"Gawain!"
Woodwose’s respectful tone toward the Queen shifted in an instant as he turned to Gawain, letting out a low growl.
"No need for you to make a move! I’ve already moved my troops from Oxford. We’ll be able to pursue the Child of Prophecy very soon!"
"There’s no place for you here! Step aside!"
He bared his fangs at the fellow fairy of the same clan who clearly tried to snatch away the mission.
Unfortunately, the harsh words from this clan head didn’t intimidate Gawain, who was also a fairy from the Fang Clan.
"Whether I have a place or not isn’t up to you to decide. It’s up to Her Majesty."
Gawain spoke in a much calmer tone than Woodwose.
"And the reason I suggested stepping in isn’t because I want to steal your mission. I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong."
"After all, you let the target escape, didn’t you?"
Hearing this, Woodwose couldn’t help but flare up in anger.
"Calm down, Woodwose." Aurora chimed in at just the right moment. "I get how you feel, really, but Gawain is right—this isn’t something you get to decide. It’s up to Her Majesty."
"I know, Aurora..." Woodwose forced himself to cool down. "I just think that, compared to these random Fairy Knights, someone like me who’s been loyal to Her Majesty for years is more trustworthy. I believe I can kill the Child of Prophecy."
As he made this statement, the first to object to it wasn’t one of the two Fairy Knights present, but Muryan, the head of the Wing Clan.
"Do we really have to kill the Child of Prophecy? Wouldn’t that be such a waste?" Muryan said with a tone that sounded like he was being helpful. "Why not send the Child of Prophecy to me? I think he could make a very fine product."
"No, he should be sent to my New Darlington!" Tristan suddenly came up with what seemed like a brilliant idea as she licked her lips. "I want to bring him to the theater. I bet the screams of the Child of Prophecy would sound absolutely beautiful."
"If that’s the case, then I’d like to meet that Child of Prophecy too..." Spriggan crossed his arms, his expression carrying a subtle hint of intrigue. "A Child of Prophecy claiming to be a human? I’m pretty curious about that."
"You guys..."
Woodwose nearly snapped again.
First of all, the Child of Prophecy was supposed to be the Queen’s greatest enemy—someone plotting to overthrow the rule of Britain. He should have his limbs torn off, his head chopped off, and his body dismembered right on the spot—that was the only way to eliminate the threat completely.
Yet these damn bastards didn’t take it seriously at all and treated it like a joke, like some interesting little incident, like that Child of Prophecy was just some entertainer who showed up out of nowhere, which made him beyond infuriated.
Ironically, while thinking this, Woodwose had forgotten that not long ago, he himself hadn’t taken the so-called Child of Prophecy seriously either.
Just like the other fairies, he never believed in prophecies and never believed anyone could really overthrow the Queen. If the Queen hadn’t personally ordered him to track down the Child of Prophecy, he would’ve been just like the rest here—completely dismissive of the whole thing.
Needless to say, the only reason he changed his mind was because of the power Riezel had shown.
Riezel’s power, to Woodwose, was already on a level capable of threatening the Queen. After all his subordinates had been effortlessly wiped out by Riezel, Woodwose, in a fury, couldn’t help but wish he could rip Riezel to pieces, eliminating this so-called Child of Prophecy.
For this reason, the other fairies who hadn’t experienced what Woodwose had naturally still felt the same way he had before encountering Riezel, since to them, this so-called Child of Prophecy was nothing but a joke, not a threat at all.
Of course, that didn’t include Gawain.
While the other fairies were busy chatting about how to deal with Riezel, acting like the Child of Prophecy was already in the bag, she was the only one focused on what really mattered.
’Someone who can instantly wipe out the Fang Clan’s elite squad right under Woodwose’s nose... even if he’s not the Child of Prophecy, his strength is no joke.’
Being a member of the Fang Clan herself, Gawain knew just how serious that was, so with a grave expression, she spoke up again while gazing at the Queen.
"I’m currently pursuing the Round Table Army near Salisbury. It’s not too far from Tintagel, so I figure that Child of Prophecy probably isn’t far from where my unit is stationed either. Just give the word, Your Majesty, and I, Fairy Knight Gawain, will head out right away to lead the troops and wipe out the Child of Prophecy."
"Gawain!"
Woodwose shouted again, but Gawain acted like she didn’t hear him.
At the same time, the rest of the fairies looked like they had things to say too, as if they were just waiting to stir up the tension, but—
"All right."
As the Queen on the throne finally spoke again, the entire throne room instantly quieted down.
She closed her eyes and, after a moment, she suddenly opened them and asked Woodwose a strange question.
"Firstly, that Child of Prophecy who claimed to be a human—what does he look like exactly?"
Such a sudden question left quite a few fairies exchanging confused glances.
"His appearance?"
Woodwose paused for a second, then continued.
"I remember he had black hair and black eyes. Looked around seventeen or eighteen. He was a young man with a sword at his waist."
He thought about it for a moment, then continued to describe.
