Hello, here's a surprise early installment, this chapter came together quicker than I'd expected.

Special Thanks to Mundatorem for giving me the lightbulb moment that lead to the first half of the chapter. He was right, Bedivere needed more screen-time.

Now for the response section:

To Kageroudaze13: The info I based the world-building on is a mix of real-life history and Arthurian legend. Canon is basically a huge white-space as far as this time period's concerned, so I needed to do stuff like that. Strangely, Arthurian legend has a habit of absorbing real-life people (such as Urien, Mark, Gwallog, etc) into the legends and changing some details about them, so there's some overlap there.

To Arctic Fox 322: Regarding the Kay conversation, I wasn't able to find an English translation of that, so all I really have to work off of is a translation of his bit in Garden of Avalon from Beast's Lair. If you can point me towards one, that would be appreciated.

And regarding the Avalon Ending... oh boy. I will say this, there's a reason I picked the original VN as the basis of this story, and not the Realta Nua remake. The Avalon Ending is absent from the original VN, which essentially means that Artoria met her end under that tree and Shirou just spent the rest of his life knowing that he'd loved Saber. That struck me as absolute tragedy, which is part of my reason for writing this. Realta Nua Shirou got to reunite with Saber in Avalon, but Original Shirou and Original Artoria deserved more than fond memories of those two weeks and the right to die peacefully. THAT is why I'm doing things this way, this is the closest thing to a true happy ending that can happen in that timeline in my opinion.

To Ricsi0309: Your comment is something to be addressed in this chapter. Shirou's conflict is that being a soldier fighting a war is a whole different animal than being a hero killing in defense of others.

To Glasses Writer: Firstly, he already has tracing, he's been doing it with Merlin. Please see chapter 6. He's just got the false impression Rin gave him that tracing noble phantasms should destroy his nervous system, (she practically called him a liar when he said his arm was still working) so he's cautious of doing that outside emergencies. He does have access to noble phantasms, but the ones that are actually useful to Fate Shirou (i.e, actual swords that aren't cursed) can be counted on one hand.

Anyways, here's the chapter. Things are about to take off now.

Shirou

Thunk

Wait for it…

For a long moment, the massive oak teetered on its stump.

Then a sharp crack echoed across the field. The tree slowly began to tilt, branches snapping as it toppled over and landed with a thunderous crash.

From my position three hundred yards away, I let out a satisfied hum, gave myself a pat on the back, and turned off my circuits.

There was enough lumber in that tree for half a cabin, easy. This should make me some friends among the soldiers, the bunks were getting crowded.

Slinging my bow over my shoulder, I jogged over to the fallen oak to get a closer look. When I got there, I whistled.

"Half a cabin" might have been underselling things. The trunk was longer than a school bus, and a foot taller than I was laying on its side. Definitely calling a work crew to cut this up.

Filing away that thought, I walked along the fallen tree to its ragged stump. Being a lumberjack was dangerous work on its own, without the added threat of sharp objects.

Well, even more sharp objects.

Hidden among the mess of woodchips, dozens of sword-arrows jutted out of the stump. With Kay and Merlin out of town with Artoria on a diplomatic mission, I was limited to self-study for the foreseeable future, and decided to kill three birds with one stone. Magecraft, archery, and woodcutting all at once? Talk about multitasking.

I set about dismissing the projected arrows one by one, starting at the top where they were easier to access. The ones further down were buried to the fletches in the stump, and would take some digging to expose. These things packed a punch! Imagine what they'd do to a softer target—

'Stop. Don't think about it.'

My fists clenched. Alright, that was enough archery practice for today.

Dismissing the rest of the arrows, I raced up the ridge separating me from Caer Afon's fort. Distant rhythmic thumps warned me that the soldiers were up to something, and when I crested the top, my suspicions were proven right. They were drilling in the meadow below.

Bedivere was leading the men on a wide circuit around the training field, putting them through their paces. Like a bizarre game of tag, he would ride ahead of the column, then they would march over and execute a new maneuver. They were formed up in a kneeling hedgehog formation when I passed through the gate.

The fort was practically deserted with most of the soldiers gone, but Peredur was easy to locate in his quarters. The captain was eating a sandwich when I crossed the threshold, and paused mid-bite to glance up at me.

"Oh! Afternoon Shirou, I meant to track you down after lunch."

That brought me up short. "Really? What for?"

"Sir Bedivere asked me to pass along a message, he wants to meet with you once the drill's over."

Bedivere?

