To be a King (4)

It was early in the morning and I was still unsure about my difficult decision of actually standing in front of the main force that was supposed to defend Londinium.

I was still aching, my body well-covered in bandages that were mostly hidden by the armor I was donning over my normal clothes.

Riding a horse was… making things far worse than those should be while I was merely walking on my own.

The animal was particularly calm, it was well-behaved, but still giving some shakes as it patiently waited for my command to move around and… that was making my capacity to think even less than it was a few hours ago.

I should have been a goner after falling into unconsciousness, mere instants after the sorceress had left that ruined hall of the castle.

Despite winning that battle against that golem and surviving a discussion with Morgan le Fay, the wounds I had sustained during the fight should have seen me dying for how much extensive those were.

My recovery had been possible only thanks to the Magus Guild, the group having offered quality help in keeping my situation stable while the 'healers' took care of my injuries.

Some members of the Church had been spectating the entire development too, keeping away from disrupting the intensive care I had been subjected to.

A 'precautionary force' in case of betrayal from the guild, as Felicianus had been quick to define when inquired about the matter.

There was some tension between the two factions, but nothing truly erupted from just some insults thrown left and right while I continued to be unconscious.

I was sleeping as the critical situation was being solved, my mind too tired and somewhat drained by the wrecked state of my body.

I could remember some of the early pain that preceded my partial recovery as the main operation was only meant to put me in a somewhat sufficient state to actively give orders for the soon-to-happen battle.

I remember waking up about two hours after midnight and… it was still dark.

A few Magi that were keeping watch over my bed were quick to give me a proper checkup, to see if the herbs and the spells used to speed up my healing were working without any worrisome drawback.

Altuos had been summoned about ten minutes after my awakening and he looked to have gained several decades with just a glance directed at me.

He was immensely concerned if not worried about my conditions, kind of touching considering that I had yet to cope with the fact I didn't have anyone else to trust in those dark moments.

Despite my newest role as a leader, I had forfeited the presence of my family and… that was still stinging even now.

After some brief words to see the current state of things, how everything had gone by as I had been stuck in that comatose state, I found myself embroiled in what I could describe as a divided house.

For the first time since I had started my rule, both Altuos and Felicianus were quick to side on the fact that I had to stay within the castle as I was in no condition to even move away from the bed.

The two elders were opposed by the stern front erected by Marcus with the commander of the little army defending the city kept pressing on the fact that my presence was the element that would keep the numerically inferior forces from making sudden retreats during the incoming fight.

I was silent for a good hour, letting both sides expose the boons of their different mindset while also undermining their 'opponents' by highlighting the flaws of the opposite decision.

It was all nice and instructive as each gave their own understanding of the situation while keeping a surprising civil tone for this circumstance.

I was keen to listen all the fair points and the little odd bits about divine justice and morality that were sprouted here and there mostly by the bishop.

In the end, much to the two old men, I had to accept the fact I couldn't just skip the duty I had in staying in front of the army.

Morale was going to reduce drastically if I ended up to not be directly involved in the battle, with many of the soldiers taking it as a sign of betrayal whatever excuse brought to them.

The news of my wounds had reached very few people, mostly those that worked and lived in the royal castle.

I was still 'fine' to the eyes of the large majority and I couldn't just skip my task now that the stakes were so high.

I needed some help to start walking, even more support to wear the armor that I had been given by Marcus and… I can't even describe the nightmare-like process of getting onto the horse's saddle.

In the end of what had been quite the complicated debate to face so early in the morning, I ended up riding that dark-furred horse that was quietly waiting for something to happen.

There were other 'knights' standing just a few meters behind where I was, their horses as calm as mine while we waited the arrival of the enemy forces.

A mixed group of pikemen and archers were divided in two forces by each side, while the rest of the defending force had been split in two large brigades that were keeping watch within the forest sections in front of the city.

While a well-planned charge of cavalry was going to prove devastating for the strained invaders that were making their way there, it wouldn't have been enough to shatter their ranks to an acceptable degree to grasp victory.

This is why there were traps between the defensive positions and the steps to reach those, rendering the entire path a minefield for the incoming attackers.

Once the damaged force arrived to make sight with my task force and I ordered the beginning of the frontal assault, the rest of the army was to convey and crash on the unsuspecting behind of the German invaders.

