Hello all, and welcome to the response section.
Firstly, regarding Durandal: Remember this, Roland is the second wielder of Durandal, not the first, though it went by a slightly different name with its original wielder. People familiar with FGO will know what I mean. The real Durandal's currently lying around somewhere doing who knows what.
Regarding Merodach/Gram: This was actually a significant source of confusion for me when I was doing research for that scene. In the VN, when Shirou sees Merodach, he gets a blueprint of Gram for the weapons menu. I asked around, and it was explained to me that Merodach is the nickname Gilgamesh gave to the nameless prototype weapon that would go on to become Gram, sort of like how Gilgamesh said of his greatest weapon "It has no name, so I just call it Ea." So essentially, by seeing the nameless weapon (Merodach), he got the legend most associated with it (Gram).
Regarding Vivian: Hmm, I honestly hadn't thought of that interaction. I do have a scene with her and Artoria planned of course, but she's alone for that. I'll have to see if there's any reason for Shirou to meet her.
To Bryant: I'm aware, but for the purposes of the story, I'm limiting the arsenal to what items turned up in the weapons menu. For instance, Heracles' axe-sword, Gram, Durandal, etc. turned up there, so they could have roles here, but Rule Breaker and Kanshou and Bakuya didn't, so they wouldn't play a part in the story.
To Tordmund: I don't have plans of the Counterforce playing a greater role than it already has. I may or may not sprinkle allusions here or there, but I'm not going to have counter-guardians showing up to ruin anyone's day.
Now regarding this chapter: Here we see the arc really picking up speed as we head towards the first significant turning point. Let's just say the road there won't be pleasant.
Shirou
'Things will be different this time. I swear it.'
The thunderstorm roared in response.
Distantly, I felt the driving rain begin to sting my face like needles, but my attention was fixed on the hooded figure before me.
A flash of lightning illuminated his features.
My foe's eyes were bored, his mouth a flat line even as streams of water poured down his face. The man behaved like he was taking out the garbage, not preparing for battle, and why wouldn't he? He had dealt me a hundred crushing defeats, and as far as he knew, this would be the hundred and first.
But that stopped today, because the balance of power had shifted in my favor. I'd acquired a secret weapon, and the time had come—
"Are you going to sit and stare all day?"
"W-What? No!"
"Are you sure? You've been leering at me for a solid minute," said the skeptical wizard. He went stock-still, face morphing into a smirk. "Oho! I see what's going on."
I didn't like that cocky grin, nuh uh, not one bit. "Whatever it is, you're dead wrong."
Merlin sensuously twirled a lock of hair around his finger. "Shirou, please, you're dealing with an old hand at this game. Luring me out in the rain with promises of, ahem, 'swordplay', making me wait until my clothes are soaked through…"
"Stop it."
"Hate to tell you boy, but even if they're white, these robes are way too thick for that to work."
"Stop it."
"Not that I hate the attention, but next time take me out to dinner first, will you?"
"STOP IT!"
He snorted in mirth. "Oh really? What will you do, hit me? That'll be a first."
That's it!
Durandal sparked to life.
"RAAAAGH!" I exploded across the training field and swung at his head—
CLANG
And a sword popped out of nowhere.
Our eyes met. It was on.
The wizard backpedaled as I rained blows upon him. Each was turned aside by his conjured blade, but each edged closer to splitting the pervert in half.
His smirk never died though, and gods the commentary!
Merlin danced around a thrust at his belly. "Ha! Is that all boy? You need to be quicker to penetrate this man!" He cackled.
I grit my teeth. Ignore it Shirou, they're just words. Focus on winning.
There were benefits to using a super-sharp blade, and one of them had come into play.
He may have blocked every blow, but that weapon was taking a beating. Four dozen exchanges and it looked more like a sawblade than a sword.
Two minutes into our duel, I spied my path to victory.
A deep notch had formed above his hilt.
"HAH!" I struck hard, and his poor blade couldn't take any more. It shattered like glass.
Durandal's arc continued, slicing through the wizard's hood and severing locks of hair that fluttered away.
"Yeow!" He reared his head back, shaking off the ruined hood.
I was preparing to flatten his nose when something caught me off balance.
His ear was oozing blood.
'Gods, I actually did it!'
Two months of getting trounced and I'd finally scored a hit. Ha! eat your words, Merlin!
