Hello all, and welcome to the response section!
To ThyDevoutBeliever: Alas, he cannot.
To EndDragon369: Remember that Fairy Knight Gawain is unique to the English Lostbelt, then ask yourself this question: Do you want to seduce a fiery dog monster with your cooking?
Now onto this story: God, this was was the chapter that wouldn't finish! It just kept going on, and on, and on. Hadn't realized how much material I was cramming into one chapter until I actually started writing it out. Here's to hoping the next chapter doesn't turn out this way. Anyways, enjoy!
Artoria
Merlin was lecturing me on the kings of northern Britain when a ray of light struck my face, rudely waking me up.
Bolting upright, my first thought of the day was, 'Hmph, and just when it was getting interesting.'
Six royal lines all descending from one man? King Coel was certainly a prolific fellow—a shame he had to go and split his realm apart.
I stretched from my head to my toes, releasing a tired yawn and—wait, was that fog?
A cloud of white mist billowed from my open mouth.
Oh, blast it!
Glancing around, my mood plummeted by the second: every surface in the tent glittered with hoarfrost, and the cold made my skin prickle. This was going to be one of those mornings, was it not?
'Gods, I hate winter.'
My youth on the Channel coast had not prepared me for this sort of weather; Caer Afon was frigid enough, but there at least I could warm myself at the fire with the others. Sleeping all alone north of the Humber was distinctly unpleasant—and Caledonia was supposed to be worse!
A childish part of me wished to wrap my blanket even tighter and avoid the chill for another hour, but I reluctantly climbed out of my cot. As a king I had duties, and a cold snap would not interfere with them.
But first, my morning rituals!
Donning my surcoat, I retrieved my armor from under the cot.
"Goodness!" I yelped, when the freezing plates numbed my fingers. 'Ugh, and now I have to put them on.'
Greaves, gauntlets, sabatons, cuirass, and faulds—all were strapped on one after the next, then I put my hair up in a bun to hide the final hint of my gender. Belting on Caliburn completed my transformation into a perfect warrior king.
Now if only I could stop shivering.
Armor, check.
Praying that no one saw my distress, I stepped outside; the frigid air hit me like a slap in the face.
'Gods, it gets even worse.'
If there was any doubt that winter was here, this view put it to rest—the entire camp was buried in snow. Even so, groups of my men went about their duties in defiance of this monochrome world, so I braced myself and marched to the river.
Eventually I would get used to this; I needed to, for the years ahead would be far colder.
Gracing a passing soldier with a nod—he saluted me nervously—I located an isolated stretch of riverbank to perform my sword drills in peace. Soon enough, Caliburn's swings split the air as I got my body moving.
'Ahh, much better.'
There was nothing like a good workout to drive the morning chill from your bones.
An hour later, having worked up a sweat and feeling much more comfortable, I judged that my muscles were loose enough, and cheerfully moved onto the next task.
Sword drills, check.
My next stop was at the quartermaster's tent to grab breakfast, but my eyes informed me that this time, things would not go smoothly; when I arrived, a line had grown out of the entryway and snaked around back.
'Ugh, this is my reward for drilling so much.'
I had resigned myself to a long wait when one of the men piped up.
"Um, milord, you don't have to wait in line," he stuttered out. The soldier looked awfully pale, but I doubted it had anything to do with the temperature, "Go right ahead, if you want to, I mean!"
I met his eyes, and he flinched. The sight broke my heart—gods, did I not recruit this man myself? Rhys, was it?
"Are you sure my good man? I have no problem waiting with the rest of you."
He rapidly shook his head. "No, it's alright, we don't want to keep you from your business, isn't that right boys?"
The others made matching sounds of agreement and waved me towards the tent.
My good mood died with a whimper. "Very well, if you insist."
'A king has no need of comradery anyways.'
Once the men cleared away from the tent flap, I stepped inside and greeted the captain.
"Good morning Peredur."
The redhead was portioning out rations to a soldier as I entered. Glancing up, he gave me an unreadable look, "Good morning my lord, will it be the usual?"
Stepping aside for the soldier to scurry off, I replied, "Yes, if you please?"
Peredur dug around in one of the crates and retrieved a small, dark bread roll. "We ran out of wheat bread yesterday, so all we've got is rye. Hope that's not a problem, my lord."
I shook my head, "That is fine, so long as it is safe to eat." Taking the roll, I turned it over in my hands. There were no mold spots that I could see, though something tickled my memory…
"You bastards!"
The screaming baker strained against the men as his stock got carted away.
Ignoring his howls, I commanded, "Leave the flour, but take the rest, we need a half-ton of bread to meet our needs."
He redoubled his efforts, managing to tear an arm loose, but one of the men clubbed him with his spear-butt.
"Stay down!"
As my troops restrained the man, I watched impassively, even as a symphony of screams echoed over the hills…
"My lord?"
A voice snapped me out of my nightmare.
"What?" I gasped.
Peredur eyed me warily. "Is there something wrong with it? I can get you another."
Controlling my ragged breathing, I replied, "No, it is fine. I just remembered a task I have to do."
He raised an eyebrow. "If you say so, my lord."
The captain's suspicion was clear as day—No matter, he could doubt all he wished as long as he pushed no further.
"Anyhow, I am off. Have a good day." Giving him a jerky nod, I spun around and quickly marched out of the tent, startling the men at the entrance. Only when their whispering faded into the distance did I glance down at my breakfast, discovering that it had been crushed in my fit.
I grimaced. Just perfect.
What a splendid meal, a flattened lump of bread. And now it was too late to return; I had given it my seal of approval, how could I explain myself? Say, 'sorry Peredur, but I wrecked my breakfast because of a bad memory'? No, after what I had done to obtain this, eating it was the least I could do.
Taking a bite, I was overcome with the urge to spit it out. Gods this was awful!
I glared evilly at the heap of sawdust disguised as a bread roll. Had that man been selling this swill to the townsfolk? Hoh, suddenly I felt my sympathy dry up. Why, I could almost imagine the lecture Shirou would give him on proper—
My anger guttered out. Oh yes, him. Yet another sin of mine.
To say the men were unhappy with my choices was the height of understatement, though each expressed it in their own ways; For instance, when I outlined my plan to Kay, he had blown his top.
"You cold-blooded cunt!"
Let me state the obvious: Enduring one of his tongue lashings was not an experience I wished to repeat.
Nevertheless, once his temper cooled, he grudgingly accepted my logic: Kay was a practical man, and with the closest settlement being a Saxon border fort two days away, there was no choice but to carry it out. Not to say he was unaffected—his tongue was sharper than ever.
Bedivere had reacted with faint horror, as did the rest of the knights and officers in my company, but even he obeyed: Foraging was a standard, if unsavory element of warfare after all, however rare it was to do it in friendly territory. He had buried himself in work ever since.
Shirou however…
"Stop this! What's wrong with you?"
Well, he had loudly objected.
The archer did not care that we needed the food, his only concern was the starvation we would visit on the townsfolk. I agreed with him, I really did, but he did not offer a workable alternative—even after I shot down his hare-brained scheme to fish our way up the Trisantona, he stubbornly insisted that there had to be a better way.
No amount of logic would sway him, and his declarations were unsettling the knights, so once again I had threatened him with dismissal to silence the man.
He had avoided me ever since.
