Chapter 77 - Dragon vs Dragon
"Ah, Sir Ector of Sutton!" King Pellinore boomed jovially, as he saw the Knight at the head of the sizeable army approaching their war camps.
"King Pellinore of Listenore. It has been a while." Sir Ector nodded amiably to the man who rode to receive him, before looking him over as he realized something. "Your wound..."
"Ah, so you've noticed." Pellinore grinned. "Indeed, the wound that gave me the name of the Maimed King has indeed been healed, by the same Knights of the Round Table that aided me in my quest to slay the Questing Beast. Truly, you have done an excellent job as a father, Sir Ector."
"You've met Arthur and Kay?" Ector inquired casually, fighting to maintain his calm composure even as the urge to preen and brag warred with the urge to desperately ask about his son and foster-daughter.
It had been six months since the Christmas Eve Joust.
Six months since Artoria had drawn that blasted sword from the thrice-damned stone.
Six months since his two children had left, taken on some adventure by the Magus of Flowers, while he'd been "convinced" to ride back to Sutton, and begin aiding young Artoria by marshaling support among the Lords of Logres in her stead.
And all he'd heard in those six months were wild rumors and tall tales, like how she'd founded an order of knights known as the Knights of the Round Table, and how an angel had blessed the crops and cleansed the waters and healed the sick in villages from Glevum to Cumberland, and of how the Boy-King slew the Questing Beast and tamed a lion.
By the sounds of it, though, at least two of those was real.
"Aye, Sir Ector, I have." Pellinore confirmed easily, guessing the old knight's thoughts. "They were fine when I saw them off after the grand feast I held in their honor four months ago, and they were fine when I saw them five minutes ago, in the command tent"
Ector couldn't help but let loose a small sigh of relief, before the worry disappeared, replaced by anger.
He hadn't even had a chance to grill Artoria for sneaking off in the middle of the Joust to pull the Sword from the Stone, or ask her about the Crimson Knight and the One-Armed Giant, before they'd been spirited away by that damned wizard.
Oh, but he would be having words with the lot of them.
Artoria, for being a secretive brat.
Kay, for not reining his sister in.
And Merlin, most of all, for being behind everything.
Unfortunately, it would have to wait for the time being; the summons they'd received took top priority.
"How many men have you brought, King Pellinore?" Ector's voice took a serious tone, as he slipped back into his role as a veteran commander.
"I have been able to muster but two thousand knights, Sir Ector." Pellinore lamented. "The Picts and the Scots have been more restless this year."
Ector nodded in understanding, knowing that King Pellinore and King Neithon were charged with maintaining the northern borders. He couldn't help the frown that grew on his face, though, as he did the math.
"Are there any others who will be joining us?" Ector asked, hoping for a miracle.
"There are a few bands of knights, who have joined our camp in service to the One True High King." Pellinore answered slowly, in a tone that clearly meant he did not bear good news. "But I do not foresee any further armies arriving."
This time, Ector managed to catch the wince before it showed., but it was a close thing.
"I see..." Ector decided he needed to talk with the Magus, if only to figure out just what in the Lord's name he was planning. "Would you mind getting my men settled, Sir Pellinore? I need to discuss the situation with him."
"Of course." Pellinore acquiesced easily, seeing no harm in doing so. "You can find the Knights of the Round Table at the white pavilion, by the river."
Ector nodded in gratitude, and dismounted from his horse, before making his way to the directed river.
Fortunately, it wasn't hard to spot the pavilion Pellinore had mentioned, if only because he recognized a certain mare tethered to a pole outside it.
"Llamrei." Ector happily greeted the mare Merlin had given his daughter, and the horse whinnied in recognition. "Do you know where Artoria is?"
In response, the mare stomped her hoofs against the floor once, before jerking her head towards the tent.
"And are Kay and Merlin with her?"
Llamrei nodded once and neighed.
Ector patted her on the neck, saying: "Thanks, Llamrei."
The horse merely snorted once, before going back to grazing on the grass around it.
Ector shook his head fondly. Truly, the mare resembled her owner.