I was incredibly uneasy, unfairly tired by the sore body that I was supposed to deal with and… with the fact that the silence was filling me with never-ending doubts over the success of this simple plan.

It should work. Technically, this was the first time ever that the armies of this period experienced something like this rudimentary combined arms doctrine.

Albeit not as balanced as it would have been for William of Normandy because of the lack of more preparation and numbers, the flexibility of the group under my command made it possible to counter any surprises that was now lurking in that force.

I had asked to Altuos one last time before leaving the castle what were the chances of encountering some magic-users in the enemy frontline and he repeated for the umpteenth time that there was a non-negligible possibility… but one that saw the sorcerers chained and used as tools more than willing soldiers in their ranks.

It was somewhat a positive discovery since I was now aware that the morale of this worrying group was going to be the lowest once the traps were sprung.

It didn't take too long for this to happen as, while the birds flying around were still chirping and the soft English breeze was keeping my body tense and irked, everyone was alarmed by the distinct noises of multiple explosions being set off.

Some light started to appear from deeper in the foliage, urging everyone to muster up their guarded stances as the battle was soon to begin.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a proper look of the approaching force and… I was surprised by what started to come out from the forest.

When I had initially planned the amount of bombs that had to be commissioned, when I made a supposition of the numbers that I was about to truly face, I had completely taken off a very important variable from my difficult calculus.

The mortality of the traps I ordered to set up.

When one thinks of medieval times, they either imagine some people ripping off Roman-based armors and weapons or people donning rudimentary knightly equipment.

Yet I had completely forgotten that I was facing a 'no-name' Barbaric tribe that was made by mercenaries with little protection to defend against the multitude of explosions they had set off in their early approach.

I could count a dozen or two of survivors slowly making their way towards us, but only a handful looked to be battle-ready.

I… I might have exaggerated.

This simple and childish thought was the only summary I could get out from that troubled turmoil within my mind, my brain and stomach trying to make sense of the sheer brutality that were resulting from the traps and…

Some of the footed infantry was already giving up the content of their breakfast at the mutilated victims of the mines that were lying around the path.

The remaining force was shell-shocked and terribly frightened, but their worries seemed to triple when they noticed the band of knights and militiamen waiting for them to get closer.

They stopped, their leader seemingly looking as nervous as furious while he continued to shout fiercely at the hooded figure that was standing beside him.

While one of the man's hand was holding the battle-axe by his right shoulder, the other one was pulling at the chain connected to the metallic collar around the slender figure's neck.

A sorcerer.

I took grasp of the horse's reins and pushed the animal to finally advance towards the survivors of the traps, the rest of the retinue following shortly after with a moderate pace.

The more I got closer to the area where the group was trying to make their last stand, the more I could hear the annoying shouts of the surviving leader getting louder and louder.

The figure was now shivering, visibly terrified by what was happening as they were dropped on the floor by a sudden slap, forcing their hood to move away and…

Reveal quite the odd sight.

While I could get behind the fact that magic existed in medieval ages, that there was truly a Morgan le Fay and possibly a King Arthur, I certainly couldn't make head of the appearances of the newly-revealed woman.

Her robes were tattered, signs of violence presented by some bruises on her pale face that was just a hint or two darker than the pearly-white hair she had.

She was glancing away from her captor and staring in my direction in an unfocused stare.

She had red eyes.

…

I mustered some effort to keep myself from facepalming with how in pain I still was, but goddamn this wasn't just something I could directly stomach without some massive questions.

Odd hair and eye-color was sign of something one could see in Anime. It was rare to find fantasy titles with human beings having this kind of elements… but I've met nobody else sharing any strange feature compared to the average individual.

Heck, even the barbarians looked like the standard mix of vikings and tribal Germans with no peculiar oddity in their styles and appearances.

I shook my head at the development, trying to return my attention to the 'battlefield', only noticing now that the chief of the tribal force had now lifted his battle-axe well over his head and was preparing to kill the sorceress trying to crawl away from him.

My breath itched at my throat, my frown steeling as I carefully yanked at the reins to have the horse increase its pace.

