When the night had passed, a thick dawn mist had settled over the forests of Brún Alba.
The smell of blood that had blanketed the woods the day before was slowly being washed away by the cold air of dawn.
Perhaps thanks to the Picts' characteristic resilience, the surviving warriors were already reforming their ranks.
With their new king, Arthur Pendragon, at the center.
"We move out."
It was a short command.
With those words, thousands of Pictish warriors began moving all at once.
Until yesterday, they had been enemies trying to kill one another, yet now not a single one of them harbored any complaint.
To the Picts, what mattered was neither bloodline nor origin.
Only strength.
By that one absolute standard alone, Arthur had already become their king.
At the head of the march rode Arthur atop Llamrei, with the Servants following behind him.
And beside them strode Moidart, who had newly joined their ranks.
Just as she had the day before, she carried the massive greatsword on her back, but there was no longer any hostility toward Arthur in her.
Rather, she now looked every bit the tribal chief guarding her new king.
Thousands of warriors emerged from Brún Alba and advanced toward Fidach's capital.
Not long after.
Fidach's capital, ringed by a massive wooden palisade, came into view.
The guards atop the walls at first raised their bows with tense expressions.
But the instant they recognized who was approaching, every face froze.
And the moment they spotted Arthur riding at the center, everything became clear.
The gates were thrown wide open without resistance. Arthur did not bother guarding against an empty-fort strategy and strode in openly.
As they entered the capital, countless Pictish citizens appeared on both sides of the street.
Not one of them trembled in fear.
Instead, one by one, they began to kneel, speaking surrender in their own incomprehensible tongue.
Before long, that greeting spread through the entire city.
Tens of thousands of citizens bowed their heads all at once.
Arthur slowly looked over the streets and smiled.
"This place really is simple too."
Nobunaga let out a snort of laughter.
"And because they're simple, they're easy to handle."
"Right."
Arthur nodded.
"All you have to do is prove your strength. Normally, when you conquer a land, the problem is that the process of forcing surrender through military power wrecks that country's administration and commerce. But this place gives up easily, so it's convenient."
The royal palace was taken as well without any notable resistance.
With the King of Fidach dead, even the royal guards who had defended the palace laid down their weapons, and the intelligent ministers, being Picts themselves, paid no mind to the king's death and welcomed their new ruler.
In one sense, it might seem shamelessly opportunistic and faithless, but this was the cold law of nature.
And in the end, since Arthur was no tyrant and would guarantee their rights and provide good welfare, it was not a bad choice.
Historically, the defeated had no real choice in the matter anyway, and those who chose resistance over surrender only to lose usually met a horrific end, so in that sense this too was a common outcome.
How their actions would ultimately be judged was a matter for history to decide in the future.
After sitting on the throne for a moment, Arthur spread out a map.
It was a map of all Pictland, and Arthur's finger moved slowly across it.
"Fotla, Fidach."
The two kingdoms of Pictland he had conquered. What remained ahead were five more kingdoms and one maritime state.
Then the remaining kingdoms naturally came into view.
The farthest north of Britain, a mighty mountain region, and an immense coastline.
Arthur began pointing them out one by one.
"Dál Riata."
A great maritime kingdom that had grown around the sea.
In sheer scale, it was on the level of two or three ordinary Pictish kingdoms combined.
And beside it, the nation located at the northernmost edge.
"Fortriu."
Arthur's gaze grew a little more serious.
"It's called the strongest nation in Pictland."
It commanded numerous tribes, and its military strength was the greatest of them all.
It was by no means an easy opponent.
Next, his finger moved east.
"Circinn."
By controlling the vast cliff-lined coast that ran along the Grampian Mountains, it was a natural fortress where landing itself was difficult.
And to the southeast.
"Fib."
A southeastern kingdom bordering Britain, it was a warlike realm that had long carried out constant invasions into the British mainland. Its soldiers were famous for their high level of training.
"Cait."
Vast plains, fertile farmland, and abundant rivers. In terms of food production alone, it was the greatest in all Pictland.
And finally.
Arthur's finger stopped at the northeastern edge.
"...Ce."
The atmosphere shifted slightly at once. The Kingdom of Ce ruled the northeast.
Beside it were the Kingdom of Garlot, where his half-sister Elaine was, and Orkney, which had belonged to King Lot, once his brother-in-law.
It was a powerful kingdom that controlled the farthest north of Britain.
Nobunaga folded her arms.
"Now the odds of the other countries forming an alliance have gone way up."
"Yeah."
Arthur nodded.
"From here on, it'll be different."
Fotla had been a surprise attack.
Fidach had been a lightning campaign.
But now the remaining kingdoms would feel the danger.
There was no way they would simply sit back and watch the nations fall one by one.
"If the allied army moves, what will you do?"
Barghest asked.
"Then we'll have no choice but to fight with everything we have."
After falling silent in thought for a moment, he soon turned to Morgan.
"Sister. I want you to take charge of Fidach."
Morgan understood his intent at once.
Someone had to stabilize the newly incorporated territory. On top of that, Fidach was a strategic stronghold deeply set inland.
If they lost this place, it would be a major problem. If it were taken from them? No, those bastards might even burn it down. And if that happened, it would take a long time to restore it.
"Understood. I'll establish a defensive line here for the time being."
Arthur smiled.
Having received a sufficient supply of mana not long ago, Morgan was in no danger of fairy death for the time being.
She was the most suitable person to entrust Fidach to.
At that moment, the communication crystal ball Medea carried rippled.
And Merlin's voice flowed out from within it.
[Arthur. I have good news.]
For once, Merlin's voice carried a trace of laughter.
[Dál Riata has surrendered☆]
"...What?"
The council chamber fell silent.
"Already? No, how?"
Smiling, Merlin continued her explanation.
[Back then, we drove out Dál Riata's Irish faction and seized their base, remember? The effects of that have lasted until now.]
Dál Riata had originally been a nation that lived off maritime trade.
But after losing its Irish base, its supply of goods had been badly shaken. On top of that, it had even lost half its fleet.
Then the Irish forces also began checking Britain's Dál Riata, leaving its sea trade virtually paralyzed.
Fishing was no easy matter either.
[And then word spread that Fidach had fallen in an instant.]
Merlin smiled.
[Fergus I judged that if this turned into a prolonged war, there was a high chance Ireland would join the fight as well.]
In the end, he made his decision. Better to surrender than fight and be destroyed.
Arthur let out a small sound of admiration.
"A wise king."
Merlin agreed.
[A far finer judgment than reckless courage.]
And finally, Merlin spoke in a more meaningful tone.
[Actually, there's even bigger news.]
"Bigger?"
[We've secured one of the Four Treasures of the Celts.]
"The Four Treasures? Don't tell me it's Dagda's cauldron!?"
[No. Lia Fáil.]
"What the hell is that?"
Of the Four Treasures, the only one Arthur knew was Dagda's cauldron, said to be the origin of the Holy Grail.
After Merlin's explanation, Arthur smiled with clear interest.
A sacred treasure that acknowledged the High King of Ireland.
One of the Four Treasures left behind by the Tuatha Dé Danann.
It was the very sacred symbol of royal authority that King Fergus had brought from Ireland when he founded Dál Riata.
After a brief silence, Arthur rose from his seat.
In his eyes was anticipation for a new objective.
"Then let's head for Dál Riata now."
The Stone of Destiny, Lia Fáil.
Its other name was the [Stone of Selection].
It was a sacred stone symbolizing the kingship of Ireland—no, of the Celts.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register