Then he knocked on the wooden sign outside, and waited a moment, not wanting to spoil the surprise.
"Enter." A young, high-pitched voice sounded from within.
Ector grinned viciously, before barging in.
Within the tent, around a small table, he found his two wayward children studying a map, while a white-haired man in white robes observed them.
Perfect.
He closed the tent's folds, and stormed towards a blonde-haired green-eyed midget.
Artoria had just begun turning to greet the newcomer, when her instincts began screaming.
Before she could react, however, the great armored bear of a man was already upon her, picking her and Kay up in his arms, before crushing them as he boomed: "Artoria! Kay! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"
"Uncle Ector?!" Artoria choked out.
"Father?!" Kay followed suit.
"Oh, look at how much you've grown, boy!" Ector squeezed them tightly, simply relieved to see his kids were really alright. "And Artoria! Why haven't you grown at all?!"
"Her-"
"Kay! Have you been stealing your sister's food?" Ector continued teasing, even as he fussed over the two of them.
"Are you mad?!" Kay's eyes boggled at the mere suggestion. "To do so would be to flirt with death, father!"
"Excuse me?" Artoria snapped. "What does that mean?!"
"Are you sure her waistline has not grown at all, father?"
"I do not eat that much!"
Ector merely laughed, hugging his children tighter, before finally releasing them, while an amused Merlin watched from the sidelines, knowing better than to get himself involved.
As the two adolescents panted for breath, he then fixed Artoria with his best glare, and demanded: "Anyway, Artoria... when were you going about your plans to draw the Sword in the Stone?"
"..." Artoria couldn't meet his eyes. This was a discussion she'd been dreading, and trying to postpone for as long as she could, but there was no way she was getting out of it now.
And so she threw Merlin to the bear, and innocently told Ector: "I thought Merlin would have told you about it..."
"Damn wizard!" Ector roared, turning to the Magus of Flowers as he stood in the corner.
"I did tell you of the prophecy, when I passed Artoria to you." Merlin quickly reminded him. "It was your choice to doubt me."
"Tch." Ector clicked his tongue in frustration, unable to retort.
"It's fine, father." Kay laid his hand on Ector's arm, calming him down. "I've been making sure her and Merlin don't get into too much trouble, during our adventures across the island."
"You?" Artoria scoffed, the unique lock of hair on her head twitching in disbelief. "You and Merlin are always too busy gawking at women in every village we've visited!"
"All right, all right." Ector clapped, as Merlin gave him an uncharacteristically serious look. "You'll have to tell your old man about all of your adventures later. I need to also discuss the coming battle, Artoria, as a Commander to a King."
Kay and Artoria instinctively stiffened.
"To be frank, Artoria..." Ector reluctantly began, looking down at the map. "With the numbers I have brought with me... you have barely six thousand knights, whereas the Saxons fortifying the ruins of Londinium easily number five thousand. Our cavalry are best suited for massed charged across open plains, not besieging Roman walls. And they can count on the aid of Kent, Sussex, and Essex, not to mention the Usurper King himself. Even with your holy blade, and the aid of the Magus of Flowers... I do not see how we can carry the day, my King."
There was a moment of silence, as Artoria and Kay processed his words, before Merlin finally spoke up: "If all goes well tomorrow, we won't have to."
"Explain yourself, wizard." Ector demanded. "Why have you mobilized the forces of Listnoise and Logres now, if we will not go to battle soon? An army marches on its stomach, Magus, and hunger is the enemy."
"Hengist and Horsa, the Germanic mercenary leaders of the Angles, the Saxons, and the Jutes invading our shores, love a fight." Merlin explained, having explored their dreams to learn what he could about their character, in order to maximize the chances of their gambit succeeding. "If nothing else, the sight of our force, merely numerically comparable to theirs, should suffice in drawing out them and the bulk of their army, if only to see what we want, and meet us in the field of battle. After all, even if we were to somehow take Londinium, we would not be able to hold it against the forces of Kent, Sussex, and Essex."
