IBHJ 1095

"It's strange," Guinevere said softly, hiding a small laugh behind her hand. "I'm usually scared of strangers, but with you, Lord Shirou, I feel completely safe."

"I'm glad to hear that," he smiled warmly.

Even knowing this Guinevere was just part of someone's carefully crafted recreation of Britain, he couldn't stop himself from growing fond of her. She was too genuine, too alive to simply write off as fake.

Britain was an archipelago off continental Europe. Though the island wasn't large, their journey still took several hours before their destination came into view.

At the city gates, the guards handed over their fallen comrades to the garrison's care. A group of soldiers came to escort Guinevere into the city.

As they walked through the streets, people stopped to bow and greet Guinevere. Despite her sheltered life, everyone knew who she was. She was, after all, the king's beloved and known throughout Britain for her beauty.

This would stay true even in the time of the Eternal Kingdom. No one could match her - not the brave Artoria, the charming Arcueid, the strong Scathach, nor the kind Gareth. The title of Britain's greatest beauty was hers alone.

Most people didn't care about such things, seeing them as simple dinner table talk. Most, but not all. Morgan le Fay paid close attention to these discussions. She even paid traveling poets in secret to sing about her own beauty and goodness across the land. But nothing she did made any difference.

Whenever Morgan saw Guinevere in those days, she would clench her jaw in frustration. Guinevere misunderstood this completely - she thought Morgan wanted to study her fairy nature through dissection. Whenever Morgan appeared, Guinevere would shrink away, her face scrunched up in fear.

Guinevere nodded at the people's greetings while Shirou walked beside her. He looked at the old buildings and the people in their simple linen clothes, feeling a mix of familiar emotions wash over him.

He had once conquered this city, ruled this land, and governed these people. But something felt different now. Something was missing, though he couldn't quite place what it was.

Shirou frowned as he tried to understand the strange feeling. Something about this place wasn't quite right. Maybe the mastermind hadn't been able to perfectly recreate every detail from his memories.

He looked toward the city center, where the castle and royal palace rose against the sky. Just across a street from the palace stood a white tower that stretched far higher than the surrounding buildings, dominating the skyline.

The tower's surface was pristine white, untouched by any dirt or wear, like fresh parchment that had never seen ink. A gentle white light seemed to flow from its walls, and from the tower's highest point, a bright beam shot straight up into the sky, creating what looked like a bridge between heaven and earth.

This was the same light he had spotted earlier while traveling through the forest. And this tower was the reason he had made this journey in the first place.

Shirou wanted to ask Guinevere about the white tower, but she was busy greeting the crowds. He also worried that asking directly might alert the mastermind to their plans.

Better to be careful for now, he thought. He'd wait until things settled down before investigating the tower. First, he needed to understand what was really going on here.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed people staring at him. Their whispers carried clearly through the air:

"Look at that lord - he looks just like the princess. Could he be her brother?"

"But the king doesn't have any other children, at least none that we know of."

"Maybe it's a palace secret they've kept hidden."

"Such a pretty face." One woman nudged her friend. "Put him in a dress and grow out his hair, and we'd have another princess."

Shirou: "..."

The whispers didn't surprise him. Of course people would talk - he, Guinevere, and Ritsuka could easily pass for siblings with their similar features. Still, the attention made him shift uncomfortably.

As their group approached the palace, he noticed Guinevere's polite smile fading. She wrung her hands, her shoulders tense.

She turned to the squad captain. "Captain..." Her voice wavered. "Is my father back?"

"No, Princess. His Majesty and the princes are still away," the captain said.

"Oh..." Guinevere's shoulders relaxed. "That's good."

Now things made more sense to him. The king's absence had given Guinevere her chance to slip past the border. Though she hadn't made it far before the guards caught her, leading to their meeting and the attack by those mechanical soldiers.

Guinevere knew her father would punish her severely if he found out about her adventure. No wonder her shoulders relaxed at the news of his absence.

"Please follow me, Lord Shirou." Her worried expression vanished, replaced by a princess's graceful smile.

Shirou watched her sudden transformation with amusement. She could have been a theater performer with those acting skills.

Inside the palace, Guinevere took charge of his arrangements, determined to show proper gratitude for saving her life. She led him to a spacious room.

"This will be your chamber, Lord Shirou." She gestured at the space. "I hope you'll take some time to explore our city. It's the most beautiful on the whole island!"

"Then I'll have to write a poem worthy of its beauty," he said, matching her smile.

"When you finish your poem, please show it to me first. I'd love to share it with others."

"Having Britain's most beautiful princess help spread my words is a great honor. The poem will have to match your beauty."

"Oh, Lord Shirou..." Guinevere ducked her head, her cheeks turning pink. She never knew how to handle compliments, always quick to become flustered.

Before she could recover, a guard rushed up to them, slightly out of breath.

"What's wrong?" Guinevere asked.

"The Master heard of your return and requests your presence," the guard said.

"The Master wants to see me?" Guinevere's eyes widened.

"Master?" Shirou raised an eyebrow. "Who's that, Princess?"

"She's a traveler who passed through the city," Guinevere explained. "Father was impressed by her wisdom and invited her to stay as our guest."