Barring dinnertime and the odd day where bad weather forced everyone inside, the man was a ghost. He'd leave before the crack of dawn each morning, come back for dinner, then turn in early for the night. Since I was training under Kay and Merlin, and he was training the soldiers, our paths rarely crossed. I was curious, what did he need me for?

I bobbed my head. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Not a problem," he replied. "Say, why did you come here anyways?"

"Well, I came to see you about a tree…"

Two hours and one explanation later, I found myself entering Bedivere's command tent for our meeting. Once inside, I took a look around the place and decided that yep, I could see why he practically lived here.

The tent's interior looked like a conspiracy theorist's home office. Each wall was plastered with maps, and each map was covered with colored pins connected by lengths of thread. The man himself sat at a large table piled high with letters, reports, and other assorted papers, overflowing onto yet more piles dotted around it.

I pitied the guy. This office looked like it was designed for a workaholic octopus, not a human being. Meanwhile, Bedivere was missing an arm, and still stayed on top of this workload with zero complaints.

The silver-haired knight was engrossed in a piece of paperwork when I ducked through the entrance, but looked up when the tent-flap closed behind me.

"Welcome Shirou, how has your day been? Please, sit down." He set down his pen and beckoned me towards an empty chair.

I plopped down in the offered seat. "Not too bad, got some training done, then I got lectured by Peredur for giving him extra work."

Turns out, the men hadn't been happy to deal with that tree after drilling for three hours. Some of them shot me dirty looks on the trip over here.

He quirked his lips. "Ah, your experiment in magical forestry. I applaud your initiative, but please give some advance warning next time, for the sake of the poor trainees. But that leads into my reason for calling you here. As of today, you have been in training for a full year. While Kay has not deemed you fit for knighthood, your talents are still of use to us."

A full year already? Wow, time flies.

"So what were you thinking?"

Bedivere furrowed his brow. "That is the question I have been asking myself. You are too inexperienced at melee combat to be a knight, not to mention lacking a horse. You have been separated from the infantry all this time, so no putting you there. The logical place would be the archers' contingent, but you are the only bowman in our whole force."

He shot me a quizzical look. "That is why you are here. Reports of Angle raids are increasing rapidly, so we ought to march any day now. Meanwhile, I have no idea what to do with you. I understand that you are a magus archer possessing some skill with the sword, but I lack the finer details. Would you enlighten me?"

'Oh.'

So, this was it. The day I'd been dreading.

I never had illusions that becoming a superhero was easy. Kiritsugu himself had failed to reach his dream, and if charging into the flames to save a life wasn't enough, then how could I ever compare?

But the dream had been beautiful. Even if I could never be the man who saved everyone in his sight, the ideal was one worth striving for.

Years went by, and the dream grew further and further away. The Grail War taught me that sometimes, it was impossible to save everyone. When two sides came to blows, you needed to make a choice. Who would you save, and who would you punish? Shinji and Kotomine had been obvious villains, but it pained me to see Kiritsugu's dream slip out of my grasp.

The raid on Caer Afon had been more of the same, only magnified. Dozens of raiders were killed to save hundreds of people. The dream receded into the distance, until one day Kay forced me to see the truth.

Soldiers weren't superheroes.

They didn't save lives, they ended them. A soldier was sent out to kill and kill and kill until the danger threatening their country was destroyed, and then they were recalled until the next threat appeared.

That led me to one conclusion: If I fought in this war, I could never call myself a superhero.

The very thought made me want to scream. Fate had handed me an impossible choice, abandoning my ideals, or abandoning Artoria. One oath betrayed for the other.

The decision kept me up all night, but by the time the sun rose, my choice was made.

Kiritsugu said it himself, his dream was unreachable. As long as two people fought, saving one would hurt the other, protecting everyone was an impossible contradiction. I couldn't leave Artoria's side to chase the impossible.

Her court had been full of people like that, men demanding that she be their perfect, selfless king that ruled them without making any mistakes and saved them from the invaders. Then they got what they wanted, and abandoned her for not being human enough. I couldn't let their hypocrisy infect me, not when her life was on the line.

I had sworn to help save Britain, and save her along with it. She needed someone that would stand by her side to the very end. Someone who would treat her like a human being instead of worshipping her like a golden idol. Otherwise, she would wither inside that suit of armor until she met her end on that lonely hill.

So no, I couldn't be a superhero, but I would be in good company. Kiritsugu had failed, and his tearful smile had been beautiful. I could only hope to smile like that when Artoria found happiness.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Well, to start off, I can reliably hit a target with a normal arrow at three hundred yards without reinforcing my bow, and do the same with a sword-arrow using reinforcement."