"So that's the plan?" Ector found himself incredulous by the flippancy with which the Magus of Flowers pointed out the hopelessness of the situation. Was this the same wizard who'd prophesied the drawing of the Sword in the Stone and the Battle of the Two Dragons? "We gamble on their overconfidence to lure them out, and hope for the best?"
"Somewhat." Merlin smiled. Even if the old knight was (technically) correct, that didn't make him right. "Don't worry, Sir Ector. Even as we speak, we have a Huntsman infiltrating Londinium, looking for a way to sneak into the throne room. If all goes well, come the morn, we shall be able to implement a plan that minimizes casualties and ill will on both sides."
"... what?"
-OUTSKIRTS OF LONDINIUM, MID-MORNING OF THE NEXT DAY-
"Valiant Sir Ector of Sutton, loyal vassal of the former High King." Hengist respectfully acknowledged the old knight, as he, Horsa, and his honor guard confidently rode forth to meet the commanders of the Briton army, knowing full well of their adherence to their odd little code of "chivalry". "We have heard many tales of your deeds in battle, from Guoloph to Aylesford. Truly, you are a worthy and honorable foe."
"Hengist. Horsa." Ector nodded back at the two brothers, far more stiffly, as they reminded him of his inability to keep the island secure from the invaders. "We wish to begin negotiations."
"Negotiations?" Hengist repeated incredulously. "You mean to say that you mobilized an army and marched it all the way up to our door... just so that you could talk?!"
"Have you come to surrender and pledge your loyalty to King Vortigern, perhaps?" Horsa suggested, managing to sound disappointed.
"I would never pledge my loyalty to that foul usurper!" Ector spat, bristling with indignation.
"And yet you were a loyal follower of Uther Pendragon, who had the Duke of Cornwall killed so that he could claim his wife." Hengist pointed out.
"Or do you now march under the banner of the Boy-King?" Horsa inquired sarcastically. "Are the Britons so reduced, that leaders are chosen based on whoever is strong enough to draw a sword from a stone?"
Before Ector could answer back, Kay stepped forward, and snapped: "Do your tales not also talk of the Demonic Sword Gram, which was lodged in the mighty tree in the halls of King Völsung until it was drawn by Sigmund?!"
There was a brief pause, as the two brothers studied the young knight who'd brashly spoken up.
Then, Horsa laughed, and Hengist complimented him: "Well met, young boy! Well met indeed! Perhaps you Britons have some fire in you yet! Tell us your name, knight! We would know of an enemy who is well-versed in our own traditions!"
"I am Sir Kay, son of Sir Ector, foster-brother of King Arthur, the Rightful Heir of Uther Pendragon, and one of the Knights of the Round Table." Kay drew himself up to his full height and straightened his back. "And I come with dire accusations against the Usurper Vortigern, a Kinslayer who murdered his brother Uther! He plays you as a fool, even as he plays you against his own people, and distributes land that he has no jurisdiction over!"
Hengist and Horsa shared an uneasy look. They'd known that Vortigern was probably acting in his own self-interest, but had pretended not to notice, not until they'd brought over enough forces and found a suitable justification to betray him.
But to hear they were serving a Kinslayer, who had been offering them land he hadn't even owned in order to buy their services and conquer his enemies?
"I know the two of you are honorable men, even if our codes of honor may differ." Kay continued, trying to appeal to their sense of honor. "There does not need to be any further bloodshed this day! There can still be peace! Do not let yourselves be played by that thrice-damned usurpers!"
"... extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, boy." Hengist finally spoke, shaking his head.
"It is an easy thing to speak against an enemy, naive child." Horsa added. "But in this case, you Britons are our enemies, while King Vortigern established an official foedus with our people dating back to the time of the Roman Empire. Why should we listen to you, over our long-term employer?"
To everyone's surprise, Kay merely grinned, as if he'd been waiting for their cue, and snapped his fingers.
A white-haired man in a white-robed stepped forward, smiling easily even as he sardonically bowed and introduced himself: "Merlin, the Magus of Flowers, at your service."
