[On the ramparts of Edinburgh's city walls, you find Nokknarei standing gazing into the distance.]
"Though I only invited you on a whim, I didn't expect you actually would come."
Nokknarei crossed her arms and stood silently atop the wall, the night breeze stirring her hair. Even as she spoke, her gaze remained fixed on the dark plains below, never turning toward Guinevere.
—But that was only outwardly. In truth, the moment Guinevere climbed up, she caught Nokknarei darting a sideways glance—then quickly pretending to look away.
"…"
Guinevere said nothing, studying the famed Northern Queen curiously. Though you'd allied with her in the Norwich campaign's simulation, Nokknarei herself had never led her troops in person back then… Thinking on it, the commander who invited you here must have been her lieutenant Eiken.
As Guinevere's thoughts wandered, Nokknarei, noticing Guinevere's silence, furtively tilted her head again to peer—heart fluttering with doubt.
Had her opening line been too stilted? Had she offended him already? That would be dreadful… But she had to maintain her queenly dignity—yet what if her words had already cost her favor?
"Well… do you enjoy Edinburgh at night? It's not quite as bustling as Gloucester, but the shops stay open after dark—there must be sights worth seeing…"
Her voice wavered and fell, then she hastily raised it again, determined to sound composed, but…
"Is your throat sore? You don't have to force yourself to speak if it hurts," Guinevere said.
"Guh—"
A muffled sound escaped Nokknarei's throat, abruptly cut off. Surprised but cautious not to offend, Guinevere let it pass.
"Also—I'm here as Artoria's assistant for the chocolate-making. Your lieutenant summoned me from her kitchen; you knew that already, right?"
"Ugh—"
The strange sound came again.
"Yes, of course I know." Nokknarei cleared her throat and replied evenly—but then froze.
How could she explain that her daytime apology attempt had been purely for form's sake? No—she'd simply finesse past it to preserve her dignity.
"Still, after exploring all day and glimpsing the city on the way here—though I've seen only a fraction—it feels like a wonderful place."
Leaning on the battlement, Guinevere looked back over the lit streets.
"Though my own free spirit might not fully adapt, I don't dislike a city all geared toward a goal. In fact, it's reassuring to know such cities exist on this land—something I've long admired."
"Oh… I see."
Nokknarei's tone was calm, but inside her heart raced. How mortifying that she'd fretted over her opening line while he took it in stride!
Meanwhile, with Guinevere's gaze turned outward, Nokknarei stole a glance at his profile—black hair tousled by the wind, somehow more handsome than she'd ever noticed. She lost herself in the sight… until he abruptly turned back, catching her looking.
"!"
She tried to look away, then chided herself: Stop it, Nokknarei! You're a queen, not a lovestruck girl!
Mustering composure, she dared another look—only to find Guinevere's eyes back on the city. Defeated, she waited.
Suddenly he spoke, catching her unprepared:
"So, Lady Nokknarei… what did you wish to discuss when you invited me up here?"
According to strategy: avoid strength, strike at weakness.
As Guinevere hesitated over her address, her sincere draw had already undone Nokknarei's carefully rehearsed poise.
"I—I simply… ahem ahem—"
Flushing at her stammer, she tried to correct herself, then choked on her own spit and burst into a fit of coughing, leaving Guinevere concerned.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine!" Nokknarei snapped, her voice rising an octave in anger—and Guinevere flinched, wondering if he'd offended the queen.
Realizing her outburst, she hurried to smooth it over:
"…Ahem, in short, I wanted to learn about the outside world. Judging by your features, you're human but not native to Britain—thus, you must be one of those 'Drifters' brought here from afar, yes?"
"As you surmise, Lady Nokknarei, I am indeed a Drifter…" Guinevere paused, then nodded slowly. "Well, I suppose I am."
"A suppose? Why only suppose?" Nokknarei asked.
"Because I have no memories of drifting. I woke in the faerie realm's interior, not near the sea, so I cannot say for certain I 'drifted' here."
He spoke honestly—better to risk ambiguity than reveal secrets or lie to a queen.
"I see… You likely landed in Cornwall's mists, lost your memory—that's common. Then some wandering soul found you, only to abandon you by chance. But since you recall your past, the mists' effect must have waned."
Nokknarei muttered as if she'd unraveled a plausible theory. Though Guinevere knew nothing of Cornwall's mists, her confident analysis bolstered her dignity.
"Ahem… we've drifted off topic. In any case, tell me about the outside world—what is that 'Pan-Human History' Morgan spoke of? Though I have no interest, as your queen I must know."
