Ery’s emotions still stirred hearing her na; the foreboding ssage from his future self and his last eting with Chumo made him anxious to hear about Gwen, but he kept his composure as he asked, "How is she?"
Glita’s smiling response quickly brought him so relief.
"She is amazing, the best queen ever! In fact, the whole kingdom will be celebrating her 60th birthday along with the annual knight divine order tournant! Brother, you’ve got to co... it’ll be fun!"
Ery was surprisingly reluctant. Gwen had always been among the list of people he intended to check upon, yet knowing she was fine from Glita seed enough for now. His priority, he told himself, should be to return and check on Gaia. But Glita, being Glita, would not let go so easily.
"Co on, brother... co with . It’s been a long ti since we hung out together."
The thought of Chumo flashed in Ery’s mind again—the reminder to spend ti with the people he treasured while he still could. He sighed, then smiled faintly.
"All right, let’s go."
Three of the young n living in Avalon were also planning to participate in the tournant, mostly for experience. Ery decided to join their group, and the next morning five of them set off together, riding toward the Brittania capital city.
The three-day journey across his holand was surprisingly fulfilling for Ery. The familiar countryside, the chatter of Glita and the youths, even the simple rhythm of hooves striking the road—it all gave him a refreshing sense of peace, as though each passing mile was washing away the heaviness that had clung to him for decades.
When they finally arrived, the city was bursting with festivity. Banners fluttered, music echoed through the streets, and tens of thousands crowded toward the arena. It reminded Ery of celebrations he had witnessed more than half a century ago.
The tournant was being held in honor of the queen, and thousands of knights and squires had co to prove their skill. Ery and Glita followed the crowd into the grand arena, their eyes drawn to the massive stage prepared for Gwen herself.
The blare of drums and trumpets silenced the audience as a herald’s voice rang out.
"Here cos Her Majesty, the Queen!"
Ery turned, his heartbeat quickening. And then he saw her.
Gwen stood tall upon the stage, raising her hand with a regal wave to the cheering crowd. Despite her age, she carried herself with confidence and vigor, every gesture brimming with authority. It was her—his first dear companion in life—but the changes struck him. Her golden hair had dulled into pale ash, and wrinkles frad the corners of her eyes.
Ery knew her natural talent had never been exceptional, but by now she should at least have been at the saint realm, with prolong life. Instead, she appeared older than expected. A few explanations flickered in his mind, but the mont she spoke—her voice carrying strength and warmth that enthralled the people—his worries lted away. She was still Gwen, and that was enough.
Glita leaned toward him and whispered, "Brother... I need to take care of these young lads first. You go ahead and see her."
Ery nodded, but he didn’t approach her right away. Instead he lingered, taking a seat among the audience. From there he saw Arthur seated beside Gwen, and two more figures on the stage: a young man in his twenties, the prince of Brittania, and beside him his mother, Arthur’s concubine.
The whole event unfolded much as it had in the past, yet on a scale grander than Ery rembered. From every corner of Brittania, squires and knights marched proudly into the arena, their armor gleaming beneath the midday sun, banners of their sub-kingdoms fluttering in the wind.
It was not only the Brittania-born who ca. Foreign banners appeared as well, carried by contingents from overseas. Ery’s eyes caught the distinctive long-haired warriors of the North—Viking champions, invited as honored guests. The clash of cultures felt even here in the heart of Brittania. Yet for today, swords were drawn not in war but in sport, bound by the tournant’s rules and the shared reverence for the queen.
Victorious knights dedicated their triumphs to the queen, the crowd roared in approval, and for monts Ery found himself chuckling softly at the familiar traditions. Nostalgia washed over him, and for a while he allowed himself to enjoy the spectacle.
When the celebrations ended, Ery finally made his move. Passing through the guards with ease, he approached Gwen’s chambers and knocked politely.
"Who is it?" .
The chambermaid opened the door. After a brief glance, she quietly withdrew, leaving Ery to step inside. Gwen was seated before a mirror, her back to him. He thought of surprising her, but the surprise was his instead.
She was removing her makeup. As the wig ca off, her golden hair shimred beneath, and as the layers of paint faded, so too did the wrinkles that had marked her face. Her true appearance was revealed, youthful and radiant.
Their eyes t in the mirror, both startled. Then, almost at once, shock dissolved into laughter.
"Ery! ...Geez!" Gwen exclaid.
Ery chuckled, shaking his head. "Is this the great queen I’ve heard about? Why are you lying to your people, making yourself old? That’s just... strange."
Gwen raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "Why? Do you prefer it that way? I can put the wig back if you want."
The old warmth of their friendship exploded between them, a spark bridging the years as if no ti had passed at all. Ery chuckled, shaking his head, and lowered himself into a seat across from her. For a long mont he simply looked at her—at the strength in her posture, the liveliness in her eyes, and the strange mixture of regality and playfulness that only Gwen could carry.
Amusent softened into curiosity as she began to explain. Her advancent into the saint realm had granted her the slowed aging of higher beings, yet this very blessing had turned into a burden. Arthur and his concubine had grown older, while she remained unchanged. To avoid unwanted attention and strife, she had chosen the disguise.
Ery sighed, still shaking his head. "That is just sothing..."
But Gwen only smiled warmly. "It’s good to see you again, Ery."
"Likewise," he answered quietly.
"It took you so long this ti,"
"I know..."
Their conversation soon drifted, carried by the comfort of familiarity. They spoke of things long past, mories of youthful struggles, personal monts that only they shared. For Ery, the sound of her voice alone stirred recollections he had kept buried—reminders of simpler days before the burdens of the universe had weighed so heavily upon him.
Yet amid the laughter and nostalgia, Gwen’s words suddenly turned more serious. Her eyes reflecting both serenity and resolve as she revealed the truth behind her disguise. It was not only a shield to protect Arthur’s court—it was also her way of marking the end of her role. She had done her duty, guiding Brittania through decades of stability and ensuring its people flourished. To her, that Chapter was complete.
Now, she said, it was ti to leave.
Ery blinked in surprise. "Where do you plan to go?"
Her soft laughter carried the sa warmth he rembered from their youth. "To follow you, silly."
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