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

I, Guinevere, will break your curry stick today! (Author: Qingbai Buzuiren)

I, Guinevere, am a woman of both martial prowess and political acumen, capable of governing the country and improving people's lives. You think I'm some kind of protagonist-like King Arthur? Just wait until I get my hands on your curry stick!

Wait, you said your name is Artoria?

……

Chapter One: Guinevere

In my memory, it was a raging sea of ​​fire.

The fire started on the sixteenth floor in the middle of the night, when most residents were asleep. Since the fire alarm would go off every now and then, no one paid much attention to it at first. By the time they realized what was happening, everything had become chaotic and disorderly.

Thick smoke billowed, and the sirens of fire trucks grew louder as they approached. In the multi-story apartment building, people fled, screaming. Thanks to his "good habit" of staying up late, he was among the first to react. He was swept outside by the crowd, collapsing onto a bench, gasping for breath, and looking around frantically, trying to find a familiar figure: "...Xiao Ming, Xiao Ming? Has anyone seen my sister?!"

No one answered, and what followed descended into chaos. Images and scenes flashed by, frozen in a single moment: he weaved through the panicked crowd seeking refuge; he covered his mouth and nose with his clothes and rushed back into the fire; someone shouted, black smoke billowing in; someone's cries came from afar, the sound drawing closer, and he went towards the sound… His vision blurred, the world swayed, he picked up a crying child, turned and rushed out, flames hot on his heels, “Boom—!” “Run—!” “Waaaaah—!”

Countless sounds intertwined, countless figures swayed, and finally transformed into an overwhelming crimson that engulfed him entirely. His last glance was directed towards the crowd outside, at the child crying and running away…

He didn't know him.

……

For a fleeting moment, it felt as if I had returned to that night of the fire, and seen that dark red sky again. But when I actually opened my eyes, all I saw was the cold moonlight shining in from the window.

"Well……"

His lips were a little dry. He struggled to sit up, grabbed a water glass from the counter, and took a couple of sips. The water was already cold; it chilled him to the bone, but it also slightly cleared his mind, which had been immersed in a dream. Turning his head, he saw a blurry image in a bronze mirror beside the bed:

She was a girl who still looked very young.

Petite and delicate, she looked as if a gust of wind could blow her over. Her smooth golden hair almost reached her waist, and she had emerald green eyes. She wore a light blue nightgown, and her hair was sticking to her forehead, probably from sweating a little. Her cheeks were also slightly flushed.

With soft footsteps, the girl's figure in the mirror gradually grew larger, and then a hand reached out and placed on the mirror, overlapping with the palm of the person in the mirror.

"hello."

She spoke softly, a gentle smile appearing on her face, and the girl in the mirror opposite her smiled exactly the same way. "Hello, Guinevere—"

Moonlight bathed the blonde girl, and her voice echoed in the room. It seemed like a simple greeting, yet also like a ritual incomprehensible to outsiders. If others witnessed this scene, they might suspect that this lovely young girl was mentally unstable. And sometimes, when she dreamt of the great fire that dyed the sky red, and then woke up, she would often wonder if all of this was a dreamlike, scrolling spectacle seen before death.

After all... he should have died in that fire.

The pain and burning sensation were still vivid in her memory, but as she stood before the bronze mirror, she reached out and untied the strap of her nightgown, revealing slender, snow-white shoulders and arms, without a trace of burns on her skin. Nor could she find any trace of the young person who had died in the fire.

Standing here at this moment is, and only is, a fifteen-year-old girl named...Guinevere.

The current King of Scotland is named Leo Doggran. His wife passed away long ago; they were deeply in love, and he never remarried. His late wife left him a son and a daughter. His son, Pat, is handsome and known far and wide for his womanizing ways, while his daughter, Guinevere, is also stunningly beautiful; many consider her the most dazzling jewel in the kingdom. But perhaps only one person truly understands what the name Guinevere means—Guinevere herself, or rather, the soul that now resides within this body, a soul that once lived in the 21st century.

How could you not know?

