[You sigh, saying, "Archmage, you're cunning, but to be a good person in a bad world, one must be even more devious. You are too naive to grasp the full extent of my skills, Kaelar's skills."]
[With a sly grin, you cast a subtle shadow magic, recording the entire scene. This move catches Merlin completely off guard. She never expected a knight—one who single-handedly defeated seventy thousand warriors, no less—could also master such sophisticated magic.]
[Though your magical prowess isn't quite on her level, it's more than enough to earn the title of a true Mage—a master not limited by any thirty-level threshold.]
["Damn it, this has to be Morgan's doing!"]
[Normally, with Merlin's magical defenses, even Morgan would have a hard time catching her off guard. But it never crossed her mind that you were Morgan's apprentice, inheriting all her cunning. In the end, caught unprepared, Archmage Merlin found her embarrassing secrets in your hands.]
[Merlin, oh dear Merlin... Surely you wouldn't want Uther to hear about this particular blunder, would you? So, behave yourself! Otherwise...]
[Surely, such a beautiful woman must be quite lonely, don't you think?]
[You aren't fully versed in strange preambles, but it's enough to make Merlin—the most mischievous and duplicitous sage—eat a heavy loss. Cornered, Merlin reluctantly concedes.]
[You take from Merlin her lifetime of magical and swordplay research. Unfortunately, you couldn't use the specialized knowledge transmission techniques from the Moon World—what a pity.]
[After squeezing every last gold coin from the old Archmage, you left her at Maple Hill, though you promised to send a report every month.]
[Yet, you missed the first month entirely.]
---
"We're about to enter Vortigern's domain in Britannia."
Kaelar and Artoria were riding a pair of unremarkable horses, their heads covered by simple ranger hoods and their bodies clad in plain leather armor. They had left their true mounts—the magnificent steeds from the Age of Gods—back at Maple Hill. Bringing them along would have been far too conspicuous.
In this era, a good horse was akin to a main battle tank. Whether it was a hulking Maus or a paper-thin T-60 depended entirely on the quality of the horse.
If they had ridden their actual steeds, they would have been harried by every bandit on the road, derailing the purpose of this journey.
This wasn't an expedition for preaching or teaching; it was about observation, about understanding the people who lived on this isle.
Kaelar spoke leisurely, "Lily, do you know why I brought you to Vortigern's territory first, instead of heading to Uther's Camelot?"
"Lily doesn't know!" Artoria shook her golden head, sunlight catching on her hair. "But the closer we get to Vortigern's land, the more bandits and magical beasts we encounter. I've also noticed there are fewer traces of the Fae."
Indeed, this was an age of magical beasts.
Even phantasmal beasts and divine creatures roamed the land...
In contrast to the post-Age of Gods era—when magical beasts became scarce—fifth-century Britannia was sparsely populated, with less than a million souls spread across the island, a true wilderness.
In settled areas, Celtic warriors and hunters kept the magical beasts in check, but deep in the untouched forests, many dangerous phantasmal species still lurked.
Beyond beasts, there were also outlaws—hunters and farmers driven from their lands by the oppressive rule of brutal lords. Celts were a hunting people; nearly everyone knew how to stalk prey. Driven into the deep woods, they rarely worried about hunger thanks to the island's rich resources.
Thus, the tyranny of the lords led to frequent peasant flight.
These refugees, gathering over time, formed notorious bandit gangs. They pillaged not only Saxons but also their fellow Celts, forgetting that once they had been victims of the same cruel oppression that now forced them into crime.
It was a lack of a unifying ideology, a guiding principle for their souls. They might have started with righteous rebellion against their oppressors, but over time, they had become the very oppressors they despised.
Kaelar chuckled softly, "What's there to fear? Who would dare rob our little Knight King? That oversized lance of yours alone would scare off any low-level bandit."
Artoria's armor appeared light, but it was enchanted mail, courtesy of Merlin from Camelot. On her saddle hung a cavalry lance, her back bore an intimidating six-stone bow, and at her waist was a finely crafted sword.
In contrast, Kaelar wore a simple set of leathers, nothing more than animal hide with a fur lining for warmth. In his hand, he carried a plain decorative sword, its edge blunt.
Artoria's equipment was impossible to conceal, even with her cloak, while Kaelar's hooded attire made him look like any commoner.
"But what about the more skilled bandits?" Artoria said, a troubled look on her face. "The closer we get to the king's domain, the larger and more dangerous these gangs become. My lance might not be enough to scare them."
Artoria understood Kaelar's rigid code and ideals. She knew he avoided speaking about taking lives, but the problem remained. Ignoring it would not make it disappear.
"Protecting yourself always comes first," Kaelar said with a gentle smile. "I might say that taking life is ill-omened, but if a blade is already swinging for your neck, how could you not defend yourself?"
"But as long as I'm here, that situation will never come to pass."
Kaelar raised his blunt sword and said, "If our darling Lily can handle the lesser threats, then the stronger ones shall face me, Kaelar!"
"This Britannia is truly a vast, empty land… Or did we somehow lose our way?"
Kaelar frowned in mock contemplation. They had walked for over ten days without seeing signs of a single settlement. It was difficult to blame mere sparse population for this—it felt like a wilderness.
"Thankfully, there are two of us. If someone had tried wandering alone, they might've grown so bored they'd be tempted to hang themselves," he said, chuckling.
But his laughter abruptly died, his expression freezing. He remembered something—Morgan had been roaming Britannia alone for years.
Had she ever felt lonely?
But the thought was fleeting. Kaelar's face returned to normal as he joked, "Should've brought that old troublemaker Merlin along. She's lived so long she practically knows every corner of this land. A walking map like her would've made this trip so much easier."
Merlin, after all, had served the previous Celtic chieftain, Uther's grandfather Vortigern, accurately predicting Uther's ascension to the throne.
Merlin might look young, but her wisdom and experience spanned many decades.
"Do we need Merlin's help?" Artoria asked, pointing to her forehead. "I could clear my mind and dream. Merlin would take the chance to enter my dreams, and I could ask her for a map."
True enough, Kaelar had enchanted Artoria's mind. Unless she intentionally let down her guard, dream-walking magic couldn't affect her.
This was partly due to Artoria's innate Red Dragon bloodline, granting her an A-rank resistance to magic. Vortigern, the White Dragon at his peak, had an EX-ranked resistance, leaving even Merlin and Morgan powerless against him, securing his title as Britannia's strongest.
As a fellow dragon-blood, Artoria's resistance was formidable. With Kaelar's guidance, not even Merlin's best spells could breach her mind.
"Brilliant idea, well done, Lily!" Kaelar clapped his hands in approval.
Just as they discussed the best way to find their bearings, they heard raised voices echoing from the dense forest ahead.
---
T/N: Oh no... Artoria developed Kaeler's bad habit of referring to himself as third person...
If there are any mistakes let me know!
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