Chapter 70: Guinevere -2-

As he cut across the pitch-black winter forest, Llamrei's hoofbeats tore harshly through the night air.

"Ngh...!"

A groan of self-reproach slipped from Arthur's lips as he gripped the reins.

Whenever the cold wind lashed his cheeks, the brief yet vivid memories he had shared with Guinevere flashed through his mind.

Even when she had been ambushed by King Rience's followers and pushed into a desperate life-or-death crisis, she had never once lost her composure.

Even under the terrible fear that her homeland might be destroyed, she had forced herself to smile for the sake of her people and knights, and had sat before the campfire with Arthur's party to offer her heartfelt gratitude.

"Meeting you, Your Highness, has been the greatest blessing of my life."

That was the Guinevere who had smiled so clearly, so transparently.

And yet, from the moment he first met her, Arthur had inwardly kept his distance, raising an invisible wall between them.

'I had arbitrarily decided that one day she would commit adultery with Lancelot and become the infamous wicked woman who would drive Britain into ruin... and I looked at her through that prejudice.'

But the moment he came face to face with the false Guinevere, Gendievre, Arthur realized the whole truth.

The greedy villainess who had driven Britain to destruction in the original fate had not been the real Guinevere, but that fake Guinevere, Gendievre.

Even in the original history, the true Guinevere must have been replaced by that evil bastard child and left to starve to death alone in some cold underground cell where no one would ever know.

'I talked so grandly about carving out my own fate... and yet even after seeing her true nature and nobility with my own eyes, I still couldn't trust her, shackled by the curse of knowledge.'

A searing sense of guilt over his own arrogance and foolishness tore through Arthur's chest.

"Brother, please don't blame yourself."

Riding Dun Stallion beside him, Artoria spoke with worried eyes, trying to comfort Arthur.

"This is not your fault. We're going to save her now. We're not too late."

"That's right, my lord!"

Ushiwakamaru, racing alongside them as she kicked the flank of her beloved horse Usumidori, shouted spiritedly.

"It does not befit a commander to be bound by what has already passed! For now, keep your eyes forward and ride!"

"Hahaha! Loosen that face, little king!"

Nobu laughed boisterously as she flew through the air, casually seated atop a suspended matchlock gun.

"Master, the traces of Mana are growing stronger. We're almost there."

Medea, who was flying through the air with Magecraft while scanning the surroundings, gave her report.

At his companions' encouragement, Arthur unclenched his teeth and fixed his gaze ahead.

The deepest, dankest part of the forest.

Between rotting tree roots, the entrance to an old underground prison, half-buried in the earth, revealed itself.

Two men in dark clothing stood guard at the entrance, spears in hand.

They were private soldiers bribed and planted there by Gendievre. But they swayed as if drunk, completely neglecting their watch.

Startled by the sound of hoofbeats, the men belatedly raised their spears.

"W-who goes th—!"

Slash!

He could not even finish speaking. Leaping lightly from the galloping Usumidori, Ushiwakamaru's slender blade split the moonlit air, and one man's head tumbled away as blood sprayed from his neck like a fountain.

Bang!!

Almost at the same time, Nobu's gunshot rang out from the sky and pierced the remaining man's forehead with perfect accuracy. The private soldiers collapsed to the ground without even managing a scream.

"Master. There are no traps or curses set inside the prison. You may enter without concern."

Landing on the ground, Medea swiftly reported as she lowered her staff.

Artoria jumped down from Dun Stallion and placed a hand on the hilt of her sword.

"We'll secure the perimeter. Hurry and save her, Brother!"

Arthur silently nodded, then threw himself without hesitation down the stairs into the dark underground prison.

The inside of the prison was far more horrifying than aboveground.

Each breath stabbed at his lungs with dampness and the stench of mold.

At the end of the corridor, the sight beyond the bars of the only occupied cell was ghastly.

On the floor lay only a few shriveled bread crumbs, dried out until they had become like pebbles. The water bowl was completely empty.