Shirou Emiya paused to savor his victory.
That was a mistake.
Merlin grinned. "My turn."
Something walloped me in the temple.
My body cartwheeled through the mud until I landed in an awkward crouch twenty yards away. Shaking the stars from my eyes, I cursed my carelessness.
Dammit, why did I keep forgetting the staff?
Willing a new sword into being, my teacher spread his arms wide. "Come on boy, I'm not getting any younger!"
Damn, there went all my work.
The worst thing about it was he didn't even use magic, he was just that good.
When Merlin started training me to fight with projected weaponry, I didn't believe his claim that he'd taught Artoria. Then he'd knocked me senseless as fast as a hungry king deprived of lunch.
That guard would take some brains to break through, a surprise attack wouldn't work a second time.
Circling circling closer, I kept both weapons in sight at all times. Despite that open stance, I knew his guard was a fortress that only surprise or overwhelming force would overcome. The latter wasn't happening, but I still had a trick up my sleeve.
This would be a golden opportunity to use my new technique.
I raised my blade in a window guard aimed at his throat, waiting for the moment to strike. Just as I reached the edge of his range, the moment came.
A flash of lightning provided the distraction.
Shirou Emiya provided the focus.
Durandal provided the memory.
"Set—Durindana Pilum."
My blade glowed…
And the sword became a spear.
Merlin went cross-eyed, and gaped at the golden spearpoint pricking his throat.
That look was worth a hundred blows to the head.
"Well Merlin, do you have something to say?"
"Oh…oh…oh…"
"Speak louder, I can't hear you."
His eyes watered. "Oh Shirou, I'm touched!"
Durandal slipped an inch. "What?"
"To think I make your sword grow this way!"
My stomach lurched. The image that brought up made me dry-heave. "Dammit Merlin, don't say things like that!"
"And Shirou?"
"Whaaaaaaa?" I looked up to see his staff glowing ominously.
The wizard smirked. "Turnabout's fair play."
My world flared pink… then everything went black.
"Come on, let us help you, even if it's only one day a year, live for yourself!"
Artoria trembled.
I peered deep into her emerald eyes, seeking out the girl beneath the armor.
'Artoria, you're not made of iron, you're a human made of flesh and blood. Please sit down, we just want you to be happy.'
The knightly girl seemed to ready herself for battle. She drew a deep breath…
…and smiled.
"How could I deny such passion?"
The air exploded in fireworks.
"Woooooo!"
Everyone went berserk.
Strobe lights danced as the party got started. Streamers, noise-makers, party hats, music? I had no idea where they came from, but they were all over the place.
Merlin set off a blast of confetti, blowing Bedivere's hat away and blinding Llywelyn.
While Bedivere rushed to help the poor baker, Kay danced through this technicolor blizzard and pulled out a chair for the guest of honor, who was suddenly dressed in a familiar skirt and blouse.
Wait, was that a shoji behind her?
Our surroundings were beginning to look an awful lot like my dining room.
Plopping down seiza-style, Artoria's eyes sparkled eagerly.
"What have you made for me Shirou?"
"Kasutera." I joined her on the floor and cut us a slice each. "It's a Japanese cake."
Her grin slipped. "I do not have the best experience with cake, placenta is not the most appetizing dessert." Then it returned in full force. "But I believe in you."
My cheeks were starting to ache. 'Of course you do, you bring out the best in me.'
"Here you go."
I set a slice before her, and prepared to watch the fireworks.
Artoria took a bite… and quickly demolished it. Nothing but crumbs remained.
She glanced up and flashed pleading eyes at me. "May I have another?"
The sight made my heart melt. I decided to indulge the hungry dragon, just this once.
"Of course you can, it's your birthday!"
Artoria took the time to savor her second piece, but that disappeared as well. When her plate was finally clean, she smiled radiantly. "That was exquisite Shirou, perhaps we could make this a tradition?"
I thought it over. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea."
This war wouldn't last forever. One day, peace would come to Britain, and every day would be like this. In the meantime, these moments would remind us what we fought for.
To Shirou Emiya, that smile was worth fighting for.
"Shirou?"
"Yes Artoria?" The blonde was eying me strangely. Was she still hungry?
"There is one thing I must tell you."
She blurred.
"Wha—!"
Next thing I knew, I was pressed flat on my back.
Her jewel-like eyes filled my vision.
