With Caliburn, the proof of kingship, firmly in our grasp, we spent our days and nights scouring the land to purge the threats that plagued Britain, all to expand the influence of our young King.
Rumors that Artoria was the true successor of King Uther spread across every corner of the isle like wildfire.
Knights who heard these whispers flocked to her banner, swearing oaths of fealty and swelling the ranks of her forces.
Thanks to their devotion, we managed to forge a power that could rival even the Vile King, Vortigern, within the brief span of ten years.
Though a trial occurred where Caliburn was shattered in the heat of battle, we encountered the Lady of the Lake, Vivian, and received Excalibur—a sacred blade that far surpassed the predecessor it replaced.
One by one, we scouted the most legendary knights to the Round Table: Gawain, Lancelot, and many more.
Only a few seats remained empty—perhaps only for the likes of Mordred and Galahad, who were yet too young. The Round Table was approaching its completion.
However, a shadow loomed over this golden age. It was a problem that had not yet reached a crisis, but one that threatened to become catastrophic in the years to come.
Artoria's emotions were beginning to erode. Unlike the spirited girl I once knew, she was gradually transforming into a King defined by cold, detached reason.
Yet, she still allowed herself to show her moments of weakness to me. It was a mercy. It served as proof that I was someone she could lean on, and more importantly, that she still possessed the heart of a human being.
Yes... I must do everything in my power to ensure she never loses that humanity.
I renewed my resolve.
But that was a matter for the future. The reality before my eyes was... something else entirely.
"Mash, mash~ Everything's a treat once it's turned to mash~"
There was Sir Gawain, happily mashing potatoes still covered in fresh garden soil.
"A wedded wife is the pinnacle of beauty!"
"Indeed! You truly understand the finer things in life, Tristan!"
There was Sir Tristan, extolling the virtues of married women, with Sir Lancelot chiming in with fervent agreement.
"To the ladies! We must woo them all!"
And then there was Sir Kay, who seemed to have lost his mind entirely over the fair sex.
I stared at the scene, wondering how I was supposed to manage this chaotic assembly.
They say genius is a form of madness, but these men seemed beyond salvation.
They caused trouble the moment my back was turned.
Lancelot, in particular, was so prone to daily disasters that I occasionally felt the urge to commit regicide—or at least knight-icide.
I prayed every day for the arrival of Galahad, the only one capable of countering Lancelot's unique brand of nonsense.
Since they were all too busy gallivanting around and neglecting their duties, only Artoria and I were being worked to the bone.
...Perhaps my only solace was the presence of the one normal man among us: Sir Bedivere.
If not for him, I likely would have died young from the sheer stress of it all.
"Hard at work again today, I see. My thanks, Sir Bedivere."
"Haha, it is nothing, Sir Elius."
As expected, the sole conscience of the Round Table!
As Bedivere smiled at me, I could almost see a holy halo manifesting behind his head.
Thank you truly, Sir Bedivere. Without you, I would have surely succumbed to this toxic environment.
With my spirits slightly lifted by his presence, I returned to the paperwork—until I found one particular report.
My face hardened as I read it. Noticing the shift in my expression, Bedivere looked over with concern.
"Sir Elius? Is something the matter?"
"...I must seek an audience with the King immediately."
"What is it?"
I handed the report to Bedivere.
His eyes trembled as he processed the information written within.
Seeing his reaction, I spoke firmly.
"Summon the Round Table... At once."
The contents of the report were simple: The Saxons were gathering in force.
Finally, Vortigern had begun to move.
***
The Knights of the Round Table assembled.
"Merlin, what is the situation?"
"It is... rather troublesome. The Saxons are continuing to converge upon a single point."
"...It is Vortigern."
Artoria looked to Merlin (female), who spoke with a grim face, her gaze fixed on her visions of the present.
At the mention of Vortigern, the faces of nearly every knight turned pale. It was only natural. Vortigern was an adversary so formidable that even our combined strength could not guarantee victory.
However, to remain idle was to court certain death.
"We must strike immediately, Your Majesty. If we delay, they will establish a proper command structure and become an insurmountable wall. We must catch them now, while their formation is still chaotic."
Since our goals were diametrically opposed to Vortigern's desire to see Britain destroyed, conflict was inevitable. It was a fated collision.
If we had to fight, we had to do so when the odds were most in our favor. The Saxon forces under Vortigern's command had only just begun their assembly.
Though their numbers were vast, they were a disorganized rabble gathered from various territories, lacking a cohesive system.
We had to attack now. Hearing my council, Gawain nodded in agreement.
"Sir Elius speaks the truth, My King. Now is our window of opportunity. Their strength will only grow as time passes. we must strike before they are ready."
"...Your point is well taken. Does anyone hold an objection to the counsel of Sir Elius and Sir Gawain?"
At Artoria's question, the knights shook their heads in unison. Seeing the consensus, Artoria drew her sword from its sheath.
The air in the room shifted instantly as her presence expanded. The knights looked upon her with rapt attention.
"A decision has been reached. Vortigern has finally drawn his blade. It is certain that its edge is aimed at our throats."
She raised the sword, its light reflecting in her cold, clear eyes.
"But this is a peerless opportunity. An opportunity to bring this long conflict to an end! An opportunity to drive out the foreign invaders who threaten the sanctity of Britain!"
"We shall show those who threaten our home the full extent of our might!"
"We march in seven days' time. Our objective: the fall of Vortigern. I, Arthur Pendragon, shall lead the vanguard. "
"Prepare for war!"
In response to her command, I and the rest of the Round Table bowed our heads, speaking as one voice.
""By your command, Your Majesty!""
The signal flare for the war that would decide the fate of Britain had been ignited.