"Sword-arrow?"

A moment later, Bedivere blinked at the steel bolt resting in my hands.

"My, that is certainly something. And you can reliably put these on target?"

"Yeah, aiming's a lot easier when you can reinforce your eyes."

He rubbed his chin. "That does sound useful. What other magecraft can you do?"

I grimaced. "What you saw was pretty much everything. Merlin's been teaching me how to make illusory bounded fields, but those are stationary, not exactly fit for battle. We're working on fixing one to a cloak to make it portable, but that's still a ways off."

Bedivere bent over his desk, resting his chin on his hand.

The knight had a calculating glint in his eyes.

I caught him muttering feverishly under his breath, before he jerked up in his seat.

"I have it! I know just what to do with you." He cocked his head. "Tell me Shirou, do you know what a marksman is?"

"Um, someone really good at shooting?" I thought it was more a rifle thing than an archery thing.

"In part, but there is more to it than that. A marksman is a skilled archer sent after high-value targets. Between your long-range accuracy and ability to conceal yourself, it would be the perfect role for you."

My stomach lurched.

"Like an assassin?"

I knew I had to kill people, but becoming a cold-blooded murderer?

"No, no, no. Nothing so despicable." Bedivere waved the thought away. He made to speak, but paused.

"Shirou, could you tell me why you joined our cause?"

"I wanted to save people."

Where was this going?

His face lit up. "A noble sentiment. For all that knighthood is an honorable calling, far too many take up the sword in search of glory or the thrill of battle."

"But let us return to our discussion. A marksman seeks out high-value targets, what do you think that means?"

"I don't know, officers, commanders, people like that?"

"Exactly. Now can you tell me why?"

I stopped to think. Bedivere was leading me somewhere, but nothing jumped out at me.

"To… throw the army into confusion? Without officers commanding the men, nobody would know what to do."

He nodded. "That is one reason, but the second is more important. To illustrate, do you know what standard bearers are for?"

"I don't know, what?"

"They have two purposes. Firstly, to tell the commander where a unit is. And second, flying the colors bolsters the men's morale. That is why the standard is surrounded by a color guard of battle-hardened veterans. If the standard fell, it would confuse and demoralize the men."

"And the same can be said of kings. Few things can inspire men better than a king willing to put their life on the line."

Bedivere smiled wistfully. "Arthur is just that sort of king. I remember the day I first met him. My former lord was determined to marry King Brychan's daughter, and brought three hundred men to force the issue. Of course, the king could not accept this lying down, and our two forces nearly came to blows. But just as the battle was set to begin, a tiny boy, no higher than my chest, stepped between our two armies, and said this. 'Halt! Look at you two! Our people are headed for death, and here you stand ready to slaughter more? You are kings, act like it! A king lives to protect their subjects, do not send them to die for the sake of your petty quarrel."

I couldn't help the grin that appeared. That sounded just like her.

"Did they really stop because of that?"

He snorted. "Oh no, they all started laughing. The king did not cut the most intimidating figure, you see." Then he smirked. "But they quickly changed their tune when he drew Caliburn and the sword lit up like a torch. The look on Gwynllyw's face was priceless."

Bedivere's face clouded over. "But by the same token, losing one's king in battle is devastating. Many armies will simply melt when the king falls."

He absently rubbed his right shoulder.

"Are you okay Bedivere?"

"Yes! I am quite alright, just… remembering darker days." The knight shook his head and kept speaking. "I believe that you already know this fact, given you slew the leader during the Saxon raid."

Hmm. He had a point, that was exactly why I charged him.

Something must have shown on my face, since he continued. "You see? A force of sixty raiders, thrown into chaos with the death of one man. Which brings us back to your role."

Had Bedivere always been that tall?

The silver-haired knight had risen from his chair to tower over me. "A pitched battle is an ugly thing. Armies crash together in waves while the dead pile high between them, until one side finally tires of the bloodshed and shatters. But as a marksman, you would have the unique opportunity to save lives while taking them. Unlike the king, us knights, or the common infantry, you hold the power to end a battle with the death of a single man. What say you?"

…Why couldn't Bedivere have been my sword instructor!?

This information would have been helpful to have, six months ago!

A hateful little part of me howled to bury my boot ankle-deep in Kay's crotch for putting me through that little slice of hell, see how he liked it.

But as quick as it ignited, my rage guttered out.

I'd made my choice, there was no use getting angry about the way things could have been.