"Shirou, I—"
A wet finger jammed in my ear.
"Guh!" I jolted awake and slapped my violated earhole.
Merlin tittered. "And the sleeping beauty awakes."
I blinked, and moaned in disappointment. Ugh, it was just a dream. But what a dream it was!
'Couldn't he have waited a minute?'
Memories of our spar returned in a rush.
"Oh come on, I lost again?"
He patted me on the shoulder. "Don't be embarrassed, Arthur fell for that one all the time."
My brain conjured up a startled blonde taking a laser beam to the face. I didn't know whether to sympathize or laugh. "Bet he wasn't happy about that."
The magus shuddered. "You're right. That boy is the king of sore losers, every time he got blasted, he insisted on training until the sun went down to stop it from happening again. Not that he was successful mind you, but one day his training was complete, so there's that!"
"Bet you're happy to unleash it on someone that can't fight back." I muttered sullenly.
To be honest, I wasn't half as angry as I acted. Even if it was outdated, any and all intelligence on the girl beneath the armor was welcome nowadays.
The birthday party plan had backfired. Weeks of preparation, half a dozen letters to that jeweler in Gwent, days of experimentation to make a decent kasutera knockoff, and far more money than I was comfortable with. All that effort just to get rejected, and drive the guest of honor to even greater heights of self-isolation. She could barely look at us anymore, and it only got worse when the men from Powys arrived.
Kay took it the worst. When I'd tried to rope him into a New Year's party, the man had replied, "He can sod off for all I care. If you want to get kicked in the balls again, go ahead, you're certainly used to it."
There went my greatest ally. I supposed he wasn't interested after getting burned. Nowadays he limited himself to bitter remarks about her struggles with the Powysian knights.
Bedivere was less affected, he just got even more formal and polite in her presence, which was saying something. Merlin hadn't changed at all, which made sense, he totally saw it coming, and Llywelyn… well, I'd promised him the kasutera recipe, and he was raking in the profits. At least someone was happy.
As for me, I'd realized my error, it was the same mistake I'd made that evening on the bridge.
Artoria couldn't be forced to care for herself, she had to make the decision on her own. Just like Saber the servant had lashed out under pressure, the living king didn't take it well at all.
That was the conundrum I was facing: how do you save someone that doesn't want to be saved?
Direct intervention was no longer an option, she all but threatened to throw me out when I pressed her. For the moment I'd backed off to rethink and regroup, but something had to be done. Each day I waited, Artoria sank further into inhumanity.
Merlin tutted. "Ah, but are you really defenseless? Holding an old man at spearpoint, using magecraft in a swordfight, surprise attacks?" He grinned. "I'm proud of you Shirou, you're becoming as tricky as your teacher."
I scoffed. "Please Merlin, you aren't half the dirty fighter that Kay is."
"Glad to know your head's on straight."
Spinning on my heel, I came nose to nose with a certain brown-haired knight.
Kay gave me a funny look. "What happened to your eyebrows?"
What!?
"Sorry, almost forgot!"
Merlin tapped me on the head, and fresh hair grew under my groping fingers. "Shirou had his first brush with the Arthur Special."
He snorted. "You named that after him?"
"Who but its most famous victim?"
"Right. Anyways, I'm here to collect Shirou, Arthur's called a war council and wants him there."
A war council?
"What happened?"
Kay shrugged. "Not a clue, I just know he's calling everyone to meet in headquarters." The knight gave me a once-over, and grimaced. "You know what? We've got a few minutes, let's get you cleaned up, that pack of snobs will flip their wigs if you turn up caked in mud and soot."
Oh. Yeah, I'd be tempted to kick me out of a house too if I showed up in this state, it looked like I'd gone mud-wrestling in a coal mine.
"Alright, let's go."
The two of us waved goodbye to Merlin and set out towards the barracks.
After a quick stop at my room for a change of clothes, I followed Kay to the imposing timber fort-within-a-fort that dominated the camp.
The meeting was in full swing when we got to the war room. Every single table was filled to the brim with knights in full harness, all of whom turned to stare at us as we entered.
"I am glad you could make it Kay, we were just about to start without you." Artoria's cold voice echoed across the hall.
The blonde was seated at the high table with Bedivere, one of the senior knights, and a scruffy-looking man I'd never seen before.
"Apologies Arthur, I needed to get Shirou presentable," Kay replied.
