Artoria had come up with a good idea of "role-swapping."
But this idea was definitely not her own original creation.
Her Knights of the Round Table were very fond of wearing each other's "costumes," or creating new ones, to challenge strong enemies.
—The most famous example was Gareth. At the time, because she had a ring that could change her appearance, she had the sudden idea to hide her identity and fight Gawain... and was then brutally beaten by Gawain for two hours.
"Ah, it can't be helped."
"After all, we are too famous on this island. If we don't change our identities, no one would be willing to fight us."
As it turned out, these Knights of the Round Table only possessed noble character; it didn't mean they didn't know how to be flexible.
The King was the same.
You can't govern a country with just grand principles. To be an excellent king, you must also have an outstanding vision and the right methods, as well as the ability to quickly formulate strategies in complex situations.
"Alright, it's decided!"
"We will use the city of Lyon as our center and create an absolute defensive circle to resist those demonic dragons and monsters!"
Artoria quickly formulated a strategy.
Her decisiveness amazed Martha, the saint. Putting aside whether her strategy was correct or not, at the very least, she had actually come up with a plan.
And in this country on the verge of destruction, as long as someone came up with a plan, it was a good thing!
"However, I'll still need your cooperation for this performance," Artoria said to Martha, but her gaze was fixed on Bailong.
—She requested that Bailong, while cooperating with Martha to destroy buildings and create terror, also do his best to avoid casualties and "flee in panic" at the critical moment.
"Mm, I get it," Bailong nodded lightly, looking at Artoria's expectant gaze. "It's just god-making, isn't it?"
It was that old drama of the "chosen king saving the world"—he was already very familiar with it.
However, speaking of which...
"This woman... is really a bit annoying."
Bailong turned his head and looked at the expectant Martha again.
From this Iron Fist Saint, who was actually quite good-looking, he sensed an aura he utterly detested.
Dragon Riding.
Because she had once subdued the demonic dragon of France, this saint had obtained an A+ rank in the Riding skill, allowing her to command true Dragon-kind.
But Bailong was not Dragon-kind.
He was a True Dragon.
As a True Dragon, he naturally hated these Dragon Tamers—and he hated the Dragon-kind controlled by them even more.
"I will cooperate with her as much as possible. But I will not carry her on my back," Bailong snorted and was the first to spread his wings and fly into the sky.
"Eh? Why not?!" Martha was a little surprised, and disappointed.
—Damn it, I thought I'd have a chance to ride this cute little white dragon!
...
Lyon, France.
Because they were trying to stall for time, by the time Bailong and Martha, disguised as a holy knight, arrived at the edge of this city, it was already half a month later.
In just half a month, this kingdom had undergone earth-shattering changes.
—Those mad Servants were highly efficient.
Especially with the help of the wyverns, those Heroic Spirits, who already possessed great power, found it even easier to conquer cities.
Rouen, Paris, Thiers, Vaucouleurs, La Charité... these bustling major cities were destroyed one after another by the terrible enemy.
The former paradise had been turned into a scorched earth, and the souls of the dead could not even find peace—under Jeanne Alter's power, they were transformed into terrifying and pathetic zombies and skeletons, wandering this hellish land, never to be liberated.
The city of Lyon had become a pure land in this hell—but it was clear that this pure land would not last much longer.
"Sir, the number of refugees is increasing."
"Sir, our food is no longer enough."
"Sir, a demonic dragon has been spotted to the southeast."
"Sir, a scout reports that an unidentified knight is rapidly approaching us. What should we do?"
"Sir..."
The clamorous voices buzzed incessantly in the ears of a man in silver-white armor.
The man felt as if his head was about to explode.
His name was Siegfried, a famous dragon-slaying hero from Norse mythology. He had been summoned to this land in the Saber class to undertake the mission of saving the world.
As a renowned great hero, he possessed great power.
But this great power absolutely did not include "governing a country."
He was the sharpest sword, but definitely not a qualified administrator. He could save a troop of soldiers from a flock of wyverns, but to ask him to manage this city, especially when supplies were clearly insufficient... he would rather go and fight that demonic dragon named Fafnir again.
"What about the merchants? I remember there are still merchants in this city, right? Where did their goods go?"
"Sir... those merchants are unwilling to sell us their supplies, even if we are willing to pay twice the usual price."
"Twice? These goods should be at least ten times more expensive than usual—those were the merchants' exact words."
"Damn it, they are coveting the Rhinegold!"
The hero was angry, yet helpless.
He possessed a noble character of self-sacrifice, but he couldn't bring himself to attack these selfish people.
Selfishness—wasn't that also the most prominent characteristic of humanity?
"I'm going to battle," he said. "Tell the people in the city not to panic. Things haven't reached the most desperate point yet. No matter what happens... in any case, wait for my return!"
Looking at the flock of wyverns flying over from the distance, like a dark cloud covering the sun, the great hero once again picked up the weapon specially used for slaying dragons.
In that instant, his heart suddenly became much calmer.
—If only I could die in battle.
Although he knew such a wish was very irresponsible, the great hero, who was tired of dealing with humans who were still scheming against each other even in the apocalypse, couldn't help but think this way.
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