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

"We don't have time to indulge Merlin and Uther's fantasies. Rather than an unseen proof of kingship, it's far more logical to decide who becomes king based on the number of subordinates, the amount of money, and their own strength. There's no need for a powerful leader. If everyone's interests align, cooperation is easy, and scheming behind the scenes is simpler. Most importantly, if something goes wrong and we need to take responsibility, we can find a way to cover it up. An existence that can save everything might sound appealing, but no one wants to see or be the 'god's agent who saves everything.'"

"Does Brother Kai think so too?"

“Of course.” He shook his head. “Al, you should go back to your dad’s. If other people see this, you’ll be teased again. At least think about your brother who’s helping you out. Listen carefully, this is your first and last chance. Go home obediently.”

With that, their conversation temporarily ended. Kai took his lance, led his horse, and left with the other knights. Judging from their conversation, they seemed to be heading to the farm for various competitions, primarily mounted combat, to determine who was qualified to succeed King Uther. The townspeople and busybodies followed behind, leaving noisily.

Just moments ago, the scene was bustling with activity, but in the blink of an eye, everything around us has returned to calm.

Only Artoria remained.

And that lonely, square stone lying in the center of the open space, ignored by everyone. Ultimately, it's questionable how many people even believed Merlin's prophecy; the sword seemed to have been abandoned there without any change from the very beginning.

"No one wants to see this, much less want to be..."

She looked at the rock, murmured to herself, and took two steps forward. The knights' clamor was distant, and the training ground was empty; it felt like watching a lively festival from afar.

It is a part of it, yet it never truly belongs there.

She quietly placed her hand on the hilt of the sword.

Like an extension of an arm, the feedback feels surprisingly comfortable.

Something churning inside her, as if about to burst from the inside, was being sucked into the sword, making her feel lighter and lighter. She was certain that all she had to do was pull her hand back and the sword would be pulled out, and she was about to inhale when...

Footsteps sounded not far behind.

……

Artoria paused slightly as she drew her sword, turning her head. She had assumed it was the female magician she had only met in her dreams so far, but to her surprise, the person who appeared was the girl dressed as a servant who had angrily left after failing to draw her sword earlier.

But there was no trace of anger on the girl's face; it was as if her previous anger had been merely feigned. The girl had apparently walked in a large circle, returning from the opposite direction she had come from. A golden sword hung at her waist, its jewels gleaming in the sunlight. The look in her eyes seemed quite complex, and for a moment, Artoria couldn't discern what kind of emotion it was.

Are you going to draw your sword?

The voice was like a breeze passing through the forest, light and soft, spoken in a questioning tone but with a certainty in its words. Before she could answer, the girl stopped and continued looking in their direction: "Everyone's gone. But for such a memorable moment, there has to be someone there to witness it. Don't you think so?"

At that moment, what flashed through her mind was the image of the other party seemingly "accidentally" drawing half of the sword. Artoria opened her mouth to ask a question, but then thought again and suddenly felt there was nothing to ask. So she nodded, shifted her attention back to the hilt of the sword in her hand, and took another breath.

As he withdrew his hand...

The scenery before my eyes suddenly changed—

*******

The girl standing before the sword turned pale with fear, and her whole body froze.

If her memories of her past life weren't too far off, at this moment, the other person should have seen the future—the ending where they died by the traitor Mordred's sword, and the kingdom crumbled along with them. Guinevere glanced around, remembering that Merlin should have been there. She was quite curious about this mysterious magician, but no matter how she looked at it, the training ground was empty except for the two of them; she couldn't find a single person.

Was something keeping him from coming? The thought crossed his mind for a moment, but he didn't really care. He turned his gaze back to the figure beside the rock.

To be honest, my feelings are a bit complicated.

