Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

The Queen paused for a moment, then swept the scraps of paper into the trash can once more. She then turned and opened the doors and windows, standing on the windowsill, gazing into the distance at the isolated island in the south.

And thousands of miles away, it seems there is another pair of eyes silently watching this tower.

A howling cold wind rushed into the main hall, swirling up scraps of paper from the trash cans, and blowing white, messy pieces of paper all over the room.

The night fades away, the moon sets and the sun rises.

As a ray of morning sunlight pierced the thin mist over the lake and fell upon the water's edge, a figure lingered on the rocks, lowered their eyes, looked away, reached out to brush the dewdrops from their clothes, and sighed softly.

Looks like we'll have to wait until next year...

Time flies, and before we know it, spring has turned to autumn, and another year has passed.

Seemingly thanks to the "miracle" brought by the Holy Grail, Britain once again enjoyed a bumper harvest, and its livestock were fed to a robust and healthy state.

An even grander festival celebration was held in the city and countryside, with bonfires burning all over Britain and a festive atmosphere everywhere.

Similarly, Camelot's palace was no exception.

"Bawanshi, what's your gift this year? Let me see!"

"What's so interesting about them? They're just a pair of shoes."

Bawanshi answered casually, but as she spoke, she intentionally or unintentionally lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing her exquisite ballet shoes, adorned with jewels and radiating a crystal-like luster, from a better angle.

Once they had attracted enough attention, the vain vampire lowered its head, which was almost touching the roof, and glanced at Mordred, who was holding a cardboard box across from them.

"Strange, why is this box moving?"

"Haha, it's a lion cub! Alive! You didn't expect that, did you!"

Mordred took a brown lion cub out of the box, held it high, and proudly showed it off to Bavanshi across from her.

The fluffy creature immediately attracted the attention of many fleshy ball enthusiasts upon its appearance, becoming the focus of the entire event.

Feeling somewhat frustrated, Bavanshi couldn't help but turn his gaze to Bagst and Freya.

Hearing that one of the gifts was a recipe book and the other was seeds of a novel spice plant, which seemed to be the least valuable in terms of rarity, Bawanshi couldn't help but smile, feeling a bit more at ease.

However, when Bagst and Freya happily indicated that their gifts could be shared, effectively giving one person two gifts, Bavanshi's mood soured again.

As Bawanxi widened her eyes and continued searching for something to fill the psychological gap, a figure tiptoeing in the corner unpacking a box made the little girl involuntarily bristle.

"Wait a minute, why is Melusin's gift box bigger than all of ours combined? Why is that?!"

Melusin glanced back at Bavanshi and slowly opened the box.

"It's a set of armor forged by fairies. The wings and tail can extend from the sides, and the arm guards can launch wrist blades. It was custom-made for me by Samael... Hmm, I like it very much..."

"That's right. When it comes to gifts, it's all about what you like, don't you think, Kvass No. 2?"

Mordred nodded, enthusiastically teasing the little creature in his arms and naming it after the hound tamed by the Lion King.

"By the way, does anyone know what Her Majesty... received?"

Still feeling depressed, Bawanshi calmed herself down a little. Just as she was about to open her mouth, she subconsciously stopped herself from making the sound and quickly changed her form of address.

"Why do you ask this?"

Mordred stopped stroking the lion's paws, glanced at the towering structure in the clouds, and replied irritably.

"Anyway, no matter what she receives, she won't keep it! If you don't want to get scolded, don't ask so many questions, just do your own thing."

Meanwhile, in the hall where light and shadow intertwine, a figure bathed in the night stands by the window, gazing quietly into the distance, exuding solemnity and tranquility. A crumpled piece of paper rolls on the table in the wind.

Chapter 125 The Sunset in Britain (5/5)

On Avalon Island, a slightly chilly mist drifts in from the water.

It was late summer again, and Samael, who had been living alone for a long time, habitually sat by the lake and gazed at Britain shrouded in mist.

Time flies, and three years have passed in the blink of an eye.

Over the course of three years, he kept his promise and rarely went ashore, but he also heard a lot of news about Camelot.

Thanks to the calamity receding and the environment stabilizing, Britain experienced tremendous growth, Camelot prospered, and the queen atop the Tower of the End grew increasingly powerful.

The lords of the North and South were all subdued and paid their respects with the utmost courtesy each year.

However, the Queen ignored these humble attempts to curry favor, which made the lords even more furious.

The deity who once sat in a solitary tower, detached from worldly affairs and serving primarily as a symbol of the nation, has, for some unknown reason, suddenly become interested in worldly power and trivial political matters.

