Chapter 6

Artoria

I had limited time to gather forces and prepare for an offensive from the north, and in that time, I was presented with very few options on how to make up the numbers.

As I understood it, the enemies from the north—the proto-Scottish known as the Picts—were more in touch with the druidic nature of the land than the Britons of this period. Christianity had already set its roots deep in these lands thanks to the Roman Empire. So, theoretically, we had two potential issues. The first was a reasonable issue: the enemies would come down here with fierceness from not being part of a somewhat moderating religion. They were barbarians, heathens, the sorts of people who had been having problems with Christianity and Roman civilization for generations and had a lot of hate for their enemy. When they came, they would be causing destruction and mayhem wherever they went, one of the largest attacks seen in the north for generations. The raiding they had been doing for so long would be small compared to what was coming.

They would have a large force; currently, I have a small one. That was problem number one. Problem number two was the potential for magecraft. As some of my fellow knights would probably refer to them, these heathens came from the old days of Britannia, which meant they were perhaps more willing to use the wild magics that supposedly existed beyond Hadrian's Wall.

Magic that could be deployed to cause much destruction. Magic that could deal with any large forces. This was the other problem I had to deal with.

The first problem was easier: if you don't have enough men, find more men. That's what I had been doing—making alliances and generally being as nice as I could to the general populace of lords in the area of the north, making deals and negotiations, getting people to talk and work things out. Being a human resource officer did come in handy in this way. What had started with just me and a few knights had grown to a majority of an alliance of a dozen knight houses, all backing me now. The other houses were probably less interested in this northern area but were allied to those allied to me and had been informed about the impending invasion from further north. This probably meant that, at least for this coming conflict, they were on my side. If I could win this conflict and prove my right to the throne, that probably meant I could get them to fully convert to being supporters of my reign, at least in the area of Northumbria to York—though not York itself, as York was under the control of a mayor who was still relatively uninterested in such things.

And that's where the real problem lay with cementing my rule here in the north. If I could somehow bring York into my control, I would have quite a bit of financial backing for this operation to secure the northern flank against the barbarian's rage.

The problem was, how would I convince a man who thought he could just buy the title of King of England to surrender to me, the heir to the title?

That was the major issue with getting more forces. If I could bring York under my command, I would have the financial stability to raise more than just knights.

I would move towards a professional army to get what I wanted. If I could right now, I would have to depend on a few hundred trained knights and maybe a thousand to two thousand peasants who had been given weapons and told what to do.

That was useful for chaff, but I needed something else. Once I had the north under my control, I would move towards creating a professional army—one that could be used to protect the kingdom and move out the enemies.

And I would have a damn good excuse after this combat, that's for sure. After the enemy was somehow pushed back, I'm still not sure how I would do that, but hopefully, I could say that we needed to have a permanent guard on Hadrian's Wall, rebuild it in a few places, and maybe build compounds to secure the wall further.

The massive structure was severely eroded in a few places, but if it could be rebuilt and strengthened to keep out the northerners, it would be an excuse for why I needed a professional army. After all, knights could take care of local matters, but a professional army would be required to keep out invaders, at least those that came by land. At some point, I would also need to work on a professional navy. This was long before Britain ruled the waves, so I doubt we had access to ship technology. That was something else I would need to work on. After all, Irish and Pictish invaders were not new to using sea technology to get around our flanks and attack places, and the Anglo-Saxon forces had come by ship and were still coming by ship. We needed vessels to be able to force them out. If only we had modern gunpowder, although I think such resources were outside the region of the British Isles. Sure, it might be possible to make black powder, but I don't think there was ready access to sulfur, at least within England's territory. Maybe in Scotland, but I don't recall any significant volcanoes being up there, so it was doubtful.

I had to internally chuckle at the thought of somehow progressing in this medieval time by grabbing gunpowder. It would be nice, but I couldn't access the needed equipment. Oh well.

Shaking my head, I stood up from where I'd been leaning over a table in my tent. My hands had been on either side of a massive map showing the northern England region we were in. I could tell it wasn't the best map, but it was generally right what I would give for modern photography and cartography—one of those things I could probably institute once we had this kingdom running. A cartography of the British Isles needed to be undertaken so I understood exactly what was under my control and what wasn't. That way, I could figure out how to build defenses to protect what was under my control and what areas needed to be taken so that my power was cemented.

That was also an issue for the future that kept piling up. Moving my hands, I rubbed the bridge of my nose, then moved to rub the areas around my nose and eyes before wiping my face down. It had been a long day—a long ride from the west coast of northern England to this midpoint here in the center of England. It would be another long drive tomorrow as we made our way to York. We needed to bring that city-state into our control, and I wasn't sure how I would do it. Perhaps I would have to go with the most violent method and unseat the mayor—not the greatest plan, as it would leave hard feelings, but it was necessary or might be necessary.