The other person should be only a teenager, around the same age as herself, in the prime of their life. But recalling the monologues from the game, even though she couldn't remember many clearly, Guinevere fell silent. Moreover, not long ago, she had fled in panic from that sword of kings—a somewhat exaggerated statement, but the truth was, it was precisely because she understood how difficult it was to become Uther's successor, to become that knight-king admired and praised by all, that she had sheathed the sword she had drawn.

And now.

Another child, roughly the same age, or even twenty or thirty years younger in spirit, after witnessing a future that could only be described as hopeless, still decided to embark on this path.

"After all... he's just a mortal..."

Muttering something in a voice only she could hear, Guinevere closed her eyes and laughed self-deprecatingly. Just as her vision briefly went black, a crisp "crack" sounded in front of her, indicating that the Knight King had made up his mind and resolutely pulled the sword from the stone.

It's a pity I didn't get to witness that moment in person.

……

Wait, click?

It's just drawing a sword, but the sound is a bit too crisp.

Guinevere was startled, a sense of unease creeping into her heart, when she heard a series of cracking sounds again, "Crack crack crack crack crack crack crack—"

When she was a mischievous child, she once smashed all the glass in an entire corridor, making a similar commotion as she does now. The question is, where did glass come from in the fifth century AD?

Suddenly I opened my eyes.

"..."

The bright sunlight shone down, and a breeze blew, stirring up dust from the training ground before it settled again. The rock remained where it was, but the hilt of the sword that had been stuck in it was nowhere to be seen. However, a slight shift of the gaze to the side revealed the magnificent ahoge (cowlick) and its owner, who was very likely Artoria's blond-haired boy (girl).

The other person gripped the sword hilt with their right hand, raising it high, clearly still in the same position as when they drew the sword. Sunlight streamed down, making the scene resemble a painting, but the certain king's enthusiast from another era had no leisure to appreciate this picturesque scene.

Guinevere stared in utter disbelief at the hilt of the sword in the other person's hand.

After a while.

Her gaze slowly moved downwards.

At the same time, Artoria was also looking at her feet with a blank expression.

There, there was a sword broken into seven or eight pieces.

"..."

"..."

Bang!

With a swift release, the bare hilt of the sword fell to the ground. Then, with another crack, under the silent gaze of the two, the hilt broke into several pieces, following the blade…

Two gazes, a scene of devastation.

It was extremely desolate.

Chapter Six: Where is the Sword?

For a long time, the two listened to the shouts and cheers of the knights from the distant farm, neither of them uttering a word. The wind howled, the sun shone brightly, dust floated in the air, and their shadows slowly slanted. After a long while, Guinevere suddenly heard a "gulp," and when she came to her senses, she realized she had swallowed hard.

"What kind of nonsense is this...?"

He couldn't help but slump his shoulders and let out a deep sigh.

King Uther disappeared for ten years. Merlin held a ceremony to choose a king according to the prophecy. Knights from all over the world came, but no one could pull the sword out of the stone. Until the red dragon mentioned in the prophecy, King Arthur—Artoria Pendragon—successfully pulled out the sword... Up to this point, it all matched Guinevere's memories. But whether it was the legend on Earth or the memories in the game, she was certain that there was absolutely no such "earth-shattering reversal" where the sword was pulled out one moment and then shattered into pieces the next.

After thinking it over, could it be because she stabbed it so hard that she... shattered the sword? But this thing is a holy sword! It's a treasure projected from 1,500 years in the future, capable of instantly slashing off seven bars of a certain Greek hero's health! It's not some popsicle that breaks easily!

The more Guinevere thought about it, the more conflicted she became, but she also knew that the one truly feeling confused at that moment wasn't her. She looked with some sympathy at the girl a few steps away, staring blankly at the broken sword fragments at her feet, and could almost imagine what the girl was feeling: seeing the future of Britain's destruction, knowing her own tragic fate, yet still determined to pull the sword from the stone, to bid farewell to her human self in order to save her country—

Before this tragic realization could even linger in his mind for a few seconds, the sword shattered with a crackling sound.

To be honest, this future King of Knights probably wanted to curse right now, but he didn't, which shows that his manners are truly towering above the clouds...

