IBHJ 1104

Guinevere glanced out the carriage window, then pulled back at the sight of Tintagel.

"Does it look different from what you imagined from your books?" King Leodegrance's eyes crinkled with amusement.

Guinevere bobbed her head. "It's... frightening."

"The surrounding kingdoms have sent their armies to defend Tintagel from danger."

"Is this why you received the decree, Father?"

King Leodegrance nodded.

"Danger..." Guinevere's shoulders shook.

King Leodegrance caught sight of her fear. "It sounds worse than it is. This is just a precaution. Remember, this is Camelot's Tintagel. With the King of Camelot and the Apostle Pendragon here, it's impenetrable. Even if enemies get past the Emperor's Hands, they wouldn't risk attacking."

Guinevere nodded, her face still pale. This was Camelot territory, she reminded herself, protected by their king who held the dual roles of monarch and Apostle.

"About this Apostle Pendragon..." Shirou guided his horse alongside King Leodegrance's.

"Ah, you wouldn't know, coming from outside the Empire." King Leodegrance smiled. "The Empire contains many kingdoms, with Camelot being the strongest among them. Their king serves as one of the Emperor's twelve Apostles—and quite a powerful one at that."

Shirou listened, though he already knew this information. He wondered if this Apostle Pendragon could be Artoria.

King Leodegrance ordered the army to make camp before leading Shirou and the others to Tintagel's government hall, where the other kings awaited them.

"King Leodegrance, it's been too long."

"Indeed it has. When did we last meet?"

"I can't recall exactly, but it feels like ages."

"That it does..."

King Leodegrance sighed and glanced around the hall. "Has the King of Camelot arrived?"

"Not yet, but she's expected soon. Strange though—the King of Camelot personally escorting that witch to her execution."

"We had no choice. That witch is dangerous enough, but her allies are worse. How is she faring in custody?"

"She's in the deepest cell we have. Even with her powers, she can't cause trouble down there."

"Good to hear."

King Leodegrance nodded.

The other kings turned their attention to the newcomers. "Who are your companions, Leodegrance?"

King Leodegrance gestured to each in turn: Guinevere, who half-hid behind him; Xuanzang; and Shirou.

"So this is the Sir Shirou who proved himself at Camlann?" The kings studied him with interest.

"You've heard of him?" King Leodegrance asked.

The kings exchanged smiles. "Word of his feat at Camlann reached the Emperor himself—how he fought off foreign enemies with skills matching an Apostle. News like that travels fast."

"You honor me," Shirou said.

He felt a strange irony, standing before these defeated opponents whose names had slipped from his memory.

"I understand you're a traveling poet from beyond our borders?" King Landram asked.

Shirou nodded.

"Our Empire holds many beautiful sights," King Landram said. "Perhaps they'll inspire your poetry."

"Thank you. They certainly might." Shirou paused. "Actually, there are some places I'd like to visit. I should take my leave from King Leodegrance."

"You were never under my command, Sir Shirou. Go where you will—just stay clear of restricted areas," Leodegrance said.

Shirou smiled and nodded. He knew better than to be reckless.

"It's rare to see travelers from outside the Empire these days," King Landram said to King Leodegrance as they watched Shirou leave.

"How long has it been?"

"Too long to remember. Shall we head inside?"

"Yes, let's go."

The group entered the hall.

...

After leaving King Leodegrance and the others, Shirou set out from town toward the outskirts.

"Mr. Shirou!"

He stopped and turned. Guinevere hurried toward him in her white dress.

"Princess Guinevere?"

She caught up to him, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Are you going to visit the Hero's manor from the book?"

"Yes, I want to see the Hero's manor."

"I'm heading there too!" Guinevere's face lit up.

"The king let you come alone?"

Guinevere nodded.

Shirou realized King Leodegrance must have changed his approach after Guinevere's earlier adventure—choosing a more hands-off style over strict control.

"We might as well go together."

