"It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Guinevere. I'm Arthur, Arthur Pendragon."
At my introduction, Princess Guinevere's eyes shook wide for an instant.
At the same time, the aged captain of the guard behind her, who had been panting and struggling to keep himself upright, went pale with shock.
"P-Pendragon?! Then that brilliant golden hair, could it be...!"
The captain's gaze passed over my blond hair and Artoria's, then landed on Morgan and Merlin standing behind us.
"Gasp...! That silver-haired mage is surely Merlin, the Mage of Flowers who once served as King Uther's right hand! A-and that woman is... the wicked witch of Orkney...!"
As the captain pointed at Morgan and tried to tighten his grip on his weapon, Guinevere quickly turned and stepped in front of him.
"How dare you! No matter how sinister the rumors of the past may be, these are the benefactors who just saved our lives. How could you point your weapon at them so rudely?"
At Guinevere's firm and dignified rebuke, the captain hurriedly lowered his weapon and bowed his head.
Guinevere turned back to us, gracefully lifting the hem of her skirt in a proper, courteous salute.
"Please forgive the discourtesy of our soldiers. Once again, I offer my gratitude for the grace shown to us by Your Highness Arthur, true heir of Pendragon, and all those in your company."
"Just as one would expect of the princess of Cameliard. So courteous and full of grace."
Merlin smiled lightly, leaning on her staff.
"Yes, I am indeed Merlin, once Uther's right hand. And now, I am the mage who serves Arthur, the true king of Britain standing right there."
With both hands clasped at her chest, Guinevere's eyes shone like a young girl meeting a hero from legend in person.
"I had already heard the rumors that the heir of Pendragon who drew the [Sword of Selection] had appeared in Cornwall. But to think I would meet the hero of that legend at such a desperate moment... it is truly an honor."
She continued, her voice filled with sincere reverence.
"While he lived, my father told me countless tales of King Uther and the valor of the Pendragon line. Since you are the heir to such greatness, then the near-divine feat you just displayed in annihilating those werewolves at once is only natural. You truly are a Pendragon."
Under Guinevere's shower of praise, I awkwardly scratched my cheek.
But Guinevere immediately let her bright smile fade, then dropped to her knees on the dirt with a desperate expression.
"Your Highness Arthur. I know this is shameless and rude of me to ask... but please, save our Kingdom of Cameliard!"
Though she was a princess, she knelt on bare earth without hesitation. At that resolute sight, everyone in our party turned their eyes to her.
"At present, King Rience's army of ten thousand is mercilessly ravaging our kingdom. Worse, the forces under Rience stationed in the Irish Isles are tying down our allied nations as well, so Cameliard is now completely isolated. There is no one left we can ask for help but you, Your Highness Arthur. If this continues... our people will all be slaughtered."
It was a desperate plea from the depths of her heart.
But I did not answer carelessly. Instead, I looked down at her with calm, serious eyes.
"Princess. We do have reason to fight King Rience, but why should we have to bleed and save your Kingdom of Cameliard specifically?"
At my cold, realistic question, the Cameliard soldiers behind her flinched and showed displeased expressions.
But Guinevere quickly turned and silenced them with a stern look.
Then she looked back up at me and declared in a firm voice that did not waver in the slightest.
"If Your Highness saves Cameliard, we will carve this grace into our bones and never forget it. To the new kingdom you establish in the future, we will offer all the strength of Cameliard and the legendary Round Table, and support you with absolute loyalty and aid!"
Placing a hand over her chest, she added,
"If Your Highness cannot trust this promise, then I will even bind myself with a geas that can never be broken, staking my very soul as collateral."
I was more than a little surprised inside.
The bold resolve to save her people even at the cost of staking her own soul. That sense of responsibility that gave not an inch.
She really was an excellent and daring princess, to the point that it felt strangely out of place.
"You're quite a bold young lady. I like that."
I let out a faint chuckle and gave my approval.
At the same time, a bitter sense of regret rose in one corner of my heart.
So a princess this strong-willed, this responsible, and this devoted to her people... was supposed to fall so hideously one day by taking the hand of an adulterous bastard like Lancelot?
"Get up first. We can work out the details of your repayment slowly after Cameliard has been saved."
I held out my hand to Guinevere and helped her to her feet.
"Our first goal was to take King Rience's head anyway. Saving Cameliard on the way is killing two birds with one stone."
"Ah... Your Highness! You have my deepest thanks!"
With tears of emotion glistening in her eyes, Guinevere clasped my hand tightly.
"This grace shall be passed down forever in the history of Cameliard!"
In that heartwarming atmosphere, the captain of the guard carefully spoke up.
"Um... Princess. Forgive me, but in the attack just now, the carriage wheel was smashed, so it can no longer move. And the horses pulling it were badly injured as well... We have no proper means to escort you."
Trouble showed on Guinevere's face.
I glanced down at her ornate leather shoes, which looked far too uncomfortable for walking.
"Can't be helped. Then we'll just march on foot. Princess, those shoes look uncomfortable. Can you manage a forest path in them?"
Guinevere resolutely lifted her skirt.
"It's fine! We must hurry to Cameliard even if we have to walk—no, even if I have to run barefoot. There is no time to waste!"
And so we hurried toward Cameliard with Guinevere and the few surviving royal guards in tow.
"Lady Artoria! How can you be so beautiful and yet so skilled with the sword as well? The blood of King Uther truly is extraordinary!"
Throughout the march, Guinevere showed a strangely intense curiosity toward our group.
"Lady Merlin! The title Mage of Flowers sounds so wonderfully romantic. Seeing you in person, you are far more mysterious than the rumors say!"
