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

A thick fog rolled in, and Saber stepped back, about to reach out to protect Irisviel, but suddenly lost sight of her. She turned around in surprise and doubt, only to see a white fog, churning endlessly.

In this suddenly spreading white mist, only she remained, along with the mysterious girl dressed as a magician before her.

"Long time no see, King of Knights... Artoria." The top hat twirled on her fingertip, then with a bang, it turned into a puff of smoke and disappeared.

The girl, who called herself Rin Tohsaka, gathered her long, black hair and smiled. She seemed less reserved than before, and her tone was so familiar that Saber felt a little uncomfortable.

"Don't worry so much. I just want to say a few words to you. It won't take much time, and it won't cause any harm to that beautiful lady."

Saber wondered if it was just her imagination, but when Irisviel was mentioned, the girl's tone seemed to become strange for some reason. This feeling was fleeting, and Saber even thought it was just an illusion.

She looked at the person in front of her with suspicion: "Do we...know each other?"

"Who knows."

The girl shrugged. In the swirling white mist, the other person's face seemed to be constantly changing, but it was all blurry and unclear. Only those bright, shining eyes met hers through the mist, filled with a smile.

“But before we speak, if you don’t mind, let me help you treat the injury on your hand first.” She paused. “After all… unlike the Holy Lance, Excalibur seems to need to be held with both hands to be used.”

……

P.S.: I'm really stuck on the main story. I've been switching between the main story, the epilogue, and Autumn Night all day, and I only managed to finish one epilogue chapter. Please bear with it... I should be able to update one chapter of Autumn Night and one chapter of the main story tomorrow, if all goes well~

Chapter Three: Trivial Matters Along the Way (Part 1)

"It's called a festival... but it's not really a grand festival. It's just a local custom. Before the snow falls in winter, everyone takes out some food and sings and dances around the campfire all night... It's a kind of small ritual."

Her voice wasn't loud; compared to when she spoke with a commanding presence in public, Artoria's tone was now more like that of a girl her age—crisp, sweet, and with a pleasant liveliness. She walked with light steps, not quite skipping, but enough to make everyone's excitement obvious.

Guinevere followed slowly beside him. Her tattered cloak billowed in the wind, and her wide-brimmed hat obscured most of her face. These two items originated from her "self" in her dreams, or rather, from the alter ego of the Great Cauldron. Though unremarkable in appearance, they possessed a unique effect; being alone, concealing her appearance helped her avoid unnecessary trouble. Half a year had passed, and she had gradually grown accustomed to this attire. Aside from being frequently mistaken for Merlin, it hadn't caused her any inconvenience.

She hid her full head of white hair, leaving only a small tuft hanging by her ear, swaying with her steps. As she walked, she casually remarked, "I heard this year's harvest is good?"

"Correct."

Artoria nodded: "I don't know why... it started a few years ago, but the harvest has been getting smaller and smaller every year. Even the potatoes have become tiny, not enough to fill our stomachs. Last year, there was almost a famine." Fortunately, by then she had gained the allegiance of most of the nobles in South Wales and used strong measures to order them to provide food to the people, thus averting a tragedy.

Although this incident aroused dissatisfaction among some nobles, it also greatly increased King Arthur's prestige in South Wales. In addition, this year was a rare bumper harvest after a long period of drought. The surrounding people were overjoyed and spontaneously organized several small celebrations to commemorate the occasion.

As King Arthur, she intentionally restrained herself and was relatively introverted. She didn't mention it much on the surface, but because she had saved many people and gained the unanimous support and praise of her companions, she was naturally quite proud. However, if she were to say it in front of Guinevere, she would feel like she was bragging and was a little embarrassed.

The shy girl only gave a perfunctory reply, and kept glancing to the side out of the corner of her eye, not knowing what she was expecting.