'You said it yourself, if he will not follow your orders, he is free to go.'
That was what I feared: How many more times until he took me up on my offer?
'No matter, you made your choice, learn to live with it.'
With great difficulty, I choked down the bread, and my morning routine came to an end.
Then came my actual duties; after all, there was a battle to plan.
When I arrived at the command tent, a frazzled-looking Bedivere was slumped over a map, frantically muttering to himself. My entry went unremarked, which said nothing good about his state of consciousness; Only when I reached the table did he finally sense my presence and snap to attention.
"My king, how may I serve you?" he greeted me hoarsely, giving me an excellent view of his red-rimmed eyes.
Oh, the poor man! He must not have slept a wink!
"Bedivere, I believe it is time to mount that scouting mission."
His shoulders sagged. "I apologize, but I have not found a way to do it without being discovered."
Oh, this day was just one misery after the next—To think, I worked it out last night, but held off to give him time to rest. "Do not beat yourself up, show me what you have so far."
"Very well. You know the facts." The knight tapped the map, "This is our current position, the confluence of the Verbeia and the Ouse. And here…" He traced the river's course northwards, "Here, is Eboracum, straddling the Ouse and the Foss. A little over eight miles as the crow flies, but the issue is the terrain, or shall I say, the lack of it. All that stands between us and the city is a low ridge, then nothing but wide-open floodplains. Any man we send out will be spotted from miles away, and there goes the element of surprise."
Bedivere shrugged helplessly. "So here is the problem: How would a man get there without being spotted? The only way I could figure was to send them out at night, but the darkness would hinder their mission."
I flexed my jaw. "Indeed, the same occurred to me. But then I recalled something last night—tell me, did you hear about Owen's escape from Eboracum?"
He frowned. "No, I was not made privy to that knowledge. How did he do it?"
"Under cover of darkness, he jumped into the River Ouse, and swam downstream until he lost sight of the Angles." Meeting his eyes, I asked, "Who among our number strikes you as a strong swimmer?"
His eyes widened. "Kay?"
"Precisely! He is more than capable."
"Yes, but in broad daylight? He would be spotted and killed, if he did not die of exposure first!"
"Have no fear, he is an excellent diver as well, and believe me…" I gave him a knowing look, "I grew up with him, and you have not seen a tenth of the mad stunts he can pull in the water, the man is practically half fish."
He eyed me incredulously. "If you say so, my king, but I suggest asking him before you commit to this course of action."
Oh, ye of little faith! "That is my plan. I do not suppose you know where he is?"
"The last time I saw him, he said he was heading downstream to catch breakfast."
'Hmph, I should have guessed.'
While Kay and Shirou had ended their protests, that was not to say they approved; ever since that day, they had gathered their own food and forsaken our ill-gotten rations. The way they stuck to their principles was admirable—if only they could fish for eight hundred men.
I sharply nodded, "Then I shall head that way. Good meeting, Bedivere, and please, get some rest, you look ready to fall over."
Without further ado, I marched out of the tent.
It was a few minutes' walk before I came upon my brother squatting with his back to me beneath a barren willow, and he had company: Kay and Shirou were in the middle of spit-roasting a trout.
"…Now the trick to getting it just right is to make sure you rotate it fast enough that the juices don't drip into the fire, but not so fast that they fly off."
There was a sigh, "I know that Kay, I needed help catching the fish, not cooking it."
"And ain't that sad! What sort of islander can't catch a—"
"Kay, I need you—"
"Bloody buggering fuck!" Kay desperately flapped his arms to avoid tipping into the fire. Whirling around, he shot me a peeved look. "Oh, it's you. What do you want, Arthur? Can it wait a few minutes? We were in the middle of cooking breakfast."
"Kay, I think it's important if he came looking for you," Shirou muttered absentmindedly. "And really, 'we?' You were just doing commentary." Not once did he look up from his work.
Kay rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Anyways, what do you need Arthur?"
He was so lucky he was my brother. "I was speaking with Bedivere, and it appears that any scout we send overland will be rapidly spotted by the Angle siege force." I eyed him pointedly, "However, the river is another story. Tell me Kay, how quickly do you think you can swim eight miles and remain undetected?"
His expression turned thoughtful, "Without being seen eh? I reckon an hour out of my armor, and two hours wearing it."
Shirou sputtered, "Wait! Did I hear that right, you're swimming in plate armor?"
"Yep! Your ears are working fine," he quipped.
And now he was just being unhelpful. Better straighten this out.
"Shirou, to put it lightly, Kay is a ridiculous swimmer, and that is before accounting for his lung capacity."
The redhead eyed my brother like some exotic beast. "Kay, what's he talking about?"
"What? You mean no one told you how I can hold my breath for nine days?"
Shirou's jaw dropped.
Honestly, this again!? "Stop lying Kay, we both know your limit is an hour at most."
The archer's awe…was not dampened that much. "That's still pretty amazing."
"Hah! Nice try Arthur, but you won't knock me down that easily!" he chided good-naturedly, "Do you really need to be such a stick in the…" Kay's grin died. "Oh… Yeah, forget I said anything. Anyways, what do you want, speed or safety?"
Why did he stop smiling?
'You know the cause full well, Pendragon.'
I swallowed thickly, "Safety. Eboracum can afford to lose an hour, I cannot afford to lose my seneschal."
Nor could I lose my brother.
His eyes softened, "Alright, anything else you want me to do?"
Well, if he was already heading that way…
"Can you try to contact Eboracum? The River Ouse flows through the city walls—If you are careful, you can swim right into the city without ever leaving the water."
"Sure, do you have a message?"
I mustered all the gravity I could, "Tell their leader that King Arthur has come, and plans to attack the Angles on the morrow."
Kay whistled, "Heh, feeling ambitious, aren't you?"
"Sooner is better than later."
"Right, I'll be back by lunch." With no further ceremony, he stood up and leaped into the river with a splash.
Shirou goggled at the spot where he disappeared, "Will he be okay?"
"He will be fine. Now, I must be off—"
"Arthur, wait!"
My leg hitched. "What?"
Did I hear that right? I was certain that my birthday was the last time I would hear him say that name!
He worked his jaw. "This fish is too much for one person. Kay's not going to be back for hours, will you have some?"
I mentally sighed, 'Oh Shirou, always with the attempts to feed me.'
My first reflex was to say no, I already eaten breakfast, but then my eyes fell upon the spit; It held a fine specimen of trout, easily the length of my forearm, and as it sizzled, it released an enticing aroma that filled me with memories of home—Gods, when was the last time I ate fish?
Something dribbled down my chin.
"Um, Arthur? You've got a little something…" Shirou tapped his face.
Oh gods, not again!
Mortified, I swiped my hand across my face. "No, I already ate." That was the danger of Shirou's cooking: it was deadly to my self-control!
His eyes widened. "Hold on, are you sure? It'll go to waste otherwise!"
"I am certain, and surely there is someone in camp that would be happy to—"
Growwwwwl
Shirou's cocked an eyebrow. "Like I said, are you sure?"
Damn you, stomach! Why must you betray me so?
"I…I am sure. I have eaten the same as any of the men, it would be inappropriate to—"
"Arthur! I've seen what you consider breakfast these days, please don't lie to me." The redhead's expression turned deathly serious. "Now I'm not a strategist like Bedivere or a financial wizard like Kay, but I know food, so here's some advice: Hunger is the enemy, don't let it beat you."