Including the initial two years, during these five years, a series of laws were continuously promulgated, including the publication of written laws, the abolition of slavery, the abolition of the right of the first night, and the regulation of loan interest and land tax, which directly or indirectly weakened the privileged status of the noble lords.

At the same time, Camelot changed the taxation of each territory from grain to rare minerals and magical treasures, all of which were collected by the lords.

Moreover, the annual inspections by the Knights of the Righteousness and the Round Table, who had the authority to oversee affairs, cut off the lords' shortcut of taking the opportunity to shift pressure and abuse their subjects.

Among them were naturally some disgruntled lords who, seeing their wealth dwindling day by day and having to keep a low profile despite their noble blood, attempted desperate measures and declared their intention to break free from Camelot's control.

But without exception, they were subjected to strong repression.

Often, the ignited flames, before they could even burn, were swiftly extinguished by Camelot's army, who then escorted the culprits all the way to the Holy City to be punished.

Among the Knights of the Round Table who were in charge of leading the army, Mordred, Bagst, Bavanshi, and other newly appointed fairy knights were notorious for their ferocity.

These most loyal hounds of the queen may appear beautiful, but they are all filled with violent tendencies and kill without blinking an eye. The rebels and lords who have died at their hands could easily fill a dozen with various titles and ranks.

Having learned their lesson in blood, the lords became much more obedient, each more compliant than the last, and every year they risked their lives searching for magical treasures to supply the Holy City, hoping to fulfill their quota for the year.

As a result, the prices of various rare minerals on the market have soared, and several well-known mineral veins have even been depleted.

Seeing that Camelot's mineral tax burden not only showed no signs of changing, but even increased year by year, and with the Savin Festival approaching, the lords who were short of money were desperate and wished they could dig up their ancestral graves, take out the magical burial goods inside, and offer them to the increasingly ruthless queen.

However, the queen's exploitation did not stop there. Orders such as digging canals, building dikes, organizing people to reclaim wasteland, and repairing Hadrian's Wall, which was used by the Romans to defend against barbarians, kept the lords so tired that they had no time to breathe. Even the people were like cogs in a machine, working non-stop.

In addition, the Queen passed a bill allowing fairies to join Britain and granting them citizenship.

However, the prerequisite is that fairies who settle in the human world need to spend a certain amount of magic power each year to pay an "existence tax".

Later, this law was even extended to various imaginary species that possessed intelligence.

Although racial integration and coexistence often lead to numerous conflicts and upheavals, Britain's population has continued to grow.

For the past five years, under this queen's rule, all of Britain has been like a high-speed train, relentlessly speeding towards its brightly lit final destination.

The crackling sound of burning firewood interrupted Samael's thoughts. He casually picked up the warm wine jug beside the campfire and sipped it slowly by himself, his brow furrowing unconsciously.

The idea of ​​centralizing power and issuing orders from above cannot be said to be wrong.

The problem was that Morgan was too impatient. She crammed all the things that should have taken thirty, fifty, or even several generations to complete into just five years.

She single-handedly challenged the entire social class and compelled the entire nation to work together to build the blueprint in her mind.

Now, Britain's glory seems dazzling, but it's hard to say that the lords now kneeling at the foot of the steps don't harbor resentment, and that the conscripted subjects and absorbed foreign tribes don't feel unwilling.

Too hasty. Even if she truly wanted to build the ideal city that Merlin and Uther spoke of, she was being far too impatient. With Morgan's intelligence, she should...

In a daze, Samael seemed to realize something. He casually put down his wine glass, raised his eyes and stared intently at the light that supported Britain's prosperity, his eyes deep and dark.

Meanwhile, in the main hall of Camelot Palace, as usual, lords from all over the country who had come to pay their respects prostrated themselves on the ground, pleading and begging the figure on the throne.

"Your Majesty, the tax burden in Oxfordshire is still short by 10%. We request another week's grace..."

“Lentinion is the same, but we are contacting Persian and Arab merchants and will soon be able to exchange for enough gems from them…”

"The mines in Cornwall have been basically depleted over the years, but we've contacted the fairies of the Nameless Forest. If you can give us a little more time, we're sure we can gather this year's quota..."

The cacophony around them seemed to have no effect on the queen’s pity or sympathy. The invisible pressure that filled the air made the lords in the court sweat profusely and feel as if they were being pricked by thorns.

Gradually, the lords' knees became numb and swollen from kneeling. The stiffness and silence in the hall lasted for an unknown period of time, and no announcement came from the throne.

Finally, some lords, unable to endure the torment any longer, cautiously raised their heads and called out softly.

"My king...my king...my king!"