(Ha—her face betrays that she's really curious.)
Guinevere paused, then began a lengthy summary. Human history aligned closely with recorded reality, so he outlined geopolitics, wars, revolutions—carefully omitting magic, grails, or singularities like Chaldea, since he was but a mortal. The sheer scope awed Nokknarei.
"Wait—seven continents, five oceans, hundreds of nations… some superpowers dozens of times Britain's size…?"
"World wars with seventy million dead…?"
"Jet fighters that outpace Lancelot… mass-produced… phones that communicate across continents instantly—your 'water-mirror' magic, but universal?"
"Superweapons that could obliterate a city ten times Edinburgh… you're serious? Is any of this real? You're not lying… I just can't accept it."
She exhaled, stunned.
"The modern era progressed even further in recent decades…" Guinevere ventured softly.
Nokknarei closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then opened them:
"So this is human ingenuity. Though I never underestimated humanity, I clearly did."
"Frailer bodies, lesser mana—but precisely for that, you walked a different path, advancing brilliantly. Yet…"
Her tone shifted:
"I'm sorry, but my stance on human troops stands firm. No matter how grand your civilization, in Faerie Britain you remain too frail for the frontlines. That is my position."
"Understood." Guinevere nodded. "Hence our chocolate contest, yes?"
"…You find me unreasonable, no doubt. Very well—I'll tell you a story."
Turning to the plains, she rested a hand on the battlement.
"You must have heard the rumors of my hatred for humans. Would you like the true reason?"
"Is it the tale of Queen Mab's betrayal by her human lover at a pivotal moment?" Guinevere leaned on the wall and met her gaze—pink hair drifting like cherry blossoms.
"You already know that much? You must have capable informants. Yes. Mab lost faith and the war when her human consort, whom she loved as an equal, was struck down."
Nokknarei swept hair from her face, revealing a sharp profile.
"Mab trusted humans too much, viewing them as kindred spirits she loved dearly. She rode into battle with him at her side. When she finally won decisive victory—he collapsed and died in the cheers meant for her."
Guinevere was silent, absorbing the tragedy.
"Of course a human could not match faerie pace. Such was his betrayal—his death."
"Mab's will broke then, but her grief healed over 2,400 years ago—when she encountered a man who so resembled her lover that she believed him a reincarnation. Sadly they only looked alike. Yet that meeting renewed her ambition to conquer Britain."
"But she never did. After founding Edinburgh, she abdicated. For fifteen centuries no Royal Clan reigned—until I was born."
Nokknarei turned to Guinevere, eyes blazing with resolve:
"That is why I hate humans. They are useless on the battlefield. I will not repeat Mab's mistake. I will conquer Britain with my Clan and be the true queen."
"Humans may stay safely in the chocolate factory—well cared for, well paid, working until the end."
"Moreover, this is only the first step. As ruler, I will plan the postwar era. I will cross the Light Barrier and reach your world."
"Though your bodies are frail, your creativity is awe-inspiring. That only fuels my desire to conquer—to take your homeland too. If you miss home, you may return to work for me there. Prepare yourself."
"…Ha—hahaha—"
After her grand vision, Guinevere stood silent—then broke into laughter.
"What's so funny? Do you mock me?!" Nokknarei's cheeks flushed with indignation.
"No—misunderstand me not. I'm not laughing at your dreams. In fact, picturing the future you described strikes me as… rather splendid."
Nokknarei blinked in surprise.
"Then let me see it: the day you invade Pan-Human History," Guinevere smiled. "Frankly, I look forward to it."
"You are a strange one."
"You know, I don't hate your city."
Guinevere turned again to Edinburgh's glowing skyline.
"A place where everyone works toward a goal and is rewarded—who could hate such a city?"
"Your Pan-Human crowd is truly unfathomable."
Nokknarei shook her head, then removed her hand from the wall and began to walk away.
"Our détente ends here—time to return to work."
Watching her retreat, Guinevere called after her:
"Sadly, with your Clan's current might, dreaming of my homeland is fanciful. I have confidence in my people's strength."
"Hah? You Pan-Human types are all so arrogant—fine, we'll see about that!" Nokknarei shot back over her shoulder.
"Indeed—let's see." Guinevere smiled.
…
[After bidding farewell, Nokknarei returned to her kitchen and resumed work.]
[Yet anxious over their conversation, she had her subordinates eavesdrop on Guinevere and Artoria.]
[They reported that Guinevere described her as somewhat 'mercurial in mood.']
With a bang, Nokknarei's head snapped onto the table.
"Why 'mercurial in mood'?!"