Hunger is the enemy? I held back a bitter laugh; Oh indeed, truer words had never been spoken, this campaign had taught me well.
Maybe he had a point? If events went according to plan, tomorrow we would meet the Angles in battle; A hearty meal beforehand would do me good, and the fire was so inviting on this chilly day, why not warm my bones as I waited?
"Fine. But only this once."
His face lit up like a summer day, "Great! Just wait a while, and it'll be done. You won't regret it."
It was a heartening sight—perhaps I had not driven him away completely?
"I will hold you to that."
Shirou was right. It was delicious.
The Day of Battle
Eboracum's ancient walls loomed before us.
The armies of Rome had abandoned us in our time of need, but they left behind many citadels as proof of their empire's glory: In days long past, Eboracum had been their mightiest stronghold in the north.
Centuries ago, it witnessed the beginning of Agricola's war with the Picts; From their base in this city, the warlord's legions went on to subdue much of the north, finally humbling the Pict king himself in a titanic clash in the Highlands. His conquest proved fleeting, but not the peace it brought—the savages had not dared to attack until the twilight of Roman Britannia.
More recently, it beheld the deaths of two Roman emperors, the rise of Constantine, and after the legions withdrew it saw the crowning of Britain's first native kings.
Now it saw a horde of barbarians blackening the countryside; when Eboracum's walls proved too high to climb, the Angles had pulled back and built a jagged line of trenches hemming the city in. Huddled in that siegeworks was the first force I would bring to battle: As soon as they saw us, the fighting would begin.
It would not be long now.
"Remember the plan men, do not charge until I give the order."
Scattered ayes went up from the knights at my back; whatever their reservations, they knew better than to show them on a battlefield.
Bedivere curled his lip, "That has to be the ugliest circumvallation I have ever seen."
"Aye, but these are barbarians, can you really expect Alesia from them?"
He chuckled lightly, "Would that make King Arthwys the Vercingetorix in this tale?"
I nearly shuddered at the thought, "I hope not, because that would make Yffe and Winta Caesar."
Bedivere blanched, "Gods forbid. We are outnumbered enough."
Kay's mission had surpassed all my expectations: Not only had he scouted the city, he had established contact with Einion's brother, returned with the numbers and disposition of the Angle forces, and went out a second time to confirm our plans.
He came back with good news, and bad news.
First, the bad news: We were vastly outnumbered. Three thousand Angles were investing Eboracum!
I had nearly cursed—just where were the Angles getting these troops, and what were they doing before? Against that colossal host, we had seven hundred sixty men fit to fight after the raid, even worse odds than the Glein.
But then came the good news.
Eboracum sat on a river fork that cut the city in three: As a consequence, the Angles needed to divide their army to blockade all three walls. A northern force numbering two thousand besieged the Old City, nestled between the rivers, while smaller bands of five hundred guarded the east bank of the Foss and the west bank of the Ouse. Only a single bridge to the city's south linked the smaller forces—can someone say 'defeat in detail?'
Even better, my force was not alone: Before he died, King Einion had called his brother for help—Arthwys of the Pennines held out with a thousand men behind the city walls.
This battle was winnable, but victory depended on perfect timing and exploiting the terrain: My army had to defeat the smaller forces one by one, then stand its ground against the larger force until Arthwys sallied out with his men. Luckily, I had a surprise in store for the Angles.
As we rode for Eboracum, the eastern band spotted us and sounded the alarm; The battle for the city had begun.
I turned to my brother, "Kay, you know what to do."
He nodded sharply, "Stay safe out there."
'I ought to be saying that, not you.'
"Do not fear, it will take more than barbarians to bring me down."
Kay snorted, "Should have expected that. Well, you heard the king, come on boys!" Giving me a jaunty wave, he led his pike block into the fire.
'Stay alive.'
Kay had a vital role in my plan: he would lead a blocking force to seize the bridge and prevent the western band from crossing. His hundred men would keep the Angles off our backs, but until we were done, they would be outnumbered and unable to retreat.
With my brother gone, there were six hundred sixty men left to fight the eastern band. We still outmatched them, but our numbers were too even for my tastes.
As the enemy loomed closer, I seized my chance to inspect the troops one final time; Behind me were four dozen cavalry along with Bedivere, raring to begin the charge; Six hundred spears marched at their backs, and my lone archer stood in the right flank, ready to perform his duty.
Ahead of us, the Angle commander exhorted his men to prepare for our attack.
When we closed to half a mile, I called for a halt.
My army had marched a hundred miles in the winter chill and sacked a Brittonic town; their morale was badly depleted. This would be my last opportunity to speak with them before we attacked. Many of these men would lie dead on the field come nightfall, but by my honor as a king, they would go forth with hearts filled with pride!
"Britons, hear me! Did I not promise a fight to save the land? Well here we are!"
My arm swept across the battlefield, "A host of barbarians surrounds this fair city, seeking to break its people with fear and famine when strength of arms failed to break its walls. The stout-hearted citizens of Eboracum have stood their ground valiantly, but courage cannot sustain a hungry man forever. These people requested our aid, and we have come to deliver!"
A ragged cheer resounded through the troops.
"Yes! Rejoice men, for when the sun goes down today, each of you will have the gratitude of a kingdom, and the honor of naming yourselves champions of Britain—A shame you lack a worthy foe."
I stabbed a finger at the Angles. "A shame you will have to settle for the blood of bandits and thieves, because what are Saxons but thieves? They steal our land, they steal our lives, and now they seek to steal our heritage! Mighty Lindum reduced to one of their warrens, Boudica's seat lost forever, and now they have come to Eboracum—to seize it as another jewel for their tin crown. Well, I say, not today! The Saxons drove us from our shores, from our farms, from our very capital, but today we Britons shall speak with one voice and cry out, "Not one step back!" Ready your arms Britons, we shall drive them back to the sea!"
The assembled soldiers of Britain roared like thunder; As one, they raised their weapons to the sky, infantry and knight alike. Echoing in time with their thrusts, my name resounded throughout the battlefield.
"ARTHUR! ARTHUR! ARTHUR!"
'Ah, that is the spirit!'
It relieved me to know that even after that harrowing march, I could still capture the men's hearts; this was a pure fight, a good fight, no raids in the dark or plundering allies, just a city full of innocents that desperately needed our help.
And the king was here to deliver.
"Forward!"
The army advanced.
Eight hundred yards. Seven hundred yards. Six hundred yards.
My men marched quickly across the battlefield, eager to come to grips with their foe. As for the Angles, they had not moved an inch: They knew full well that they were outnumbered, and needed to buy time for reinforcements.
Five hundred yards. Four hundred yards. Three hundred yards.
Llamrei snorted impatiently as we trotted ahead.
"Easy girl, just a few minutes more," I murmured, stroking her mane. What would I do with this bloodthirsty horse of mine?
Two hundred yards. One hundred yards.
The time to act had come: I drew Caliburn and gave the order to charge.
Gathering speed, my wedge of cavalry advanced at a trot, then a canter, and then a full gallop; by the midway point, half a hundred knights were racing like an avalanche towards the enemy.
Faced with tons of horseflesh barreling towards them, the Angles reacted predictably: They overlapped their shields and braced for impact.
