Morgan, You’re Not Acting Right!

It must be said that Lot set a precedent for this era's Britain one that was hard to label as either good or bad.

Before his appearance, warfare in Britain had been straightforward: if you punched someone in the left eye, they'd punch you back in the right. But Lot's underhanded tactics were like two men trading blows to the face when suddenly, one of them went for a low blow.

Not only was it deeply insulting, but it was also devastatingly effective.

Vortigern was nearly brought to his knees.

And when he rose again, he had learned.

Vortigern was, by nature, an exceptionally cunning man. Though limited by the culture and era if you asked him to solve a math problem, he'd likely fail but when it came to military strategy, he had no trouble grasping new tricks.

I'll use the same methods against you.

He would strike before Lot was prepared, launching a surprise attack.

Before, when he was in Wales, such tactics had been difficult to execute.

Wales' mountainous terrain made it hard for enemies to invade but by the same token, launching attacks outward was equally challenging.

This time, when King Mark came seeking an alliance, Vortigern agreed without hesitation.

Starting from Mark's territory, an assault on Lot's heartland would be far easier.

"I'll cooperate with you fully."

Hearing Vortigern's plan, King Mark had no reason to refuse.

Jealousy had stripped him of reason.

All he wanted now was to crush Lot and Morgan completely.

The two were in perfect agreement.

They decided to launch their offensive immediately before Lot's food supplies could turn the tide.

Now, it was they who felt the pressure of time.

"Advance. Take Camelot."

Vortigern's voice was filled with fervor.

Though burdened by pressure, he felt something far stronger excitement.

Pressure bred motivation.

Victory.

Then, dominion over all of Britain.

The forging of his own hegemony.

This era would belong to him.

With their armies prepared, Vortigern and King Mark set out.

Vortigern had no communication with the fairies.

Strike first, negotiate later.

He mobilized his entire force some 23,000 to 24,000 men, roughly the size of a Roman legion. However, most were ordinary tribesmen, their lower-ranking soldiers far from elite.

King Mark, meanwhile, commanded several thousand of his own.

Combined, their forces numbered 30,000.

They launched their assault into Camelot's territory, aiming to seize key strongholds before Lot could react.

This tactic would later find a parallel in what history called blitzkrieg.

But in this era, it was only viable on a narrow island like Britain.

Rome's vast empire? Impossible. Even neighboring Francia would never fall for it.

Vortigern couldn't make France surrender in forty days.

Leading his army, he advanced with unstoppable momentum.

Morgan had prepared for the possibility of Vortigern's attack.

But she had assumed it would come from the mountainous regions of Wales.

Her border garrisons were stationed along the foothills, ready to repel any assault emerging from the highlands.

She never expected Vortigern's forces to pour in from King Mark's lands.

The first few territories and newly established cities, caught completely off guard, fell almost instantly to the allied army.

Within days,

the invaders were already at the gates of Camelot's southern fortress the very same stronghold that had once been Vortigern's headquarters.

Back then, Lot and Morgan had taken it bloodlessly, leaving it perfectly intact. After inspecting it thoroughly and confirming no hidden passages or backdoors existed, Lot had repurposed it as a key southern stronghold to govern the surrounding lands.

Now, Vortigern's army had reached it in mere days.

Once this fortress fell, Camelot itself would be next.

Only then did Lot and Morgan receive word of Vortigern's offensive.

"That bastard attacking from there when we weren't looking?!"

Morgan stared at the reports from the front, stunned.

This was beyond anything she had anticipated!

She had been considering whether to train her troops in mountain warfare only for the enemy to strike from the south.

Lot arrived just then, glancing at the same intelligence before giving Morgan's shoulder a reassuring pat.

"Relax. Vortigern's just copying my tactics. And since I invented them, how could I possibly lose to him?"

[Damn, Vortigern's a fast learner. This is tricky. But no way in hell I'm letting Morgan see me sweat. Stationing all our defenses at the border was her idea. If things go south, she'll blame herself.]

You.

Morgan's lips curled into a smile.

"Mm. I believe in you. You'll crush that despicable 'Dragon of Darkness' easily."

Lot grinned smugly.

[Heh, looks like the wife isn't worried at all. Good.]

"Of course! But to defeat the 'Dragon of Darkness,' I'll need a special incantation."

"What incantation?" Morgan asked.

In her heart

I'm not worried. Not because of your words, but because with you here, even if we suffer setbacks, we'll still win in the end.

Even if it's not just Vortigern even if Gaia itself came for us we'd still emerge victorious.

Lot, still in a playful tone, continued:

"The incantation is 'the most handsome, most adorable husband in the world.'"