It was obvious that for at least several days, she had been given neither food nor water at all.

With her wedding to Arthur fast approaching, the false Guinevere had apparently decided this real one was no longer worth keeping alive, and had meant to let her starve to death naturally without dirtying her own hands.

"...Guinevere."

Arthur's trembling voice passed through the iron bars.

Inside the cell, the frail figure collapsed in filth and dust twitched ever so slightly.

Arthur did not even bother looking for a key.

He simply seized the thick iron bars with his bare hands.

Creeeak...! Crash!!

His monstrous grip and brute strength bent the steel like soft taffy, tearing the cell door off its hinges.

Arthur hurried into the cell and carefully lifted Guinevere into his arms in a princess carry.

She was light as a feather.

The horrifying lack of weight, so little that it was hard to believe she was an adult woman, made Arthur's heart collapse.

"Guinevere... can you hear me?"

At the warmth of his body, Guinevere struggled to force open her closed eyelids.

Her vacant, unfocused eyes slowly took in the outline of Arthur's face.

"Ar... thur..."

She did not even have the strength left to move the muscles of her face, and yet she showed him the faintest smile, peaceful and beautiful beyond words.

"I knew... you would come. I knew... you would recognize me..."

Relieved by that one fact alone, that he had come to save her, she let that faint smile be her last before going limp once more into the deep mire of unconsciousness.

"Guinevere! Stay with me!"

In urgent haste, Arthur pushed his pure red dragon Mana into the area around her heart. Forcing the dying spark of her life back into flame, he gritted his teeth and carried her out of the prison.

"Arthur... is my father safe? Is Cameliard... still standing?"

Barely maintaining consciousness through Arthur's intervention, Guinevere worried for her father and Cameliard even as she herself was dying.

As a princess, and as a daughter, she was worrying about others before herself.

Even after seeing such nobility, he had failed to trust her. At that fact, Arthur bit his lip.

When Arthur emerged from the underground prison carrying Guinevere in his arms,

King Leodegrance and the knights of Cameliard, who had hurriedly followed from the banquet hall, were arriving in the forest clearing, breathing hard.

Under the moonlight.

When King Leodegrance and the knights saw the face of the woman in Arthur's arms, broken so terribly, they could not hide their shock.

"Gu-Guinevere...? O God! Can that truly be my daughter!"

The king collapsed where he stood and wept, while the knights who had sworn to guard her lowered their heads in misery.

But in Arthur's eyes, as he looked upon their belated regret and tears, there was no trace of pity whatsoever—only a cold contempt.

'Even her own father, who had watched over her for decades, and the knights who swore to lay down their lives for her, never noticed the fake. Yet I, who had known her only for a few days, recognized her at once from her eyes alone. In this wretched country, not one of them saw it. Even without instinct, I would have known just by looking into those eyes.'

Barely suppressing the murderous intent and sincere contempt boiling inside him, Arthur shouted,

"Medea! Begin emergency treatment on the princess at once!"

"Yes, Arthur!"

Medea rushed over and began chanting healing Magecraft.

Arthur turned toward the Cameliard knights, who were sprawled there in stunned disbelief, and roared like a beast.

"What are you standing there gaping for, you fools?! Bring a carriage at once to transport the princess safely, and prepare warm thin gruel and porridge she can keep down! Gather every physician in the castle and have them all standing by!!"

At the king's wrathful thunder, the knights finally came to their senses, turned pale, and began sprinting madly back toward the castle.

In the noisy forest clearing,

Arthur clasped Guinevere's cold hand tightly in both of his as her breathing, under Medea's healing Magecraft, began to steady by the slightest degree.

The merciless anger and contempt he had shown toward others had vanished without a trace.

Pressing his forehead against the back of her emaciated hand, Arthur showed her a smile that was endlessly sorrowful, and endlessly gentle.

"I'm sorry, Guinevere. I was far too late."

On that winter night, when the wheel of fate had finally begun to return to its rightful place,

the boy king's heartfelt apology quietly melted beneath the cold moonlight.

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