“I’ve heard about this in the North too. Everyone’s praising Arthur, saying that despite his young age, he’s a wise king.” Guinevere noticed this subtle gesture and smiled inwardly, speaking as if casually. After a few seconds, Artoria asked softly, “And what about you?”

“I think so too.” She paused for a moment, then added, “It’s amazing.” These were her true feelings, and she said them without hesitation. The girl in the white dress next to her pursed her lips, trying to keep a straight face, but her lips twitched and she couldn’t help but reveal a bright smile.

Strictly speaking, the Artoria at this moment is simply someone with another set of memories compared to the one in her dream; essentially, she is still the same person. However, the different growth trajectory and experiences make many of her actions and reactions feel fresh and new. This feeling of familiarity mixed with strangeness isn't bad; in fact, Guinevere enjoys it.

To be honest, she was even a little jealous of Kay and Merlin.

……

The village's celebration began around dusk and lasted until the next morning. The two met in the afternoon, so they weren't in a hurry. They walked and stopped along the way, watching the sunlight shift, the dust rise and fall, and birds fly across the distant sky, their small shadows landing at their feet and disappearing in a flash. Their conversation gradually shifted from idle chatter to more serious topics.

"...King Percival was cuckolded, so it's understandable that he was angry. However, the child was innocent, and he had seen him a few times in his 'dreams,' so it wouldn't be right to just watch the mother and child be killed. That's why he brought them both here."

After briefly explaining the situation, Guinevere paused, thinking of the mother and child who were probably resting in the castle at the moment, and asked with slight concern, "Will what I did... cause you trouble?"

"will not."

Artoria thought for a moment, then said, "...It will probably have some impact, but it's okay. I don't think you did anything wrong. If I were there, I wouldn't let innocent people be killed because of these concerns. But I'm quite curious, how did you bring that mother and child all the way from the north? Did you use runes?"

“That’s right.” Guinevere smiled, tapped her cane on the ground with a “thud,” and magic flowed, instantly forming a radiant door.

"The Travel, Mystery, and two other runes... While they have many limitations, they are still a decent means of movement."

"amazing."

Even though she learned all sorts of things from Merlin since childhood, Artoria herself didn't have any magical talent. Or rather, with the heart of a dragon, she could generate a continuous stream of magic simply by breathing. She didn't need to spend a lot of extra time and energy learning those "tricks"—after all, you can cleave your opponent's head off with a single sword strike, so why bother muttering a long, obscure incantation?

Whether it's necessary or not is one thing, and whether it's fashionable or not is another. Even if it's not outwardly obvious, Artoria secretly feels a little envious every time she sees Merlin and others casually summoning all sorts of gorgeous things.

If she had the time, she would have loved to learn a few spells from Merlin, even the simplest one, like illumination.

Seeing her staring unblinkingly at the doorway, Guinevere laughed beside her, "Want to give it a try? We can go directly to the village we're going to, instead of walking like this."

It was clear that Artoria was quite interested, but after a brief moment of thought, she still declined: "No, let's talk about it another time."

Without asking for a reason, Guinevere shrugged, the crystal on her staff flashed, the door changed from solid to illusory, and specks of magic turned into light, dancing and disappearing in all directions.

"Then let's walk slowly."

"Ah."

Artoria smiled, her eyes crinkling, and tapped the ground with her toes before continuing forward. A few wisps of magic lingered beside her swaying ponytail, the shimmering golden strands momentarily stunning Guinevere.

Looking back now, the dream journey, though arduous and difficult, also brought her considerable benefits.

The biggest gain was naturally the Primal Rune.

She currently only possesses seventeen runes, with one remaining—said to be the most mysterious and powerful—that she has yet to master. In terms of rune mastery, she is likely still far behind Cu Chulainn and others who graduated from the Shadow Kingdom's special training program. Even so, it is already enough for her to cast many incredible spells.