They walked side by side toward what Guinevere believed was the Hero's manor. But he knew better—this was Ector's home.

Artie, Kay, will you be there?

As these thoughts turned in his mind, Guinevere watched him with curious blue eyes.

He touched his cheek. "Is something on my face?"

"No." She shook her head.

"Then why are you staring?"

"We look so much alike. Father said if he didn't know better, he'd think you were his secret child," She said with a smile.

Shirou: "..."

"You mentioned having a poetry collection?"

"Yes—I am a traveling poet, after all."

"Could I borrow it?"

He stopped walking and turned to her. "Do you enjoy poetry, Princess?"

"Not usually..." Guinevere's cheeks turned pink. "But I love the poem you created before."

"My poetry isn't anything special. But if you enjoy it, I'd be happy to share. I lost my collection while traveling, though. Perhaps next time."

"Promise?"

"Yes, next time for sure."

Guinevere smiled.

Shirou remembered Ector's manor lying several miles north of Tintagel, but when they reached the spot, they found nothing.

They searched the area repeatedly, asking nearby soldiers and farmers, but everyone insisted no manor had ever existed there.

They tried Sword Hill to the south next, hoping to find the sword in the stone, but discovered only scattered rocks.

"So nothing's real." Guinevere stared at the empty landscape, her shoulders drooping. "The book is just a story after all. No Holy Sword Hero, no White Dragon Vortigern, no Great Fairy Vivian."

Shirou stayed quiet as he watched Guinevere's disappointment.

He knew "The Tale of the Holy Sword" was real. But it wasn't about some nameless hero—it was his story, the story of the Eternal King.

But this wasn't the Britain of Eternal King. This was the Emperor's Empire. No sword waited in stone here. No manor stood where Ector's home should be. Eternal King had never ruled these lands.

So where was Arthur?

Where was Artoria Pendragon?

Where was Merlin?

Where were the Knights of the Round Table?

Perhaps they had never existed here at all.

In their place stood the Empire, its foreign territories, its Apostles, and the Emperor—worshipped as the world's only god.

But who was this Apostle Pendragon?

"Coo... coo..."

White doves hopped along the tree branches, watching Shirou and Guinevere with their small eyes, as if puzzled by these two wanderers in this empty place.

"Even the doves are laughing at us!"

Guinevere pouted, then suddenly burst into giggles behind her hand.

Shirou shook his head. Women were impossible to understand, especially ones as dramatic as Guinevere.

...

The setting sun painted the clouds crimson, washing the world in red.

Red as fire.

"Your Highness! Sir Shirou! Thank heaven we found you!"

Hoofbeats approached from behind. Shirou turned to see Uncle Camund racing toward them with a group of soldiers.

He ordered two men to dismount, giving their horses to Shirou and Guinevere.

Once mounted, Guinevere turned to him. "What's wrong, Uncle Camund?"

"Apostle Pendragon has arrived—and asked for you specifically, Sir Shirou!" Camund's voice trembled.

Shirou's hand froze on the reins. "For me?"

Camund nodded.

Interesting.

Shirou raised his eyebrows. A meeting with one of the Twelve Apostles—and the King of Camelot himself, no less.

They raced back toward Tintagel.

"I've always wanted to meet the great Apostle." Guinevere's eyes brightened. "And now Father has made it possible by bringing me here!"

Camund's face went pale. "Your Highness... best keep your distance from this one. This Apostle is... difficult to handle."

"That can't be right," Guinevere said. "Anyone who wrote 'The Tale of the Holy Sword' must be kind-hearted, like Father."

Camund watched her innocent expression and felt a pang of sympathy. If only she knew about the Apostle's notorious temperament.

They rushed back to Tintagel, and Uncle Camund guided them into the main hall.

Inside, Shirou saw a figure in pale silver dragon armor seated on the throne. The surrounding kings lined both sides of the room, their bodies rigid with tension.

Could this be Apostle Pendragon?

Shirou studied the armored figure, his brow creasing.