'Gee, thanks a lot.' More than a few knights shot me disgruntled looks, first among them the grizzled old man to Artoria's right.
"King Arthur, why did we delay this war council on account of a mere squire?" He waved his hand dismissively. "Your brother I can understand, he is a high-ranking member of this company, but squires should not be here at all, much less holding up vital meetings."
Artoria slowly turned her head. "Perhaps not, but Shirou is also a magus, as great an asset as any knight. Furthermore, he proved instrumental in the death of King Wehha. He has more than earned his seat at the table."
A ripple went through the audience, and they considered me in a whole new light. Scattered mutterings of "magus" echoed amongst the tables.
I didn't know what to think. She was standing up for me, but the way she did it made me sound more like a commodity than a person.
The old knight eyed me warily, but made no further protests. "I understand."
"Very well. Kay, Shirou, come up here, let us begin, unless there are any further objections." Her gaze swept the room for any takers.
None appeared.
When Kay and I took our seats next to Bedivere, she spoke again. "Now that we are all here, let us get straight to the point. Owen, tell the room what you told me."
The battered stranger staggered to his feet. "I bring grim tidings from Eboracum. As of four weeks ago, King Einion is dead, and the city has been placed under siege."
The room erupted in confused shouts as everyone tried to speak at once, prompting Artoria to rise from her chair.
"Order! I will have order in this hall!" She barked.
When the racket died down, she turned to the shaken messenger. "Please, continue."
He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Eboracum has been placed under siege by an alliance of Angle kingdoms. Whether it was pure coincidence, or the enemy learned our plans, forces from Deira poured over the Derwent and struck our capital. Meanwhile, King Winta of Lindsey invaded from the south."
That drew Kay's attention. "Hold on, you pulled Lindsey into a fight? How did you manage that? They're the only ones on the whole damn island that aren't trying to steal our land. Well, beyond what they already stole," he corrected himself.
Owen looked ready to blow his top, but Artoria beat him to it. "Quiet! I will have no further interruptions Kay, not even from you."
She gave the messenger a searching look. "That being said, I am curious. If you have been besieged for a month, why have you not sought our help?"
"We did," he replied, "but when two weeks passed without a response, I was sent to find answers."
His expression grew more somber by the second. "And I found them at a crossroads south of Eboracum. My predecessor's mauled corpse laid in the middle of the road, he was probably ambushed by a black dog."
Hold it, a black dog killed him? I got the feeling he wasn't talking about someone's pet.
My eyes met Kay's, and he shook his head. "I'll explain later."
Artoria sighed. "What rotten luck. Tell me, what was the condition of the city when you left?"
"The city was holding. For all their strength and savagery, the Angles cannot breach our walls without siege equipment, but supplies are running low. We had less than a month of food when I left, and it took me a week to get here."
Owen's eyes grew desperate. "Even worse are the people's spirits. The king's brother was holding things together, but there's only so much they can take with their king slain and granaries running dry. Please, in the name of our alliance, we need your help!"
"And my help you shall get." Artoria's steely gaze met the messenger's, and he collapsed in his chair.
She abruptly faced the gathered knights. "Men, pack your things, we are marching immediately."
Artoria
A dux's work was never done, especially on the campaign trail.
That had been one of Ector's earliest lessons in warcraft when I was small. Moving an army from one place to another was not merely a matter of walking, myriad other duties factored in.
For instance, every day the dux had to organize a guard of trustworthy men to ward off night attacks. Regrettably, more experienced men had taken that out of my hands, but there were other duties to be done.
Now that the army was safe, how did you keep it fed and watered? Following rivers could work for the latter, but a baggage train to carry food and gear was needed for all but the shortest marches. As long as those two needs were met, the third duty was manageable: keeping the men in line.
At its heart, an army was an enormous, heavily armed mob barely held in check by its commanders, and only ceaseless effort kept them from slipping the leash. These lands had enough to fear from Saxons without my host descending on them like a swarm of locusts.
I knew I could trust my own troops. Bedivere's able stewardship had molded them into models of discipline, but these men from Powys? They had not followed me into battle, they had not known me for two weeks, to them I was some wet-behind-the-ears child too young to shave, let alone command them. Maintaining my perfect façade was more crucial than ever, all it would take was one slip and what little regard they had for me would evaporate.
For now, the knights of Powys helped keep them in line, but they had their own share of problems, Sir Gruffyd in particular.