She glanced at his torn clothes. "You must be uncomfortable. I've had fresh clothes laid out in your room. Please change while I see what the Master wants."

Shirou nodded, assuming this Master was probably another traveling poet. He knew the era well - poets wandered from court to court, and he himself had once used them to shape public opinion, helping ease people's fears about Vortigern and unite them against him.

He turned toward his room, but a urgent voice made him pause: "Princess Guinevere!"

When he looked back, he paused. A young woman, no more than seventeen or eighteen, was running toward Guinevere. He froze, unable to believe his eyes.

He couldn't believe it. How was this possible?

"Master, what brings you here?" Guinevere asked as the girl approached.

"Forgive my rudeness, Princess." The young girl caught her breath. "But this humble monk has stayed too long. The lords will not approve if I remain, so I've come to say goodbye."

"But Father isn't back yet." Guinevere shook her head. "He considers you an honored guest. He would be upset with me if I let you leave without a proper farewell. Please wait for his return."

"Well..." The young girl's face pinched with worry.

"Princess." Shirou gestured at the girl. "Who is..."

At the same time, the young girl noticed him standing behind Guinevere. "Princess, who might this brother be?"

"Oh, I should introduce you," Guinevere said. "Master, this is Lord Shirou, another traveler. Lord Shirou, this is my father's guest—"

"Amitabha." The young girl pressed her palms together, interrupting with a Buddhist greeting. "I am Xuanzang, a humble monk from the Great Tang in the East. I travel West to worship Buddha and seek the sacred scriptures."

Shirou's jaw nearly dropped as he stared at her. She looked no more than seventeen or eighteen, with long black hair flowing to her waist. Though beautiful and graceful, her face showed a monk's gentle humility. But her monk's robes were oddly revealing, decorated with pink ribbons that floated around her like wisps of cloud.

That Buddhist greeting, that distinctive outfit - there was no doubt. This was the legendary Xuanzang Sanzang, the famous monk who journeyed to the west!

"Master Xuanzang... weren't you supposed to be traveling to the Western Paradise? How did you end up in Britain?" Shirou asked.

"You know of this humble monk?" Xuanzang tilted her head.

"I'm a traveler - I hear many tales in my journeys." He smiled.

"You know about the Great Tang and Western Paradise that Master Xuanzang mentioned?" Guinevere turned to him with wide eyes.

"I know a little."

"That's wonderful!" Guinevere leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. "I've never heard of such places before."

"I carry a sacred duty from the Tang Emperor - to travel west, meet Buddha, and bring back the sacred scriptures." Xuanzang pressed her palms together, her eyes filled with concern as she looked at Guinevere. "But I lost my way and found myself here instead. My four disciples must be searching everywhere for me. Please, Princess, I must continue my journey to the west."

"I'm so sorry, Master Xuanzang." Guinevere's voice was heavy with regret. "You're my father's honored guest, and I can't simply let you leave. He would be terribly upset with me if I did. Please understand - we must wait for his return."

Xuanzang gazed at Guinevere with pure sincerity in her eyes, hoping her honest appeal would change the princess's mind. But she clearly didn't know that the young Guinevere of this time would never dream of going against her father's wishes. She was a genuine daddy's girl.

Guinevere turned her head away, refusing to meet Xuanzang's pleading look. The monk could only let out a dejected sigh.

"The King won't let you leave?" Shirou asked.

Xuanzang nodded, her shoulders sagging. "The King shows me great kindness and generosity. He eagerly seeks wise counsel for his kingdom. But I am nothing more than a humble traveler heading west - not the great scholar he believes me to be."

"I see," he said thoughtfully. He knew this period well - Britain was surrounded by enemies on all sides, with various lords constantly fighting for power. Every kingdom was desperately searching for talented advisors to help them survive these troubled times.

Though Xuanzang wasn't skilled in politics, she was still a Buddhist monk well-versed in religious law and philosophy. In this ancient world, that alone would make her seem like a great scholar. No wonder the King wanted to keep her around.

"Please stay with us a bit longer, Master Xuanzang." Guinevere gave her a gentle smile. "Just wait until my father returns, then you can ask his permission to leave."

"I wouldn't want to cause Princess Guinevere any trouble. That would be my sin." Xuanzang's shoulders dropped as she sighed. "But at this rate, how will I ever reach the Western Paradise?"

Shirou held back a smile. Poor Master Xuanzang hasn't realized she's gone too far west. She'll need to backtrack about 8,000 kilometers to reach India from Britain.

"Oh!" Xuanzang's face suddenly brightened. She looked at Shirou with sparkling eyes, like she'd just discovered a precious gem. "Brother Shirou, I see it now - your eyes shine with Buddha-nature. It must be fate that brought you to me. Why not shave your head and become a monk? I could be your master, teach you Buddhism. I'll give you a Dharma name - we'll call you Wu-"

"Master Xuanzang!" Shirou cut in with a polite smile. He gestured to the empty hallway behind her. "I wouldn't want to waste any more of your time."

"What?" Xuanzang blinked in confusion.

Shirou kept his elegant smile firmly in place. In other words, he was telling her to get lost!