Previously, Morgan had agreed to teach Kaelar magic for ten days. In reality, however, Kaelar managed to extend this to a full month...
After all, who would willingly abandon such a talented student? No matter the type of magic, Kaelar picked it up instantly. Morgan tried to challenge him by starting with the more difficult spells, but Kaelar's talent for magic was astonishing. He mastered nearly every branch with ease, except for a few specialized spells.
Here, Morgan's contradictory nature revealed itself. On one hand, the stronger Kaelar became, the less likely it was that she would someday become the ruler—since he was firmly loyal to the Red Dragon faction.
A royal tutor? That was essentially a death sentence to her own ambitions, binding him tightly to the Red Dragon's cause.
But on the other hand, if she stopped teaching him now, she might deeply regret it. She might never again find a student as gifted and diligent as Kaelar.
Kaelar went nine days and nights without sleep, immersing himself in the study of Morgan's magic. In that month, he barely rested—working as if his life depended on it.
Morgan didn't understand why he was so determined, but she admired his dedication to every opportunity to grow stronger.
Those idealistic and almost laughable dreams of his...
Perhaps...
They might actually become reality.
In a month's time, Kaelar mastered most of the magical theories. Even the more obscure and complex parts were firmly memorized. All that remained was practical application.
He could now be considered a master of magical theory. But unlike those who stagnated, unable to advance past a certain point, if Kaelar focused on the spells Morgan had taught him, becoming a true great mage was only a matter of time.
Now, Kaelar and Morgan communicated through a Celtic blood pact—a form of telepathic conversation that demanded a high level of both mental and magical power. In later eras, almost no magicians were able to manage such a feat.
But this was the Age of Gods, where the abundance of mana surpassed the wildest dreams of future magicians, making such feats a casual affair.
After a brief telepathic conversation with Morgan, Kaelar felt a small tug at his sleeve. Artoria looked up at him, pointing to the remaining Saxons. "What are we going to do with them?" she asked cautiously.
After Kaelar had announced that murderers would be executed, the captured Saxons had fallen into despair, numbly awaiting Kaelar's order to put them to death.
"I could have had you all executed."
Kaelar's first words made the captured Saxons flinch, and the knights—still seething after losing much of their power—quickly echoed, "Lord Kaelar, kill these Saxon scum!"
"...Why are you Celts always so fixated on killing?" Kaelar turned to Artoria, gesturing at the despairing Saxons. "Life is a precious thing... Life and death are the heaviest of weights in this world, decisions that must be made with utmost care."
He then looked at the condemned and said, "You are sinners, but punishing without guidance is cruelty. I have decided to give you all a chance."
Environment shapes those who are otherwise mediocre.
Kaelar deeply understood that a corrupt system would turn men into monsters. If he had captured captains and first mates—those who had climbed over the bodies of common sailors to drink their fill—he wouldn't have hesitated to throw them to the knights.
But capturing ordinary soldiers and executing them was far less effective than transforming them back into decent people.
Kaelar spoke gently, "Remember this kindness. This is the power of a lord—to decide life and death. And I have decided to spare you."
The Saxons, who had been certain they were going to die, burst into tears of joy. After the constant shifts in their fate, their pride had been thoroughly eroded by Kaelar's methods. Some even wept, grateful for his mercy.
Humans can be tamed.
The thought surfaced in Kaelar's mind.
He decided to spare the Saxons, but he wouldn't pamper them. Labor reform combined with ideological transformation...
Yes, he would build a prison beside the castle, and it would be called Derlin Prison.
With the recent addition of three thousand household guards, Kaelar urgently needed to increase resources. He planned to implement General Qi's method of military farming, assigning Artoria to put the theory into practice.
As for the four hundred criminals, he would assign them to various trades based on their skills, to create value.
This was far better than executing them—forcing them to redeem themselves through labor. If, in the future, their ideological transformation was complete, they would become his most loyal followers.
Or perhaps... his disciples.
[System Notification]
You have once again released the Saxons you defeated, though you imprisoned four hundred in your newly built Derlin Prison. There, you have them perform labor and regularly teach them your doctrines.
Undoubtedly, you, Kaelar, are correct. Your thoughts are centuries ahead of this barbaric age. If the world you envision—a utopia of fairness—were realized, even after the Age of Gods fades and resources dwindle, humanity would still flourish in a paradise.
While you are reforming the inmates of Derlin Prison, you are also teaching your doctrines to the Celts in your territory, patiently explaining your principles in simple terms.
Handling the knights is relatively easy; after all, they are Celts—barbarians, if you will. You involve them in constant training and combat, gradually replacing material rewards with a sense of honor. You are crafting a disciplined force like no other.
In less than a year, you manage to dissolve the internal conflicts within your territory. This administrative ability earns you Artoria's admiration—she thinks that if she had your skills, the Round Table might never have splintered under the strain of Lancelot's betrayal.
At thirteen, your reputation spreads among both Celts and Saxons. The Celtic lords scoff at your so-called 'virtue,' but they are eager to learn from your cavalry-infantry coordination tactics.
Yet, just as reading The Art of War doesn't make one a second Sun Tzu, General Qi's Training Manual—despite its clarity—produced no second Qi Jiaguo. No matter how open you are with your teachings, none seem able to replicate your military prowess... perhaps with the exception of a certain young lion quietly absorbing your lessons?
In the meantime, you continue to defeat the guerrilla forces sent by the Hengist brothers, creating a network of informants among the Saxons by releasing them repeatedly. With each campaign, you receive detailed intelligence, leading to flawless victories.
At fourteen, you once again defeat a coalition of Saxons...
No, to be precise, the Saxons only offered token resistance, firing a few arrows from their ships to justify the petty king's pay before surrendering en masse. They brought with them delicacies from their homeland, exquisite seafood, and rare ocean treasures... even the blood and hides of sea monsters and magical beasts—valuable materials for magic.
Yes, you defeated them, so all these goods are 'spoils of war.'
As per usual, you imprisoned the leaders—the captains, lieutenants, and commanders—within Derlin Prison, while winning over more than ninety-five percent of the sailors, teaching them your principles of justice.
Without realizing it, your influence among the Saxons has already become deeply rooted.