Crazy Britain:They’re All Raising Me

"Gawain? What brings you here?"

Standing at the doorway, Guinevere looked at the silent fae knight, Gawain, and asked with some surprise.

"Ah... well..."

On the other side, upon hearing Guinevere's question, Bagst didn't respond right away. Instead, she froze in place.

Even in her own mind, a question surfaced:

Right... Why did she come looking for Guinevere?

—First and foremost, she admired Guinevere deeply.

After the collapse of everything she once relied on—after she had lost all hope in herself and in the people she was supposed to protect—she had come dangerously close to destroying it all. Especially those demonic subjects of hers.

Even now, she didn't think that exterminating those demons was the wrong decision. What she regretted was her method. She had allowed hatred to consume her reason, let herself become the Black Hound—a calamity that devoured all. The consequences of that transformation were more than she could bear.

In that blood-soaked dream, she had watched herself consume everything she was supposed to protect—and everything she was meant to oppose. No matter how much her fading consciousness screamed, she couldn't stop any of it.

It was Guinevere who ended it all. Bathed in radiant holy light, that knight who raised the sacred sword overlapped perfectly with the image of a knight she had once revered with all her heart.

In that crimson nightmare, the sinful, hopeless version of herself being cut down by the knight she idolized—that was perhaps the best ending that dream could offer.

He ended her sins. He saved her soul. As she was engulfed by the brilliance of that sacred sword, it was as if her heart had been redeemed.

But that wasn't the true reason Bagst's heart turned to him.

What truly stuck in her memory—what she could never forget—was a different image: deep within her mind, she saw the blacksmith with only one arm, covered in wounds, standing before her when she had become the Black Hound.

In that simulation, he didn't have the overwhelming power he would possess later as the sacred sword-bearer. In that timeline, he was just an ordinary blacksmith.

Yet still, he had thrown himself before her without hesitation—like a moth to flame. Even knowing he had no chance of winning, he chose to fight on.

And in that moment, he had answered a question that tormented her:

Why keep fighting, even when you know it's meaningless?

The answer was simple. It wasn't a matter of winning or losing. He fought because he had a reason to fight.

It wasn't that victory made the fight worthwhile—it was that fighting made victory possible.

His answer had cut through the fog of her despair. Just when she was about to give up, he gave her a reason—however small—to keep going. Like a drowning person grabbing a final straw.

So, in the many times afterward that she watched him achieve the impossible again and again, her heart quietly rejoiced.

Because that man had proven to her that as long as one did not give up hope, the future—and the ending—could always be rewritten.

And that's when Bagst made a decision: she would stand by this man's side.

Of course, unlike romantic fools like Artoria, Barvain, and Noknare, she didn't dream of falling in love with him or possessing him. She simply wanted to follow in his footsteps—to become his knight. To protect him. To serve his cause. Like a Knight of the Round Table following King Arthur, she would uphold his ideals and help him become Britain's king.

Granted, that didn't mean she had zero feelings for him...

But she knew that someone like her—who couldn't even distinguish between lust and hunger—wasn't qualified. She couldn't endure the pain of being consumed by love again.

For her now, simply being able to help him with her strength was already the greatest gift.

...Though, due to a certain idiotic dragon knocking her out and tossing her into prison, she'd barely had any chance to interact with Guinevere properly.

Not until after everything was over and she officially joined his ranks.

And even then, any time she did meet him, it was either in the middle of a brutal battle—or she'd end up unconscious. By the time she woke up, poof, Guinevere was gone.

So now, when she finally had a rare opportunity to speak with him properly, she wasn't going to waste it. On the way back, she'd been unable to get near him because of Artoria and the others hovering around him nonstop—so she had to wait until nightfall.

As for what exactly she wanted to talk to him about... honestly, she didn't know.

She just wanted to talk to him. What they talked about didn't matter. She hadn't prepared any topics.

She just wanted to be around him.

...But was that really something she could say out loud?

As Guinevere looked at her in confusion, Bagst stiffened.

If she told him the truth—that she'd had a dream about him, admired him immensely, decided to follow him, and came to see him late at night for no special reason...

Wouldn't he think she was some kind of crazy stalker? And throw her out?

"Um... well... I..."

Seeing Bagst stammer, faltering and shy, Guinevere blinked, then let out a soft sigh. He opened the door wider and stepped back, gesturing inside:

"In any case, don't just stand at the door, Miss Gawain. Come in. Noknare gave me a pretty spacious room here."