Of course, it could also be because Britain—at least at this time—did not have a tradition of swearing.

Guinevere rubbed her temples, thinking that it wasn't good for the two of them to stand there like pillars forever. Right now, only the two of them knew about this, but if some knight or onlooker found out, things would really get out of control. Besides, her legs were getting a little sore, and she wanted to find a place to sit down and eat something… The fact that she could still think about such random things at a time like this was one of her few virtues. While thinking about what to have for dinner, Guinevere rummaged in the small cloth bag hanging at her waist and pulled out a seed the size of a soybean.

This is an oak seed. She had no experience with gardening in her previous life, and didn't know if the oak trees in this world were any different from those in her previous life, but she remembered reading some information that the druids on Earth also regarded the oak tree as a sacred tree, using its fruit and wood as a medium for casting spells. At least this tradition was the same in this world.

She flicked her finger.

The seed traced a beautiful parabola in the air. At the same time, Guinevere placed two fingers of her right hand on the back of her left hand and whispered a spell. The next instant, a wondrous pattern resembling a leaf appeared where her fingertips touched.

As soon as the green leaves appeared, the magic in the atmosphere reacted immediately. Artoria looked up in surprise and saw countless emerald green lines emerging from the seed. After a series of interweaving and transformations, in the blink of an eye, the tiny seed had turned into a large sky-blue cloth. As Guinevere raised her hand, a sudden gust of wind came towards her, rolling the cloth into her hand.

"Druid?"

Artoria blinked and asked instinctively. Guinevere didn't answer, casually waving the cloth in her hand a few times before walking over: "Anyway... this isn't the place to talk, let's tidy up first."

As she spoke, Guinevere glanced towards the farm, her meaning clear. In fact, if she hadn't witnessed the Sword of the Chosen shatter into pieces, the blow would have been too great. Given Artoria's usual behavior, she wouldn't have overlooked such a small matter. As for the possibility that the other party might be a druid, she could ask later. She nodded and squatted down.

Guinevere also squatted down—she never felt any burden of being a princess—and spread the cloth out to the side. Turning her head, she saw Artoria extend two fingers, carefully avoiding the sharp parts, pick up one piece, and place it on the cloth.

stab-

The large cloth tore open with a snap, creating a gash.

"..."

"...This is a fine sword..."

"Um……"

After a moment of silence, Guinevere conjured two more pieces of cloth in the same way, stacked the three together, and reinforced them with special magic. Finally, they were no longer cut by the sword fragments. Then they busied themselves with other things. There was no conversation between them, and Guinevere's awkward comment about what a fine sword it was did not recur. They silently gathered up the fragments scattered on the ground, wrapped them into a bundle, and carried it in their hands. Only then did they finally breathe a sigh of relief, stand up, and exchange a glance.

"Thank you..."

Carrying a "cloth bag" in one hand, Artoria wiped the fine sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and tried to smile, but her mood was not yet recovered, and her expression looked a little stiff.

"It was nothing..." Guinevere shook her head, thinking that she might actually have caused this, so she didn't dare to accept the thanks frankly.

After all, if you go through the whole thing from beginning to end, from Merlin's appearance yesterday to the sword breaking in the stone, the only deviation from the original story that could trigger a butterfly effect is that she, the transmigrator, also participated in the sword-drawing ceremony—and not only did she actually draw it, but she also cleverly stuck the sword back in. Even though she couldn't think of any other reason why that sticking could shatter the sword into pieces, she couldn't think of any other explanation. Because of all this, she looked at the person in front of her, feeling both annoyed and guilty at the same time.

Moreover, if she wasn't mistaken, the future King of Knights had witnessed her drawing the sword. Therefore, it would be reasonable for him to suspect that she had secretly sabotaged the Sword in the Stone to hinder the birth of the new king. The most troublesome thing was that if the other party actually raised doubts, she wouldn't know how to refute them.