"King Arthur, I urge you to reconsider, this detour will cost us days!" The Powysian knight jabbed his finger at the map. "I understand that the planned route looks shorter and more direct than mine, but it leads through miles of forest and hilly terrain. My route may be longer, but the men will cover more ground per day by following the Trisantona."
My blood simmered. Did he think me stupid? I had not made this decision lightly, given the strain it put on our logistics, but I could read a map. Speed was the last of my worries.
"I am concerned with how close it comes to Saxon territory. We would be following the Lindsey border up to the River Ouse, coming within ten miles of their capital in the process. Stopping at a border town like Tigguo Cobauc is already a risk. Marching sixty miles, all within bowshot of enemy soil is begging for a knife in the back."
The look he gave me confirmed my theory. "With all due respect, how will they do that while besieging Eboracum?"
My brother eyed him suspiciously. "You're one of those types that leaves the door unbarred when they go traveling, aren't you?"
The older knight colored, but before he could retort another voice spoke up. "I think it would be wise to table the discussion."
Ever the peacemaker, Bedivere glanced around our little circle, meeting each of our eyes in turn. "Everyone here is tired after two days' march, perhaps we can meet in the morning, reexamine the problem with fresh eyes?"
Gruffyd sniffed. "That sounds eminently reasonable Sir Bedivere, some rest would make us all more civilized," he said, shooting Kay a glare. "Now, if I am no longer needed, my tent is calling me."
"And to think, you could have had a roof over your head if you took the headman's offer," Kay quipped.
The knight's nostrils flared. "I refuse to make my men sleep in a cave. At least there is no risk of getting splattered with bat feces near the river."
Giving Kay one last ugly look, he stormed out of the tent.
When Gruffyd's footsteps faded into nothing, my brother spat in the dirt. "What a cunt."
"Kay, language!"
"What? Tell me I'm wrong Bedivere, the man came this close," he raised his thumb and index finger, "this close to calling Arthur a fool to his face. And you! You just sat there and took it!"
And what could I do, punish him? Did he think I enjoyed being condescended to?
Whatever Cyngen's orders were, Gruffyd made it clear he viewed me as a spoiled child propped up by better men, just one that lucked into royal patronage. Dressing him down would be immensely satisfying, but then he would claim I was impossible to work with, and march off with his troops. Given they made up the bulk of my force, that would be the death knell of this campaign.
Like it or not, I was stuck with Gruffyd as long as he continued to hold his men hostage against my good behavior.
Sadly, I could not breathe a word of this to my knights. Kay would go on the warpath if he learned of my difficulties, if snide remarks enraged him so.
"Kay, you are overreacting. Whatever disrespect he showed me was minor, and nothing worth insulting him about. I will not stand for my knights squabbling amongst each other."
Kay's face purpled, but before he could mouth off, Bedivere clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Kay, leave it!" Turning to me, he asked, "My king, do you need us?"
His question pierced me like an arrow.
'Oh Bedivere, you have no idea.'
I hated how apprehensive my marshal looked.
I hated how Kay's humor had turned to scorn.
I hated how Shirou kept his distance, like I was some dreadful creature he feared provoking.
I hated being shackled to a haughty old fossil that held my apparent age against me, never mind that I was an adult that crippled an Angle kingdom while he was riding a desk.
But most of all, I hated the loss of that easy comradery we once shared, a shame that my duty was heavier than ever.
A shame that I could not rebuild what I had destroyed.
"No. Nothing comes to mind."
"Then we shall get some rest, right Kay?"
My brother deflated. "Right."
His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, then he showed me his back. "Don't know why I bother."
I hid how much those words stung.
"Sleep well, we have a long march ahead of us."
The knights stepped into the dark, leaving me alone in my tent.
'A king has no need of emotions.'
There was no use getting upset, the damage was done.
Beneath my armor, a reminder of what perfection cost me hung from my neck like a millstone.
Some Time Later
'This was not a good idea.'
With no paperwork to do and dawn hours away, I had the notion to find an overlook and survey the surrounding landscape. The hill that harbored Tigguo Cobauc's many caves seemed like a good place to start. It only occurred upon reaching the top that tonight was a new moon, and little to nothing could be seen up here.
Oh sure, the faint outline of the Trisantona was visible, as well as the watchmen patrolling its banks, but otherwise, darkness covered the land.
