The Strange Maid

Because the light in the cell was too dim, he could not make out the maid's exact features—only that she had golden hair, a tall, slender figure, and delicate facial contours, clearly a rare beauty. Faintly, she even bore some resemblance to Artoria.

"Uh... hello?"

After several seconds of wide-eyed staring at each other, Guinevere snapped out of his daze, hid the broken chain behind him, and awkwardly greeted the maid, quickly adding an explanation:

"Um, I'm not planning to escape, really! I was just testing some magic I'll need for tomorrow's fight."

"Mm, I understand," she calmly nodded, then in a flat tone said,

"Would you like me to replace your chain with a new one?"

"Oh—yes, please. Thank you."

Though it felt strange that she did not summon guards but instead offered to swap his chain, Guinevere forced a nod. He watched as she actually unlocked the cell, produced another chain from who knew where, and walked over to replace the link on the wall behind him.

"What luck?!"

Guinevere's eyes flared with suspicion. Without thinking, he summoned the Flame pistol projection and swung the butt toward the maid's skull. If he could knock her out, he'd rush to free Artoria and make a swift escape—never mind Lord Tristan; his loyalty lay solely with Artoria!

Yet when the butt struck, it felt as if he'd hit reinforced concrete—no reaction from the maid, yet his hand throbbed as if numbed by the recoil. She silently turned her head, her sea-blue eyes meeting his with mild puzzlement.

No sign of being stunned?

What kind of opponent is this?

Guinevere was stunned. Ridiculous—such hidden talent in this New Darlington! Even a random maid is this formidable? Could this be some high-difficulty scenario?

"Uh... it was a mosquito! I saw one flying by, so I tried to swat it for you!"

Hastily holstering the projection and dispersing his magic, Guinevere raised empty hands defensively, ready to beg forgiveness. Unexpectedly, the maid showed no anger. She only shook her head, sighed, and said:

"Did you not know? For the forest-born and stone-born of the Fairy Kingdom, possessing iron is fundamentally different from not having it."

She gently took Guinevere's hand and replaced the chain. Her movements were so natural, like a wife straightening her husband's collar before he leaves for work, that Guinevere went along without any sense of wrongness—until a faint fragrance drifted to his nose, reminding him they were too close. He hastily stepped back, leaning his torso away to create distance.

Seeing his reaction, the maid did not comment further but sighed softly and explained:

"Iron's restraint over fairies is more than its capacity to cut or pierce physically. For most fairies, mere contact with iron can cause 'iron poisoning.' Not as severe as Mors poison but still troublesome."

Though she gave no sign of preventing his escape, recalling her uncanny strength, Guinevere felt he dared not attempt to flee.

"Moreover, many fairies set innate defensive miracles upon their bodies, difficult for humans to break. With iron, those curses can be more easily shattered. That's why, since the Queen's era, forging new iron weapons was forbidden—until Spriggan advised that ironworking was essential to human technological progress, and the ban was lifted. Compared to northern affairs or Mors matters, that reason outweighed others."

She continued,

"In other words, if you wanted to ambush a fairy, using your cuffs or chain as a weapon might be more effective than a magical weapon."

"Oh... oh..."

Guinevere, stunned by her earnest instruction on how to knock her out, nodded dumbly.

"...Excuse me, I seem to have said too much."

Noting his distraction, after finishing replacing his restraints, the maid stepped back and quietly said:

"Considering the old cuffs might chafe you, I've replaced them with a more comfortable pair, padded inside. The new chain is sturdier. You may even use it as a weapon, but be careful not to hurt yourself."

"This is... considerate," Guinevere muttered. "May I ask where you obtained these chains?"

"Just simple projection magic," she replied, then casually produced a necklace before him:

"Would you like me to leave one here as a spare?"

"No, thank you."

"Then please, have your meal. By Lord Bawanshi's order—since humans need food to sustain life energy—he commanded me to prepare dinner for you."

She bowed slightly and set before him the tray she'd brought earlier:

"For appetizer: a salad of fresh-picked vegetables. Main course: griffin haunch, prepared medium-rare given your palate, paired with smoked three-eyed fish and an omelet—should suit your appetite. I prepared fruit juice rather than alcohol. And, knowing you likely enjoy sweets, I brought plenty of desserts."

"This is what I prepared. Though it can't compare to your homeland's cuisine, I hope it won't disappoint."

"Uh?" Guinevere blinked. "You've never met me; how can you assume my tastes or appetite?"