"Oh! Thank you very much!"

Bagst blinked, then quickly nodded with a spark of joy in her eyes.

"Then I shall respectfully accept your hospitality!"

"...?" Guinevere looked even more confused at her enthusiasm.

Wait, why was she so happy? He was just being polite, not inviting her into a treasure vault or something...

Still full of doubt, he courteously pulled out a chair for her and poured them both a glass of water.

"So then, Miss Gawain, what brings you here so late?"

Once they were seated, Guinevere took a sip and asked casually.

"Uh, give me a second, I haven't... come up with anything yet."

"Pfft—" Guinevere nearly spat out his water and stared at her, stunned. "Wait, what?"

"Um... I mean, I haven't figured out how to say it yet."

Realizing her blunder, Bagst quickly corrected herself.

"Oh... scared me for a second there." Guinevere let out a relieved sigh, then chuckled:

"The way you said that just now... it sounded like you came here with ulterior motives and couldn't think of a good excuse."

And then... Bagst suddenly fell silent.

"...Wait, if that joke was out of line, at least say something. Don't just sit there all quiet."

Guinevere started to panic.

No way... She couldn't really be here for something shady, right?

But what would she even be after?

Guinevere pondered seriously.

...Surely it wasn't seduction, right?

That didn't make sense. He and Bagst barely interacted—aside from taking her in as an underling in one route, and rescuing her in the North with Artoria and the others, they hadn't exchanged more than a few words.

If you went even further back... technically, they were enemies. He had even slain her once when she became a disaster.

Logically, they had no real connection...

Unless—was he some kind of walking aphrodisiac? Did Bagst fall for him just from a glance?

Couldn't be... right?

As he tried to dismiss the idea, images of Artoria, Barvain, Noknare, and even Ritsuka Fujimaru flashed through his mind.

...Right?

Guinevere began to waver.

Thankfully, Bagst finally spoke again:

"Um... sorry, did I make you misunderstand? I... I'm just not very good with words. I was trying to figure out how to respond."

"Oh, thank goodness." Guinevere exhaled in relief and silently cursed himself:

What the hell, dude. You think every woman who looks at you is in love with you? Get over yourself, shrimp-head.

While he was silently roasting himself, another stray thought popped into his mind:

Still... considering Bagst's physique, if she did want to make a move on him, it might not be that hard...

At that moment, Bagst finally blurted out:

"It's just, um... Guinevere, sir—I wanted to ask you about what it means to be a true knight."

"Oh, I see..." Guinevere nodded lightly. But then he chuckled awkwardly:

"Though, I think you might've asked the wrong guy, Miss Gawain. I'm just an ordinary man—maybe with some basic sword and gun skills. In this regard, you're the renowned knight of the Fae Kingdom. Who am I to give you advice on knighthood?"

"No, I think you're being far too modest. From any perspective, you're an exceptional warrior... But that's not exactly what I wanted to ask."

She paused, choosing her words carefully.

"What I wanted to discuss is the path of a knight. In your opinion, what kind of knight can truly be called an excellent one?"

"Oh, and by the way—you don't have to keep calling me Miss Gawain. Just 'Bagst' is fine."

"Hmm? You sure?" Guinevere blinked. "Didn't I hear on the way back that your name was given by Queen Morgan to bind your curse?"

"That's true. But if it's just one or two people using my real name, it's not a big deal. Besides... I want you to call me that."

"Alright then. But in that case, don't be so formal with me either. Just call me by my name."

Guinevere nodded, still feeling like something was a little off, but agreeing to her small request.

"So... the knight's path, huh?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"If you're asking me about knightly virtues and such, I'm probably not the best source. But... I do know some people who could truly be called knights—and I know their stories. Would it be alright if I shared those instead?"

"?!"

Bagst's eyes lit up instantly. Even someone as dense as Guinevere could tell how excited she was—and he felt a bit relieved.

"In that case, let's start there."

But just as he was about to begin, Guinevere suddenly realized—he barely remembered anything about the actual Round Table or Charlemagne's paladins...

If he had to recount their tales from memory, he'd be screwed.

After a moment of consideration, he thought: Bagst just wanted to hear about knightly virtues, right?

In that case, why stick to knights from this world?

Who said stories from other worlds didn't count?

"Let me think... When it comes to knights, why don't we start with someone nicknamed the 'Onion Knight'?"

"His name was... Siegward of Catarina."