However, the previous calls went unanswered, like stones sinking into the sea, without causing the slightest ripple. It wasn't until someone couldn't help but raise their voice that the figure on the throne seemed to snap out of his daze, as if waking from a long slumber, and stared fixedly down the steps.

"What's the matter?"

The lords stared at each other, utterly bewildered.

Left with no other choice, the group could only elect a representative who was slightly bolder and spoke clearly to repeat their previous plea to the queen.

"...Please advise on how to decide..."

In the final moments, the representative who was chosen still carefully expressed his deference.

The Queen announced the results calmly, leaving these vassals little room for maneuver.

"Transport the first batch of existing minerals to Camelot within three days. I'll give you five more days for the rest. If there's nothing else, you may leave."

Overwhelmed by the goddess's formidable power, the lords dared not utter a word, and could only nod with bitter faces, preparing to urge their territories to supply goods.

However, just as the lords turned away dejectedly, a sudden commotion arose behind them.

Everyone instinctively turned around and were shocked to see the god who had risen from the throne stagger and nearly fall as he descended the steps.

Fortunately, Bavanshi and Mordred, who were nearby, reacted quickly and stepped forward to help her, thus stabilizing the Queen's figure.

The Queen hesitated for a moment, but ultimately did not brush away the handshake. Surrounded by Mordred and Bavanshi, she walked toward the inner palace.

However, the deity's steps seemed inexplicably unsteady.

As the figure disappeared from everyone's sight, the lords' eyes flickered and exchanged glances, each revealing an unreadable meaning.

Outside the main hall, the sky was dark, and it had unknowingly become evening.

The sun is about to set.

Chapter 126 Surrender or not? Give me a straight answer! (4k)

"The Duke of Oxford has raised an army?"

On Avalon Island, Samael glanced at Melly, who was smiling as she brought the news, then turned and skimmed the contents of the paper, his brow furrowing slightly.

The detail of Morgan's near fall from the throne gave these lords a glimpse of the god's weakness, which they saw as an opportunity to exploit.

Five years had passed, and the nobles who harbored deep resentment towards the royal court could no longer suppress their wildly growing ambitions and launched a rebellion.

This chaos quickly spread like wildfire, sweeping across two-thirds of the southern and northern territories in just a few months.

Immediately, Samael glanced at Camelot, whose battlefields were now likely engulfed in flames, and a cold smile crept onto his lips.

However, they underestimated Morgan and the fairy knights they had personally trained.

The Age of Gods in Britain had not yet completely faded, and the destructive power and lethality displayed by the exceptionally gifted Knights of the Round Table on the battlefield were simply beyond what ordinary people could compensate for with sheer numbers.

King against king, general against general, soldier against soldier – this is the proper format for war in the age of gods.

Without a corresponding trump card, no matter how many soldiers the Duke of Oxford gathers, they will be easy prey.

and many more!

He vaguely remembered the Duke of Oxford. He was driven by self-interest and was a notorious goblin slave trader. Hoping that he would stand against the long-established "Lion King" would either be a sure thing or he would have enough leverage.

Even if Morgan himself had problems, the Duke of Oxford wasn't stupid; he couldn't possibly be unaware of how terrifying those goblin knights were.

Therefore, he must have some tricks up his sleeve to control these fairy knights.

And the only thing that can rival the round table is the round table itself.

Soon, Samael, whose thoughts were racing, clearly realized something and turned to look at the white-haired dream demon who was busy stealing a pot of fine wine from his desk.

"Knights of the Round Table were involved in the rebellion? Who were they?"

Meryl sat down gracefully, propped her chin up with one hand, looked at Samael with amusement, and murmured with a smile.

"It's not just anyone, but a third of the Round Table and nearly half of the Chaste Knights participated in the rebellion. In the early stages of the war, even the outer city of Camelot was directly lost."

A third of the Round Table! Nearly half of the Calibur Knights! This is tantamount to Camelot being completely paralyzed! How could this be!

Samael was startled, and his pupils contracted slightly.

After enjoying the man's surprised expression, Mary happily recounted another factor that had caused this great upheaval.

The banner raised by the Duke of Oxford and his group was actually "Purge heretics and avenge the king!"

They claim that what sits atop the tower today is not the Lion King of old, but an empty shell whose consciousness has been taken over by an evil god.

The most compelling evidence is that, ever since the Holy Grail brought forth the miracle that revived life on the land of Britain, Lancelot, Gawain, Agravain, Galahad, Tristan, and the other Knights of the Round Table have all disappeared and have never appeared in the public eye again.

Clearly, the so-called Holy Grail is nothing but a shocking hoax.