Guinevere is more often known by her transliteration as Guinevere. The famous heroine, wife of King Arthur, is undoubtedly linked to the entire Arthurian legend. While the court intrigues, the collapse of the great dynasty, and the clash between the king and his most loyal knight were not Guinevere's fault, they were undeniably intertwined with her actions.

King Arthur, Lancelot, Mordred… Guinevere gets a headache every time she thinks of these names. If she's going to transmigrate anyway, why not just become King Arthur or one of the other Knights of the Round Table? Even if she's not a famous figure, becoming an ordinary person would be better; at least… she wouldn't be like this now, suddenly shrinking from over 1.8 meters tall to just over 1.5 meters… the whole world has changed!

But no amount of complaining could change the situation. What's done is done. After all, being given a second chance at life is a joyous thing. If she were to sigh and complain all day, what would those who died without a second chance think? Even if she was a bit stubborn and couldn't let go at first, after more than a decade, she finally got used to it… She smiled at herself in the bronze mirror, then turned and walked to the window. Looking up, she saw a bright moon hanging high in the sky, the stars shining brightly, illuminating the entire world as if it were daytime.

Perhaps in some remote places or mountains, one can catch a glimpse of a similar starry sky, but for someone like her in her previous life, who lived in a coastal metropolis from birth to death, it was a magnificent sight that she could never witness.

Looking at the moonlight, at one moment, I suddenly thought of the conversation between the father and daughter that afternoon.

……

"That was ten years ago."

The fine rain, like a tapestry, pattered in through the window, creating a soothing sound that calmed the mind without one even realizing it.

This is a magnificent castle. While it may not compare to the fortified cities in the center of the island, it is still one of the few castles of its size on the entire British Isles. The castle sits atop a steep mountain in northern Scotland, a strategically important and easily defensible location. There is only one winding path leading up and down the mountain. In sunny weather, it is fine, but in the rain, a slight misstep or slip could send one tumbling down the mountain to their death.

To the west of the mountain peak lay a vast lake. Standing by the window in the corridor, looking down, the lake shimmered, shrouded in mist. A large, bony hand rested on the windowsill and gently patted it: "King Vortigern... a powerful figure even Uther couldn't defeat back then. Now, in this fragmented Britain, is there truly anyone who can defeat him...?"

The speaker was a middle-aged man in his forties with a thick beard and blond hair draped over his shoulders. He had a calm demeanor and an imposing presence. He wore a deep red cloak, and although he did not hold a scepter, the crown on his head was enough to indicate his identity.

"The message from the Flower Magician has arrived. The prophesied queen who will save Britain is about to be born. She will hold a ceremony to choose a king in the Southern Territory. Famous knights from all nations will attend, and the female magician who has been missing for ten years will also make an appearance. It should be a rare and spectacular event. So, my daughter Guinevere..."

He turned his head and looked at the girl's figure to his left and behind him: "Since you don't have anything to do lately, why don't you go and broaden your horizons?"

Chapter Two: Knights, Maidens, Britain

In the fifth century AD, the island of Britain was engulfed in a continuous war.

The cause was the decline of the Roman Empire on the continent. In order to fight against many hostile forces, it even withdrew its troops stationed in Britain. Without the protection of the empire, Britain was thus targeted by new foreign enemies—Britain as it is known can be roughly divided into four regions: Wales, Scotland, England, and Ireland.

Ireland has been out of sight for a long time.

The last kingdom with clear records perished three hundred years ago, and no one knows what happened then. Only the bards and adventurers confidently claim that Ireland is now occupied by fairies, giants, and other fantastical creatures, becoming a "magical realm" inaccessible to ordinary people.

After a period of war and division, Wales is now ruled by King Ryan and his brother Nero. England, on the other hand, is leaderless and in chaos, with dozens of large and small tribal kingdoms. In addition, there are the so-called Seven Kingdoms of the Saxons. For a time, even the most learned scholars would probably not be able to name and describe all the powers without preparation.

