Hearing this, the fairies began whispering among themselves again.
"Is it someone who resembles that member of the royal family?"
"Could it be a fairy from the royal family?"
"No, it can’t be. There should only be that one member of the royal family; there are no other fairies left."
"That’s strange, then. If not from the royal family or the three Fertile Tooth clans, and judging by Lord Woodworth’s reaction, not from the Winged clan either, could this ’Child of Prophecy’ be from the already extinct Mirror clan?"
"Didn’t the prophecy say that the Child of Prophecy is a fairy from Paradise?"
"Yes, the Child of Prophecy should be a fairy that doesn’t belong to any clan, only resembling that member of the royal family in appearance."
"Since they resemble that member of the royal family, they should not look too different from humans, right?"
"No wonder he claims to be human."
"No wonder he became an enemy set on overthrowing the Queen."
"But there is nothing strange about that, is there?"
"Exactly, it’s not as if there are no forces rebelling against the Queen. Whether it’s the Mors multiplying throughout Britannia, the calamity in the port city of Norwich, the royal family member in the north, the Round Table Army in southern Lentinien, or the recent revolt in Sheffield, more and more people are defying the Queen lately. Now there’s just one more."
"Then there’s that suspicious human known as Beryl Gate. He mentioned something about forces from outside Fairy Country invading soon, right?"
"Fairy Country really is riddled with problems now."
The fairies discussed among themselves .
However, the Queen remained silent.
"Black-haired, black-eyed boy with a sword..."
An exceedingly faint voice involuntarily escaped from the Queen’s mouth.
"...could it be you?"
Nobody could hear these words.
A while later, Tristan’s somewhat surprised calling voice awakened the Queen.
"Where is Elf Knight Lancelot?" The Queen’s voice was still icy as she asked, "Why is Sir Lancelot not present?"
The one who answered the question was not the two Elf Knights present, but Aurora, chieftain of the Wind clan.
"Lancelot is with me," Aurora’s gentle voice came from the projection, saying, "I’ve invited her to be my guest, and we’re planning to have tea together later."
"Aurora..." Woodworth let out a somewhat useless sound.
It can’t be helped; having one’s admired female invite a rival one sees as formidable to tea together was a hit... no, a fairy’s setback.
"Hehe, forgive me, Woodworth," said Aurora with a smile, "As you know, there are many fairies here who admire Lancelot. Everyone wishes to meet the most beautiful Elf Knight in Britannia; as their lord, I should understand the feelings of my subordinates and fulfill their wishes."
"So that’s how it is," Woodworth’s expression became considerably more pleasant, but still he said, "However, I think the most beautiful fairy in Britannia should be you, not that Lancelot, Aurora."
"Right, that Lancelot is not the most beautiful fairy," Tristan also found this statement extremely distasteful, saying, "Your Majesty is the most beautiful in Fairy Country."
Tristan’s assertion did not bring joy to the Queen.
She seemed completely uninterested and spoke coldly.
"Lancelot is in Salisbury; Gawain’s troops are also nearby in that area. Along with Aurora, a lord, and Woodworth near Tintagel, you four have now gathered in one place."
"Since that’s the case, I will issue this order to the four of you together," the Queen spoke to Gawain, Woodworth, and Aurora, "Bring me the boy suspected of being the Child of Prophecy. Bring him before me."
"Remember, I want him alive."
This command from the Queen made the three named fairies bow their heads in response together.
This room is a luxurious one.
The room is laid out in a medieval Nordic style, apparently a young girl’s boudoir for there are mirrors about and glass cabinets filled with high heels, indicating that it does not match the tastes of a boy but likely belongs to a female.
At one moment, a corner of the bedroom suddenly opened like a mirror, letting a figure emerge from within.
This person was none other than Tristan, who had just been in the Throne Hall.
"Really, how boring," Tristan returned to his room, sat on the bed, and complained, "I was right there before Her Majesty, yet there was hardly any chance to speak to her. What’s the point in that?"
As Tristan complained, he reached out with a small hand.
With just a light wave of that hand, a vase on the nightstand next to him suddenly flew out, hitting the wall and shattering into pieces.
"No fun at all, it’s really no fun."
"If I can’t talk with Her Majesty, then why should I attend such a boring meeting?"
"Whether clan leaders or those ambassadors, they’re all annoying people. I didn’t go to the meeting to see them."
"Ah, Mother dear, why don’t you just kill all those eyesores, letting them wail in agony drenched in blood until death?"
"When having me should be enough!"
As Tristan went on complaining sentence by sentence, with each complaint, his hand moved, causing furniture to fly out and shatter in a corner of the room.