The shield wall was the Saxons' trademark formation, for the simple fact that it worked: With enough discipline and preparation, a defending force could see off charge after charge of heavy cavalry. The frustrating tactic was the bane of knights, turning fights into brutal slugging matches amongst the infantry.
My usual answer was Caliburn: mere steel and wood could never hold back the holy sword, but each use of its light sapped my reserves, and this was a battle of endurance; I would need every ounce of magical power to see me through the day.
It was fortunate then, that I had chanced upon another counter.
CRACK
Coming from behind, something whizzed overhead and hit the front rank dead on; it tore a bloody gouge in the formation, piercing through man after man, shield after shield, until it passed through the rear and winked out of sight.
When the Angles thought themselves safe…
'Pave the way, Shirou.'
…My archer's newest trick broke their shell.
CRACK
A second shot widened the hole.
"See that, men? That is our road to victory, TRAMPLE THEM!"
Off-balance and with a gap in their ranks, the Angles did not stand a chance—they managed a feeble rain of javelins before we struck them like a battle-axe.
Shields were sundered; bones were splintered; the cavalry whooped as we tore the Angle army's heart out.
Caliburn whirled overhead, splitting the heads and helmets of any man that came within reach. Llamrei crushed any Angle that dared to get in her way. My knights reaped their own bloody harvest as they trailed in my wake. After what felt like an age, but was really moments, we galloped past the enemy rear and into the field beyond.
"Hah…hah…hah…"
That was my first cavalry charge against a proper army. It was…intense, I could see why knights often grew inflated egos, if they were used to crushing men underfoot like this—something to watch out for. Now, to take stock.
So far, so good: Caliburn ran red with the blood of Angles, none of my knights seemed badly hurt, and the foe's ranks were thoroughly gutted; they were done, they simply did not know it yet.
"Form up men, with me!"
Wheeling Llamrei around, I came about for a second pass, this time from the right.
"HOOOOAHH!"
After all, the others needed their chance to shine.
While we were coming about, the infantry fell on the battered Angles like a ton of bricks; robbed of their cohesion, they became easy prey for my men's spears, and soon the ruins of their formation began melting like wax.
Then we rode in for our second pass.
"CHARGE!"
Even more men were bowled over when we struck the flank, and this time, they could not mount even token resistance. Attacked from two directions, their shattered spirits finally gave up the ghost; Before we committed to a third pass, the Angles were in full rout.
"My lord, shall we pursue?" One of the Powysian knights asked.
Watching them drop their spears and flee for their lives, I shook my head, "No, let them run, they are finished. More importantly, Sir Kay needs our help at the bridge, there is no time to waste."
"Of course."
Beating the formation into shape was a laborious process, but we were marching on the bridge soon enough.
"Double time, men!"
There was some grumbling, but the infantry picked up the pace—good, we needed to move quickly for the others' sake.
Kay's men still held their ground, and had mounted a ferocious defense; Even from a mile away, I could see that the bridge was stained crimson, but it looked like the Angles were fed up with dying, and had pulled back to pepper them from afar. They were enduring the rain for now, but shields and armor could not block everything; every time a soldier fell made my heart flinch.
After the fifth death in three minutes, I had enough.
"Knights, follow me. The infantry can catch up, we must relieve Sir Kay."
"Uh, my lord, how are we to do that?" Asked a knight, "His forces are blocking the bridge."
"Then I shall open a path for him," I replied.
"What—oh, of course," He quickly got my meaning.
"Indeed, now follow me. Bedivere, lead the men in my stead."
He saluted, "It will be done."
As we galloped away, my eyes stayed glued to the bridge over the River Ouse. Kay had volunteered for this mission, but he could be so reckless at times, could I be blamed for worrying when my broth—my seneschal put himself at risk?
Three men died before we reached the end of the bridge, then it was time to make that hole.
I fingered Caliburn's hilt. This would be cutting it close, but my reserves were big enough, I could spare a blast for Kay.
"Stand back men!"
Filling my sword with power, I raised it and thrust at the Angle host.
THOOM
The half-power blast turned dozens to ash, and felled even more like wheat before a scythe.
While the enemy was reeling, I called out, "Kay, are you still alive in there?"
A hand poked out of the canopy of shields and gave a thumbs up.
"Yeah, thanks for the save, Arthur."
My relief was palpable, "You are welcome, now could you make some room for the rest of us?"
"Right on it!" He audibly cleared his throat, "Listen up boys, let's tear those bastards a new one! Attack!"
Roaring in fury, his troops barreled across the bridge to take their revenge; the knight himself burst out of their ranks to fall upon the dazed Angles, and began laying about with his sword.
"Is he mad?"
The same knight as before stared after my brother as he danced among the enemy. I could sympathize: Kay's bloodlust sometimes got the better of him.
"While I meant 'move aside', I will not fault him for his initiative." I swiveled around and addressed the others, "Well men, the way is open. Let us ride!"
"HURRAH!"
We thundered over the bridge and pounced on the enemy. Scorched, concussed, and already brutalized by Kay's mad charge, they hardly put up a fight; it was not long before the second force was sent running like the first.
Kay wiped his blade on an Angle's corpse. "So, what do we do now?"
My eye twitched. 'You could start by showing some respect for the dead, honestly!'
"Now we wait Kay, now we wait." I counted my knights, and was pleased to see them all among us. We had been rather fortunate so far: they had not suffered like the infantry, and even their losses were rather light.
Just then, the din of jingling chainmail stole my attention.
'Speak of the devil.'
Bedivere had arrived with the rest of my force. Leaving them behind at the foot of the bridge, he trotted over and saluted, "My king, congratulations on your—"
A war horn's blast cut him off.
"Thank you, but your congratulations are premature."
The lesser forces were vanquished, but now came the real test: Their kings had taken the field.
"Bedivere, prepare the men."
He nodded. "As you wish."
The knight called out to the infantry, "Men! Cross over and form a hedgehog! We must plug this gap and hold fast until our allies come!"
My troops hustled across the bridge; fanning out in a semicircle, the first line knelt and planted their spears in the dirt, the second aimed over their fellows' shoulders, and the others followed rank by rank. A thick-set grove of pikes was the final result, prepared to repel even the most bloody-minded assault.
Our defense was ready, now for the offense: I scanned the crowd for a shock of red hair, and spied it behind the pike hedge.
"Shirou, come over here!"
"Coming, coming!" Sidling around the right flank, he jogged up and saluted, "What do you need me for?"
Some of the knights bristled, but I ignored them.
"First off, spectacular work with the eastern force, you made our jobs much easier."
His jaw tightened, but he nodded, "Thanks."
"Tell me, can you repeat that stunt? How often can you do it?"
"I'm not sure—I can do it again, but those Durandal arrows take a lot out of me, and I've never tested my limits. I'd guess maybe… three? Four more is the best I can do."
I sucked my teeth. "That will have to do. Find a spot by the river, and prepare to support our charge."
"Right away." The archer saluted and jogged off to the riverbank.
So, no rending armies with impunity. It was a little disappointing to hear, but no use being ungrateful: Better a walking ballista with few arrows than none at all.
Though I would have to ask how he learned to make those. It was a pleasant shock to learn that Shirou had been the one to pierce the raiders' shield wall—and to think, I never would have heard of them if he had not used one in the raid. Just what was Merlin teaching him? Something to ask the archer at a later date. It might be time to start looking for a horse…
But now was not the time. I squared my shoulders and shouted, "Men, form up on the left! Get ready to charge on my command."