As if to mock my decision-making, a frigid blast of wind turned my skin to gooseflesh.
I huddled in the cold. 'Gods, what I would give for a cloak.'
Speaking of which, why go to war in late autumn? This was the time for entering winter quarters, not starting lengthy sieges.
Although… perhaps that was their logic, attack when least expected and pray they won before the snows fell?
My musings on Saxon war planning were cut short when something caught my eye. More specifically, the lack of something.
'Odd, I could have sworn there were eight watchmen by the river.'
Nonetheless, my eyes did not lie. There were seven men with torches patrolling the riverbank.
'Did they retire early? Oh, that is just perfect, this is what I get for leaving Gruffyd in charge of the guard detail.'
I was devising new ways to curse the knight when the number of torches dropped to six. Then five. Then four.
Realization struck me like a thunderbolt.
"AMBUSH!"
Responding to my scream, a dark wave of something surged up the riverbank and snuffed the remaining torches.
No time to lose! Pouring power into my legs, I hurtled down the slope, shouting my warning as I went.
By the time I reached camp, my screams had alerted the men. Half-dressed soldiers were tumbling out of their tents as I passed them, but we were out of time.
The edge of camp was a cacophony of screams and wet gurgles. Shadowy figures trampled the tents, slaying their occupants while they writhed in their canvas prisons. A slaughter had begun on the riverbank!
Oh gods. How did they get so close?
"To arms men, TO ARMS!"
Behind me the men scrambled to react. Before me, a small army of Saxons sped up their bloody work.
Drawing my sword, I plunged into the scrum.
'First target, man with axe menacing a wounded soldier. No armor, no helmet. Strategy: disarm, then decapitate.'
Two sword blows severed his hands and head. I ignored the stunned survivor to search for my next target.
By the light of Caliburn, I spied another warrior ram his spear through a tent.
I saw red.
"YOU!"
The Saxon barely spun around before I fell upon him.
Chainmail, cloth, skin, muscle, and bone parted like butter around my blade, and the ex-man fell to the earth in two sizzling halves. He gaped soundlessly at his severed legs before his torso went limp.
Someone screamed to my left.
'Back to work.'
Ten men were dead by the time I reached the thick of the fighting.
A ragtag band of infantry was making a stand against two centuries of Saxons marching through the tents.
"Fall back and regroup men, I will buy you time!"
They eagerly obeyed. Those who could still run fled before the Saxon onslaught and deeper into camp, dragging the wounded behind them.
Caliburn blazed like a torch in my hands, and I leveled it at my foe.
The mass of men paused their advance.
"What the hell are you?" Someone shouted.
I zeroed in on the source, a man with a hauberk and longaxe.
"King Arthur."
His eyes bugged out of his head. "FUCK! SHIELD WALL, SHIELD WALL!"
What followed was the finest hedgehog impression I had ever seen.
Faced with a huddling mass of shields and spears where the band of raiders once stood, I blinked. Had I gained a reputation?
The thunder of hooves echoed behind me.
'Ah, here comes the cavalry.'
And what terrible timing too! Cavalry performed horrendously against shield walls, the struggle always devolved into attempts to trick the men into chasing them to thin out the defenses.
Luckily, I had just the tool to break them.
I poured power into Caliburn, preparing to open the way—
CRACK
Something zipped overhead.
In the front rank, a Saxon's shield fell in the dirt. Its owner followed, then another, and another, until a whole line of men leading back to the river laid drowning in their blood.
Before I could question what on earth just happened, my marshal flew past with a wedge of cavalry.
"Trample them!"
Scores of knights dove into the breach.
Their impact scattered men like leaves in the wind as they crashed through the ranks, slashing heads and crushing them underfoot. By the time they reached the river, the whole formation was split open like a rotten log.
'My, this night is full of surprises!'
Nonetheless, I refused to let Bedivere take all the work.
Caliburn swung down, and a light beam turned the Saxon left into a funeral pyre.
I bounded towards the other flank to join my knights in another pass.
My first target was a young blond in chainmail that threw a spear at me. I scarcely noticed his petrified eyes before I split him down the middle and plunged through the gap.
Things got a bit murky from there.
Faces flashed by as I carved through the Saxon ranks. It was utter chaos as blood and steel and severed heads filled the air to the tune of pained shrieks, then my knights joined the fray, adding battle cries and the whinny of horses to the mix.