The two Germanic brothers instant stiffened, feeling the presence of witchcraft in the air.
"Be not afraid; I mean you all no harm this day." Merlin reassured them, even as he pulled a flower out of his sleeve, and snapped his fingers.
Suddenly, the flower began projecting a moving image, of the interior of the Citadel of Londinium.
Even the Britons behind them nervously crossed themselves, and the Saxons began muttering warily.
"What... what is this?" Hengist demanded.
"This, is the proof we offer." Merlin smirked. "Now watch; we may all find the coming events to be illuminating."
-CITADEL, RUINS OF LONDINIUM-
"I hope this thing is recording..." Jaune murmured, poking idly at the corsage fastened to his armor, even as he led Arthur through the passages he'd spent the past few nights mapping out, once again thankful for his training from Beacon.
The overconfident sentries of Londinium had nothing on missions into the Grimmlands.
"Don't worry, Jaune." Artoria reassured him, even as she followed closely behind him, one hand placed firmly on Excalibur's hilt. "Merlin is many things, but he is also a competent wizard."
"..." Jaune wisely chose not to comment, unsure if Merlin was already projecting their conversation to the assembled nobles (he was). Truly, the invention of the Scroll (or even a simple radio) could not come fast enough.
Instead, he continued sneaking through the citadel, towards the spot that Merlin had told him was the throne room, even as a small, hysterical part of him compared it to the Citadel.
To be fair, there were some similarities.
Both were fortresses built out of ruins, surrounded by strong walls.
Hopefully there wouldn't be a Liberty Prime hidden in the basement here.
Fortunately, it was easy to tell that they were reaching their destination; the shadows surrounding them got stronger and sharper, the deeper they went.
Finally, after a tense silence, they reached a pair of large heavy doors, which had probably been ornately carved once. Black smoke seeped out through the cracks and gaps, and Jaune found his Aura twitching, like it had when in the presence of Grimm or demons.
He held up his hand, and they halted outside the doors.
Jaune took a deep breath, more to steady himself than anything else, before turning to Arthur, the Boy-King.
"Before we go in, Arthur..." Jaune began, wondering how best to phrase his concern without being coming off as condescending or overbearing. "... are you sure you're fine with this?"
"What do you mean?" Artoria cocked her head, unsure of what he was getting at.
"I mean... Vortigern's supposed to be your uncle, right?" Jaune pointed out.
"He is, yes." Artoria nodded, still not seeing what he was getting at.
"... are you really fine, killing your uncle?" Jaune finally asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. He'd seen how she'd interacted with Kay and Merlin; he knew what family meant to her. "He is family, isn't he?"
"..." Artoria spent a moment pondering the question, before finally answering slowly: "He is... related to me, yes. But I hardly know him, just like I hardly know any of those who share my blood, Huntsman. Uther, Vortigern, Morgan... none of them, are what I would consider my family."
"Oh?" Jaune found himself feeling a hint of nostalgia, and struggled to place it.
"Indeed." Artoria nodded with a soft smile. "Uncle Ector and Merlin raised me as a child, and my playmates were Kay and Llamrei. Hell, even Saber is more like family to me, than any who share my bloodline."
Jaune nodded in approval, before realizing that she reminded him of Yang, the Dragonborn, and her issues with Raven.
Then Artoria added: "But... even if I did know him... his actions jeopardize not just us, not just the Britons, but all the people of the land. As long as he lives, more and more mercenaries will come, and more and more people will die in all the pointless fighting."
Jaune frowned, seeing Arthur slip back into his emotionless mask, the mask of a just king.
"But that doesn't make it easy, does it?" Jaune prodded.
"... no." Artoria admitted, after a moment of hesitation. "If I could, I would avoid fighting all together. But for the sake of the country..."
"... hopefully the Saxons believe us." Jaune finally wished, as he placed his own hand on his sword. "Sorry for the questions, Arthur."
"It is no problem." Artoria shook her head, trusting her familiar's intentions. "Now, let's stop his tyranny."
The two pressed against the rotting heavy doors, before exchanging a look.