Things like opening a portal from the North to South Wales, or conjuring a giant fist out of thin air to knock enemies away—these are just relatively basic applications. As for something more advanced…

In late autumn and early winter, the wind carried the chill unique to this season, as if chilling one's entire lungs. Guinevere took a breath, and after a few seconds, slowly exhaled, her expression becoming serious.

Without waiting for her to speak.

Artoria, who was walking ahead, also stopped at this moment, frowned, and pressed her hand on the hilt of her sword: "Fina."

The girl raised her hand, her cloak billowing, and shimmering runes appeared in her palm. In an instant, the light rippled like water, illuminating a blurry image: "The smell of blood...it's nearby. Someone's injured..."

"Village?"

Guinevere's gaze was fixed on the scene unfolding in her palm. After a few seconds, she finally found something meaningful in the image of shimmering snowflakes: "It seems to be closer, nearby... wait, it's not a person."

"...Not human?" The unexpected answer startled Artoria, who then noticed the girl's expression had become quite strange.

"The injured ones are a foal and a... little devil pig."

……

P.S.: This part was really difficult to write; I only managed to get a little over 2,000 words in three days. It should flow better after that~ I feel bad for everyone, so I won't be asking for votes today—but please vote for me anyway~

Chapter Four: Trivial Matters Along the Way (Part Two)

After learning about the celebration, Artoria had been looking forward to it for almost half a month.

She wasn't really interested in many things. Aside from food, she was probably just innately fond of horses and the lively and joyful atmosphere of celebrations.

In order to successfully participate in this folk celebration, she made all the arrangements well in advance. Since Merlin, the best candidate, was away, she even asked Bedivere, the most talkative person, for help. Bedivere acted as a shield when her adoptive father and several other serious knights came to her door, so that she could take the opportunity to slip out of the castle under another identity.

But Artoria also understood that the identity of "Lily" was not a secret to most of her close friends and family. People like Hector turned a blind eye to it, simply not openly acknowledging the behavior.

pity……

With a soft sigh, Artoria gazed ahead with a troubled expression. It was a small grove of trees, not far from the main road. The wind rustled through the trees, and the sunlight flickered, creating a play of light and shadow that blurred the landscape. About two or three meters away, behind a few trees, a small pony stared timidly at them with its wet eyes.

It looked to be less than a year old, with snow-white fur from head to toe, without a single blemish. The only exception was its left hind leg, which appeared to be injured and bleeding profusely. The dried blood clung to its body, like red plum blossoms blooming in the snow, creating a cruel yet beautiful effect.

However, Artoria only felt heartache watching. She had tried to get closer several times before, but the pony was extremely wary and would immediately assume an attack posture as soon as she got a little closer. Of course, with her skills, she could easily knock it out, but Artoria did not want to use such a forceful method unless absolutely necessary.

Moreover, the injury was indeed... somewhat strange.

Just then, footsteps approached from another direction. The pony suddenly shrank back, but under Artoria's reassuring gaze, it barely managed to stay in place. She smiled at it, then turned to look at the approaching person: "Fina, how are you?"

"It's nothing serious."

Guinevere replied.

Her complexion was also not very good. She held a crystal staff in her left hand, while her right hand was holding a small, round, brown object in her arms. A faint glow seemed to flow from between her fingers, giving people a warm feeling. Her voice was also soft, like the sound of wind passing through the forest.

They had noticed the smell of blood on the wind and followed it, just as Guinevere had observed with her magic: the source of the blood was an injured foal and a wild boar cub. More precisely, the latter was a demonic boar.

In the past year, whether in her "dream" or back, Guinevere had dealt with the boars several times and was quite impressed by these tough-skinned, incredibly powerful creatures.

Looking back, the Boars' record was undeniably glorious. Many heroes perished under their tusks, the most famous being Diarmuid of the Fiona Warriors. Besides him, hundreds more from the entire warriors' band died because of the Boars, not to mention the countless civilians who died as a result.

