Chapter 101: Table & Knights
I am watching the scene where those seated at the head of the table discuss the beauty of the tapestry and the taste of Malvasia wine, while missing the seeds of enlightenment and new topics being exchanged at the lower end.
–Michel de Montaigne, <Essays>
In the corner of the first floor of the East Wing of Buckingham Palace, there was a spacious tea room.
Like other rooms in the palace, it had windows, but they were designed so that the interior could not be seen from outside. This was a secret space known only to those who frequented the palace, and entry was forbidden to anyone not authorized.
Originally, this place was intended to be used as a waiting area for the Queen’s Champion before various ceremonies.
The Champion is an honorable warrior who receives the royal command to face the enemy.
Choosing one’s Champion before the coronation was a long-standing tradition of the British royal family.
However, Queen Victoria ignored the tradition and did not appoint her Champion after ascending the throne.
‘Abolishing the position of Champion is unacceptable!’
‘Consider the traditions of the royal family!’ ‘You must consider Westminster Abbey!!’
‘Your Majesty, please reconsider!!!’
It was a decision befitting her stubborn reputation.
The opposing ministers did not hesitate to challenge her in a tag-team duel, but the Sword Queen plucked a blooming white hydrangea from a nearby vase and knocked them all down.
The delicate petals were stained red with the ministers’ blood, but thanks to the aura surrounding them, they returned to the vase without any damage.
‘Why can only one Champion be chosen? I cannot accept this.’
Her argument was that it was more effective to gather several Champions rather than appoint just one.
The small reform that took place in the palace was symbolized by a pair of leather gauntlets hanging on the north wall of the tea room.
The wrist was adorned with tassels made of gold thread, decorated lavishly.
The back of the hand was fitted with several metal decorations resembling tiles, designed to protect the wearer.
The complex patterns painted over the decorations using cinnabar made the gauntlets’ bizarre beauty stand out even more.
Despite containing a long history, the gauntlets showed no signs of aging, exuding a mysterious aura, and were called the Champion’s Gauntlet.
Even if the owner committed a grave sin (except for treason) that required paying with their life, they could avoid death by removing one of the decorations on the back of the hand.
The Gauntlets were originally a token meant to be held by the head of the Dymoke Family, who traditionally served as the Champion of the British king, or by a renowned martial artist who defeated him in a duel to prove their worth, but this time they hung lonely on the wall without an owner.
A king who does not choose an owner for the Champion’s Gauntlet is unprecedented in the long history of the British royal family.
As she had warned her ministers, the Queen decided to use the authority of the gauntlets in a different way instead of appointing a Champion.
‘Where is the one who will become my sword?’
She summoned the best martial artists from all over Britain, regardless of age, gender, or clan, to the palace under one name.
In the center of the tea room, a large stained glass table made with abundant use of Seven-Colored Crystals and eternal Cold Iron stood as the pinnacle of British Kung-Fu.
The thirteen chairs arranged around the round table, which had no head or foot, granted those seated the right to discuss Kung-Fu and perform chivalry at the same level as the ruler of Britain.
Sitting at the table meant being the highest force of Britain.
The eleven grandmasters, who were called the embodiment of British Kung-Fu.
An alien group that followed only the Sword Queen’s orders absolutely, possessing equal rights beyond social status, and were allowed autonomous killing.
And on the day when Great Britain faced an unavoidable national crisis, they were given the mission to split the sea and control the waves as the Sword of Britain.
The Knights of the Turntable.
This was a name created in honor of an old legend and referred to the guardians of the golden age.
Every time the warm breeze of May blows, rumors circulate in the streets of London.
They say that the present and future of European Kung-Fu are reflected in the pond of the English Palace.
A mysterious rumor reminiscent of an old fairy tale.
No one remembers exactly when these rumors began to circulate in the city, but those who frequented Buckingham Palace knew their origin.
Certainly, the commoners’ tales that looking into the palace pond would reveal the present and future of Kung-Fu were nothing but fanciful stories.
However, the fact that one could observe the power dynamics of European Kung-Fu and the potential of the younger generation at Buckingham in spring was a kind of common knowledge shared by all of London’s upper class.
May 19th.
In front of the East Wing of Buckingham Palace, a rare spectacle unfolded as distinguished guests and renowned martial artists from Britain and abroad entered the palace one by one.
Not only the debutantes and their masters recognized by The Royal Combat Society and the League of Gentlemen, but also representatives of friendly factions, governors of overseas territories, and renowned masters from other countries.
All of them were those who had received invitations to the Spring Court Ball.
The source of the rumors circulating in the world was proven not to be mere fantasy by the long line of majestic carriages.