As she pondered this alone, the person in front of her had already started walking. Guinevere paused, then quickly followed. Then, as if hearing her question, the person in front turned back: "You're right. Although we don't know exactly what happened, staying here will only cause unnecessary commotion..."

With a thought, Guinevere replied, "Because the Sword of the Chosen is missing?"

"Yes."

Nodding, Artoria paused, seemingly deep in thought, her toe tapping absently on a small pebble beside her. After a moment, her golden hair swayed, and she spoke again, "This matter... my adoptive father might know why the sword broke. So, if it's convenient, could you please come to my house?"

"it is good."

Guinevere didn't hesitate and immediately agreed. Seeing the girl ahead smile, turn around, and continue walking forward, she followed. After a while, two sets of footsteps sounded, and then a voice said, "My name is Artoria... Artoria. May I ask your name?" She made a sharp turn midway and almost bit her tongue.

An uninformed person might simply think she misspoke, but Guinevere found it amusing. Taking advantage of being out of sight, she turned her head away and chuckled softly.

"My name is Finaville, just call me Fina."

Guinevere's name was given to her by the King of Scotland. As a princess of the country, she naturally had a certain degree of fame. In order to avoid causing all sorts of inexplicable trouble, she preferred to use the name Fina Weir, given to her by her mother, when she was out and about. On the other hand, in this situation, there was also a dark mentality of "since you don't say your real name, I'll use a fake one too, and we'll call it even."

"Fina... is a good name."

After saying this, Guinevere thanked them, and they fell silent again. It was nearly two or three in the afternoon, the sun was setting, and the weather was getting cooler. The two walked outwards, passing through the fences and farmland surrounding the town, until they reached a wide grassland. The wind blew from one end of the grassland to the other, rustling like waves. After walking for a while, they heard the sound of horses' hooves approaching from behind.

"Al!"

It was a young man's voice. Artoria stopped abruptly, her brows furrowing slightly in annoyance, then relaxing. Turning around, she saw a man and a horse galloping towards the town, their footsteps pounding through the overgrown grass.

"Brother Kai..."

“You still didn’t listen to me. I told you about that sword…” The sound of hooves stopped abruptly, as if the reins had been pulled, and the man’s words came to an abrupt halt. He dismounted and fired off three questions in rapid succession: “Where’s the sword? What’s that in your hand? She is…”

“This lady is Fina. I’m about to go with her to see Hector because of certain matters,” Artoria answered, starting with the last question. After the introductions, Guinevere placed her hand on her shoulder and bowed, one of the various forms of etiquette among knights. Kai looked at her suspiciously, returned the bow, and then looked at Artoria.

"Seeing Dad...what's it about?"

"The matter of the sword..."

"That's why I asked about the sword."

As they exchanged questions, Kai sensed something was amiss. Knowing his adopted sister—well, let's call her his adopted brother—he was usually straightforward, only beating around the bush in certain situations. Certain situations…like when she couldn't resist finishing his breakfast or dinner. Most of the time, he could immediately figure out why his little sister was acting strangely. But right now, Kai was utterly confused.

He looked up at the sun.

It's not mealtime yet.

Why are you acting so guilty when it's not mealtime?

Then, he watched as Artoria bit her lip, and with an expression full of tragic grandeur, as if Hector had announced that she wouldn't be able to eat breakfast the next day, she raised the particularly conspicuous sky-blue bundle in her hand.

"At this……"

"So I'm asking what's inside here?"

"It's a sword."

"So, where is the sword I'm asking?"

"At this."

"……What?"

P.S.: I was very dissatisfied with this chapter. I threw it into the draft box and took it out several times, agonizing over it for about half an hour. Then I looked at it again... Hey, it doesn't seem so bad anymore?

It was a close call; this book almost went on hiatus for the first time.

P.S.: After some thought, I've simplified the protagonist's alias to Fina. There have also been minor revisions to the earlier chapters. If you don't mind, you can read them again (but it's okay if you don't).