I'd given up on my dream, but just because I'd stopped chasing the ideal, didn't mean I couldn't do good. Here was my chance to make a difference. Here was my chance to save people.

And here was my chance to stand by Artoria's side, without 'murdering Saxons by the bushel.'

I quickly nodded. "That sounds good to me."

Bedivere beamed. "Splendid. It will be a pleasure serving with you."

Before I could respond to that, the tent flap flew open, admitting a panting, sweaty man in leather armor.

The soldier looked like he'd run an all-night marathon through a hedge maze. Bits of twigs and leaves were trapped in his armor, and his face was beet-red, with dark circles under his eyes.

"My…my lord! A message from Durobrivae."

He opened his satchel and whipped out a letter, practically throwing it at Bedivere.

The alarmed knight carefully unfolded the letter, and began to read.

His face grew whiter by the second.

When he finished, he shakily placed it on one of the piles.

"Good man, you did your people proud, get some rest."

Softly wheezing, the soldier bowed out of the tent.

"What's wrong?"

Bedivere sent me a grave look. "What is wrong, is that we need to march, and our king is missing."

Artoria

I once heard a man claim that the marketplace is a city's beating heart.

He went on to explain that much like said organ, the health of a marketplace reveals the state of a city's people. Are greengrocers scarce, implying a food shortage? Perhaps beggars gather there, showing the city has fallen on hard times? A careful observer could spot these things if they took the time to look.

That may have been Kay making excuses to go hunt for a bottle of mead, but I was hardly in a rush to go anywhere. Our escort to King Cyngen's court was not due for another hour, so I took the chance to people-watch from my seat by the fountain.

The usual merchants were out in force today. A fishmonger had set up shop beside the disused pillory and stood hawking his wares. A group of farmers with carts full of cabbages, leeks, and ugh, potatoes, haggled with a knot of customers near an old Roman statue. And over by the south entrance, wealthier clients clustered around a soap merchant on their way to the bathhouse across the road.

It was clear that Viroconium's economic health was in good shape, but another detail struck me as peculiar.

The forum was crawling with soldiers.

Spearmen lining the walls, spearmen by the gates, hell, there was even a squad camped out to my right, with an awfully surly fellow glowering at me!

I glared right back, and he jumped and sprawled on the cobbles. His squadmates guffawed loudly.

"Careful Culhwch, don't let the scary little boy eat you!"

Red in the face, the soldier scrambled to his feet and stormed off.

Culhwch? Hoh, the name suited him. Only fitting that the fool shared a name with Kay's creepy cousin with the giant fetish.

Still, his friend's words had stung. Two years since I drew Caliburn, and I had not grown an inch. Merlin could play coy all he wished, but it was clear that my sword was to blame. Even if I finished growing at five feet tall, I would have grown in other ways by now. It was getting ridiculous! Kay and Bedivere were head and shoulders above me, and even Shirou was shooting up like a weed—

"Now what's got your knickers in a bunch?"

Kay crept up beside me, holding an apple and—yes, a bottle of mead.

I carefully schooled my expression. "Nothing Kay, just a local soldier making faces."

He looked askance at the remaining soldiers, but they snickered and shook their heads. "Did you scare him off? I remember you could unleash a fearsome pout when you were cross with me."

"Just… just forget it. We should return to the inn before our escort gets there."

Rising to my feet, I started towards the north gate.

Kay fell in step beside me, giving me a shrewd look. "So tell me Arthur, what did you notice?"

Was he being serious earlier?

"Two things. Firstly, there is an awful lot of produce for sale. And secondly, the square is full of soldiers."

"And what does that tell you?"

"Well to start with, there must be an awful lot of happy farmers in Powys."

Britain's perennial famines were killing us just as surely as the Saxons, which made the apparent bumper crop welcome news.

"And the other thing?"

Now that, I was not so sure about. During our visit last year, Cyngen had mentioned Rience attempting to strong-arm him into swearing fealty, but there had been no news of war to date.

In fact, I was cautiously optimistic. Viroconium was nowhere near the border with Gwynedd, if anywhere, troops should be massing in Deva. If Cyngen could afford to garrison his capital with so many soldiers, then perhaps we would get his support this time?

"It tells me this mission will be fruitful."

Kay made a face. "Still think you're being unrealistic, but I know there's no persuading you. Just remember this, hope is the first step on the road to disappointment."

What a ghastly thing to say!

"Where did that come from? You have never struck me as a pessimist, what do you have to be gloomy about?"