After an interminable wait, the Angle host's banner rounded the southwest wall of Eboracum. All around me, the men tensed; we watched the column stretch onwards, and onwards, and onwards, until finally the rear guard came into view. This was the largest force I had ever faced, dwarfing even Wehha's army.
However, something concerned me.
"Is that all of them?"
"Are you disappointed, my lord? That is certainly a mighty force," said a baffled knight.
"No, no, that is not what I meant."
"I agree," said Bedivere, "that is not two thousand men, it is half of that, perhaps two thirds at the most." He furrowed his brow, "So where are the rest of them?"
"I do not know."
And that worried me. As the column of one thousand Angles approached, I considered the implications for our strategy: We had counted on the whole force responding to our attack, so when it was fully engaged, Arthwys could ride out and play the hammer to our anvil. But what if the others had stayed behind? Or what if they went around back to cut us off? It was a mystery, and one that could jeopardize the entire battle plan at this crucial moment.
While the possibilities flitted through my head, the Angle force drew ever closer. Their column fanned out in a wide arc, threatening to engulf us…only to stop beyond bowshot?
Strange…Why were they not attacking?
My confusion only grew when the banner kept moving.
This close, I could make out two figures marching beneath it: The standard bearer and a second armored man. They continued onwards, coming to a stop halfway between our armies.
Then, they settled in to wait.
I stared in disbelief, "Is that a parley?"
"It does look that way, my king," said Bedivere. He looked as bewildered as I was.
To my knowledge, Saxons of any stripe rarely bothered to negotiate—Wehha's visit was more of a screaming fit than a parley—nevertheless, here they were, waiting in the middle of the field.
"It's got to be a trap," said Kay, "they're trying to separate you from the men so they can ambush you."
"I doubt that. There are only two men out there, what sort of ambush is that?"
"I don't know, maybe they have poison? Or maybe their own magus!"
"That is…" A disturbing thought indeed. Who said that Saxons cannot have magi?
My musings were interrupted by angry shouting.
"Oi, Briton! What's the hold up? Get that thumb out your arse and come over here! Or are you too craven to show your face?"
Silence.
"What...the…fuck?"
I shared Kay's reaction. Did I really just hear that?
Behind me I heard snickering, cut off by a muffled clang, "Shut up."
That drew me out of my stupor. "Well, there is only one way to respond to that, I am going."
"Arthur, this could still be a trap."
"Then be my second, if you are concerned about betrayal. Bedivere, hold down the fort while I am gone."
He blinked, "Um… very well my king, be careful."
"I certainly will."
Ambush or not, magus or not, I was more than prepared to take on any threat they could offer.
Kay and I rode forth to the Saxon parley—what a strange thought—coming to a stop a few yards from their standard. I took the opportunity to study my enemy up close.
The standard-bearer was unremarkable, yet another bearded blond man in chainmail; his partner, on the other hand, was rather more eye-catching.
The Angle was a man of perhaps forty, quite tall and broad-shouldered, with a shock of white hair and intense blue eyes that brazenly met my own. He wore an ornate set of plate armor covered in unfamiliar symbols, though a design of three interlocking triangles was prominent on the breastplate. The most important part of this picture, however, was a golden band that glinted on his brow.
"Do I have the honor of addressing Yffe or Winta?"
He squinted at me, replying in accented Brittonic, "Before I answer that, why don't you give me your name? It's mighty hard to treat you like a proper foe when I'm stuck calling you 'that wee bairn in a dress' in my head."
"Pffha!" Kay clapped his hand over his mouth. Ugh, traitor.
"It is an armored surcoat," I ground out.
He rolled his eyes, "I bet you say that a lot, but you still haven't answered me."
"Fine, I am Arthur Pendragon."
Something dark flashed over the Angle's face. His lip curled, "Pendragon, eh? I should have known by the smell."
My smell? That was rich coming from a barbarian!
Before I could retort, his disgust vanished—he actually looked rather somber.
"That bastard really did it." The Angle shook his head, "Never mind that, a deal's a deal, you gave me your name, so you can call me Winta, son of Woden."
I blinked. "The god?"
Winta smirked, "Aye, maybe. Or it might be me da's named for the Lord o' the Hanged, or maybe I'm talking out my arse to spook you—you'll never know the truth."
Was he playing mind games? Ugh, I had no time for this nonsense. "What do you want?"
"What I want to do is to finish this cleanly, without any more of my boys getting killed." He waved an expansive arm at the field behind me. "You've been ripping my people apart the whole morn, so I'd like to settle this between the two of us." His eyes pierced through mine, "Arthur Pendragon, I challenge you to single combat."
"Hold the fuck—"
"Quiet Kay, I want to hear this." I sized up the Angle; what was his scheme?
"For all your talk of saving lives, it was you who put them at risk in the first place. What are you doing here? Did you join for a share of the plunder, only to get cold feet when your men started dying?"
His face purpled with fury, "It might mean nothing to you, but Yffe is kin, and it will be a warm day in Hel before I let kin get backstabbed by some pissant king that can't even protect his own lands."
'THAT—'
'Hold on Pendragon, do not lose your temper.'
I released my sword's hilt; right, we were under a banner of truce, no attacking him for slandering a fallen ally—there was time for that later.
Inhaling deeply, I calmly considered his words. So, our plans had been discovered after all, though that raised the question of who betrayed us. We would have to root them out once the invasion was defeated.
"Very well. You came here to protect people. I came here to protect people. Neither of us wants our men to die, what are your terms?"
"Simple: If I die, my men will leave. If you die, yours will leave. D'ye ken?"
It took a moment to decipher the Angleism, but eventually I agreed: My purpose was to relieve Eboracum; if I had a chance to drive off this army with a single death, I would seize it with both hands.
"I accept."
"Hold up! Arthur, are you really going to believe this guy? He's a Saxon! Even if you win, they'll just attack us right after."
"Kay, my decision is final!" I leveled a cool gaze at my soon-to-be opponent. "My brother raises a good point however, will your men honor these terms?"
"Hmph, they better. You hear that, Osric? Tell the men that if one of them interferes, my sword's going straight up their bunghole!"
The hitherto quiet standard bearer blanched, "Uh, yes King Winta. I'll pass it on."
"Good, now go!"
As the soldier jogged off, Winta returned his gaze to me. "There you go, I gave them the order, now will you do the same?"
"Well Kay?"
My brother looked mutinous, but he finally nodded, "Alright, I'll tell them. Gut that bastard good, Arthur."
I dismounted Llamrei, and Kay took her reins—then my horse shot me a look.
"Go now, you had your fun."
She snorted and tossed her head, but trotted away after my brother.
When I turned around, Winta was eyeing me strangely.
"What is it?"
He sighed and drew his sword, "Nothin', just hit me that you got your mother's hair."
Drawing my own sword, I asked, "How would you know my mother, Angle?"
"With the amount of time she spent around camp with the boys? Who wouldn't know her?"
Blood roared in my ears.
'HE DARED? I SWEAR I WILL GUT THIS SWINE!'
"Prepare yourself Angle."
He blinked, "Eh?"
"I said, prepare yourself!"
The world blurred—
CLANG
Caliburn jolted in my grip—he blocked it!?
