[Your liege Altria has died.]
"Huh? Wait—what? She's gone?"
Guenivere's mind exploded at the message flashing across the screen. No, my little sovereign—after all we've endured, schemed, and waited for this turning point, you just threw yourself at the enemy camp and died?
If you'd held Sheffield for Lord Bogart now, your fame as the Prophecy Child would've skyrocketed, and we'd have broken this stalemate! How could you just give up like that?
He hadn't been idle while Altria met rejection in every fairy village. He'd trained relentlessly to raise his stats. Now every attribute was at least one tier higher, and with his Endless Trial of the Undying skill, he could spar with even a heroic spirit. He was ready to show his power—only to find his beloved gone.
Seeing her gray silhouette in the party roster, Guenivere felt his spirit sag. He almost wanted to quit.
But…no. Damn Woodworth? He'd avenge his wife's death!
He sat up fiercely. Even if he died, he'd take that bastard Woodworth with him!
The simulation continued:
[After Altria's death, you hide your grief and plot revenge.]
[Queen's Calendar 2018 May: Woodworth captures Sheffield. Lord Bogart falls in battle. Woodworth unites the Yax clan.]
[That same month, Salisbury's Lord Aurora pledges to Woodworth, cementing his power.]
[Seeking strength to oppose Woodworth, you tour all Fairy Britain in search of allies.]
[Queen's Calendar 2018 July: You arrive in southern Britain, where human warrior Percival leads kindred humans and fairies to found the Round Table Army. They base themselves in the ruined city of Lentenian, determined to forge peace between races.]
[You decide to join the Round Table Army, using their forces for your vengeance.]
[To prove yourself, you publicly challenge Percival, the Round Table's leader.]
"…Percival, huh."
Even Altria blinked at the screen. She'd heard legends of this man: the human who challenged Lancelot himself at the royal martial contest and walked away unscathed. Rumor held that he wielded the Chosen Spear once carried by the Savior Brân—Britain's greatest human champion.
On the moss-covered ruins of Lentenian, battered and glorious in its decay, the two combatants ascended the stage. Thousands watched with bated breath.
Percival, in gleaming white armor, stood unflinching in the breeze—his calm, poised presence like a mountain's unshakable peak. With lance and plate gleaming like angelic light, he was the very embodiment of the "Holy Lancer."
"…Incredible…"
Even through the screen, Altria felt that pressure wash over her. Guenivere was skilled, but not renowned for sheer martial prowess—could he stand against Percival?
Altria's small fist clenched, her heart pounding for him.
The view shifted to Guenivere's side.
"…Ah."
At the sight of him, she gasped. Not because he glowed—quite the opposite. Beside the angelic knight, Guenivere looked like he'd crawled from the dirt. His armor—once polished to a shine—was scarred and blackened by soot and battle grime. His cloak, caked in dust, partly concealed a helmet that covered most of his face, leaving only a weathered, cracked half‐smile visible.
His greatsword, too, bore deep gouges and stained streaks of old blood.
"How…how did he become this?"
Altria murmured. The man who'd accompanied her earlier had been clean and confident—this beaten warrior was a stranger. What ordeal had transformed him so?
But no one could answer; the duel was about to begin.
Percival's lance shimmered in a flash. In one lightning‐fast strike, he drove his spear through the ten meters between them, aimed squarely at Guenivere's throat.
Guenivere merely twisted aside—the spear whizzed past his cloak. At the same moment, he brought his greatsword down in a diagonal slash toward Percival's helm.
Percival's reflexes were quicker. The spear's lower half, still in his grip, was raised to parry the sword.
Guenivere remained composed. He stepped back half a pace, planted his left hand, and whirled the sword in a reverse arc—transforming the downward slash into a rising thrust aimed at Percival's midriff.
But Percival's spear tip lashed like a viper for Guenivere's throat. Forcing a counter, Guenivere slashed the blade sideways to deflect the point—and was sent skidding back two paces by the spear's residual force.
Their exchanges, though complex to describe, unfolded in a breath's time—rapid blur of steel and motion. Spectators saw only a white shape dancing around a dark one, a tidal wave of attacks crashing against an unyielding rock. Every strike rang out in a symphony of metal.
