With the crown in place, the people expected a rousing speech—and Arthur gave one.
His voice was weak from sleepless nights, and though Morgan's magic helped amplify him, even the Sword of Selection felt too heavy. But his fatigue now felt like something natural—not the familiar weakness that had haunted him.
He opened his system panel and saw it: the cursed dragon factor was gone, replaced by a crystal of draconic power radiating deep crimson light.
Arthur stood before the people and raised his voice.
"—Citizens of Camelot, do not fear. As the sages foretold, I will defeat King Vortigern. But that victory will take time."
"Hold your heads high! Today marks the beginning of Camelot's revival. I, King Arthur, swear: Today will be better than yesterday. And tomorrow will be better than today."
"The weak shall be protected. The land shall prosper. Wealth will be your own, not stolen by tyrants."
"The sword has pierced the clouds. Darkness will vanish before the sun."
"No hardship can stop us now—not even nature itself."
The crowd erupted with cheers. Cries of "Our King!" echoed endlessly.
Then, suddenly—a knight in black armor barged into the square.
"My king! Forgive the interruption—but the ceremony must end. The Saxons have crossed the northern defense line with 10,000 troops. They're heading straight for Camelot. Estimated arrival: noon!"
Arthur's expression darkened. "What of the towns and villages? Any casualties?"
"None. They're marching directly here. No signs of looting."
"I see. They want to humiliate me. Prove that Merlin's prophecy is a lie."
"There's no doubt, my king. The barbarians fear the day the Red Dragon fulfills the prophecy."
Arthur laughed. "Then let's give them a reason to fear."
"Knights! Soldiers! To arms! Let all of Britain see: Camelot will not fall like before. We are stronger than the Saxons—and it's time they learned it the hard way!"
On the day of the coronation, a Saxon army—ten thousand strong—broke through the defense lines held by the northern kings. They swept past tribes and towns along the way and now marched straight for Camelot.
The timing was no coincidence.
For a moment, all the nobles present were gripped by panic.
Why now?
A force of ten thousand wasn't some disorganized rabble. Their movements would have been noticed—should have been noticed. Yet somehow, they broke through the northern defenses without warning.
Was this Saxon army unusually powerful?
Of course not. If the northern kingdoms couldn't even fend off ten thousand Saxons, they would've fallen long ago. Yet they had survived until now.
That left only one explanation.
"The northern kings betrayed us!"
"Those bastards let the Saxons through—do they care nothing for honor? For the fate of Britain?!"
"If Camelot falls and becomes a Saxon base, it'll be as if they opened Britain's gates to the enemy! How could they not see that?"
The nobles panicked, their voices overlapping in a chorus of dread. To those used to comfort and opulence, this sudden news struck like a whip to bare skin.
But unlike them, the common folk and knights weren't so shaken.
The civilians, rather than afraid, felt a strange anticipation. According to prophecy, Arthur was the incarnation of the Red Dragon—the one who would eventually slay the White Dragon King, Vortigern. A mere ten thousand Saxons? That was nothing.
Civilians prepared to cheer for victory.
Knights prepared to follow their king and earn glory.
See? So simple. What's there to worry about?
Yet Artoria and Merlin exchanged a frown.
Artoria, trained to be the vessel of the [Ideal King], understood better than most. Even as a mere princess, she was well-versed in Camelot's military condition.
Currently, Camelot had around 300 knights, 500 war horses, and fewer than 4,000 soldiers.
Facing ten thousand Saxons with such numbers… was suicide.
With urgency, she strode toward Arthur and pleaded, "Arthur, we must retreat—for now. I know it may shame you to retreat on the day of your coronation, but this is ten thousand troops. If we face them head-on, Camelot will be destroyed."
It was a rational, well-grounded suggestion.
Even Gawain, Lancelot, and Kay did not object. They were mighty knights, true, capable of felling hundreds in battle. But in a war of thousands, no lone knight could turn the tide by himself.
Even if they could slaughter countless foes…
If Camelot burned and its people suffered, what meaning would there be in such victories?
Arthur nodded. "Is that your judgment, sister? It's a wise one. To forsake honor in order to protect the people—that is the duty of a true monarch."
Artoria's eyes lit up with hope.
But her joy was short-lived.
"For you, that principle is right," Arthur continued, "but for me—and for the present Camelot—it doesn't apply. I won't retreat. I'll go out, face the enemy, and defeat them all."
"You—!" Artoria's eyes widened. "Camelot doesn't even have enough soldiers!"
"No, Sister," Arthur replied, disappointed, "You're seeing only the surface. War isn't just about fighting. It's a means to an end."
"You think the Saxons came all this way just to beat me and mock me?" he asked. "No. If Camelot falls, what do they gain? What chaos would follow? But if I win… have you thought about what that would mean?"
He smiled faintly, clapped Kay on the shoulder, and walked past Artoria.
"Wait!" she called out, stepping forward. "Then I'll go too!"
This was a crisis that concerned all of Camelot. She would fight alongside him, setting aside any personal grievance.
Merlin, too, stepped up with a chuckle. "Then I shall join as well. I am the court magician, after all. If I don't lend a hand now, I'll never hear the end of it."
Of course, he didn't actually care about gossip.
But today was brimming with intrigue and surprises. Arthur's decisions—perhaps even more than the prophecy—were turning out to be far more interesting than the pursuit of an "Ideal King."
"Hmph! You two stay put!" Arthur snapped. "Even if Camelot has declined, I won't have a princess go to the battlefield."
If Artoria fought and won today, people would say victory belonged to her.
Victory would become meaningless.
And more importantly…
[Task Triggered]
[First Battle]
Objective: With the enemy at the gates, protect the people—this is a king's dignity.
Reward: Skill – Word Spirit.
As expected, any event tied to a king's reputation, dignity, or the fate of the realm triggered a system task—even if it had been artificially orchestrated.
Arthur's voice grew serious. "Merlin, same goes for you. Your power is undisputed. I'm entrusting the safety of Camelot to you. When I return, I want this city whole and smiling."
"Oh my, big brother, are you being cold to me?" Merlin's tone was teasing.
Kay glared at him.
But a glare alone wouldn't stop Merlin. As he tried to follow, Lancelot and Gawain stepped in and silently blocked his path.
It seemed if Merlin kept pushing, he would be punched.
Outside Camelot.
Arthur led his army forward at a brisk pace.
With the enemy so close, a fast march wouldn't affect battle readiness. If anything, their smaller force of 4,000 could maneuver more freely than the bulkier Saxon army.
Gawain, Lancelot, and Kay rode at Arthur's side.
Though they obeyed Arthur without question, worry clouded their eyes.
"My king," Lancelot said solemnly, "I don't have confidence facing ten thousand alone. When battle begins, stay close to me. I will protect you, even if it costs me my life."
Gawain and Kay exchanged exasperated glances.
Could you wipe the nosebleed off your face before making declarations like that?
Still…
As they looked to their king—who was awkwardly clinging to his saddle, clearly terrified of falling—they couldn't help but think:
Our king can't even ride a horse properly…
He's so scared he's trembling…
He's adorable~!