This was war in its purest form. Madness and death.
The Saxons did not last long. Two more passes and they laid butchered on the earth.
'Gods, I pray that I never get used to this.'
Flicking blood off my sword, I glanced around and surveyed the carnage. Bodies littered the riverbank in various states of dismemberment. Beyond them, the remains of the left flank were cooking merrily, filling the air with the smell of charred pork.
My gorge rose, but I swallowed it down. I could not show weakness in front of the men.
Bedivere rode into view, trailed by a bevy of awestruck knights.
'Hmph, perhaps now they will take me seriously?'
"My king, I do believe that was all of them, what are your orders?"
What indeed? The edge of camp was full of wounded, but there could be more Saxons in the darkness. Which came first?
"FIRE!"
My decision would have to wait.
Whirling around, I spied a second blaze towering over the camp.
"This is my order. Hunt down whoever set that!"
The Next Morning
Disaster! This was an utter disaster!
"Nothing survived? Not even the hardtack?"
Kay sucked his teeth. "Not even the hardtack. They drowned the whole stockpile in pitch before lighting it up, everything's charcoal."
I wanted to scream.
We had barely defeated the raid, when we learned it was a distraction for a band of saboteurs to strike our baggage train.
Whatever the plan was, it did not account for the raiders getting smashed flat, we had tailed them back to their little fleet of boats and burned them all to the waterline.
Then came hours of rounding up the men, rescuing survivors, discovering that Sir Gruffydd had his throat slit during the raid, bickering over who was in charge now, and then this!
Blasted Saxons, scurrying around in the dark like rodents! Killing my men! Burning my supplies!
"Witness me Kay, as soon as we relieve Eboracum, I am going to kick in Winta's gates and give him a beating he will never forget," I intoned.
My brother chuckled nervously. "Look on the bright side Arthur, at least we gave better than we got?"
'Yes, but at what cost?'
Scars of last night's battle were scattered everywhere.
The riverbank hosted a giant hospital treating the dozens wounded in the night raid.
Powysian soldiers, rudderless without their leader, followed Bedivere around like lost ducklings.
Our baggage train was a pile of ash.
Forty-nine infantry and two knights were slain in the ambush. In return, the Saxons died to a man. A four-to-one exchange was spectacular given the circumstances, but killing Saxons did not raise the dead. Nor would it undo the total destruction of our food supplies.
We were stuck. If we continued north, the men would grow weak with hunger and get slaughtered by the waiting Saxons, then Eboracum would fall. If we turned back to restock our supplies, Eboracum would starve, and still fall!
"I do not suppose Tigguo Cobauc has food to spare?"
He shook his head. "First place I checked. They sold their surplus down the river."
Curse the spirit of enterprise!
There went that plan. Tigguo Cobauc was the last settlement for miles, where else would we find food for hundreds of men?
I stiffened.
Food for hundreds of men.
Yes. Wherever would I find such a thing?
My eyes fell on the hill.
Tigguo Cobauc was a peculiar place. Some dwellings, like the headman's home were free-standing structures, but it took its name from the hundreds of caves dug into the living rock.
Hundreds of caves, holding hundreds of people.
My heart skipped a beat.
Gods no, anything but that! What was I thinking? Kings protect the people, they do not rob them! Without their food, the whole town would starve, no king worth the name destroyed their own people!
'But is that so?' King Arthur whispered in my ear.
'Consider the facts. Five thousand people live in Eboracum. A tenth of that live here. One is the capital of an allied kingdom. The other is a small town on the Saxon border. If Eboracum falls, the kingdom falls. If Tigguo Cobauc falls, no one but the locals will miss it.
'Remember your lessons: A king kills everyone to protect everyone.'
'Kill a town, protect a kingdom.'
Three roads laid before me.
One led to a dead army and a dead city. Totally unacceptable.
The second saved my army, but I would arrive too late to save the city. Also unacceptable.
The third…
'You will be resented by all humanity.'
The third led exactly where I had to go.
All three paths had a price. What would it be, the army, the city, or the town?
The first meant the end of the road. The second…
Dangling corpses danced before my eyes.
'I have to thank you for the chance to relive my glory days.'
'I refuse to be late again.'
The choice was made. I faced my brother, and prepared to give the order.
"Kay, gather the men. I have a solution to our supply problem."