A quick neigh preceded a sudden intensification of the animal's pace and I felt trembling a little at the new speed, while my right hand removed Crocea Mors from its sheath.

My rush was followed by the chorus of 'Deus Vult's as the rest of the group behind me started to charge at the band of survivors.

The rest of the invaders looked quite horrified by this predicament, turning tail and rushing back in the forest… only to freeze up as they noticed the two approaching forces coming from behind.

They were surrounded by my army, ready to surrender or be slaughtered by the meatgrinder… all except the leader that seemed to be more focused on the magician.

Ignoring her confusing looks, I found myself debating why would the young woman not attack us if she was threatened to do so.

Why wouldn't she do that if her life was put on the line?

The horse rammed onto the mad-driven barbarian, forcing him away from concluding the downward arch directed to the shivering white-haired lady.

He yelped, a mix of pain and panic as he was slammed onto the ground, dropping the axe in the process.

I proceeded to carefully slip down from the saddle and on the floor, Crocea Mors lowered and pointed at the recovering Barbarian.

"Y-You will regret attacking me! M-My father-"

"Is not here to compensate for your lacking performance," I interrupted sassily, the stress of my bandages urging me to take a less diplomatic approach. "Surrender or die."

"N-Never! I-I will never allow you to-"

I didn't do anything to maim him, yet the leader was either too furious or too stupid to recognize the blade poised over him as he literally…

Lunged into it.

I tensed up at the scene, his eyes going wide at the cold realization of what he had just done, slowly crumbling to the floor once again.

"Y-You- B-But he said that- that I was going to be- to be King!-!"

A sordid thud signaled the end of his life, my silent expression deafening my entire experience of my first kill.

This wasn't a dummy, nor the golem I had obliterated yesterday…

This was a human being. A scummy human being, but still a life.

I slowly retracted the golden-silver sword out of his chest, letting his body fully fall on the floor as I turned my attention at the blood liquid staining the texture of Crocea Mors.

It wasn't jam, it wasn't some special effect. This was blood, real blood.

I felt my lungs aching a little bit, the attempt to hyperventilate at the sight and realization of what I've just done was… starting to get me fairly uneasy, if not squeamish.

The noise of men fighting left and right, with none of the knights loyal to me falling against the highly-demoralized troops, was rendered bubbly and incomprehensible as I carefully felt my sight drawn back to the young sorceress now staring at me and… holding her hands in a prayer.

She was shivering, tears were rolling off her cheeks and… I was unsure what to do about her.

She was dangerous, there was no reason to believe otherwise, yet she hadn't attacked the retinue, nor did she try to help her captors around with the ongoing battle.

I blinked, my eyes lost in quite the glowing pair of red orbs.

And then I sighed.

I blame you for making me this sensible to women, cousin John.I hope you are cursed with infinite paperwork.

I think the little curse backfired, but I guess I should have been expecting to be forced to face some paperwork before the planned celebrations.

Everyone, from the simple inhabitants within the city and the soldiers that took part in this 'not-so' glorious battle, were quick to chant victory over the horde of invaders that had been vanquished from ever threatening the peace of the city-castle.

Yay, no more pro- Oh right, there were still problems.

While I had been glad myself of having achieved a victory, albeit one as empty as this one, I still just got some more time to think, plan and improve my fief to stand up to the other issues riddling the isles.

There was also a newer problematic debacle created by the little choice I had to make as the battle drew to an end.

The sorceress had been safely escorted to some secure quarters where she will be monitored for a week or two by the Magus Guild in the effort of getting some information out of her.

While she had been just an unwilling participant of this brief conflict and I vouched for her harmlessness, her presence did more than just stir some nervousness from the people living in the castle.

Felicianus was quite irritated, terribly confused and highly-annoying in what had seemed to be an effort to do an 'appeal to reason'.

At this point, I'm not even sure if reason is still viable with the crap I'm supposed to deal with. Magic, anime-like girls… what's next? Gandalf?

I almost snorted at the fact that Altuos did count as a 'Gandalf', but my brain was just so embroiled by the content of the various orders, edicts and decrees that were there to be proclaimed now that I had the victory I needed to levy some legitimacy over the villages located nearby Londinium.

The process was going to be a slow one for sure, but now that I was free to move some troops around to free the path to the still-isolated settlements, I was sure that success was now a matter of time.

