Morgan, You’re Not Acting Right!

Dong Zhuo spending the night in the imperial bedchambers

Wait, no.

Dong Zhuo leading troops into Chang'an.

Lot never expected Morgan to come up with such a tactic.

Romance of the Three Kingdoms Lot had often used it as bedtime reading material for little Gawain.

As for why Lot chose this as a bedtime story, well, that was all on Gawain.

"Dad, forget about Cinderella and those boring tales. I may be less than a year old, but give me something with real punch!" Gawain.

And so, Morgan, who had been listening in, actually learned from it.

Marching soldiers into the city, sneaking them out under cover of darkness, then loudly marching them back in again.

Rinse and repeat.

A thousand men, made to look like ten thousand.

Seeing the awe in Lot's eyes, Morgan flashed a mischievous grin.

"Ehe~!"

Unable to resist, Lot reached out and playfully booped her nose.

"Looking like this, I really want to take a bite out of your face."

He whispered into her ear.

Morgan turned her head and shot him a glare.

Control yourself! It's broad daylight!

If you're going to say such indecent things, at least wait until we get home!

I even turned off the lights

Wait, no

Just keep it private, okay?!

...

"So… Morgan really did mobilize troops from the Welsh border?"

Watching the endless stream of reinforcements, Vortigern and King Mark began to doubt themselves.

From their perspective,

Wave after wave of reinforcements arrived from Camelot, fortifying the castle into an impenetrable stronghold.

If there really were ten thousand men defending that terrain,

Then their own twenty thousand would never break through.

To confirm exactly how many reinforcements Morgan had brought, Vortigern dispatched scouts toward Camelot.

But those scouts vanished like stones dropped into the sea none returned.

Vortigern knew Merlin had to be behind this.

In a straight fight, Vortigern wouldn't hesitate to face Merlin.

But when it came to rooting out spies and infiltrators?

That wasn't his expertise.

The enemy's movements were shrouded in fog, leaving Vortigern completely in the dark.

"What do we do now?"

King Mark asked.

Retreat?

That wasn't even an option for him.

The grudge remained unsettled.

He refused to accept defeat.

Vortigern replied, "We don't know the enemy's true numbers. If we attack recklessly, we risk disaster. Our next move is to confirm their strength."

Then, King Mark mused, "Hey… what if Morgan actually brought very few troops? What if we're being deceived?"

Vortigern's expression turned thoughtful.

"You might be onto something. Morgan could be bluffing."

And so,

He made his decision.

"Tomorrow, we test them."

...

"At this rate, Vortigern's forces should be thoroughly intimidated."

Lying side by side with Lot, Morgan spoke with satisfaction.

"Not enough."

Lot shook his head.

[They might still suspect we're bluffing.]

"Then what else can we do?"

Morgan asked.

"We make them believe it's real."

Lot grinned.

"Huh?"

Morgan looked puzzled.

"We put on a show of overwhelming force make them think we have an army at our backs."

"So…"

Morgan began to grasp his plan.

But instead of explaining directly, Lot changed the subject.

"Say, Morgan… our dear sister Artoria ate quite well tonight, didn't she? Even the richest landlords run out of grain eventually "

"Mhm, mhm."

Morgan nodded eagerly.

Anything that involved messing with her sister was fine by her.

...

The next morning,

Before Vortigern's army could move

While Vortigern was still getting dressed

A squad of Camelot troops arrived to taunt them.

At their head stood a petite but imposing figure.

Artoria, gripping Excalibur tightly, glared at the enemy camp.

In her mind, she recalled Lot's instructions from earlier:

"Shout at them. Make them angry."

Taking a deep breath, she bellowed:

"Vile King Vortigern! Your infamy stretches from Ireland to Cathay! Our armies are here lay down your arms and surrender now! Do so, and you may yet die with dignity! Refuse, and we shall grant you that dignity ourselves!"

The moment she finished, Artoria's face turned scarlet.

Such words were not in her nature.

But Lot had been clear

"If you don't do this, no food for three days."

And so, for the sake of her stomach, Artoria had betrayed her conscience.

Hearing the insults, Vortigern's temper flared.

He rallied his troops, ready to charge at Artoria.

But just as he moved

He felt her presence again.

Scáthach.

Instantly, his courage wavered.

He took two steps back, signaling he meant no threat.

Then, his gaze shifted to King Mark.

You're up.

Go.

King Mark sighed.

Why…

Why is it always me?