Jaune held up a hand with three fingers.
As he put the first one down, he idly found himself reminded of Castle Volkihar, and their storming of the Cathedral to confront Lord Harkon.
The second one went down.
Huh... he was in medieval times, storming a dilapidated castle with a magical blonde who was supposed to have been chosen by destiny or fate or something (a magical talking sword counted, right?) in order to kill a dragon.
... oh, great, he was back in Skyrim, wasn't he?
At least this wasn't nearly as bad.
His third finger went down.
His stray thoughts all went into the back of his mind, as he and Arthur forced the doors opened, and burst into the throne room.
Their eyes were greeted by a massive sunless room, that a few centuries ago had been where even the Roman Emperors had held court.
Time had taken its toll, however, and the structure was crumbling, only kept intact by the expert craftsmanship of its architects and the rotting wooden pillars holding the ceiling up.
That wasn't what truly caught their attention, though.
Instead, at the far end of the room, sitting on a decaying throne, was a humanoid figure.
Neither Jaune nor Artoria could truly make out the figure's features, for it was wreathed in a black armor, like it was a void in the world.
Vortigern the Dragon, in person at last.
Not even Hengist and Horsa, or Merlin himself, had seen what had truly become of the Usurper King.
"Ah, the King and the Huntsman." Vortigern rasped, and though his voice never rose above that of a whisper, he could still be heard audibly by all observers. "Why do you resist? Why do you not accept it? Why do you cling to humanity?"
Artoria stiffened subconsciously, at the unintentional jab to what she had been prepared to sacrifice.
"What do you mean?" Jaune demanded, stepping forward, as the shadows seemed to swirl around the room, reminding Jaune uncomfortably of a massive Grimm.
"Britain must fall." Vortigern continued, his body little more than a mouthpiece for the Will of Britain. "You all must perish. If this island is to be defiled by human hands one day, then I will bring it back to its original form. I must turn Great Britain into hell. A paradise of darkness forever uninhabitable by man."
Jaune didn't have time to process this, before his Aura-enhanced instincts started screaming at him, just as Artoria's own Instincts warned her something was about to happen.
Jaune immediately raised his shield, and Artoria drew her sword, just as Vortigern launched his surprise attack, and a wave of darkness engulfed them, and blew out the windows of the throne room even as it extinguished the golden light of Excalibur.
Outside, in the fields around Londinium, as the two armies watched the flower's feed go dark, hopelessness crept into their hearts.
Then a golden light suddenly appeared, fighting back the darkness, as Jaune began channeling his Aura throughout his body.
Vortigern's eyes widened, and he exclaimed: "Impossible! I am the darkness that devours holy swords!"
The Huntsman's figure returned to view, even as he rolled his eyes, and explained: "Good thing this isn't a holy sword, then."
Seriously. It was just Aura.
Next to him, a sword began flickering weakly.
Artoria's eyes burned with determination, as she remembered what Jaune had taught her.
The sword didn't make her special.
She made the sword special.
And if the Huntsman, the Ideal King, could channel his light and fight the encroaching darkness?
How could she, his master, do any less?!
Excalibur's radiance blazed once more. Even if it was only a shadow of its former glory perhaps, it still burned, and pushed back the thick encroaching darkness around them.
"You may be the Avatar of Britain itself, Usurper!" Artoria declared, even as she easily swung her sword back into a simple guard position. "But I am Arthur Pendragon! Heir to Uther Pendragon! The Rightful King over all of Britain!"
Vortigern roared, a feral, bestial sound that shook the foundations of the citadel itself, at the presumptions of the boy who dared claim ownership over it, and grew until he was twice their size combined, whilst shadows sprung out at them from every corner.
But Jaune had trained his defenses by fighting creatures that outclassed him hundreds of times over, and Artoria had trained by sparring against Jaune.
As fast as the shadows were, they lacked his speed and unpredictability (especially after he'd begun to take Kay's advice).
The two advanced in tandem, like a pair of dancers performing a rehearsed move, as Excalibur cleaved through the shadows that threatened them from the front while Jaune's nameless blade and ancient shield deflected and parried the blows from the rear.