White armor flashed like a wild swan in flight.
Black armor stood firm as the ancient cliffs.
Each arc of swordplay—a verse in a grand epic.
Each lance‐thrust—a resounding chord in a triumphant anthem.
When the final note fell, the two stood face to face, spear tip and sword point leveled at each other's throats.
"Your skill astounds me," Percival said, stepping back and sheathing his spear. He bowed slightly to Guenivere.
"It is the Round Table Army's honor to have you among us."
Thunderous applause and cheers engulfed them. Even Altria, before her screen, leapt to her feet, pumping her tiny fist in triumph.
…
"Holy crap, that was exhausting."
Back in the guard barracks, Guenivere collapsed onto his cot. That Percival was a monster—he'd dueled him at least forty or fifty times, memorizing every technique and habit before finally balancing their stats. Only then had he avoided getting trounced.
But seeing the summary on the screen, he exhaled in relief:
[Your duel with Percival ends in a draw before all Lentenian residents.]
[With so many witnesses, you first make your name in the Fairy Kingdom.]
[You join the Round Table Army.]
[Impressed by your prowess, Percival entrusts you with significant duties—inviting you into the war room to help manage Lentenian affairs.]
[You gain partial administrative authority over Lentenian governance.]
A new civil‐management interface opened before Guenivere—intricate and comprehensive: military, construction, trade, law, propaganda—even city planning and workforce assignments. If it wasn't covered here, it didn't exist.
"This looks…familiar."
He squinted. The UI echoed elements from every grand‐strategy game he knew—Civilization, Crusader Kings, Stellaris, Mount & Blade, Total War…
—Holy hell!
He grinned. As a seasoned Paradox game veteran, this was his element!
"Time to show you all the Fourth Calamity in action!"
Guenivere rolled up his sleeves:
[You shine in Lentenian's administrative management, proposing countless constructive initiatives.]
[Seeing your talent, Percival joyfully hands you full governance, focusing himself on recruitment and training.]
[Now de facto ruler of Lentenian, your policies transform the ruined city into a thriving hub. Your renown soars—nearly matching Percival's.]
[In casual conversation, you learn the Round Table has a hidden benefactor—but they vanished six months ago.]
[Queen's Calendar 2018 August: In a military exercise, you again impress Percival. He grants you command over half the army.]
He blinked. Did Percival really trust him to that degree? What an honest soul!
[With town defense entrusted to you, Percival leads strikes on human farms, liberating many humans who join your cause. Lentenian's population and army swell rapidly.]
[Lords New Darlington and Norwich launch attacks on Lentenian. Your troops repel them each time.]
[Your popularity eclipses even Percival's.]
[Some loyalists urge you to sideline Percival and seize true leadership.]
["He treats me with honesty—I will not hear that suggestion again."]
[You refuse the proposal.]
[Your bond with Percival deepens—you two are like brothers.]
[Queen's Calendar 2018 October: The "Calamity" over Norwich grows. Oxford forces stir. Woodworth leads half his army, joined by Knight Gawain, to Norwich's outskirts.]
[You sense a chance for revenge.]
[You persuade Percival to march toward Norwich with you, and reach out to Queen Nocnarei of the North for an alliance.]
[Next month: Calamity strikes Norwich, population falls to ten percent. Noble forces suffer grievous losses until Knight Gawain spares fairy lives and leads rescue.]
[After the Calamity, a prepared Woodworth seizes Norwich—half of Britain falls under his control.]
[At that moment, you lead a night raid on Woodworth's forces from the west. Under your seasoned command, Round Table troops deal massive casualties at the outset.]
[Woodworth's army counterattacks but your personal charge shatters their lines. Morale skyrockets and the enemy retreats.]
[Simultaneously, Percival's northern assault and Queen Nocnarei's reinforcements from the north envelop Woodworth's forces, driving them into the eastern Morass.]
[Caught between fronts, Woodworth's army is routed and flees Norwich in utter defeat.]
[In this battle, you destroy the two-millennia‐dominant Yax clan by force—rising to fame in a single stroke!]
"Hell yeah, that was amazing!" Guenivere applauded softly. "My brother and I are invincible!"