Artoria led an army of fifty thousand knights, arranging them into structured formations with disciplined ranks. Using the pretext of military training, she assigned the Maple Ridge guard unit as officers under various nobles, sending her elite contingent into each camp.
Though the Maple Ridge guard numbered only a few thousand, Kaelar had trained them with officer-level skills, with nearly two-thirds qualified as junior officers and a select few approaching knight-level expertise.
The ideal was to form a corps of ten thousand officers who could one day command an army of millions. If the plan to march on Europe ever came to fruition, the sparse Celtic population would require auxiliaries to fill their ranks.
With Artoria's force of fifty thousand Celtic knights assembled as a formidable army, Vortigern's military seemed paltry in comparison.
Already weakened by unrest, the power of Vortigern's domain had declined relative to the growing might of King Arthur's Camelot, with resentful Anglo-Saxon subjects whose families had been devastated by his rule. In addition, European Anglo-Saxon mercenaries, who had once bolstered his forces, had dwindled to pre-Hengist levels, far from restoring their former numbers.
With the Gospel Knights wreaking havoc from within, Vortigern barely managed to muster thirty thousand disorganized peasant soldiers, their morale shattered. Many nobles near rebel territory wanted him to quash the Gospel Knights, while others, more distant, urged him to deal with Camelot first to safeguard their lands.
With his signature arrogance, the usurper Vortigern dismissed their concerns. "A mere whelp, not even of age, thinks she can take Britain from me?"
He scoffed. "It's time I teach this child some respect for her elders!"
"So, Vortigern's finally issuing a challenge?" Kaelar murmured, holding the letter in his hand. "A king-to-king duel? How very like him."
Vortigern had always held a near-obsessive fixation with hierarchy, constantly ranking people and defining their worth. Were he in India, he'd likely be a fervent Brahmin.
Vortigern's own unsteady claim to the throne seemed to fuel his obsession with rigid formality. Four years ago, Vortigern had known of Kaelar but deemed him unworthy of his personal attention, dispatching his "hound," Hengist, to deal with Maple Ridge.
And everyone knew how that turned out: Hengist had lost seventy thousand men.
Yet Vortigern remained stubborn, clinging to his grand image of kingship and leaving Kaelar unchecked—until Artoria, now ruling Camelot, brought her army to his doorstep.
Only now, as "Britain's Red Dragon" and the legitimate ruler of the Celts, did she finally rouse Vortigern to action. Eagerly, he sent forth a formal challenge.
Yes, a challenge. Like a character from a Chinese novel, Vortigern had called for a "royal duel"—a ludicrous notion, yet perfectly fitting with his kingly code.
"This might actually work in our favor," Artoria said thoughtfully. "If he joins forces with his army, defeating him would be a costly struggle. But if he insists on dueling, killing him will be easier."
"And without him, how could his troops withstand the charge of the Celtic knights?"
Resolved, Artoria turned to Kaelar. "Kaelar, perhaps I should go with Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot at noon and face him. With our combined strength, we can be sure of taking him down."
Kaelar nodded. "It could work. With Lancelot and Gawain at your side, Vortigern wouldn't stand a chance."
As the island's strongest warrior, Vortigern embodied Britain's fury—a true force of raw violence.
But he was still only one man.
With the Lake Knight Lancelot, the Noon Sun Knight Gawain, and the Red Dragon Artoria, he would be no match.
"What kind of medieval rulebook is he following?" Artoria stretched unceremoniously, unaware of her lapse in royal decorum. She was slender yet already revealed the grace of a young woman.
Kaelar chuckled, joining her. "That's Vortigern for you. No brain's all brawn now. Just don't let your muscles go to your head, Lily!"
"As if!" Artoria slouched, abandoning her royal poise to lean back, her words almost a playful complaint. "Besides, I've got you, Kaelar!"
Kaelar smiled, patting her head. "While you're off handling Vortigern, I'll command our forces on the front lines to create an opening for you."
Artoria's face softened to serious concern. "Are you sure? Kaelar… I hate for you to endure this if war pains you. If you'd rather not face it, I can find another to lead."
Kaelar gave a serene smile. "I can, Artoria. I can and I must. This I can bear."
"Besides, to command fifty thousand Celtic knights in the charge… who else but I could take that role?"
Once Kaelar set his resolve, he would not waver.
Even if a million stood in my way, I would go forth.
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T/N: GAHH WHEN WILL HIS OATHBREAKER TRAIT HAPPEN? IM DYING
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