After I had conquered North Wales, a massive wall of reality stood before me.
It was neither a powerful enemy army nor some unknown monster. It was the absence of administrative power, the rot eating away at all of Britain.
"Haa... this is seriously driving me insane. There isn't a single competent civil official."
I groaned and dropped my head onto the mountain of parchment piled across my desk.
Morgan, who was sorting documents at my side, frowned and agreed.
"It cannot be helped. For centuries, this Britain existed as Roman Britain, a puppet province where governors and officials dispatched from the Roman mainland decided all administration and law. It was an environment where neither intellectuals capable of governing the country with our own hands nor an administrative system itself could ever take root."
Morgan was right.
When Roman rule ended and Britain was granted autonomy, my grandfather, Constantine II, somehow tried to gather the scattered tribes together.
But in trying to stop the northern Picts, the other kingdoms made the disastrous mistake of calling in Saxon mercenaries from across the sea.
The Saxons instead set their sights on Britain's fertile land and raised the banner of revolt, plunging Britain into uncontrollable chaos.
To make matters worse, my grandfather was assassinated by the Picts.
After that, Uther had firmly bound together the British alliance, but the alliance was shattered to pieces by the betrayal of his own kinsman, Vortigern.
In the more than ten years since Uther's death, Britain's many territories and petty kingdoms had each fended for themselves, spawning their own crude laws and tax systems in every corner.
"And on top of that, it has been an age of constant war for decades," Artoria added as she set a warm cup of herbal tea on my desk.
"When your head might be taken off by Saxons or monsters tomorrow, what commoner or noble child would have the leisure to sit at a table and study letters or learn administrative practice? Instead of learning to read, they had to learn how to hold a sword. Instead of learning arithmetic, they had to learn how to ride a horse. That was the only way to survive."
Artoria was exactly right. Everyone longed to become a knight just to survive, and in the end this era had become a world centered on military men, where force and chivalry ruled everything.
Even complicated administrative work like collecting taxes, reclaiming land, and judging the people's disputes was being handled in rough, improvised fashion by young knights barely out of boyhood or old warriors.
There were laws, of course, so things were done according to them, but the laws were so lukewarm and vague that they meant very little.
Even when I thought back on the Arthurian legends, not a single famous civil official or chancellor came to mind.
In the Fate setting, Agravain at least kept Camelot standing by taking charge of its administration and working himself to the bone.
But once he died, military men like Bedivere took over, and their limitations were obvious. In the end, the collapse of domestic administration became one of the sparks that led to Camelot's destruction.
I clenched my fist.
History proves what awaits a society where military men suppress civil officials and the nation is run by the logic of the sword alone.
Either civil and military officials clash and a bloody upheaval breaks out, or military power swells until nobles command private armies and threaten the king.
Yes, the Three Kingdoms was a perfect example. Ordinary civil officials were not especially powerful, while warlords from military backgrounds became the protagonists of that chaotic age, raising armies and seeking to seize the realm with power greater than the imperial house itself.
"That's why I intend to thoroughly favor and cultivate civil officials."
When I declared that firmly, everyone gathered in the office looked at me in surprise.
"Military men, knights, value honor, can easily win military distinction, and already have a firm grip on power. But if we're really going to make this vast island kingdom turn like a single set of gears, then what we overwhelmingly need are not fools who grab a sword before a pen, but brilliant administrators and strategists who can read the world through maps and design an empire with a pen."
The Three Kingdoms was the same kind of blood-soaked age of chaos. Yet in that one era alone, genius intellectuals and tacticians like Zhuge Liang, Sima Yi, Chen Gong, Pang Tong, Jia Xu, Zhou Yu, and Xun Yu poured forth. So why the hell does this damned Britain not have even one man like that?
Merlin, who had been sprawled on the sofa rolling around, suddenly cut in with a wave of her staff.
"Come on, Arthur. Don't get so worked up. In Britain, the class responsible for knowledge and administration has always been set, hasn't it? People like me, mages, druids, or else priests and monks have all been performing that role splendidly."
At Merlin's words, I twisted my face into a savage glare and growled.
"Religion can stay the hell out of state affairs."
"W-wait? Isn't that a little too hardline?"
Merlin flinched back, and I drew the line without hesitation.