In this world, must I suffer alone?

But glancing at the enemy

Hmm.

At least it wasn't Lot, who had beaten him before.

Nor was it Galahad, who had pushed Vortigern back.

This knight was small, delicate hardly a fearsome warrior.

Probably a nepo-baby.

Must've gotten this position through connections.

One clash, and he'll crumble.

"Watch me crush him!"

King Mark led his men out.

As he emerged, he saw Artoria

Head bowed, cheeks flushed with shame over Lot's scripted taunts.

Ah.

He's trembling in fear.

Victory is mine.

Gripping his sword, King Mark charged.

"You're the one who insulted us?!"

Artoria, still torn between guilt and hunger, looked up

And her eyes lit up.

Finally!

Shouting at people isn't my thing.

But cutting them down

No, wait

Engaging the enemy?

That's my specialty.

Excalibur gleamed in her hands.

In an instant, her aura shifted.

King Mark's confidence shattered.

But it was too late his horse was already galloping forward.

Their blades clashed.

CLANG!

CLANG!

CLANG!

Three exchanges.

And King Mark realized one thing:

Artoria was not Lot.

She was stronger.

How does someone so tiny hit this hard?!

Artoria, blessed with the blood of the Red Dragon, was a powerhouse.

And so, in full view of both armies

King Mark chose the wisest course of action.

He ran.

Veering toward his own troops, he bellowed:

"You fools! Stop charging blindly! Follow my orders!"

Then, over his shoulder, he shouted at Artoria:

"Y-You're not bad! If not for my duties as commander, I'd settle this properly!"

Defeat?

I, King Mark, was never defeated!

I merely… returned to lead my men!

Of course,

No one bought it.

Not even his own soldiers.

They knew he'd been outmatched.

And now?

Their two leaders

One too scared to fight.

The other, driven back.

What were they supposed to do?

And so,

The soldiers half-heartedly went through the motions.

Artoria, remembering Lot's instructions, didn't press the attack either.

Thus,

From dawn till noon,

The "battle" dragged on.

When both sides finally withdrew

Casualty report:

Camelot fewer than twenty wounded, zero dead.

Vortigern's forces fewer than fifty casualties.

(And a dozen of those were idiots who'd tried to rush Artoria head-on.)

And so, the day ended.

King Mark returned, utterly unfazed.

After all,

Defeat was like… certain activities.

The first time was rough.

But after a while?

You got used to it.

Vortigern could only sigh.

Tomorrow.

We'll try again tomorrow.

...

The next morning,

At dawn

Camelot's forces were back.

This time, it was red-haired Tristan at the gates.

Vortigern glanced at King Mark.

"You lost to Artoria. You lost to my nephew-in-law Lot. Surely you can't lose to your own nephew?"

"Yeah, no. I'd lose."

King Mark admitted freely.

...

On the third day,

Neither Artoria nor Tristan appeared.

Instead

Galahad.

Still unbeatable.

But this convinced Vortigern and King Mark of one thing:

Morgan and Lot weren't bluffing.

They must have real reinforcements.

No matter where they came from, they were here.

And so,

They held back.

...

Inside the castle,

Watching Vortigern's hesitation, Lot and Morgan smirked.

"When weak, appear strong. Make them fear us so they never realize we're paper tigers."

Lot explained.

While Vortigern hesitated, they'd strike hard

Buying time for their next move.

Just then, a messenger arrived.

Handing them a report, he bowed.

Reading it, Lot's face lit up.

"Perfect. Our next phase can begin."

...

Over the following days,

Vortigern and King Mark watched as Lot rotated Artoria, Galahad, and others to lead attacks.

But eventually

Vortigern noticed something odd.

"Why is it always the same thousand men?"

He asked King Mark.

"So…?"

"We've been deceived."

As Galahad issued yet another challenge, Vortigern snapped.

"Full assault! Crush them!"

Ten thousand soldiers surged forward.

Galahad, seeing the tide, didn't hesitate

Retreat.

Back to the castle.

Vortigern pursued relentlessly.

But when they arrived

Lot and Morgan stood atop the walls.

Beside them, Tristan strummed his harp.

Smiling down, Lot called out:

"Go on, then. Aside from that thousand, our castle is empty. Step right in."

Vortigern didn't even think.

"Charge!"

He glared at Lot.

"You've played your tricks for days. Did you really think I'd fall for this again?"

"You think I'd believe you now?!"