Despite constant intertribal conflicts, the tribes, regardless of their true intentions, outwardly united under the common threat of the Picts in the north, all venerating King Uther Pendragon as the overlord of Britain and cooperating with each other. However, this alliance was inherently fragile and soon crumbled due to a single king.

The king's name was Vortigern, Uther's brother. Legend says he was born in Britain, but was a white dragon born to destroy it. Whether this is true or not, Vortigern was indeed ambitious. In his desire to unify Britain, he did not hesitate to bring in the Saxons, plunging the entire island into war. The fortified city of Lentenium, built by the empire in the past, was destroyed by fire. Uther Pendragon, who was hailed as the greatest king, was also defeated and disappeared in battle against Vortigern, his fate unknown.

After that battle, Vortigern occupied Londinium as his stronghold, proclaimed himself King of Britain, and granted land to the Saxons, using them to eliminate other tribes that refused to submit to him. The war raged on, plunging Britain into a long Dark Age.

Battles had become a daily occurrence, crops were dwindling year by year, and people's lives were growing increasingly impoverished. It seemed as if everything was constantly deteriorating. Life was lost, the dead were gone, and the living gritted their teeth and struggled to survive, yet they could see no glimmer of hope for the future. If there was anything that could be called hope, it was perhaps only the words left behind by Merlin, the female magician who assisted King Uther.

"Everything is as prophesied."

"The successor to King Uther has appeared. This person is the incarnation of the Red Dragon, the next king."

"When the new king appears, the Knights of the Round Table will gather, and the White Dragon will be defeated. Just as a storm will eventually pass, there is no need to despair. Just wait quietly for the dawn to arrive."

When King Uther was defeated, it is said that people from Wales to Scotland, across much of the British Isles, heard Merlin's words. Whether it was knights eager to save their country or Vortigern fearing the fulfillment of the prophecy, they all began a frantic search for the flower magician, but for ten years, Merlin seemed to have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again.

Ten years later, without any prior warning, the female magician suddenly appeared in a small town in the southern border and, in full view of everyone, placed down a square rock with a sword stuck in it.

"In Britain today, bloodlines are meaningless. Behold, this sword pierced by the rock is a holy sword that can bring victory, a proof of kingship more certain than bloodline. Only the one with the power to save Britain will be recognized by this sword. This is my will, and the will of Uther. Therefore, I hereby declare—whoever it is, whose birth or origin is irrelevant, whoever can draw this sword will be the King of Britain!"

The news caused a nationwide uproar. In just one day and one night, numerous self-confident and valiant knights, aiming to draw the holy sword and become king, flocked to this small town. At the same early morning, on a small hill not far from the town, a thin "boy" slowly opened his eyes in the stable.

……

“There’s a special festival going on in town today. Kai borrowed my horse early this morning to go there so he could attend, but he forgot to bring his lance, which is the most important thing for a knight.”

"Hmm, as a knight... even someone like Brother Kai wouldn't forget to bring his gun, would he?"

"Horseback warfare has been abolished for a long time. Recently, almost only farming horses are left. Military horses are extremely rare. The reason we didn't teach you how to use a gun is because all the long guns we have left are Kai's."

"You can make as many replicas of guns as you want..."

"Because I can't give you something poorly made. A sword would be barely acceptable, but it would be terrible if you accidentally picked up some strange gun-handling habits, that's what the magician said."

"I won't pick up any weird habits... So all I have to do is hand the gun over to Kai, right?"

"Just give it to him, and then your work is done for today."

Recalling her conversation with her adoptive father, Hector, Artoria led the horse carrying a lance with her left hand, walking slowly through the fields. The weather was fine today; although there were some clouds, it was very sunny, and there was no worry about rain. She wanted to quicken her pace, but considering the heavy load on the horse beside her, she maintained her usual speed as she headed towards the town.

The bright sunlight shone down, and a gentle breeze caressed her face, causing her golden hair, tied in a bun at the back of her head, to sway back and forth. For some reason, although Artoria was a woman, she usually appeared as a boy—or rather, she had been raised as a "man" since birth.