With such a crowd gathering, it was only natural for the commoners to notice something happening at the palace and for rumors to snowball.
However, among the many rumors about Buckingham circulating in the streets, there had never been a story about the secret space somewhere in the East Wing.
That’s right.
This is the Turntable Room located in the corner of the first floor of the East Wing.
A tea room decorated with luxurious oriental artworks brought from the Royal Pavilion, George IV’s summer palace in Brighton.
In the interior, where the table shaped with stained glass depicting the Union Jack and the royal emblem scattered a soft glow in the sunlight, martial artists who had entered the palace with invitations personally signed by the Sword Queen gathered.
The Turntable Room is a distinguished space where only a select few martial artists, the Sword Queen, and royal attendants serving tea are allowed entry.
Only a few across Britain had the qualifications to set foot in this place, which rejected unauthorized access through the power of formations.
A loose gathering of individuals with different origins and affiliations, united only by their Kung-Fu prowess and a minimum sense of chivalry to discuss the best of Britain.
As masters representing Great Britain, they all possessed perfectly refined Qi Frequencies, but most of those gathered today maintained an irreverent attitude, except for one.
Someone leaned back leisurely in their chair, reading a secret manual on Unorthodox alchemy.
Someone sat at the round table, humming a tune while holding a camera.
Another sat upright, puffing smoke from a long pipe.
Perhaps, acting as if this place were their own living room without any regard for palace etiquette revealed their status.
Martial artists invited by the Queen to the Turntable Room enjoyed the privilege of acting freely, beyond the strict rules of the palace.
“…There are especially many guests this year.”
In the tea room, where only simple greetings had been exchanged for over an hour since gathering, a heavy voice broke the silence.
The owner of the voice was an old man in an army uniform.
After arriving, he had only nodded slightly and smoked continuously, expressing no other intention before posing the question.
“Well, it’s because the Sword Queen has reached the Unrestrained Realm. Having received an invitation, it is only right to attend and celebrate the blessing of the martial world.”
The one who answered was a man with neatly parted black hair tinged with blue.
“Is that really all? The number of those from abroad doesn’t seem small either. Most of them probably came not just to celebrate, but to witness directly the realm of the greatest Sword in Britain.”
“…If that’s true, it can certainly be considered an irreverent intention.”
The man, who was enjoying tea and snacks in an exemplary manner befitting a British gentleman, nodded at the soldier’s words.
“Still, isn’t it a good day? There’s nothing wrong with having many people.”
“I agree. As long as no one tries to spoil the occasion.”
Someone who tries to spoil the occasion.
As a veteran who had fought in wars for a long time, his choice of words showed no sign of complacency, drawing everyone’s attention to the general.
It seemed that only the man he was conversing with was listening, but the silver-haired old man buried in the alchemy book and the young-looking girl fiddling with a large camera at the table were also discreetly paying attention to their conversation.
The numerous medals on his uniform were not merely decorations.
The intuition of the general, who had faced countless enemies of Great Britain since the Battle of Waterloo, could not be ignored.
The presence of an uninvited guest on an auspicious day is always a nuisance.
Considering that a few years ago, spies or assassins from other countries had infiltrated the Court Ball, it could not be uttered with certainty that such an incident would not occur this year.
“…Yes. Having many guests is a good thing. However—”
In the end, the old man who had been engrossed in the irreverent book could not resist and joined the conversation.
“It’s troublesome when annoying people get involved.”
At the Turntable, there was no head or foot, so everyone seated had equal status, but in the seniority-based society of Britain, the old man’s position was overwhelming.
The two men nodded in agreement.
The pink-haired girl, who looked just past the age of learning, ignored whatever the old man said and was engrossed in her hobby.
“That’s right. Previously, the chief hunting advisor captured the intruder in time, but this year, a more difficult opponent might have infiltrated.”
The main duty of the Mouser, one of which existed in Buckingham and another in the cabinet department, was to eliminate intruders, and in this field, Sir White Heather possessed an unparalleled sense of smell, intelligence, and profound inner strength.
However, now that the rumor that the Sword Queen had joined the one of the few in all of Europe to have surpassed her inner demon and reached the Unrestrained Realm had spread across Europe, the possibility could not be ruled out that a country or clan, which had been secretly trying to check Britain while seemingly maintaining smooth relations, might make a bold move.
The birth of a warrior in the Unrestrained Realm was such a monumental event.
“…Come to think of it, the intuition of the Slanted Sleeve has never been wrong. I also remember having a restless dream last night.”
The old soldier cast a sidelong glance at the old man who mentioned him.
Old martial artists who have survived for a long time do not take intuition lightly.
This time, too, the premonition held by the two became reality in just a few seconds.