Guinevere's arrival transformed the quiet garden into a lively haven.
She carried a unique charm... outwardly a poised, elegant princess, yet her presence sparked effortless joy.
It was why she became the "Queen."
"Guinevere's presence brought new vitality to a kingdom of knights." They said.
In the original Camelot, Artoria, the king, was a genderless ruling machine, governing with absolute rationality, calculating every gain and loss flawlessly.
Such governance brought prosperity, but over time, it bred resentment... no one wanted to be ruled by an emotionless machine.
So, she wed Guinevere, a queen who infused the kingdom with humanity.
Yet, that very choice ignited Camelot's downfall.
"Damn it!" Agravain muttered.
Watching Guinevere join Morgan at the stone table, engaging in carefree banter, he could no longer suppress his pain, clutching his chest.
A grim memory surfaced:
In Camelot, nearly all Knights of the Round Table knew of Guinevere's affair with Lancelot. For various reasons, they pretended it didn't exist.
Even King Artoria said nothing.
But he, the knight devoted to truth, exposed the scandal... a matter "light as a feather off the scale, heavy as a thousand pounds on it."
He unveiled the truth.
The cost? The Round Table's fracture and Camelot's ruin.
"Was it worth it?" He asked himself, unable to find peace.
Now, the question lingered, joined by a graver one.
Alaric.
He stared at the man sitting at the table, cradling the white creature called Fou, quietly listening to the others.
As the king's chief squire, Agravain was certain no such man existed in his Camelot.
In other words, this man was the anomaly... the reason history twisted, summoning the Knights of the Round Table to this land.
"He's the irregularity." Agravain thought, like a seasoned mechanic spotting a flaw.
But seeing this utopian kingdom, and his mother, feigning annoyance yet staying, could he call it "wrong"?
Did he truly desire the broken Britain, the fallen Camelot, and the king weeping atop a sea of corpses?
The pain was too much. Agravain closed his eyes.
He took deep breaths, steadying his body and clearing his chaotic mind, before opening them again.
But the scene wasn't the sunlit, laughter-filled garden.
It was a pure white expanse.
Alaric... the man he deemed "wrong"... stood within, gazing at him with admiration.
"This is my mental realm." Alaric said.
"Don't misunderstand... I didn't pull you in."
"Your soul resonated with this domain and entered on its own."
"Impressive. Without any investigation, you found the truth instantly."
Alaric praised Agravain's keen insight.
This man, who lived for truth, had his wish elevated into an ability as a Heroic Spirit.
Before his eyes, no "evil" could hide.
Yet now, his vision held no evil.
Agravain stared, almost dazed, at the man... no, the white dragon.
He saw the curses and despair clinging to Alaric's form, the world's most vile and terrifying forces.
But they couldn't taint him. Amid the curses, Alaric's body remained holy, radiating "purity."
"Surprised?" Alaric grinned.
"You underestimate me!"
"I, Alaric, bearing Camelot's weight and this island's rage and curses, remain unrivaled!"
Arrogant words, delivered with a playful tone.
He was joking... he wasn't invincible, not yet, especially against that purple hag.
But Agravain nodded, convinced.
He believed Alaric, yet his face twisted with deeper pain and conflict.
"He's not wrong."
"That noble ideal… it can't be wrong."
He understood now.
The king, isolated and unacknowledged in his world, had found a true ally in this one.
Together, they defied fate's ruin, forging a true "paradise on earth" On this apocalyptic island.
"What a beautiful kingdom." Agravain thought.
If only his King of Knights could see it.
Surely, she'd smile genuinely.
As he thought this, a chain with a spear-like tip materialized silently behind him.
Its target wasn't the smiling deity before him.
It aimed for his own throat.
He was ready to end it.
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