Back then, it was the Age of Gods. Now, the magic in the air is increasingly thin, causing people's physical abilities to decline by more than half. In the past, a skilled hunter might have been able to fight a single demonic boar single-handedly, risking his life. But now, even well-trained soldiers need at least twenty or thirty men working together to barely hold their own against a lone demonic boar. If news of several demonic boars appearing nearby were received, a timid local lord might even pack his bags and flee immediately.

As for those who are brave and decisive, they simply gather their troops for a decisive battle, and there is a high probability that they will "get what they want".

In fact, such things happen quite often. Almost every few years, one or two small kingdoms are destroyed by the magic boars, and everyone from the king to the farmer is terrified of them.

No matter how fearsome his reputation was, or how glorious his achievements were, those were the honors of the adult demon boar. No matter how hard Guinevere tried to adjust her mindset, she couldn't sense any threat from the little thing in her arms.

Just then, noticing Artoria's gaze, the little boar huddled in her arms, trembling and whimpering, with tears glistening in its eyes, looking utterly pitiful.

"I didn't intend to eat it..."

Their eyes met, and before Guinevere could say anything, Artoria had already realized what was going on. She spoke somewhat sullenly, her cheeks puffing out slightly.

The girl chuckled and turned her gaze to the injured foal. She saw the timid foal suddenly turn fierce and glare back at her as if it had seen an enemy. She couldn't help but twitch her lips and say, "Looks like it doesn't like me very much."

“That’s right, as always,” Artoria added mischievously. Guinevere called out to her in a drawn-out voice, “Ah—er—” as if to step forward. The snow-white-clad young swordswoman leaned back, her ponytail swaying, and her eyes crinkled into a smile.

But as soon as they got a little closer, the little boar began to struggle frantically, its wounds, which had been gradually healing under the rune's effect, reopening and staining the girl's fingers with blood. Guinevere quickly stopped and calmed the little boar, which was trying to escape.

After finally calming the latter down, he looked up and saw that Artoria was also frantically trying to soothe the foal that had become panicked again. He couldn't help but smile wryly: "Don't you think we're a bit like..." Before he could finish his sentence, Artoria understood and shrugged.

"Kind of."

……

But Artoria, as expected of the future renowned Knight King, seemed to have an innate talent for getting along with horses. In less than an hour, she had largely dispelled the foal's wariness of them, and Guinevere was finally able to help treat its injured hind leg.

Although neither of them could understand why all the horses they had encountered so far had treated Guinevere with such a subtle attitude, Artoria could keenly sense that the horse didn't actually dislike Fina. However, watching Guinevere cast spells to heal her while desperately dodging the pony's head that reached out to bite her hair, the girl felt that... this "deep-rooted" misunderstanding probably couldn't be cleared up in a few words.

The little pig had fallen into a deep sleep not long ago and was now placed under the shade of a tree. Since there wasn't suitable fabric around, Guinevere took off her hat, tried it on, and found it to be the perfect size, so she put the pig inside. The little pig seemed to like this temporary "blanket," sleeping soundly inside, occasionally smacking its lips.

I wonder if the Demon Pig has dreams.

Thinking this casually, the girl withdrew her hand, the runes disappeared without a trace, and the hideous wound was reduced to a shallow line. The bleeding stopped. She observed for a few seconds and breathed a sigh of relief: "It's probably alright... Go away!"

Having frantically snatched a few strands of her hair from the horse's mouth, Guinevere picked up her cane from the ground and quickly distanced herself: "You ungrateful wretch!" she said angrily, "...I really don't know why you, Al, would like this kind of animal that likes to gnaw on people's hair."

Artoria comforted the somewhat dejected pony, then smiled helplessly at the words: "Perhaps... it wants to thank you?"

"Thank me, so you want me to go bald?"

"Um..." He was speechless for a moment.