"He didn’t look like a fairy from the Earth Clan, and he looked even less like one from the Fang Clan. He looked more like a fairy from the Wind Clan, just without the wings or pointed ears. If we had to compare, then his appearance was probably closest to the head of the King Clan."
After hearing this, the fairies around them started whispering again.
"Looks like the head of the King Clan?"
"Hmm, could he be a fairy from the King Clan?"
"No, the King Clan should only have her and no one else."
"But that’s what’s weird. He’s not from the King Clan, and he’s not from the Fang, Earth, or Wind Clans either. Judging by Lord Woodwose’s reaction, he’s probably not from the Wing Clan either... Could this Child of Prophecy be from the long-extinct Mirror Clan?"
"Didn’t the prophecy say the Child of Prophecy would be a Fairy of Paradise?"
"Yes, the Child of Prophecy isn’t supposed to be a fairy from any clan. He just kind of looks like the head of the King Clan."
"If he looks like the head of the King Clan, then maybe he doesn’t look that different from a human either?"
"No wonder he called himself a human."
"Mm, no wonder he’s trying to take down Her Majesty."
"But it’s not that strange, is it?"
"Right, it’s not like there aren’t already people going against Her Majesty. Whether it’s the spreading Moss across Britain, the Calamity in Norwich, the King Clan up north, the Round Table Army in southern Londinium, or even the recent rebellion in Sheffield, there has been more and more opposition to Her Majesty lately. He’s just one more added to the list."
"And that suspicious human named Beryl Gut—didn’t he say something about someone from outside of Britain invading soon?"
"My goodness, things are falling apart in the kingdom these days."
As the fairies present kept on chattering like this, the Queen remained silent.
"Black-haired, black-eyed young man with a sword..."
A faint whisper slipped out of her mouth without her realizing it.
"...Is it you?"
Unfortunately, no one heard her words.
"Mother?"
A moment later, Tristan’s slightly confused voice pulled the Queen out of her thoughts.
"Where is Fairy Knight Lancelot? Why isn’t she here?"
The Queen looked coldly at the fairies present and asked coldly.
It wasn’t either of the Fairy Knights present who answered, but Aurora, the head of the Wind Clan.
"Lancelot is with me." Aurora’s gentle voice came through the projection. "I invited her over to my place. We’re going to have afternoon tea soon."
"Aurora..."
Woodwose let out a somewhat pitiful sound.
He couldn’t help it.
Knowing the woman he liked had invited the rival he viewed as a threat over for afternoon tea was kind of a blow to him.
"Fufu, sorry, Woodwose." Aurora said with a sweet smile. "You know how it is. I’ve got lots of fairies on my side who adore Lancelot. Everyone wants to meet the most beautiful Fairy Knight in Britain, so as their leader, I should respect their wishes and let them have their moment."
"I see... so that’s how it is..." Woodwose looked a lot better after hearing her reason. "But I think the most beautiful fairy in Britain is you, Aurora, not Lancelot."
"Hmph, Lancelot is not even that pretty." Tristan chimed in, looking just as annoyed at the idea. "Mother is definitely the most beautiful one in the Fairy Kingdom."
Even though she said this, her claim didn’t seem to make the Queen happy at all.
Ignoring their conversation, the Queen, looking like she couldn’t care less, spoke coldly.
"Lancelot is in Salisbury, Gawain’s troops are nearby, and then we’ve got Aurora as the city lord and Woodwose around Tintagel. You four are basically all in the same area."
"In that case, I’ll give this order to the four of you together."
As the Queen spoke, she turned toward Gawain, Woodwose, and Aurora.
"Bring back the young man suspected to be the Child of Prophecy. Bring him to me."
"Alive."
"Understood?"
At the Queen’s command, the three fairies all lowered their heads in unison.
""Yes!""
===
In a certain luxurious room.
In the room with a layout styled after medieval Northern Europe, there was a mirror and several glass cabinets filled with high heels.
Judging by the decor, it seemed to be a girl’s bedroom.
*Zing—*
Suddenly, in one corner of the bedroom, space opened up like a mirror, and a figure stepped out from it.
It was none other than Tristan, who had just been in the throne room.
"Ugh, that was so boring..."
Tristan returned to her room and sat down on the bed, grumbling.
"I was right in front of Mother, but I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her. What the hell was that about?"
She kept complaining as she stretched out her small hand, making a vase on the nightstand next to her fly across the room with just a light wave, smashing against the wall and shattering into pieces.
"So annoying. Seriously ridiculous."
"If I can’t talk to Mother, why should I even go to those dumb meetings?"
"Whether it’s those clan heads or those officials, they’re all just a bunch of annoying fools. It’s not like I’m showing up to see them."
"Ughhh, Mother, why don’t you just kill all those eyesores already? Let them bleed out on the floor and scream until they die."
"It’s not like you need anyone else but me!"
Tristan kept ranting like this, and with each line, she would wave her hand again, making another piece of furniture go flying and crash into pieces in the corner of the room.