"Just a maid's intuition. I believe you will be satisfied."

Indeed: considering the maid's martial prowess, Guinevere dared not complain even if the meal were dreadful. Better to accept it.

"Wow\~" Meanwhile, Artoria next door took two deep breaths, as if already smelling the aroma and feeling her appetite spike:

"What about me? What's my dinner?"

"I'm sorry; I did not prepare a portion for you. Neither Lord nor I arranged any dinner for you."

"Eh? Why not?" Artoria wailed.

"Is it not obvious? You do not fight tomorrow, and fairies do not starve. You are the Chosen One—do not look like a starving ghost."

Though the maid's tone was cold, Guinevere felt a sense of kindness beneath it. Yet her harsh tone toward Artoria sent chills through him.

Still, Guinevere felt compelled to speak:

"...I'm sorry. If there is no dinner for Artoria, then I won't eat either."

He set aside the silver cutlery:

"I share hardship with my companion. I cannot indulge while she goes hungry."

"Guinevere!" Artoria's delighted voice came through the wall; he sighed in relief. She'd heard and would not hold it against him once freed.

"Sigh..." The maid sighed and shook her head:

"If you insist, so be it. Eat this meal fully—it was crafted with care. I will prepare a separate dish for Artoria."

"Uh... very well."

Seeing her yield, Guinevere nodded.

Then she conjured many loaves of bread, sending them over to Artoria. Noticing his surprise, she explained:

"I anticipated this possibility and prepared in advance."

Despite this, Guinevere overheard Artoria muttering:

"All bread... such a clear contrast... why?"

After sending the bread, the maid bowed again to Guinevere:

"Since you might feel uneasy eating here alone, I'll take my leave. I have no reason to block your escape. I am but a maid; my duty is caring for those in need."

"However, I still advise against fleeing. Since the Queen's abdication, many knight-fairies who once wore enchanted armor have chosen new loyalties. Some pledge to Bawanshi, though few. Unluckily, the dungeon's sole exit is guarded by one such knight-fairy. With your and Artoria's current strength, your chance against her is zero."

"So, for your safety, remain here until tomorrow's Slave Swordsman Duel... Though Bawanshi's reputation is poor, blame lies with the guardian who failed to teach her. Her nature isn't bad—believe me, she's not a bad person. Please do not hate her."

"Oh, okay, okay." Guinevere repeatedly nodded.

"Before I go, may I ask your impression of the Fairy Kingdom? Are you satisfied with it?" The maid's sea-blue eyes studied him intently, showing genuine concern.

"Uh... that's hard to say," Guinevere hesitated, then spoke honestly:

"The country itself is quite beautiful, but its inhabitants... no speciesist intent, but the fairy birthrate seems too high, causing many negative effects. If their numbers could be greatly reduced, it might become a better nation."

"...I see. That makes sense."

After a pause, she nodded:

"In that case, please, on your journey ahead, shape this country into what you desire."

Saying this, the maid lifted her skirt slightly in a polite bow and departed at a measured pace.

"Wow\... Guinevere, did you know that maid?" Artoria eagerly asked through the wall, likely nibbling bread.

"No, I don't."

"Really? But she seemed so familiar with you; if a stranger, that's too forward..."

Before Guinevere could respond, Artoria realized how that sounded from his perspective. She swallowed her bread and corrected:

"Anyway, ignoring her odd hostility toward me, she seemed dignified—though I couldn't see her face, her speech felt aristocratic."

Guinevere, looking at the wall between them, thoughtfully nodded. Indeed, her every move exuded the bearing of a high-ranking lady, and her blunt manner toward Tristan suggested high standing—perhaps head maid who raised Tristan from childhood...?

"Eh? Pocky?!"

Spotting a large jar of Pocky among the snacks, Guinevere's eyes lit up. One lives for Pocky! He thought Britain had no Pocky, yet here was a generous supply from the maid. With Pocky in hand, tomorrow's battlefield seemed less daunting.

As for how to pass some to Artoria... he found no way, so he quietly devoured the feast alone. Surprisingly, the maid's intuition was accurate: quantity and flavor matched his tastes. But after the meal, what lay ahead? Could he survive the Duel?

As Guinevere worried about the future, a notification suddenly popped up:

[Ding—System update complete. New game mode and new Trait System loaded.]

[FATE/Destiny Simulation now open to players who completed the main story; Trait System online for all players.]

[Regular simulation mode maintenance finished; now available again.]

[Would you like to start a simulation immediately?]