"Guinevere, you should get some sleep! You haven't closed your eyes in three days. If you keep pushing yourself like this, they'll start worrying you might miscarry."
In the refugee camp outside the city walls, Guinevere continued to help the people clean their wounds. Around her, many civilians watched and learned, making her regret not establishing a larger battlefield medical department at the Knight Academy and not making greater efforts to popularize basic wound care techniques.
Now, she could only encourage interested civilians to learn as much as possible, hoping they could provide even a little assistance.
"Your Majesty, please heed Lady Morgan's advice and return to the Royal Palace to rest."
"Yes, Your Majesty. We can handle these minor injuries ourselves. There's no need for you to exert yourself."
The crowd buzzed with chatter as countless injured citizens lay in the makeshift hospital.
Since the night of the disaster, Guinevere was no longer needed on the front lines of recovery efforts. Yet she remained, unwilling to betray the people's trust and determined to do everything she could for them.
Thanks to her tireless efforts, few now believed she had any connection to the Dead Apostle from the Cathedral.
Meanwhile, fanned by a few agitators, more and more citizens began discussing the confirmed crimes of the Church in various regions. One man claimed his Knight relative had leaked information...
They said that before that fateful night, the Queen had already conceived the "Purification Plan." The disaster, they argued, was born from the Church's own vermin, those who refused to be purged.
Was the Queen guilty? Of course she was. She admitted to the sin of oversight, to prioritizing the Church's influence over timely action, and for failing to purge the vermin within its ranks.
In the Throne Room, Guinevere returned with Morgan.
In the end, Morgan had still failed to develop a Reversal Potion for the Blood Poison, making it her long-term research project.
"Sister, you know I'll be fine."
"I do, but the common knights don't. Ever since news of your pregnancy spread, you've been fighting tirelessly for the people for the past three days. You've surely won over all the hearts you aimed to.
Or are you truly planning a public miscarriage to completely seize their hearts?"
"Sister, I wouldn't go that far. Besides, my actions these past three days weren't purely for winning hearts."
It had been three days since that night. The consequence of this sleepless, tireless effort was Guinevere's skin, now dull and dusty. Even her usually smooth, silver-gray hair had become dry and split.
Yet she wasn't alone in her sleeplessness; many others, including Morgan, had endured the same ordeal.
Her elaborate silk gown restricted her movement, so she changed into a simple mage's robe, concealing her mature figure and the dark circles beneath her eyes.
"Forget it, it's fine, let's not talk about that anymore. I'm back with you now, aren't I? Sister Morgan, would you like to rest together?"
"No, I'll pass. By now, my foolish sister should have finished dealing with the Vassal Kings' final madness. I don't want to be here when she returns and finds us sleeping together."
"Pfft, Lia wouldn't think we were doing anything."
"Guinevere, are you losing your mind from lack of sleep? Where did you get such boldness?"
"Because I truly wouldn't do anything to you. Besides, I just really want something to hold while I sleep right now."
"Wait for my foolish sister to return, then go hold her."
"Do you really think she'd be able to sleep? Hey, don't look so tempted! I'm not joking about that!"
Seeing signs that Morgan was being persuaded, Guinevere quickly changed the subject. She feared that if she continued, Lady Morgan, distracted by her busy day, might suddenly remember her true purpose—to torment the King of Knights.
Though she ended the conversation, Guinevere didn't immediately return to her room to sleep. Her gaze fell on Tristan, who stood guard at the door. "Sir Tristan," she called out, "how many of the Enforcement Knights have returned from their missions?"
"How many of the knights sent to apprehend Church criminals across the land have returned?"
"All those within a three-hundred-mile radius have returned. Those further afield will require more time. I've also sent word to the King regarding Your Highness's command. She will bring back all criminals from the newly conquered Vassal Territories.
"The King also declared that she will not spare the Vassal Kings' reputations this time. She intends to have them publicly denounce the Church during the Public Trial you'll convene."
The Secular Church and the Holy Church aren't entirely the same entity. In fact, the Secular Church could be considered victims forcibly dragged into the Camelot Incident.
But Guinevere had no intention of making such distinctions. Without the Secular Church, there would be no Holy Church; the former is the foundation upon which the latter rests.
Therefore, the Secular Church is far from innocent. Moreover, the crimes of some local churches are too numerous to list.
If Guinevere didn't seize this opportunity for a 'Purification Plan,' she'd wake up seething even in her sleep.
"Tristan, you've worked tirelessly these past few days. As for the Cathedral..."
"The entire Berserker Knight Order is guarding it. Absolute security is assured."
Upon hearing that they would be returning, Guinevere briefly considered raising an objection, but she immediately abandoned the idea. The Cathedral would serve as the execution grounds, and the Living Corpses who had received Holy Communion must be secured without fail.
"In that case, I'll go rest for now. When Lia returns, please wake me."
After reflecting on her actions, plugging any gaps, and ensuring she had done everything possible to account for the King of Knights' return, Guinevere finally sighed in relief and headed back to her shared bedroom with the King of Knights.
In just over three short days, her heart had grown weary, and she began to doubt whether she had been too lenient.
In the Type-Moon World, whether it was the formal Mages or the fanatical zealots of the Holy Church, their capacity for humanity was as meager as dust.
Stripping off her clothes without bothering to heat water for a bath, Guinevere collapsed naked onto the bed, desperately inhaling the lingering scent of the King of Knights.
Tristan had said he had betrayed Guinevere's trust, leading to tragedy through his negligence when she left the city. But Guinevere blamed herself just as harshly, believing that the fault lay in her overestimating the Holy Church's bottom line that night.
"Lia, Lia, when you get back, hang me up and beat me. I won't resist."
Burying her face in the pillow, Guinevere continued to breathe deeply. She had no desire to be beaten, yet at this moment, she longed to be scolded by her Lia, hoping it would release the remorse that gnawed at her heart.
Just then, she heard the almost imperceptible click of the door opening, deliberately softened footsteps, and the familiar, comforting scent of Artoria.
Guinevere's body stiffened. She knew Artoria must have overheard her earlier actions and those foolish, lovelorn words.
As she fought the urge to turn around, she felt Artoria's slender frame slip under the covers and wrap her in a tight embrace.
"When we arrived, I wanted to start working immediately, but Sir Tristan publicly rebuked me. He said the King of Knights doesn't understand the human heart, and if I were truly human, I would have come to you first, to hold you in my arms.
Do you know? Everyone agreed with Sir Tristan. I was practically driven back to the Royal Palace by the people.
Guinevere, let's get some sleep first. We can talk about everything when we wake up."
Guinevere listened silently, her heart clenching when Tristan criticized the King of Knights' lack of understanding of the human heart. But she soon relaxed, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She nestled deeper into the King of Knights' embrace, murmuring into her chest, "Mm-hmm."
The quiet bedroom soon echoed only with the even breathing of the King and Queen.