One, two, three.
Then, the two spun, such that Jaune now covered the front, and Artoria covered the rear, and their advance continued.
Then Vortigern roared once more, and great clouds once more spewed out of his maw, cloaking his figure even as he begun jerking and shuddering.
Then, his armor cracked, before flying apart like a discarded chrysalis in a detonation of magical energy that caused part of the roof to cave in.
Jaune instinctively pushed Arthur out of the way, blocking the biggest pieces of rubble with his shield even as his sword was flung from his hand and stuck into a nearby oaken pillar.
The figure that had once been Vortigern continued growing though, even as large clawed arms slammed into the ground, and a deep sonorous roar replaced the weak rasping voice.
Finally, with a final crack, the citadel was broken open, like an egg hatching, and even from where the two armies were could they witness the sight of the evil dragon being born into their reality.
Meanwhile, back below, as the dust settled, Artoria cleaved through the rubble surrounding her, and Jaune pushed himself free of his marble tomb, and the two finally laid eyes on Vortigern.
It was a figure of shadows in the shape of a dragon, with only glowing red eyes and a white head visible.
Jaune found himself very heavily reminded of the Grimm Wyvern that had caused his first death.
Artoria simply turned to him, and grinned, confident in the prowess of her familiar, the Huntsman of Dragons, as she said: "What are the Wielders of the Swords of Selection, if they cannot quiet one or two fits of their island?"
Jaune simply laughed hysterically, mentally noting that this was bigger than Alduin and the Grimm Wyvern as he sarcastically replied: "Oh, yeah, it's just an island. Nothing on the World-Eater I've fought before!"
"Think you can limit his movements?" Artoria asked, as she prepared her sword once more, eyeing Vortigern as he began testing his new wings.
"No problem." Jaune merely nodded.
And as Artoria and the flower on his breastplate watched, the Crimson Knight, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, pulled his greatsword out of the great wooden pillar it had been stuck in, before channeling Aura into the inhuman weapon.
Frost coated the length of the blade, even as flames began licking it, and lightning danced around it, an eye-catching spectacle against the twilight surrounding them.
Then he plunged his blade into the floor, and a wall of ice suddenly entombed Vortigern's legs before he could take to the skies.
As Vortigern began attempting to free himself, Jaune charged forward, and with a great leap and a swing of his sword tore through the evil dragon's belly, accidentally bathing his Aura in its blood.
The dragon roared and turned its attention to him, and Jaune quickly kicked off of its leg even as a wave of darkness spewed forth from its mouth, before stabbing it once more, and channeling lightning through its body.
The massive dragon jerked and shuddered, momentarily paralyzed by the electricity coursing through its innards, and even as Artoria drove Excalibur through one of Vortigern's arms, its last free limb was swung at Jaune, who released his grip on his blade and leapt onto Vortigern's arm, before sprinting up it towards the dragon's face.
And to the admiration and amazement of the assembled armies (including a few Geat mercenaries who had been supporting Hengist and Horsa), Jaune leapt onto Vortigern's snout, before punching the dragon in the eyes and mouth like how he'd seen Yang do it, and how the Slayer had taught him.
Vortigern howled and thrashed furiously, as one of his eyeballs was burst from a single blow, and he swiped at the annoying ant who dared challenge the avatar of an island, managing to grab him.
As he attempted to pull Jaune away, however, and Jaune bit down hard on the dragon even as he punched and clawed at it, and spared a look downwards, before grinning in vindication.
After all, he was only ever supposed to be the distraction.
Artoria refused to look up above, as she drew Rhongomyniad, trusting the Huntsman of Dragons as she instead focused on her task.
With a mighty roar, she rushed forward, and drove it into the horizontal wound Jaune had created with his first swing, bypassing all of Vortigern's scales, before accessing her Magical Core and channeling her Od into the weapon.
"Light, may you be released from the ends of the world." Artoria began chanting, determined to protect her familiar and her nation.