A knock on the wood pole of the giant tent drew my attention to it as I said, "Come in."

The flap was pulled back as Merlin and Sir Kay entered. The two of them looked annoyed at each other, which was standard.

Merlin spoke first, shaking his head. "Bringing this before the king is a mistake, Sir Kay. Young Artoria can quite handle York's situation. She doesn't need to rely on tricks and zealots to bring York under her command."

"Well, I'm still waiting for a better idea," Kay said, turning to Merlin before continuing. "Right now, our best plan is to infiltrate the city, kill the mayor, and just declare martial law. And you know what that brings? That brings bad feelings, that brings rebellion, that brings instability."

"Instability can be overcome in time," Merlin said with a shake. "Alliances with forces that you cannot control in time fully just means that they will have hooks in you that will demand things in the future."

Raising an eyebrow, I spoke up, "You two seem deep in conversation and want me to be included, but you've forgotten to include the information I need to know. What has happened, that's got you two so upset?" I asked, folding my arms in front of me.

The two glared at each other before Sir Kay spoke again. "Brother, I was approached last night by a messenger from York, a messenger from the church at York. They bore the news that there had been a situation inside the city. The mayor recently received guests from Pictish lands—forward scouts. He attempted to negotiate a peaceful transition of power in the region, selling out everything but his town to the Picts.

Parts of the deal made it to the public, including the fact that Christians who are enslaved by Pictish raiders and escape to the city will be returned to the Pictish raiders for a fee."

I shook my head before saying, "The man wants money more than common sense. Let me guess: the public now thinks he's going to sell off Christians as slaves to the Picts whenever he wants to make more money."

"I'm not sure if the public believes that, but it is an indication that they do not have much trust in him and are not in favor of the act of selling their Christian brothers back into slavery to heathens. Generally, the mayor of York is not seen as a defender of the faith, as the messenger said. And that's where he sends a message to you: come to the church, accept the baptism and the host before God and the people of York, and declare that you will protect Christianity from the heathens of the north. He will put all his support behind your rule, which will undercut the mayor's agenda and force him to align with you. If he doesn't, the people will probably burn him at the stake."

"Hmmm," I said as I leaned against the map on the table. This was a deep, colossal issue sitting before me.

Merlin spoke up, voicing some of my concerns. "Aligning yourself with the Christian Church is dangerous. There's nothing wrong with their people per se, but to be at the whims of the foreign heads of religion in Rome, Constantinople, and their other major dioceses puts England at risk. What if they ask you to marshal your forces into the Roman Empire to help protect it from the heathens at their borders? These are the things you must consider. An alliance with the church is an alliance with an ally that can do very little to aid you in the long term but could ask much of you in the long term."

"All true, but they could do a lot in the short term. Right now, bringing York under my control would get lots of influence and money. It would cement my ability to defend the North. Once I defeated the north, I could gather resources from the Midlands and push to try and beat the local lords controlling Wales.

Yes, in the long term, they would ask something from me that I couldn't give them, but in the short term, it would ensure I would have that long-term to begin with. And as Sir Kay had said, just killing the mayor of York would create instability—instability that would be a problem in the long term, even if I somehow stabilized things in the short term."

When I considered it, Merlin's ideas weren't why I was apprehensive about the whole "baptized a Christian before God and all of York" thing.

The idea of being asked in any form annoyed me. Sure, we hadn't had a terrible interaction, but he'd still just send me back in time to see what would happen, put me in an interesting time and place to see what would happen—that's some sort of experiment. I wasn't really happy with being used as an experiment.

Sighing, I shook my head before saying, "Is the messenger still here, Sir Kay?"

He nodded, so I said, "Bring him here. I will speak to him and give him my answer myself."

Sir Kay nodded and left the tent, leaving me with Merlin, who shook his head in response. "You're considering it, aren't you?"

"I'm not just considering it, I'm probably going to do it," I said, looking at him.

"And what if the church demands that you force out all those who do not believe in their religion? What if they tell you you must burn me at the stake because I'm a damnable wizard?"

I smiled before saying, "Then there'll be a split in the church." He looked confused for a moment before I continued, "Christianity is not that strong. We are hundreds of miles from any force they can send to interfere with our political or religious affairs. If I handle this situation right, there is a path where we break from the church and do our own thing while still allowing Christians to be Christian."

Merlin scratched his beard in thought before saying, "That's a big gamble. There's no way to know for sure if the local people will accept that."

"The church is not that strong," I said with a shake of my head. "Removing the diocese in Rome as the head of local affairs and replacing it with something here on the island will be accepted to some extent. We'll probably be called heretics by the people on the mainland for a few years, but they won't really have any way to get to us and do anything about it."

