"A fanciful legend." He murmured. He had believed that Arthur and his knights were part of history not a story. It was likely parts, or somewhere, it was the first given that a woman claimed to be the King and future Queen's descendant. However, Lancelot found that the idea of being a story character instead wasn't as upsetting it might have been. Then given the number of reevaluation of self and adaptation of existence he'd done since a child, being a story character wasn't the worse thing to be or learn about oneself. However, those weren't thoughts for the moment.
Lancelot didn't point out that the entire moment wasn't impossible. In fact, that didn't even occur to him. That wasn't how he worked. He was too busy lamenting that the seal hadn't brought him with something from home - aside for his armor and it isn't like he carried that around. He did have his dagger but how was she to know that it was different from that of this time? That it could be viewed as a relic just from the material it was made with? She had taken it as if it was a natural thing to do.
"I cannot think of a way to prove to you that I am who I say, my lady. Nevertheless, I can show you that this not a purgatory. That, as mad as I may sound to you, that this is a place called Lawrence, Kansas, in a land called America." He hoped that at least America meant something for her. He couldn't recall when it had been discovered - the first time before that Columbus fellow. "A land opposite from the one you may be familiar to ... Europe?" Lancelot added. He only guessed as much both from her familiarity and her title - the way she spoke, not all too different from him but much more refined, also pointed to that. He was no detective, as he heard the term used, but he was observant.
Lancelot hoped that she knew what he was speaking of because he didn't think she would believe his simply pointing to a calender and wishing for the best; at least not if he did so out of the blue.