"In my country, Logres, religion and politics will be separated completely and absolutely. Christianity or anything else— the moment those bastards start meddling in domestic affairs or administration, the country will begin to rot."
"But priests can read and are excellent at keeping records. Do you really need to reject them that strongly...?"
"Merlin, you have clairvoyance, so you can see the present, but not the future, right?"
I spoke with a cold sneer, recalling the horrific corruption and madness of religion that would sweep through medieval Europe in future history.
"In the future, terrible wars will surely break out because of that religion that cries out about holiness. They'll control and suppress the thoughts of intellectuals just because they go against their doctrine. They'll seize absolute power in the name of God, and bleed the people dry to decorate churches in splendor."
I continued, my voice cold as prophecy.
"Human beings are often vulgar and wicked by nature. The moment religion colludes with power, an age will come when even human trash and serial killers can pay money to the church and be forgiven their sins and sent to heaven. That's the kind of insane, rabid bullshit that will happen."
"...Surely those who serve in God's name would not fall that far?"
Even Merlin sounded unable to believe it, but I was resolute.
"You'll see. That's why I will exclude religious influence from my politics and pursue only practical benefit that enriches the lives of the people. I will personally keep the military men in line by force, and if they commit crimes, I will punish them severely and cut off the buds of rebellion. But the civil officials who will lead this country, I will find them regardless of birth or status, and reward them with the highest treatment according to ability and results."
I slammed the documents down and steeled my resolve.
Meanwhile, at that very moment.
A large ship was cutting through the rough waves of the Celtic Sea, bound for North Wales.
Standing at the prow with golden hair scattering in the sea wind was a woman: Princess Isolde, the greatest beauty in Ireland and the chief envoy of the delegation.
At her side stood General Morholt, the fierce champion of the Kingdom of Munster and her dependable uncle, silent in his role as captain of her guard.
"The wind is cold, Princess. Please go inside the cabin."
Morholt urged her with concern, but Isolde shook her head as she stared at the faint coastline of Britain beyond the horizon.
"No, Uncle. When I think of how the fate of my homeland and the lives of countless people rest on my shoulders, even this cold sea wind feels hot."
Her gaze was grim with resolve.
Arthur Pendragon, the boy king who had newly risen as Britain's hegemon.
Rumor said that though he possessed monstrous martial might, unlike the tyrant King Rience, he was wise and merciful.
But in a diplomatic struggle bearing the fate of a nation, she could not enter the enemy's heartland relying only on vague rumors.
Unconsciously, Isolde touched the small glass vial hidden deep within her clothes.
Inside it sloshed a radiant pink liquid that seemed to hold moonlight.
It was the most powerful and dreadful elixir in the world, brewed by the greatest druid of the Irish court.
A love potion.
'No matter how powerful and coldhearted a ruler may be, if he drinks even a single sip of this potion... he will fall into blind, maddened love with me, the woman before his eyes. If that happens, my homeland's safety will be guaranteed.'
She bit her lip hard.
This was a vile and terrible means of artificially twisting a person's reason and emotions.
As a princess, and as a woman, it was the final method that cast away her own dignity.
'Please... let there be no need for me to lay hands on this dreadful drug. I can only pray that the king called Arthur Pendragon is, as the rumors say, a worthy ruler who can be reasoned with and understands the greater good.'
The ship bearing Isolde's earnest prayer slowly drew closer to the coast of Britain.
At that same time, in the royal castle of Logres.
Unaware of how the great wheel of history was turning, I sat beside Artoria, who was resting in bed with early symptoms of pregnancy.
With a careful and gentle hand, I was stroking Artoria's still-flat belly.
"Brother... that tickles."
Artoria blushed and smiled sweetly.
"Hold still. This is all part of a father's prenatal education so the child grows up splendidly."
I pressed my ear to her stomach and muttered with a grave expression.
"Let's see... what should I let our baby hear for prenatal education so she grows up healthy and strong?"
"That's what you're worried about first? Hehe. Maybe because I'm pregnant, I can feel my body changing more with each passing day. I'm getting a little taller too, and I can feel my breasts and hips growing a little as well."
"That's probably not because of the pregnancy. It's because you're still growing."
Enough nutrition to keep growing even after setting aside what would go to the baby. Well, I had been feeding her well.
I wanted to see her soon.
Our adorable daughter.
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