Recovery was a must, while expansion further in the unoccupied lands was going to be the prime objective for the first few years.

If I wanted to avoid the issues of overpopulation that were soon going to plague the isles, I needed to create more villages and cities to house the large number of people that was still fleeing from mainland Europe.

I was close to fall asleep on that wooden chair, ready to get some nap going before dealing with the 'duties as a victorious King' for the ceremony planned to happen by lunch.

Was I irritated that I would have to give some speeches about what happened today, while also appearing to be as gleeful and happy as everyone else in Londinium?

A little bit. But I guess it is more of a fear-induced complication than anything based on true annoyance.

I still had to plan out how exactly should I get the remains of those that had died by the traps out from the forest's roads around the city.

The bill sure was going to be a tall one from what I felt was going to be the number of dead people lingering there.

Just as I prepared to take a nap on that sturdy chair I was resting by, my attention was caught by the distinct sound of someone knocking by the door.

I glanced at it and sighed.

"Come in."

Altuos didn't wait for more as he opened the door, stepping inside before closing it behind himself.

"Your highness, I see that you are stressing yourself already despite the fact I had told you not to," The elder chided quietly as he proceeded to take several steps toward the desk, taking a seat by one of the free chairs in front of me.

"I'm trying to keep some bad thoughts out," I hummed tiredly. "I'm not exactly finding complete relief by this victory-"

"Death is an acceptable part of war," The old man muttered in return. "It's a sad element, but a necessary one considering how trying these times are."

"I thought that there were going to be much more- yet I can't just- I can't understand why there were so few remaining from that early ambush."

"Perhaps you have forgotten that we aren't facing a true nation, but a conglomerate of thieves, raiders and other horrible criminals that have little in common in each other… but the sinful manner they go with their lives," Altuos pointed out with a sigh. "It wouldn't be difficult to see them… split apart in not-so friendly ways."

I blinked at his words, leaning by back right to the chair as I pondered over his reasoning.

The tribes had little cohesion between one another and this wasn't certainly a coordinated invasion that had a central leadership and some trustworthy armies.

It could be possible that they just… broke apart the moment their leader decided to go through this march towards Londinium.

The sureness in his voice while he died upon my blade was… concerning.

It sounded just too certain, as if he was aware that there had been more than a good chance of winning this battle without difficulties.

But why? Why he had felt so sure about it despite the lack of numerical superiority that he had lost with this rushed advance?

"Maybe he got deceived by a doubtful mirror," The elder hummed while looking at my face, my expression morphing in one of surprise at his guess at my inner question. "I admit it was a surprise when I first interviewed the frightened child but… she is truly an admirable individual."

…

"Truly?"

"Quite so," Altuos confirmed with a nod. "Not only she is unique with her peculiar nature of human and homunculus, but her propensity to use the Third Magic is-"

"H-Hold up, homunculus?" I interrupted with this swift inquiry, catching the old man off-guard for a few moments.

Like FMA's Homunculus kind of stuff? Was I going to have to ask some moral background before continuing this conversation?

"I suppose the term is quite unusual, but I can assure you that her connection to the word is fairly limited if not offensive considering her complex humanity and rare predicament," The old man assured with a sigh. "In fact, I think her only inhuman traits are her eyes, her hair and… her propensity over the Heaven's Feel."

…

"Can you elaborate on this Heaven's… Feel?" I asked with a confused tone.

From a sense of disgust, I found myself facing an odd situation of innuendos.

She did look pretty gorgeous when I first saw her, maybe a little malnourished but… there was no way he was alluding to…

That.

"The Third Magic, one of the known five originals and… the most sought by many greedy men," Altuos pointed out with a tired sigh. "The capacity to extend the life of a soul beyond the death of the body, to allow the perfect survival of such a vital part of one's life to achieve true immortality."

Oh, that sounded less perverted and more worrying if I had to be honest.

Seriously, why was this a thing and… why didn't the man that led the banner against Londinium didn't use her for that?

While I was unsure over what he might have planned to do by lashing out at the sorceress, I wonder why he didn't just-

"She can't use it, of course," The old man continued with a hum. "She hadn't been taught to make use of her magic. And… I would say that her former captor failed to grasp such a simple detail."

