rocks and climbed ashore, panting as he gazed at the familiar pink sky.

(Why did that witch spare my life... What is she plotting?)

Meanwhile, Merlin was brushing dust off her skirt in the ruins of Darlington. Seckel anxiously chased after her: 'Where is the intruder?'

'It's just a lost little bird.' The witch gazed towards the north, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. 'Soon... someone will take care of this trouble for us.'

Orkney

As the last rays of the setting sun sank below the horizon, a pinkish-purple twilight enveloped Orkney. Inside the royal palace, lights flickered on one by one, but they could not illuminate the shadows in the hearts of some.

Ritsuka and Leonardo da Vinci were still processing Nocnarria's accusations against the Queen, those meticulously crafted lies subtly distorting their judgment. Sei Shonagon and Gareth exchanged worried glances, while Senji Muramasa and Caria, who knew the truth, could only silently watch the performance unfold.