Nearly two months had passed.
Summer faded, and a half-month of continuous rain brought the coolness of autumn to the island.
But such rains could not douse the restlessness in people's hearts.
"War is coming."
"A big war."
Though the king had not yet issued a draft, two months of preparation had made even the dullest aware of the oppressive atmosphere gathering over the island.
The shadow of war once again loomed over Britain.
Ironically, the last major war on this island was a decade ago, when Red Dragon King Uther clashed with White Dragon King Vortigern.
That war ended with Uther's death and Camelot's fall.
What would be the outcome this time? How would this civil war, sparked by the red dragon sisters, conclude?
"Eight kingdoms, nearly thirty thousand men."
"To gather so many at once… even I find it daunting."
Artoria listened to Bedivere's intelligence reports, her face clouded with concern.
Of course, her worry wasn't about defeating these enemies.
Let's not forget... she wasn't human in the conventional sense. She was a dragon, a true red dragon.
Whether facing ten thousand, thirty thousand, or even a hundred thousand foes, she could easily overwhelm them with her dragon's breath. It would just take a few extra blasts.
The problem was: Artoria didn't want to kill so many, and she absolutely couldn't.
The thirty thousand troops led by those eight kings represented nearly all of Britain's elite forces. Artoria couldn't slaughter them... she was the chosen king of Britain, destined to rely on these forces to rule the island.
She needed a way to defeat the eight kings while preserving as many lives as possible.
"If only the outcome could be decided by a knightly duel."
Artoria thought wistfully.
She knew this ideal solution was pure fantasy.
Those kings, obsessed with power, would never sacrifice their greatest advantage to spare their subordinates' lives.
"Don't underestimate them, my king."
"Most of them may be useless, but among the eight, there's a true warrior."
"King Pellinore... the king who bears the [Hero] legacy, with martial prowess no less than your father's. Had he joined forces with your father against Vortigern, the outcome might have been uncertain."
Merlin, sitting on a stool and playfully teasing a small white creature resembling both a cat and a fox, delivered the latest intelligence to Artoria:
"On the other hand, while our situation is dire, it's not all bad news."
"Among Britain's kings, some still support us."
"Who?"
"King Leodegrance."
"Oh? Who's that? Should I pay him a visit?"
"Your father's friend. He missed that fateful war due to his mediocre martial skills and lacks the talent to govern... but he did sire a daughter who could bring ruin to a nation."
"???"
"No more question marks. She's already at the village gate. Aren't you going to greet her?"
"Or are you planning to let Kay whistle at a noble princess?"
…
Artoria hurried to the village's main gate.
Sure enough, as Merlin said, a beautiful silver-haired girl stood at the entrance, surveying the village with curious eyes.
She wasn't alone... behind her were a dozen carts laden with sacks of grain, hoes, iron pots, and other daily necessities.
With such resources at her back, her sincerity was undeniable!
The villagers eyed her curiously in return.
The girl exuded an air of nobility, the refined grace of someone raised in a palace.
Though she bore no ill intent or aloofness, the common villagers only dared to watch from afar, too intimidated to linger on her otherworldly appearance.
"Your Highness Guinevere, thank you for coming. Please wait a moment while I consult with the king."
In the end, it was Bedivere who stepped forward to handle the initial reception with the beautiful princess.
"Thank the heavens Kay's not here."
Artoria had never been so grateful for her brother's penchant for slacking off.
But in the next moment, she donned a formal, warm, and courteous smile to welcome the distinguished guest.
"Welcome, Your Highness."
"Sir Bedivere, please arrange for some fruit from the kitchen and prepare for lunch."
"…Actually, forget the food. I'll have Merlin figure something out."
Artoria hesitated.
Though she was versed in royal etiquette, hosting a true princess was a first... especially one who arrived bearing vital supplies in a time when few believed in her, delivered to this small village nestled in the valley.
In such circumstances, she needed to offer the highest hospitality to this far-traveled princess.
But the problem was… in this fledgling kingdom, what constituted the highest hospitality? Salted salmon? Or ham made from magical beast meat?
Could a pampered princess really stomach such "terrifying" fare?
Artoria cast a worried glance at the silver-haired princess, who seemed the epitome of refinement.
Yet, as if anticipating these concerns, the princess named Guinevere wore a relaxed, cheerful smile:
"No need for such trouble, Your Majesty."
"My father knew food is scarce here, so he sent a cart of mutton and three barrels of wine... enough for today's feast."
"Also, my father has gone to persuade the other kings. He said, though he's unsure of the outcome, he'll do everything possible to prevent this unnecessary war."
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