The only things that managed to survive her rampage were the glass cabinets filled with high heels, as every time she waved her hand, she carefully avoided them—it was clear she was doing it on purpose.
After venting for a while, Tristan finally calmed down a little before furrowing her pretty brows.
"Mother really seems interested in that Child of Prophecy... What’s up with that?"
As the adopted daughter of the Queen, Tristan had noticed something odd in her mother’s behavior.
"Is it because of that prophecy?" Tristan muttered. "Does Mother actually believe in that crap? Hmph, that’s just the Mirror Clan’s filthy nonsense they spat out before they were wiped out, right?"
Just as these words left her mouth, a voice suddenly echoed in her ears.
"What filthy nonsense?"
Hearing the voice, Tristan snapped back to herself.
"Beryl? Is that you?"
Tristan walked over to a mirror and smiled at the person reflected in it.
It was a completely different expression from the one she showed others.
In front of others, Tristan always smiled, but her smile was sharp and cruel, like the kind that made people think she might slice off their limbs just for fun. But in front of this person, the smile on her face was one of pure happiness, pure joy, like someone seeing the person they love.
"So you were listening, Red Beryl?"
Red Beryl was her nickname, as well as a term of endearment for the person.
"I just got here, actually, Lady Spinel."
Saying this, the person Tristan called Red Beryl smiled back at her through the mirror.
Looking closely, it was a man dressed like a bartender, with slicked-back hair and a tall, lean frame—like one of those handsome bad boys who ran with the Italian mafia.
It looked like he was using some kind of magecraft or magic item to communicate with Tristan remotely. Seeing her smiling so brightly at him, he also lit up with a warm and cheerful expression.
"Looks like the meeting at Camelot today didn’t go the way you wanted, huh, milady?" Beryl chuckled.
"Don’t even bring it up." Tristan pouted again, puffing up her cheeks. "Mother didn’t even look my way. She didn’t say a word to me."
"Well, that’s a real shame..." Beryl tried to comfort her. "But it’s fine, Lady Spinel. Her Majesty Morgan probably just couldn’t show her feelings openly in public, so she deliberately ignored you. It’s not that she doesn’t care."
"Really?" Tristan’s eyes lit up before he quickly asked. "Mother really didn’t talk to me just because of that?"
"Of course." Beryl nodded with certainty. "She’s the Queen of Britain, after all. If she showed any hint of favoritism in that kind of meeting, those fairies would be all over her with accusations. We have to think about her position too."
"Mother wouldn’t get accused by anyone." Tristan shot back. "Those trash are scared to death of her, so there’s no way they’d have the guts to do that."
"You’re right..." Beryl nodded in agreement but then added, "Even so, she still has to maintain the dignity of a queen. Just try to understand her, alright?"
"Well... I guess that makes sense..." Tristan said reluctantly. "Fine, I’ll just wait for another chance to talk to Mother alone in private."
"Mm, that’s the spirit." Beryl gave an approving look but then changed the topic. "So, I heard someone from the Fang Clan found the Child of Prophecy? Is that true?"
"Huh?" Tristan blinked, confused. "You care about the Child of Prophecy too, Red Beryl?"
"Somewhat..." Beryl shrugged, looking a bit helpless. "But rather than the Child of Prophecy, I’m more interested in the foreign magus."
What Beryl said reminded Tristan of a line from the Mirror Clan’s prophecy:
"Guided by the Staff of Selection, watched over by the foreign traveler, the child of salvation will reach the throne."
Needless to say, that so-called ’foreign traveler’ was the ’foreign magus’ Beryl had mentioned.
It was said that the Child of Prophecy would be accompanied by someone from outside the Faerie Kingdom, outside of Britain, who would help him or her ascend to the throne.
Beryl had been very focused on this and had even gone so far as to warn the Queen herself, saying the foreign traveler was an intruder from the outside world, an enemy of Faerie Britain, and that they had to be treated with caution.
Tristan, however, didn’t really take it seriously.
"I think you and my mother are both overreacting. It’s not that big of a deal."
Tristan grumbled in annoyance.
"Hmph, that so-called Child of Prophecy or whatever—no way someone like that could beat Mother."
"And you too, Red Beryl, why do you care so much about that so-called foreign magus anyway?"
"I mean, there’s no way some random guy like that could be a match for you, right?"
Hearing this, Beryl gave a knowing smile.
"Maybe..." Beryl didn’t deny it. "Honestly, I’m not really interested in that foreign magus either."
As he said this, he lowered his head.
"...I’m more interested in the person accompanying them."
Tristan didn’t quite catch the last part and only clearly heard the next line.
"Can you help me keep an eye on the Child of Prophecy, Lady Spinel?" Beryl said with a cheeky grin. "I’ve got something I want to take care of, alright?"
At this, Tristan puffed up her cheeks again, but in the end, she nodded.
And just like that, the storms began to stir, signaling that the chaos in Faerie Britain had officially begun.