Guinevere sat in the attic of the Royal Court.
King Arthur was still in his office studying the war maps and had no intention of coming back to bed.
In the past, Guinevere hadn't cared about such things, but now all she felt was endless pain and heartache.
There was an open terrace in the attic, and that was where Guinevere was.
The sky had grown completely dark, and the chill of deep winter stirred Guinevere's hair.
Guinevere suddenly noticed someone entering the park below.
Wearing distinctive purple armor, the tall knight sat dejectedly on the ground, holding his head.
In the moonlight, Guinevere could just make out the knight's face. He had attended her wedding to Arthur and was well known throughout Britain.
His name was Lancelot, the son of Anno, the Chalk Knight.
Why was he here?
After thinking it over, Guinevere called for her maid, came down from the attic, and walked toward the park.
Lancelot had an abrupt sense that he had betrayed the person he loved, even though he hadn't done it of his own accord.
As he agonized over it, he suddenly felt the grass tremble.
Someone was coming.
He instinctively raised his head and saw two women walking toward him.
One was dressed as a maid. The other was someone he knew.
Someone toward whom he had very complicated feelings.
His beloved King Arthur's wife—Guinevere.
Guinevere's expression was cold. "Knight, why are you here at this hour?"
"Your Majesty..." He gritted his teeth and avoided looking at Guinevere. "I'm just here to clear my head."
Looking at Lancelot, who was clearly troubled, Guinevere felt an inexplicable sympathy, as if they shared the same sorrow.
But a knight and a queen could not speak too freely.
She sighed. "It's getting late, and the weather