"Forget it, I'm magnanimous and won't hold it against it." Guinevere couldn't possibly be seriously angry with a horse, so she shook her head: "The toxins entangled in the wound have been cleared, and there's basically nothing to worry about. Rune's healing essentially depletes the recipient's life force, so it can't be used too often. The remaining wound just needs to be treated with herbal poultices for a few days, and then rest for a while."

"That's good. But... their injuries are a bit worrying." Artoria frowned. "It looks like they were caused by sharp weapons. According to you, there's also some poison residue in the little demonic boar's wound?"

“It’s not ordinary poison. It seems to be mixed with a strange power; I can sense that dark and evil aura.” When it came to serious matters, Guinevere’s tone became serious: “Using sharp weapons and poisoning them is clearly something a human did. But who did it… and why are these two little ones here?”

If there were only an injured pony, or a wounded little boar—though the latter is somewhat rare, it wouldn't be surprising—it would be quite remarkable that these two animals, completely unrelated in species and habits, were now together, living peacefully, and both bearing identical wounds.

Things got a little strange.

……

Chapter Five: A Lone Hero's Hall (Part 1)

The anticipated celebration fell through—after all, they couldn't very well take these two little creatures they'd met along the way with them. A foal would be one thing, but bringing a demonic boar would surely scare the villagers—Altoria, though somewhat disappointed, set off on her return journey early.

Nowadays, there are countless magicians active in the world, and most castles and towns naturally have corresponding defensive measures. After Carleon became King Arthur's capital, Merlin not only drastically improved the existing defensive barrier, but also set up a constant spatial anchor and a manifestation spell. As a result, the two had to walk back, and by the time they arrived at the castle, it was already evening.

It's a bit ironic, but even now, Guinevere doesn't have a formally announced identity in Carleon.

Unlike other people who came to King Arthur's side, she did not formally swear allegiance, nor did she ever really participate in important state affairs; she seemed to be simply a guest who was detached from the world.

However, from the guest's perspective, their relationship with the king seems a bit too intimate.

In fact, even Kai, who thought he knew Artoria best, didn't know where this woman came from. Apart from knowing that she seemed to have crossed the sea from Ireland in the west, he couldn't find any information about her at all.

If this was the case for Kaishan, who had the intelligence, then it goes without saying that others would too. He had discussed this issue in private more than once, and some even suspected that the girl was a spy. However, after spending half a year with her, he found nothing suspicious, and these doubts and suspicions gradually disappeared. After all, who would want to provoke a highly skilled spellcaster unless absolutely necessary?

With the king and Merlin's guarantees, the young woman not only had her own residence in the castle, but also enjoyed treatment almost identical to that of a regular knight, receiving considerable respect. Men like Kay, Bedivere, and Tristan would occasionally come to subtly persuade her to formally join the knighthood; given Gareth's precedent, the knighting of women was no longer surprising. Guinevere declined several times, but they probably hadn't given up.

With a flick of her finger, her hair curled in the air a few times before being released again. The girl exhaled, leaned her cane against the wall, and casually tossed the cloak wrapped around her. The cloth seemed to have its own consciousness; before it even hit the ground, it "whooshed" back and circled around its owner.

"Be quiet."

Only after being told that did the cloak reluctantly retreat, looking aggrieved. After a while, it went to play with the little pig who was fast asleep in the wide-brimmed hat, poking the pig's belly with the corner of its cloak. Whenever the pig made a move, it would hurriedly retreat several meters. It did this repeatedly, enjoying itself immensely.

Watching the cloak's childlike actions with a sigh, the girl stretched, pointed, and the tightly closed window creaked open by itself, letting in a rush of night air that instantly made the room feel fresh. Artoria returned to the castle, reverting to the busy King Arthur. With nothing else pressing to do, she found herself somewhat idle.

Standing by the window, my gaze travels across it, taking in the distant mountains and plains from my elevated position. Castles that served as residences of local lords were typically built in locations with the best views and were easy to defend, and Carleon was no exception.