It was the pure admiration of a girl who had worn out her fairy-tale books and was finally meeting her real idol.
"Oh my, Sir Kay! You're the son of Sir Ector, the Black Knight? My father told me so many tales of Sir Ector's valor!"
Under Guinevere's endless praise and interest, even Kay, who had been grumbling all this time, flushed red and puffed up his shoulders.
The most surprising thing was the way she treated Morgan.
Guinevere was not cowed even by Morgan's chilly aura. She approached her side and spoke kindly.
"Lady Morgan. The world calls you the wicked witch of Orkney, but the Magecraft you used just now against those dark magi was very warm and full of dignity. It seems one truly must not judge a person too quickly by rumor alone."
Even Morgan looked slightly flustered by such upright and pure praise, and turned her gaze away.
"You really are a fearless child, to go so far as to praise me."
Listening to that warm, friendly exchange, I let out a deep sigh inwardly.
For a woman that pure and kind to commit adultery... those French bastards' malicious fanfiction really is a sin against humanity.
As we walked side by side, Guinevere blushed faintly and carefully asked me,
"Um... Your Highness Arthur. If it is not too rude to ask... do you happen to have a lover or a betrothed by your side?"
The instant the question left her lips, the women walking on either side of me perked up their ears.
The first to seize the initiative was Artoria.
"Of course he does! I am my brother's first lover and the lifelong partner who will stay by his side forever!"
She proudly hooked her arm through mine and thrust out her chest.
Guinevere's eyes went round, unable to hide her shock.
"Ah... even though you are blood siblings...?"
Before she could recover from her confusion, Merlin suddenly cut in with a humming laugh.
"It's not just Artoria, Princess~ I, this beautiful succubus, am also Arthur's passionate lover!"
"The same goes for us!"
Ushiwakamaru shot her hand straight up, while Caenis and Barghest cleared their throats and quietly nodded along.
And even Morgan, who had just been speaking with Guinevere moments earlier, turned her eyes away and muttered,
"Ahem... well, I too am a wife who receives more than enough of Arthur's love."
"Whaaaat?!"
At the utterly absurd harem roster that included not only blood siblings but his own older sister, his teacher, and his close retainers, Guinevere's jaw nearly dropped off.
Yeah, I definitely looked like a completely insane, woman-crazed piece of trash.
Just as I was breaking into a cold sweat trying to find the right moment to explain myself—
"...Aha!"
Guinevere, who had been staring in shock, suddenly nodded and accepted it with a perfectly calm face.
"Well, now that I think about it, it is not so surprising. Such things have always happened in the bloodlines of great kings."
"Uh... you're not shocked?"
When I asked in confusion instead, Guinevere began calmly laying out the facts like a history teacher.
"King Ebraucus, the sixth king of Britain, had no fewer than twenty wives and fifty children."
Counting on her fingers, Guinevere added seriously,
"He is Pendragon—meaning Your Highness Arthur's—distant ancestor. Though the name Pendragon itself is not especially old, Your Highness's bloodline is the direct legitimate line descending from the ultra-ancient divine kings of the age of myth, through Brutus the First, the royal of Troy and first king of Britain."
"Ah, right... well, that's true."
All I could do was nod at the splendid record of my ancestors.
But Guinevere's lesson in history—and merciless facts—did not end there.
"Moreover, if one traces the roots of those ancestors further back, Your Highness's bloodline reaches all the way to the royal house of distant Troy. For Brutus the First was the great-grandson of Aeneas, royal of Troy and founder of Rome."
Guinevere smiled brightly and delivered the killing blow.
"And is not the Trojan royal house famous for incest? Tros, child of Ilus the First, founder of Troy, and second king of the line, married his own full sister Acallaris, and from them the third king was born. So I believe it is a very natural and sacred thing for Your Highness Arthur to unite with his own blood sibling—a kind of return to the ways of your forefathers!"
"..."
Everyone in the party, myself included, was left speechless by that flawless and horrifying chain of logic.
"Originally, Dardanus, founder of the Trojan royal house, was the son of Jupiter, that is, Zeus, and Lord Aeneas was the son of Venus, the goddess of beauty, that is, Aphrodite. In other words, deep within Your Highness's bloodline is engraved that free-spirited instinct for incest possessed by the Greek gods."
She clasped both hands together and concluded reverently,
"Why, even the god Jupiter himself married his own elder sister Juno, that is, Hera. And the goddess Venus also married her brother Vulcan, that is, Hephaestus, while taking Mars, that is, Ares, as a lover and even committing adultery with the god Mercury, that is, Hermes. So it is only understandable that Your Highness keeps many women and enters into incestuous unions—it is simply proof that the instincts of the gods have manifested in you!"
Under that suffocating barrage of bloodline-based facts, my mind felt like it was drifting off to Andromeda.
Breaking the silence, Artoria blushed and murmured softly,
"Ah... so the reason I loved my brother so deeply and obsessed over him so much... was an inescapable family trait after all. Now I finally understand completely."
Morgan also pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a deep sigh.
"What a truly ancient, catastrophically rotten family line this is. Even Father's beastly adultery was all our ancestors' fault in the end."
Merlin found the whole thing so hilarious she leaned on her staff and giggled.
"Puhahaha! This is why human genealogies are so entertaining! The cycle of myth really does go round and round!"
...So my ancestors were that lunatic old bastard Zeus and the walking slut goddess Aphrodite...?
Realizing the genetic roots of my existence from a direction I had never expected, I could only stand there in the middle of the forest path, hollowed out, staring blankly up at the sky.
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