Morgan rolled her eyes.

Just as Lot braced for a sarcastic retort

"T-the most handsome… h-husband… ngh, bit my tongue!"

Flustered, she actually bit her tongue mid-sentence.

"Pfft HAHAHA!"

Lot burst out laughing.

Morgan turned red with embarrassment and irritation.

Her fingers found his waist and twisted hard.

"Ow ow ow okay, okay! I surrender!" Lot yelped, raising his hands. "Now, let's focus on the actual plan."

"Mm."

At the mention of strategy, Morgan's expression shifted to seriousness.

[This offensive is like Germany's blitzkrieg against France in World War II. We can't let history repeat itself with a quick surrender.]

Hearing this, Morgan shot Lot a glance.

What's 'Germany'?

Was blitzkrieg really that effective against France?

[So we can't let them push straight to our capital. This southern fortress has to be our Moscow we cannot lose it.]

[We'll have to gamble. For Morgan. For little Gawain. I'll gamble.]

"We don't have time to mobilize a full army, so we need to send an elite rapid-response force to reinforce the fortress. I'll lead it."

[I really don't want to go. I'd rather laze around at home. But right now, only Morgan or I can stabilize the situation. Between the two of us, who should step into danger? No question.]

Morgan lowered her voice.

"I should lead the reinforcements. You stay here and organize the rest of the troops."

"Nah. You know how lazy I am. Mobilizing an army sounds like way too much work that's your job." Lot waved her off.

[I'm a horndog, not a scumbag.]

Morgan stared at him then suddenly giggled.

"Fine. I know you'd hate handling logistics. Leave the tedious work to me. You just focus on stopping Vortigern."

Arguing further was pointless.

Now, she just had to move fast to support her husband in time.

Some things, she could still rely on him for.

But there were things she had to do, too.

She had to ensure his safety.

"Wait no matter who else you take, you have to bring Artoria."

"Oh?" Lot raised an eyebrow.

"That white-haired swindler would never let her walk into danger. If things go south, she can get you both out."

Using her sister as insurance?

Morgan felt zero guilt.

Sister vs. husband who's more important?

Is that even a question?

In this world, even I don't matter as much as Lot!

"Got it. I'll take her."

Smiling, Lot agreed.

Food shortages and logistical strain?

Not an issue.

Artoria was a knight.

She could handle a few days without meals.

"No time to waste. I'll gather the knights here and set out immediately."

"Mm. Just…"

Morgan's words caught in her throat as Lot covered her mouth.

"No flags," he said firmly. "I'm off."

"Come back safely," "I'll bear your child when you return"

Lot refused to let her jinx him.

"...Fine."

Morgan sighed as she watched him leave.

But once he was gone, she still felt uneasy.

Beyond Merlin, she needed another safeguard.

"If I'm using my sister, why not my mentor too? Scáthach… it's time you protected your brother-in-law."

A plan formed in her mind.

"I'll send word to Scotland immediately. Hmm… need a good excuse. Got it tell her Vortigern's been calling her an old hag behind her back."

Perfect.

Lot hurried to assemble his forces.

Every Round Table knight in the city was mobilized.

Galahad, Artoria, and Tristan were all summoned.

Poor Artoria had been mid-meal when ordered to deploy. She set her food aside instantly her movements resolute, though her expression was heartbroken.

Bedivere remained with Morgan.

As her finest adjutant, he'd help coordinate the army's mobilization.

Two hundred knights formed the strike force, departing at once.

With three horses per rider, they rode hard swapping mounts to maintain speed.

As elite knights, they reached the fortress in just two days.

The moment Lot arrived, the sounds of battle greeted him.

"They're attacking?" he asked the garrison commander.

"Well…"

The knight's face twisted in frustration.

"Your Majesty, we're not sure. They keep feinting charging, then retreating the moment we mobilize. At night, we can't even tell how many there are."

Lot's lips curled.

Well, well. My own tactics, used against me.

And thoroughly plagiarized, at that.

"Your Majesty, what should we do?"

"Simple. They're exploiting the darkness? Then we'll exploit it back." Lot smirked. "Grab some enemy uniforms. Have our men wear them, 'retreat' with the enemy, then wreak havoc in their camp."

If his troops couldn't see in the dark, Vortigern's malnourished by comparison were worse off.

And to avoid revealing their numbers, they wouldn't dare light torches.

Think you can harass us under cover of night?

Then I'll harass you back.

[I admit, in a straight fight, I'd lose to Vortigern.]

[But brains are my weapon.]

[Try again in a few years, Vortigern.]