Straining against my sword, Winta sneered, "Guess you got your honor from your da." His blade began to glow…
Then he moved.
'Woah!'
Sparks flew as we traded blows at a lightning-fast pace, and from the start Winta was going for the kill: in the space of ten seconds, the Angle made no less than five attempts to sever my head.
When was the last time I fought a foe like this, Merlin? It took all my reflexes to keep up, and only keep up—he was pushing me back!
"Hmph, is that all? Your father's been slacking."
A wicked thrust screeched off my gauntlet—overextended!
I replied with an uppercut.
"Fuck!"
The Angle king backflipped through the air; landing with a light stumble, he spat out a wad of blood. "Heh, maybe you have his fangs after all."
Did Uther fight this man before he died? It would explain the contempt he had for the Pendragons, but something was not right…
"We fighting or what?"
Never mind that. "Just reckoning the fastest way to end this."
He snorted, "Well, either you let me gut you, or you can gut me, not like you can kill me from over there—unless your da passed you some of his witchery."
This was getting tiresome. "It depends…"
Looking deep within, I found that half-open portal where my heart was, and threw it wide.
A blazing nimbus of power set my hair aflutter.
"Does a dragon heart count?"
I lunged.
Winta brought his sword up—
CRACK
The point went spinning through the air.
"Wha—"
I swung again.
Now it was Winta's turn to be on the back foot. Empowered by the full might of my dragon core, I relentlessly showered him with blows.
Stab, slash, parry, uppercut—
"Urk!"
Something crunched, and a gout of blood spewed from his mouth.
I thrust at his armpit—
"AH!"
—it bit, crippling his sword arm.
'Time to finish this.'
But as I prepared my killing stroke, the Angle hurled himself away, just escaping with his head.
Winta flexed his jaw, winced, and tossed his broken blade to his left hand. "I was kidding about witchery."
"I have no idea what my father did to you, but a witch he was not."
The Angle scoffed, "Have you met the monster? No sane man would call that anything but witchcraft."
"I would not know, he died when I was five."
He frowned, "What are you—"
I pounced. Winta lashed out at my face, but I struck his blade—this time, taking everything above the hilt. He then tried to grapple me, but I slipped through his arms, and kicked him in the belly. Gasping, he fell in the dirt.
'Okay, now to finish this.'
Winta had no time to react before I landed on his legs, trapping him. Raising Caliburn, I drove it straight into his breastplate—
Ting
The breastplate glowed blue. What in the world…?
'So those were more than just decorations.'
The tip of my sword was blocked by a rippling barrier shrouding his armor; those sigils I noted now shone an eye-watering electric blue—undoubtably, some kind of enchantment forged into the plates.
No matter. I drew deep from my power, braced my blade, and drove it home—
BOOM
Something struck me like a giant's club. The world tumbled past me; everything was blue then brown, blue then brown, blue then brown—then I hit the ground head-first and saw stars.
'Ugh, did that madman have explosive armor?'
When the ringing in my ears subsided, I opened my eyes, only to see darkness. For one heart-stopping moment, I feared I had gone blind—then the sensation of dirt on my face registered.
'Hah, even when I kill him, he manages to put me in the ground.'
The blast had planted me like a carrot in the dirt: Everything from my waist up was stuck underground, while my legs kicked uselessly in the air. I must have looked ridiculous!
But no matter, I won the duel. Whatever that enchantment was, it reacted explosively to getting pierced. No doubt the Angle was lying in pieces all over the field.
It took some effort, but I managed to tear myself free from the earth. Picking the dirt out of my ears, I was greeted by a deafening racket.
"URAAAAAH!"
What was that?
Shaking the cobwebs out of my head, I pushed myself up, and spied a wall of Angles rushing towards me!
What—Oh, those lying snakes!
"Men, prepare to attack!" I whirled around and saw that my order was unneeded: they were nearly upon me. Bedivere rode at the head of the pack, while Kay had helpfully brought along Llamrei. Timing their approach, I powered into the air, landing roughly astride my horse.
"Told you so."
"Now is not the time Kay, just get ready to charge."
The Angles were not stopping, and we closed at a rapid pace. I braced myself for impact: No shield wall meant nothing to stop us, but that was an awful lot of men to ride through; this was going to be bloody—
CRACK
'Oh, thank you Shirou.'
Trust the archer to make my life easier.
The formation's great depth meant his shot failed to penetrate; nonetheless it hewed a notch in their ranks that we quickly exploited.
"CHARGE!"
We dove into the breach, hacking away as we went, but this time the battle-mad Angles did not make it easy for us: They struck back.
My hopes that this would be another bloodless charge died when a knight took a javelin to the visor; he tumbled bonelessly from the saddle. Throwing axes were flying everywhere, joined by more javelins, and bits of Angle, and rocks—the world had gone mad! Everyone was screaming at the top of their lungs, myself included, and blood went flying everywhere.
It was a harrowing ride through this sea of chaos before the cavalry burst through the Angle rear, and came about for another pass.
Looking around at the men, they were looking rather poorly: Better than half of them had dented, or even pierced plate, with one unlucky knight having a throwing axe lodged in his pauldron. Kay and Bedivere seemed alright, though the former had a gash on his cheek.
He grimaced. "That was fun."
Aye, no need to say that twice. What sort of man was Winta, that his death drove his men to such heights of fury?
"My king, we must hurry, the men!"
Bedivere's shout pulled my attention back to the Angles, just in time to spot them crash headlong into our infantry!
"Ride men, ride!"
The Angle army bowed around the hedgehog formation; any effort to weave through the spears got the luckless soldier a new breathing hole, and as the dead piled high, they realized that they would not break through by force. Their flanks continued and tried to penetrate the sides, but met the same fate—no man was getting through that forest of pikes.
And so the rain of missiles began.
'Oh no!'
"Faster!"
No man would get through that, but a javelin was a different story. We had to hurry, that point-blank shower of weapons would be murder on the men!
But it was already too late.
The right flank was doing poorly: Whether it was fatigue or greater weight of missiles, the men were starting to buckle. Angle warriors pounced on this weakness, and began hacking away at the pike hedge, thinning their protection. Then, they began to shove.
A foot at a time, the Angles pushed the flank back. Their fellows struggled to compensate, but the imbalance was threatening to unravel the whole hedgehog. As we helplessly watched, a pack of warriors struck at the seam between the flank and the river…and recoiled.
'What on earth?'
Whatever happened, the Angles wanted none of it, and they retreated from the right flank.
Never mind that—I needed to smash this formation quickly.
"Men, we are attacking the Angle left. Follow!"
As the knights thundered after me, I prepared another blast.
'Guh!'
When I began charging Caliburn, a hollow sensation grew in my chest. That first attack, followed by the duel with Winta had drained my reserves, and this one drained me even more; spots danced in the corners of my vision.
'Keep it coming Pendragon, do not let up! Do it for the men, for the knights, for the city, and especially so those barbarians will not have the pleasure of beating us!'
Caliburn glowed like the morning sun. I picked a nice fat spot in the middle of the Angles…
"TAKE THIS!"
…and thrust it forth. A searing beam of light lanced into the enemy—and consumed them all.
The blast spared none of them—not even my men, who were hurled back by the shockwave—one instant, a sea of Angles strained against my troops; the next, nothing but ash and molten metal remained.