...You got to be kidding me.

You mean to tell me that he just… he just missed the fact that she was not only limited to make use of that peculiar and highly-limited magic but he also failed to notice that she can't do spells?

My sadness was turning in mocking pity at this point, the more I realized how much of an idiot the man I killed was.

"Still, did she tell you- Actually, what is her name?" I inquired with a hint of curiosity. "I forgot to ask early on but-"

"Mya," The Magus leader interrupted quietly. "Her full designation was 'Myasviel', but she prefers the name 'Mya' to it."

I blinked. "Designation?"

"She was still created by some disciples of the last Magician of the Third Magic. Her and many more of her 'kin'," The elder explained calmly. "They call themselves… 'Einzbern'. After the place where the first Homunculus was conceived."

"So they are not made by 'natural' means. I mean, there is no daddy and mommy going for-"

"N-No," Altuos interrupted with some red on his face at the blunt query. "They receive skin, soul and humanity via magic. Their growths varies between the various specimen… but from my understanding Mya was the only one to be allowed to have a regular lifespan."

"That means she isn't three or something like right?"

I don't want to deal with the FBI for just moving her around for the guards to take her to her newest accommodations.

"Indeed. I would say she is… nineteen right now."

"That's pretty young to be enslaved by the tribes," I commented quietly. "How exactly did she end up under their control?"

…

"She… has yet to tell us about this," Altuos admitted with some embarrassment. "We avoided pressuring her too much as we feel like there is some trauma, a bad experience that got her to refuse to give out this kind of information."

"Yet she was happy enough to dispense this much information." I mused out-loud, pondering over this little obstacle behind the full understanding of this individual. "I suppose there is a reason behind this open acceptance of giving out this much about herself."

The old man blinked, a small smile appearing on his face at my words… causing me to frown.

"What?" I asked curtly, getting a nod from him.

"Mya has been asking about you, your highness," The elder replied quietly. "More about your conditions. She mentioned about seeing some bandages over your armor, and she has mentioned having served as a temporary healer for her former lord's house."

So she had experience in working in a castle? Probably she had been affiliated to some Latin fief that had survived the barbaric waves shattering Rome's control over Europe.

Maybe that's where she was actually captured, when the fief she lived in was taken over.

And- wait, what?

"I can understand the classic healer's worry… but why she asked about me if she knows I'm the king?"

"Perhaps she was fascinated by your chivalrous mannerism," Altuos mirthfully proposed, snorting as I frowned at him. "It would be quite 'deceiving' for a maiden when she is treated so regally by a king."

"It was the only way possible?"

"You could have asked for one from your retinue to help her back to the castle, to be treated as a good prisoner instead of a war one," He shot back quietly, drawing a huff from me.

"There is no other motivations other than doing the right thing," I said while trying to appear the calmest if not the most serious possible.

"Not that I was implying otherwise, your Highness, but people can start quite the conversations about this curious topic. Maybe you should visit Mya's room to dismiss such claims."

"Wouldn't that intensify the chances of rumors spreading, Altuos?" I probed with a frown right at the amused old man.

"Perhaps," He replied back with a sigh. "Or maybe you will end up having someone else to talk to instead of bemoaning to someone like me."

Was he trying to say that I was being too whiny? Was that sass I was feeling from the old man?

"But alas, I think we should focus on… the speech you should deliver by lunch," Altuos said to switch the conversation to a newer topic. "I assume that you have something to say-"

"No."

…

"I assume it was the battle, and not the fact you have been wasting time with this new paperwork that was meant to be done tomorrow, your Highness," He said with a mock-hopeful voice, getting a tired groan out of me.

"I'm not good at speeches."

"I find myself opposing this false certainty, milord," The elder pressed on. "While I can provide you with some keywords to use to improvise, I wish for you to at least try to write down something for the next victory."

I blinked at his words, kind of surprised at how much our relationship had turned into this friendly bantering.

I shrugged. "I will give it a try… hopefully, I will not achieve a second victory before dinner. My mind wouldn't handle that."

"While I do see the signs of a good monarch, I will refrain from consider you someone this much… lucky with successes."

Oh Altuos, you sassy old man with wizard powers.