Holy light began gathering around the length of the lance.
"Split the heavens and tether the earth, anchor of the storm!"
The light began spinning and twisting, spiraling around the lance.
"RHONOGMYNIAD!"
And as the armies of the Saxons and the Britons both watched, a spiraling pillar of golden light burst forth from the tip of the lance, piercing through the heart of the trapped dragon, before travelling upwards, before it burst through Vortigern's head in a mighty crescendo that burned away all the darkness and clouds and smoke that had surrounded Vortigern's dragon form as it reached towards the heavens.
Author's Note: And we're finally back, with yet another time skip.
One of the big points of divergence is that, whereas Artoria fought in twelve great battles against the Saxons in the ten years before she took Londinium, here, she actually hasn't fought against them at all in the six months since she's drawn the Sword. Where she should have been leading grand armies and commanded the Knights of the Round Table, here the Round Table is still her, Merlin, Kay, and Jaune, and most of the nobles don't know her well (except for the slaying of the One-Armed Giant and the Questing Beast), while the Saxons have yet to be weakened by her campaigns against them. Then again, because she hasn't actually begun fought them yet, they're a bit more inclined to actually hear her out and parley, rather than simply attacking her armies. Seeing the projection of the Boy-King, showing compassion and thinking about his ostensible enemies as well, and being accompanied by the reincarnation of Siegfried? That's just icing on the cake.
The key difference between Jaune and the others, including Merlin, that allows him to think up the plan of projecting their conversation with Vortigern is their views on communication. To Artoria and Kay, long-distance communications would be messengers on horseback. To Merlin, it might be dream-walking or familiars. But to Jaune? Video chats on scrolls are commonplace in Remnant. Hell, he actually used his Scroll to record his fight with Cinder, all the way back in Chapter 1, in order to try and give his team some knowledge of what they were up against in case he died (which everyone thought he did).
It's a simple difference in mindsets and experience, rather than an issue of intelligence, in the same way that the concept of entertainment to us would be very different to the concept of entertainment to a person from two thousand years ago. Sure, we'd be able to agree on what entertainment should achieve (i.e. mental stimulation and the passing of time), but the way either of us would be achieve it would be very different.
Also, to be fair to the Saxons and Jutes... they're not stupid. Sure, a corrupt noble abusing a foedus for his own gain is one thing (and an expected one at that), but to hear he's a Usurper and a Kinslayer who's attacking his own people... and that he's doing it because he's hoping that the two will wipe each other out so that he can plunge the island into eternal darkness and make it uninhabitable to mankind (a land that they want to settle and call home, no less)? To their credit, they are skeptical of the Projection, and don't immediately take it at face value, since the Britons have everything to gain by turning them against each other. But when the Citadel suddenly bursts like an egg hatching, and a dragon wreathed in darkness emerges from within? Maybe it's time to bury the hatchet with the Britons and focus on the fact that your honor has been insulted and your warriors used and lied to by a fucking dragon monster.
And I actually have no idea how the fuck Vortigern is supposed to fight. Also I have no idea how the hell Aura works with the blood of dragons from FATE. Also, as for the Thirteen Restraints on Rhongomyniad... like I said, most of the Knights of the Round Table have yet to gather. The restraints haven't been placed. Hell, since they knew Artoria would be fighting a dragon, Kay and Jaune would have probably chastised her for trying to restrain her weapon's power.
And as of this point in the story:
Teams RWBY and (J)NPR are 4 years older than they were at the start of Season 1 (i.e. Ruby's 19 and the rest are 21)
Artoria is 15 and a half.
Jaune is just over 18 and a half.
Sir Kay is almost 19.
Dragonborn Yang is almost 19.
Ruby Ironwood is 23.
Courier Pyrrha is 25.
Sarah Lyons is 30.
Tier Harribel's age is unknown, but she's probably a few hundred years old, even though she's only been a self-aware Menos Grande with her current ego and personality for a fraction of that time.
Serana is somewhere north of 500 years old.
Coco-Slayer's age is unknown, but she's at least thousands of years old.