Our suddenly needless charge petered out, and the knights drank in the sight of what I had wrought.
The Angles were gutted. Their center had simply ceased to be, and as the battered Britons regained their bearings, they mopped up the dazed survivors. While their flanks remained, they were too busy panicking to press the attack; before my eyes, they finally made up their minds, and routed.
"Spectacular work my lord! You showed them the might of Britain, that lot will fear your name to their dying days!" cried a boisterous knight. "Here's to hoping the reminder fall as quickly, though wait, why are you—oh."
He followed my gaze to the gruesome sight before us.
When the Angles receded, they revealed the bloody aftermath of their attack: A tangle of the dead and dying encircled my infantry where the forces had clashed. Their cries…
'My men…gods I am so sorry.'
What a fool I was! If I had listened to Kay, if I had been standing amongst them when the Angles struck—but no, I was lured out by Winta's false promises, only arriving in time to stave off their total destruction. I could not even comfort them in their dying moments, a king could not display such sentiment…
All I could offer them, was vengeance.
All of this death, the Angles, my men, it was needless, an utterly pointless waste of human life. And I knew exactly who to blame: If the Angles had kept their word, all of these men would still be living, even they would be alive and marching home, instead of choking the air with their cinders.
And NOW, these serpents were RUNNING AWAY from the punishment for their treachery…
I hardened my heart, and gave the order, "Men, there is only one punishment for breaking a parley: .Out."
This time, none escaped.
Shirou
"Well met, King Arthwys."
"Aye, and glad to meet you Arthur, you pulled our arses out of the fire."
Arthwys wasn't what I'd expected him to be; I mean, I knew that just because their names were similar, didn't mean they had to look alike, but the stocky bearded redhead really threw me for a loop when he showed up with his knights.
Not that the hair color's far off right now—gods she looks terrifying.
"I am happy to be of help—though I must ask, what were you doing during the battle?"
The king chuckled darkly, "Sorry if I kept you waiting, I was dealing with Yffe while you were fighting the other one. Let's just say I've got a nice long stake above the north gate with his name on it, serves him right for killing my brother."
If Artoria was disturbed by that gruesome image, she didn't show it. "Excellent news. I believe that makes it three Angle kings slain this year; let us hope the lesson sticks this time."
His eyes widened, "Hold it! You mean you don't know?"
Artoria's jaw clenched. "What happened?"
"He ran off is what he did! Carved his way through half a dozen knights and escaped with a pack of Angles!" Arthwys threw his hands up and clawed at the air. "UGH! Honestly can't say if it was 'cause we were fighting Yffe, or we were too busy gawking at the naked barbarian to kill him, but he gave us the slip. Must be on his way to Lindsey by now."
"Is that so? Then my next course of action is decided." She turned her emotionless gaze—even more emotionless than usual—to the gathered officers. "Men, prepare the troops. We are marching on Lindum."
"Uh, Arthur? Are you sure—"
"Yes Kay, I am sure. The Angles started this, but I intend to finish it." The blonde's gaze returned to Arthwys, "Can I count on your help? My men are somewhat depleted, a thousand more soldiers would be mighty helpful."
Arthwys stared at her. Hell, we all stared at her, she was talking about attacking a city in the winter, and after we lost like, a fifth of our men!
He awkwardly coughed, "Uh, apologies Arthur, not that I don't admire your enthusiasm, but I need to put this kingdom in order before we're snowed in. The Angles made a mighty mess of things in the east, there's towns that need repairing, and remanning the border forts," he sadly shook his head, "Sorry, but I can't send my men away when there's so much to do at home."
Her hands began strangling the reins, "A pity, I suppose it cannot be helped."
Eyes darting back and forth, she asked, "If you cannot spare the troops, can you spare the supplies? We are nearly out of food after our march, we would need to restock here anyways."
His face lit up, "Ah, that I can do! That stockpile for the Deira campaign's still lying around, help yourself to that! It's not like we'll need it anymore."
"Is that so?" Artoria's eye twitched, "I was led to believe that you were a week from starvation, was that not the case?"
Arthwys chuckled nervously, "Ehehe, well our regular food supplies were running low, think there was a mix-up somewhere."
A mix-up?
We robbed those poor people over a mix-up!?
I stalked forwards to give him a piece of my mind, but a hand yanked me back.
"Take it easy Shirou, what are you gonna do, punch him?" Peredur whispered, "He's a king, do that and you'll lose your head."
Oh, he's a king so he gets away with it? I was getting sick and tired of that word. A king isn't human, a king doesn't need emotions, a king kills everyone to protect everyone—that word was poison as far as I was concerned, after what it did to my king…
"Silence!" Artoria's cold eyes bored into mine, "Must I remind you that I am the king, and not you?"
The blonde stalked around me, not once breaking eye contact, "Five thousand souls hang in the balance, and you would throw them away for a single village? We need that food to carry out our campaign. It is simple math: 'how do we feed eight hundred people for five days?' There are no towns nearby, there is no time to return home, and certainly not enough fish in the river to feed an army!"
"But—"
"But nothing!" she snapped, "I understand that this is uncomfortable for you, but kings need to make these hard choices for the good of the many. If you cannot bear it, then leave!"
Yeah. Being a king sucked.
Arthwys and Artoria's talk carried on for a while, but between the two of them, they eventually worked out a plan: We would camp outside the walls for the night, and he would give us all the food we could carry; that way, we'd be ready to march off at dawn.
Sounded awfully unfair to me: We'd saved this city and the people in it—hell, he'd even rule it now that his brother was gone!—but then again, I wasn't a king, what would I know?
When her counterpart left, Artoria turned to us, "Congratulations men, you did good work today. Whatever happens from this point on, the Kingdom of Ebrauc is safe." Sighing, she let her shoulders sag, "But before you depart to your tents, I would have your views on the battle: What happened out there? How did we do? Is there something we could do better next time? We shall start off with you, Kay."
"I don't have much to report Arthur," he replied, "my men did a fine job holding the bridge, nothing short of a stone wall could have done better."
"Hmph, perhaps we could invest in some engineers? Something to look into. And you Bedivere?"
"Nothing you did not see yourself, my king. We performed excellently, for the most part." He grimaced, "The loss of Sir Owen was a painful blow, but one we can recover from. Sir Evan will not be fighting for a while, but his shoulder will heal in time. Then there is the damage to their armor, but that can be fixed easily enough, if not in time for the attack on Lindum."
The knight eyed her nervously, "Regarding that, I strongly suggest that you wait until spring, the men are weary, and it is only a matter of time before the snows choke the roads. This is not the time to be carrying out a siege."
"I disagree, this is the perfect time to attack Lindum." She met his eyes dead on, "Think of what just happened, the armies of two Angle kingdoms were annihilated, one of their kings slain, the other sent running with his tail between his legs. And now, all that stands between us and the final crippling of the Angle Coast is one man hiding in a lightly garrisoned city, in a kingdom half-full of Britons! Picture it Bedivere! if we take that city, not only could we end the raids, we could even push them back to the sea!"
Her enthusiasm gripped the knight—like an electric current had passed through his spine, he stood ramrod straight and practically snapped to attention. That was the thing about Artoria: She had a way with words that could make you believe everything would be better someday.
But even that didn't change the facts, as Bedivere pointed out, "That may be so, but we do not have the resources for a siege in Angle territory."
