The King of Knights' campaign had gone remarkably smoothly. Even though the Vassal Kings' knights had inexplicably grown stronger, they had suffered only slightly higher casualties among their graduates in direct confrontations.
However, it was through this baptism of blood and fire that the graduates finally earned the right to raise the banner of the Enforcement Knight Order.
In the bathtub, the two couldn't help but share stories of their respective battlefields, each deeply concerned for the other's safety.
Particularly after hearing that the Camelot Incident had truly been orchestrated by the Holy Church, the King of Knights seethed with anger at their utter lack of scruples.
"You're saying that, based on your deduction, the Holy Church intended to use public sentiment to force me to burn you at the stake?"
As she washed Guinevere's hair, the King of Knights struggled to restrain the strength in her hands. Perhaps due to the water, the stubborn cowlick atop Guinevere's head lay flat against her other strands, refusing to stand up.
In that moment, Guinevere clearly sensed the King of Knights' murderous intent and rage for the first time.
"Guinevere, this time I won't object to anything you want to do. Even if you want to build a Corpse Mound with the criminals' heads or cut off their ears and send them to the Roman Holy See."
"Lia, isn't that what you want to do?"
"Yes!"
"Then I won't go that far. I won't let them turn my dear Lia into a vengeance-obsessed ghost filled with hatred. I'd never choose that.
Besides, building a Corpse Mound and cutting off ears are far too lenient for these Church sinners. I plan to declare them blasphemers before their own god and burn them at the stake as heretics."
Guinevere's smile was gentle, so gentle that the King of Knights' cowlick perked up again. She suddenly realized she should be the one restraining herself. If even she became extreme, who knew what depths of the Abyss the even more extreme Guinevere might plunge into?
Yet this time, the King of Knights agreed with Guinevere's plan. She too believed the Church sinners deserved the crimes of blasphemy and death by heresy.
The King of Knights had been crowned under God's Gaze, holding deep respect and reverence for both the divine and the teachings of the Holy See.
Her fury stemmed in part from genuine disgust at the Church's hypocrisy in violating its own proclaimed principles.
Moreover...
"This time, it's not just me. Most of the Round Table Knights will support you in implementing the Purification Plan, bringing all the churches in Great Britain under the Dynasty's supervision and management."
With her ahoge perked up, the King of Knights' demeanor softened considerably as she began to seriously contemplate the future of the Kingdom. Lost in thought, her hand unconsciously tightened as she brushed Guinevere's hair, accidentally pulling a little too hard.
Guinevere turned, deliberately puffing out her cheeks and glaring at her:
"Waaah! You promised you'd only look at me today!"
The King of Knights' ahoge drooped, her hands flustered. Faced with Guinevere's feigned tears, her heart pounded wildly, and genuine remorse surged through her.
"I'm sorry, Guinevere. You can punish me however you like."
Joking with someone so earnest is a risky gambit that can easily backfire. Take Guinevere, for instance—she parried the King of Knights' apology with a counterattack of her own.
What should she do now?
The answer came without a word: first, thoroughly tease this earnest fool.
Water splashed everywhere, filling the room with a sensual atmosphere, punctuated by sounds both appropriate and inappropriate.
As the water began to cool, Guinevere retrieved a fire-attribute gemstone from her vanity table. Using it with careful precision, she reheated the bathwater.
Taking advantage of the warm water, they resumed their playful battle, only for Guinevere to initially gain the upper hand before ultimately losing to the King of Knights' Red Dragon Bloodline and the Scabbard's assistance.
"Damn it! Next time, give me the Scabbard!" Guinevere pouted playfully, eliciting a serious response from the King of Knights.
"You can have it right now. Our swords are identical anyway; you can use it immediately."
This time, Guinevere suffered an even more severe counterattack, especially when she recalled the consequences of the King of Knights losing the Scabbard in her past life. She also remembered the words she should have spoken when she stopped the King of Knights from giving the Scabbard to Morgan:
Lia, promise me you'll never entrust your Scabbard to anyone else for safekeeping.
"Guinevere, did you see something?"
Even to this day, the King of Knights still believed Guinevere could see the future, causing her expression to turn solemn, and she forcibly suppressed the lingering sensations in her body.
"Let's just say I did, though I don't know if something like this will ever happen again. If it does, it would only prove..."
I'm a complete failure at raising children.
Guinevere didn't voice the second half of her thought, feeling it was too harsh. Instead, she rephrased it:
"It would prove I failed to protect you, that I'm a failure."
Her voice was earnest, and the King of Knights could see she truly believed these words.
"I am the King, and you are the Queen. It is my duty to protect you."
The King of Knights' voice deepened slightly, as if something had touched her deeply. She involuntarily leaned forward, embracing Guinevere, and, in a rare display of initiative, pressed her lips to Guinevere's.
After a long moment, their lips parted. Guinevere covered her face with both hands, giggling softly.
The King of Knights took Guinevere's words to heart. She heeded the warning, determined to never give her reason to call her a failure.
Meanwhile, the King of Knights pondered whether she could ask Merlin to obtain a replica of the Avalon scabbard.
She desired nothing more than for this scabbard to rapidly heal injuries and preserve Guinevere's youth.
When their hands clasped, her own felt delicate and boneless, while Guinevere's were unmistakably the hands of a true swordswoman.
From the calluses on Guinevere's hands, the King of Knights could sense her dedication and tireless efforts.
Though this affection in her heart remained hazy and unfamiliar, she felt a sudden urge to gift Guinevere something she might truly cherish.
Merlin had once remarked that young women often coveted things that helped maintain their youth—a concept the King of Knights, who had never considered herself a woman, couldn't fully grasp at the time.
"Guinevere, do you want to soak a bit longer?"
Two battles had stretched from morning until afternoon, and the King of Knights' stomach growled audibly.
"Pfft! You're hungry, aren't you?" Guinevere chuckled. "Let's get dressed, grab some dried rations, and then wander around the city and its surroundings together."
"Guinevere, we agreed I'd only see you today. Agravain and the others even threatened to quit if I can't even rest for a day. They said I'd have to handle everything myself from now on."
Pfft...
Guinevere laughed, touched by Agravain's concern. She relented, trusting that Tristan and the others would carry out her earlier instructions.
"Then... Lia, you must be hungry, right? I'll make us dinner, and enough for everyone. That can't be considered state affairs, right? Don't look at me like that! You're helping too—chopping vegetables, for example."