He scowled. "Try going a year without a woman's touch, and see how that helps your mood."

My cheeks burned. Of all the things—!

"Kay, if you are so desperate for… companionship, there must be plenty of willing women back in town."

"Heh, yeah right. A bunch of hard-handed farm girls, that lot."

I made a face. "Really? That hardly stopped you from getting fresh with the milkmaid."

Kay's sudden coughing fit was music to my ears. A rare verbal victory for Artoria Pendragon!

"Leave Gwen out of this!"

Kay 0, Artoria 1

The rest of our journey passed in blessed silence, and we arrived back at the inn with a half hour to spare. Merlin, not one to sit quietly and wait, was in the tavern on the ground floor, putting on a light show for our fellow boarders.

It took my breath away.

Under a false night sky twinkling with prismatic starbursts, shoals of deep-sea fish dyed in the colors of the rainbow flitted about the delighted patrons. A royal-blue salmon almost swam into my open mouth, before dissolving in a puff of sparkles.

Part of me thanked Merlin for restoring some of the wonder of magic.

Sadly, the rest needed him to prepare for our audience.

"Merlin, our escort arrives in half an hour, please wrap it up."

The wizard donned an incredibly overdone hangdog expression, then canceled the illusions. His audience immediately cried out in dismay.

"I apologize ladies and gentlemen, but my king needs me!" He gestured my way, then quickly scampered up the stairway.

The whole tavern erupted in boos.

Kay and I hustled across the room, enduring a hail of insults (and one bowl of boiled cabbage) from the tavern's patrons. Bounding up the stairs and slamming the door behind me, I glared daggers at the hellspawn.

"Really Merlin, did you need to turn the whole inn against me?"

"Did you need to interrupt my meal? I know you can't feed like a cambion, but do you know what awe tastes like? It's delicious!" The blasted wizard hugged himself and wriggled!

I deadpanned. "I like to believe that I would not throw you to the wolves for a good meal."

He scoffed. "Oh, come off it, you practically tap-danced while eating Shirou's potatoes. If I interrupted you eating something that's actually good? I'd likely lose a hand!"

Kay promptly busted his gut laughing.

My eye twitched. Would I need to endure jabs at my appetite from both of them now?

In the depths of my heart, I thanked the gods for giving me Bedivere. Loyal, earnest Bedivere, who never mocked me or drove me spare. And Shirou as well, even if his unnaturally good cooking was the source of my embarrassment. Would it kill him to make normal food for dinner instead of some exotic masterpiece? He looked scandalized the one time I suggested having boiled cabbage like a normal person. I still suspected some dark eastern sorcery on his behalf. How else could he make potatoes of all things taste delicious?

I cleared my throat. "If you have quite finished, we have an escort due any minute now. Prepare your things."

Kay's laughter trailed off. "Right on it, Arthur."

He marched over to his bed.

Underneath the mockery and a love of skirt-chasing that made even Merlin pause, my brother had a keen mind for numbers and coin. Which was fortunate, because I had not the slightest idea how to manage finances for three hundred people.

Reams of paper, a brace of scrolls, and a portable abacus came out of his bag to be wrapped up in a tidy bundle. While I would be handling the strategy aspect of the meeting, he would convince Cyngen that yes, we could support an extra three hundred men if he gave them to us.

Meanwhile, Merlin sat twiddling his thumbs. That was fine, his job was simply to look impressive.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

"This is Sir Marrok here for Arthur Pendragon," rasped our escort. The king will see you now."

Well here goes nothing.

Viroconium's royal court was a reflection of its king and his father before him. From the floor to the vaulted ceiling above, the entire chamber was constructed of slate-gray stone, bereft of decoration beyond a handful of bas-reliefs on the walls depicting devotional scenes. It brought to mind a monastery, which fit the famously pious man who married one saint and whose father befriended another.

The man himself lounged on a plain wooden throne set upon the dais, wearing a simple if finely-made linen tunic and a silver band upon his coal-black hair. The whole scene screamed poverty, but Cyngen was anything but poor. While he was not the most martial of kings, he was renowned in the west for his generosity, a trait I planned to shamelessly take advantage of.

As Kay wrapped up his presentation, Cyngen graced him with a nod.

"Thank you, Sir Kay. That was very informative." He turned his gaze my way, and smiled serenely. "Arthur, it seems I owe you congratulations. You have come very far in the past year."

"Thank you Cyngen," I said, inclining my head. "It took great effort, but the people of the Midlands are a courageous, hardy folk, all too willing to leap to the defense of their countrymen. If only I had an army of them, I would drive the Angles into the sea."