"Do not fret, I have an idea on how to take the city. Trust me, it will not come down to a siege."
He ran his fingers through his hair, "If you say so, my king."
"I do. Now onto the next man." Artoria's gaze softened, just a bit, "Peredur, you had the greatest burden of everyone here, and took the heaviest losses. What do you have to say?"
The captain gulped, "You said it yourself my lord, we got mauled. A hundred thirty of my boys aren't going home."
There was a flash of something in her gaze, but it vanished too fast to identify. "Unfortunate. And what about the battle itself?"
"Yeah, I've got a suggestion: Next time we fight the Saxons, forget the hedgehog, let's just go with a regular shield wall, we'll lose less people that way."
She frowned, "How so?"
"Well, take a look at our losses: Kay's men were outnumbered five to one and held the bridge for nigh on half an hour, and only lost ten men. With the hedgehog, we lost over a hundred in less than five minutes. The thing's murder on regular infantry, but it can't deal with ranged attacks; only reason we didn't lose the right flank is 'cause Shirou plugged the breach."
"Truly?" Artoria's eyes snapped to me, "Shirou, what does he mean?"
I scratched my head, "Ehe, nothing really, just doing my job, right? The Angles were about to break through, so I put my sword drills to the test."
It was actually horrifying. Killing men from a distance was one thing; almost slipping on someone's insides after you sliced him in half? It was all I could do not to throw up. That was another thing about using super-sharp swords: Things like bones and shields didn't even slow them down.
"Your modesty does you no favors Shirou, this army owes you a debt of gratitude." Her eyes gleamed in approval, "And that is not all you did, your arrows were instrumental to the success of our cavalry charges; safe to say, you saved dozens of lives today."
'And killed dozens more.'
Just because I had to do it, didn't mean I liked killing.
"Like I said, I was just doing my job protecting the men."
"Nonetheless, I think your actions are worthy of reward. You have served under Kay for more than a year now, that deserves some recognition. Tell me—what boon would you ask of me?"
As she eyed me with interest, my thoughts raced. I didn't really want anything material, all my needs were met, and anything I did want was beyond reach. Find some rice to cook with? It was on the other side of the world. A hot shower? Might as well ask for the moon. Ask her to show some humanity…
" .Out."
…Right, now was not the time for that—But there might be a way I could help…
"Arthur, Bedivere had a good point, do we really need to attack them now? What could the Angles do in the middle of winter? They can't plant new men to fight for them, and you said it yourself, we destroyed their army! Plus, if we wait till spring, Arthwys can help!" I looked her dead in the eye, "Please give the men a chance to rest, this campaign's been hard enough without fighting in the cold. Enough people have died this year, it can wait till spring."
Her expression flattened. "Denied."
…
"Oh."
"Do you have something else in mind?"
There was a hopeful tinge to her voice—not that I cared, I was too busy staring at my feet.
"No, not really."
She sighed. "If you think of something, tell me."
"I'll do that. Do you need me anymore?"
"…No, you are dismissed."
"Okay."
Spinning around, I marched out of there as fast as I could.
'Stupid, stupid, stupid!'
I wanted to kick myself for hoping! Why did I think she'd listen? I couldn't get her to eat a slice of cake she didn't want, forget about changing a battle plan! And the worst part was, she hated it, all this killing and death, she just wanted to save people, but she did it anyway out of some twisted sense of duty. It made me feel so helpless, watching her slowly turn into this ice sculpture while she swatted my hands away every time I tried to help.
'This must be what that first knight felt.'
I knew Artoria, who she really was inside, but this heartless mask she'd nailed onto her face? It was sickening! Emotionlessly ordering the sack of a town, emotionlessly ordering the massacre of hundreds of Angles, then she ordered an army of weary and wounded men to invade a kingdom in the winter, where they'd get frostbitten sitting outside those walls. It was…UGH!
…At moments like this, I wondered if the Grail really had cursed me. What could be worse than watching the one you love march down the path to destruction? It reminded me of that legend, the guy that had to roll a rock up the hill; just when he got to the top, it rolled back down and he had to start all over. It was like that with Artoria: One step forward, two steps back.
We'd set up camp on the east side of the river—the place with the least amount of corpses—and so I crossed the bridge, crossed the fields, and sat in front of my tent.
Something flapped overhead.
Looking up, I saw an unwelcome visitor. "What—oh gods, what do you want? Come on, shoo! There's plenty of corpses over the river." I waved my arms, trying to scare it off.
The crow didn't move a muscle; it just stared at me from the peak of my tent with those beady blue eyes.
"Freaky thing. Fine! Be that way—But you better be gone by nightfall, or I'm shooting you down!"
More staring…gods, was it sick or something?
Hmph, whatever. I wasn't lying about my threat; I'd seen way too many crows today, enough to know that they loved eating the eyes first.
Footsteps approached my tent. I turned around, and saw a welcome visitor.
"Evening Kay, what's going on?"
He huffed, "Why can't I check up on my squire? It's sorta my job you know? To make sure you turn out alright." Plopping down at my side, he gave me a concerned look, "I saw how you ran off, want to talk about it?"
I thought about it: If there was one man here who'd get it, it had to be Kay.
"Alright, you want to hear it?"
"Well, yeah, that was my question boyo."
"Hmph, fine. It was the way Arthur shot me down. He got my hopes up for a second, you know? Thinking he'd actually listen, when I wanted to give the men a rest. Why did he offer that boon if he was going to refuse it?"
A sad grin spread across his face, "Probably didn't expect you to ask that. Personally? I think he was sounding you out for a knighting."
I blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah, look at what you did! When those Angles were rolling up the flank, you jumped in and ripped them apart! And he wasn't lying, those magic arrows worked a trick. That's knighting material right there."
"But I thought that was your job?"
He snorted. "You kidding me? Do you know what a knight's pay is?"
"Um…no?"
"It's a hell of a lot more than you make! I'd be a piss-poor seneschal if I paid the men any more than I needed to make them stay. If I have my way? You'll be my squire forever."
My face contorted as I stared at this creep. I…How did he…what?
"You're awful!"
He doubled over cackling, "Pfffahahahaha! Oh gods, the look on your face!"
Hold the phone— "Wait, were you joking?"
"Ha! No, but your face was hilarious." Kay's laughter died down, and he eyed me more seriously, "You're not having second thoughts, are you? I'll knight you if it'll make you stay."
Monetizing knighthood? Damn, he didn't have any shame.
"That's not the problem, and you know it. It's not even the fact he turned me down, its…" My fists clenched. "I don't like this new Arthur, I don't like what he's becoming, but I can't do anything about it! He just gets worse, and worse, and worse, and whenever I try to stop it, he shoots me down, because he's the king, and I'm not. Like I give a damn about that crown!"
"Woah, woah, woah!" Kay waved his arms. Eyeing me with concern, he said, "Hey, it's going to get better alright? We're just in a tight spot, once our campaign gets some momentum, and we get an actual supply train and some kingdoms at our back, things will get better. Just have a little hope, will you, boyo?"
Hope, huh?
I thought back to that morning by the river. It was so hard to tell these days, but she'd seemed happy sitting by the fire, gobbling up that fish. Artoria was still in there somewhere, she was just buried under tons of iron.
"Yeah, I can do that."
But it got harder every day.