She was dressed in men's clothing and her hair was tied back. Because of her beauty, she was quite popular among the girls in town, but in the end, she was just an orphan adopted by an old knight. Even as a trainee knight, she was never regarded as a companion by the other knights.

"what?"

After passing through the farmland, the fence surrounding the town came into view. Although Lentinium, located in the center of the island, was a fortified city with a distinctly imperial style, the defenses around this town were only ordinary, even rudimentary. Normally, Artoria might have mentally considered how she would attack or defend this place, but at this moment, her attention was not on the fence.

The atmosphere in town was indeed different from before.

As far as the eye could see, adults and children alike were noisily rushing towards a certain direction, a restless atmosphere permeating the air. "That must be the open space where the knights usually train," Artoria thought, then she heard the commotion.

"It's Merlin!"

Merlin is here!

"Today, the heir to the king will finally be chosen from among the knights!"

It turned out to be the case.

She learned why the town had become unusual.

They also learned why Kai had forgotten to bring his rifle, and why her adoptive father had asked her to bring it over.

"I see."

Amidst the murmurs and commotion, Artoria, leading her horse, walked with the others towards the training ground. The open space, intended for the warhorses to run back and forth, was quite spacious and usually deserted, but today it was crowded with all sorts of people: knights clad in armor and carrying longswords, knightly squires dressed similarly to her, and commoners in patched clothes, their eyes darting around with curiosity.

She wasn't very tall, and after looking around, she didn't see the holy sword that people had mentioned was stuck in the rock, nor was there any sign of Kai. Just as she was wondering, a voice suddenly came from beside her: "Isn't that Artos?"

The name Altos was a pseudonym derived from her real name, Artoria. She turned around and saw that the other person was one of her sworn brother Kai's many friends: "You're here for the ceremony too?" Before Artoria could answer, the other person nodded to himself: "That's right, apprentice knights are still knights after all, everyone has an equal opportunity. Haha, but before that farce is over, I'm afraid it won't be our turn to draw our swords anytime soon."

"farce?"

In response to Artoria's instinctive question, the knight smiled and gestured to the other side. Reminded of this, she realized that the crowd gathered there seemed exceptionally dense, packed in layers, almost impenetrable.

"If you're interested, you can go take a look... Kay is there too."

After saying that, he chuckled and said sarcastically, "Speaking of which... that lady is really something. This time, I'm afraid quite a few people will be ruined."

Beneath the smile lay a hint of schadenfreude. And soon after, Artoria learned the meaning of the other person's last words, and the reason for that schadenfreude…

P.S.: Considering that this chapter is half background and half content about the Court of Avalon, I felt bad about dedicating it to a separate day's update, so I'm posting it here instead~ During the new book period, I hope to achieve some good results, so please remember to vote with recommendation tickets and monthly tickets—of course, I'll accept all the criticism too!

Chapter Three: Looking Back Suddenly, That Strawberry Hair Was There...

when!

The crisp sound of metal clashing rang out in the wind. Dozens, even hundreds, of eyes turned to look at them from all directions, but no one spoke loudly; only whispers murmured around them like mosquitoes buzzing.

The man stepped forward, slashing down with his longsword. His opponent also stepped back, parrying with his sword. The two swords locked in a stalemate in mid-air for a moment—but in that instant, the knight's longsword broke in two. One half, still holding the hilt, was in his hand, while the other half spun away and flew off with a "thud," landing right at the feet of a bystander not far away.

At noon, under the bright sunlight, the sword tip was almost completely embedded in the soil, with only a small section of the blade protruding, still swaying slightly, its light shimmering like a clear lake.

"it is good……"

Someone cheered in the crowd, but disappeared as everyone else's gaze shifted away. When Artoria squeezed through the crowd from behind, she saw this eerily quiet scene. She looked around and spotted her sworn brother. Apologizing as she approached, she kept glancing at the open space surrounded by people, and at the two people who seemed to have been fighting until just moments ago. At the same time, she couldn't help but frown slightly.