He chuckled merrily. "If only brave patriots were so easy to find, I would not be recruiting from the Forest of Arden. Do not get me wrong, the werewolves are a stout and loyal lot, but they do not get along with horses."

"Then what of Sir Marrok?"

I had nearly jumped out of my skin when I opened the door to see our escort was a silver werewolf in full plate! Thankfully he had laughed it off. Even in a place named "Werewolf City," seeing one of his kind was a rarity.

"He is a special case. But back to our discussion." His eyes gleamed. "Tell me, how goes your campaign so far? Do you have any tales of battles won I can share with my knights?"

I sucked breath through my teeth. "Not as such. To date, we have destroyed one raiding party of sixty that attacked our powerbase, and our allies have repelled a further half dozen this year. That is why I came seeking men, we plan to go on the offensive this summer and hand them a solid defeat."

His eyes dimmed. "I see." Slumping in his chair, he gave me a somber look. "Unfortunately, I will not be able to give you troops at this time."

It was a hammerblow to the gut.

"What? Why?"

"I do not have the men available to give you. What few men do not belong to my vassals are tied up in defending the realm."

Really? Really? He dared plead poverty when there was almost half a legion loafing around in the streets? Oh, now this I had to hear.

"King Cyngen, I could not help but notice that this city is filled to the brim with are those men doing? Guarding against drunken giants blundering out of the hills?"

Cyngen clenched his jaw. "It is clear that you have not heard, so I will forgive your tone. Ceredigion has fallen."

…My first guess was that the Irish had taken another swing at us, but no, they had conquered Dyfed last time. Then I recalled the other troublemaker in the area.

"Was it Rience?"

"Indeed. Perhaps if you had come in the spring, I could have helped you. Alas, now the warlord can invade from the north and the west, so I must concentrate my troops here in the capital to be ready for either."

"Did you try asking your vassals for more?" Kay said. "Maybe if you scraped the barrel you could scare up a few hundred men, not like you picked their lands clean."

He gave a frustrated sigh. "My vassals have their own domains to guard, so I cannot force them to aid in a "foreign adventure." That is why I asked for news of a victory, the nobility would turn their noses up at an untested force like yours, as far as they are concerned, you are nobody."

My shoulders shook.

"Oh. I see."

I bowed my head.

'A king does not cry.'

Not even if their hopes were crushed.

Footsteps echoed across the chamber. I glanced up to see Cyngen had descended from his throne and stood before me, eyes full of sympathy.

"Never let it be said that I turn away those in need. I cannot supply troops, but I can do this."

He drew a slip of parchment from his tunic. "Give this to the city armory. We have some surplus Roman chainmail in storage, at least you can armor your men well."

While it was not reinforcements, better armor was a close second. Mail was a solid step up from boiled leather.

"Thank you, King Cyngen. You are as generous as the stories say."

"Then let me do one better."

Cyngen planted his hands on my shoulders. "If you want further support? Give me a victory. A solid victory against the invaders that I can wave before my nobles. My kingdom is fighting the wolf at its throat, but we can still see the bear on the horizon. Do that, and never mind infantry, I will send you knights."

My heart leapt. Actual cavalry?

I nodded sharply. "I swear to you Cyngen, I will cast Wehha's crown before your throne."

He chortled. "Such confidence. No need for that, just remember me when you slay that demon in Londinium. Your father deserved better than that."

Cyngen was truly too kind. He had no reason to help me like this, none of the other kings so much as tossed me a follis, and here the King of Powys was letting me cart away a good slice of his armory!

I could not even be angry at him for refusing to send men, just angry at Rience for being a thorn in both our sides.

This mission had been a failure, but the failure was not total. I could only imagine Bedivere's delighted face when we returned.

"Durnovaria was razed!?"

"Yes, and more besides. Four more settlements have sent messages in the past three days. It seems Wehha has taken our preparations as a personal affront. Everywhere he marches, whole towns are put to the sword."

Four Days Later, Caer Afon

"Three days!?"

Bedivere looked grave. "Yes, my king. We could not march without you and Kay."

My blood ran cold.

My men had needed me. The Angles were on the warpath, and my men sat idle waiting for me.

No, it was worse than that, I had organized those villages, convinced them to build up their defenses, and now the wolves were ripping them to shreds. This was all my fault!

"Send the men to the carts to get their armor. Then we march immediately."

Britons were dying by the minute. This slaughter had to be stopped.