After that crisp clash of swords, the atmosphere at the scene became indescribably strange and difficult to put into words…

One of them was a man in his thirties, with long, flowing hair and a short beard. He wore worn armor, marked with numerous weapon marks, clearly indicating the fierce battles he had fought. Although his appearance was unfamiliar, his presence at this time suggested he too was there to choose the Sword of Kings. From childhood, Hector and Merlin had mostly taught her combat skills, rarely mentioning the situation in Britain. The little knowledge she had was gleaned from her sworn brother Kai in casual conversation, making its reliability questionable.

Trying to recall, Artoria couldn't reconcile the man's image with the famous knights Kai had mentioned. She blinked and then looked in the other direction.

Actually.

Compared to this middle-aged knight, another figure standing on the field at this moment might be the real focus.

It was a petite girl. She looked to be about the same age as me, around fifteen or sixteen. Her long, golden hair was loose and flowing. She wore a dark gray outfit, with the cuffs and trouser legs tightly fitted, making her slender figure even more noticeable.

Normally, only knights from less affluent families would dress their squires in such attire. However, aside from the girl's delicate features and the absence of calluses on her hands from years of labor, even if she wasn't from a noble family, she was likely quite well-off. More importantly, she wore a scabbard predominantly gold at her waist, and the longsword in her left hand was no ordinary weapon—its hilt was forged from gold, and its edge was inlaid with glittering gems. Artoria wasn't particularly knowledgeable or discerning; in the past decade or so, the only swords she had seen and used besides the wooden practice swords were the few nearly rusted iron swords in her adoptive father's house. Yet, even she could immediately recognize the true value of this sword.

Not to mention the others.

Listen closely, and you can hear people swallowing hard, their eyes fixed on the jewel-encrusted longsword. Yet no one questions why such a sword would fall into the hands of such a delicate, seemingly fragile girl.

The young girl, sword in hand, took a few steps forward. The wind lifted her hair, revealing her left ear, on which adorned a small, round earlobe, a delicate blue earring that swayed in the breeze. As her gleaming leather boots landed, they stirred up a small cloud of dust. The middle-aged knight, still bewildered, glanced at his sword, now only half its original length, then looked up at the petite figure before him. He opened his mouth, about to say something.

The girl raised her hand.

The tip of the sword stopped in front of his throat.

She then pursed her lips and gave a gentle smile: "Is this enough?"

"you……"

The middle-aged knight's expression instantly turned purplish-red.

At this moment, Artoria also came to Kai's side. The latter had noticed her long ago, but Kai was always unpretentious. He simply raised his chin as a greeting: "Artoria, you're here."

She nodded: "What happened?"

Considering the atmosphere around them, Artoria deliberately lowered her voice. Upon hearing this, Kai chuckled and said, "What happened? It's just that some knights are so arrogant, they don't watch where they're going and they've run into a brick wall."

After a few more sarcastic remarks, he began to explain the reason—actually, the whole matter was quite simple, and he had already explained the ins and outs in a few words: "Didn't Merlin put a stone with a sword stuck in it here yesterday, saying that it could pull out the sword from the stone, the one she mentioned in her prophecy about the new king?" The stone was just a few steps away, and the girl and the middle-aged knight had their duel in front of the Sword of the Chosen King. Kai pointed to the sword stuck in the stone and continued, "As soon as the news spread, it was like a commotion everywhere. From yesterday to today, all sorts of people have been rushing over to join in the fun..."

“That’s where the problem lies.”

According to Kai, the girl arrived here about two hours ago. At that time, many famous knights had already gathered. Some had tried to draw the sword but failed, while others were arguing that this was yet another prank by Merlin, that no one could actually draw the sword, otherwise, how could someone like me not be qualified to be king, etc. Because the female magician hadn't appeared for some reason, and as more and more people failed in their attempts to draw the sword, the murmurs of doubt grew louder. Some hot-blooded young men had already lost patience and began discussing among themselves how to choose a new king through other types of competitions.

Amidst this restless atmosphere, the girl appeared.