To be fair, I was somewhat stealing someone else's notes—a certain Henry VIII from a thousand years from this day, give or take a couple hundred. I didn't know all of what that particular religion had been—I think it was called Anglican—but I knew two interesting things: one, it was about divorce, which was useless to me, and two, it was about making the king the religious ruler of England, in essence, a minor pope.

Turning myself into a theoretical god-king wasn't exactly the worst option out there. The more power I could accumulate, the more I could redefine society for more advancing and improvements, especially if Merlin's opinions on the matter that I was doomed to be an immortal 15-year-old going forward were true…

Not my favorite outcome, but I would do what was necessary for my survival and my happy retirement. How I was going to retire from being a king was still up in the air. I guess at some point, I would have to figure out how to either sire an heir or adopt an heir into the family. Then, after a few years when I was sure they were ready, I would pass the crown to them so that I could just spend the rest of the time relaxing on a beach somewhere, maybe learning more about magic to try and reverse the whole "stuck as a 15-year-old girl" bit. I wouldn't mind being able to at least age up to 24—that was usually the apex of a human's progression, mid-20s being their strongest. And if I could figure out how to become a man, it would make life easier.

Merlin nodded before saying, "You have thoughts that I would not have considered nor would I have thought of." He chuckled before nodding his head. "I hope your plan works; otherwise, we could have another threat from the continent in a few years."

I shook my head before saying, "Maybe, but I have a good feeling that we'll pull this off."

The flap opened and Sir Kay entered, leading a monk who looked at me before tilting his head. I could almost visibly see the words sprawling across his large forehead: I thought he'd be taller.

Giving me a bow, he said, "Prince Artoria, it is an honor to meet you."

"It's an honor to meet you too," I said, giving a nod before continuing, "though it's King Artoria."

He nodded, saying, "Of course, of course. Though until you have cemented your kingship, you are nothing but a prince, and the church must be careful in these trying times not to offend your enemies too greatly."

I chuckled. So they were going to call me Prince until I had conquered the north. Wonderful. Well, that's something. Nodding my head, I said, "Yes, well, hopefully my enemies will come to see the light of day and become my allies. You can call me King that day. Till then, I have a message for your leader of the York Church: I will be there and have this baptism at the church within two days."

He nodded before saying, "Could you make it four?" which was confusing.

Tilting my head, I asked, "Why?"

Smiling, he said, "Under the assumption that you would be willing to undertake this task, the leader of the local diocese has had the local monastery begin work on a royal robe for you to wear when you enter the city, something to proclaim you as a Christian Prince here to protect Christianity from the threats outside. They've already begun gathering skilled artisans and armorers at the monastery, so all you need to do is arrive, and they will get your proper measurements and build it out for you."

I raised an eyebrow before looking down at myself. I did make a good British King, I'd say that right. I wore chainmail with leather and fabric underneath it and a heavy fur coat over my shoulders. My boots were solid, and my pants were well-maintained. I looked like a local king, so what did he mean by a Christian King? That was a bit confusing, but maybe it meant something to do with something going on in the South.

I needed more info, but they had a point: presentation was important. On the battlefield, I needed to be the British King, but I needed to be the Christian King for the people who wanted a Christian savior. Sighing, I nodded my head and said, "We can make a detour to this monastery."

"Wonderful," the man said with a nod. "If there's nothing else, I will go to the monastery now and inform them of your coming so they are ready for you."

"Of course," I said as he nodded his head and left the tent, leaving me with Merlin and Sir Kay. Turning to them, I asked, "Does anyone know what they mean by Christian King clothing?"

Both of them shrugged, which was not the worst option for them to have given. Sighing, I said, "Hopefully, it's nothing too flamboyant. I do have to keep some of my gruff British exterior," getting a laugh from the pair.

### Artoria

The monastery was lovely—stone construction, an excellent low wall around it, and accommodating. Those were my thoughts as I was given a tour by the local head father of the place. I thought this must have been before the official separation of genders in monasteries. I knew in the far future that, they would have all-male and all-female monasteries, often next to each other but far enough away. This one was a mixed bag.

I remember there was some sort of history about improprieties becoming a thing that led to that division, but I wasn't familiar with when that happened. Even if it were happening right now or soon, it would take time to implement it throughout the Christian world. That is a very interesting little side note. As I was led through the main church, a man explained various relics and images that had been created. Interesting stuff, but not why I was here, so I was only paying minimal attention.

Coming to the left side of the abbey into what I would guess would be the administration section of the church (though I imagine they call it something else), Father Cárthaigh stopped and waved to a woman approaching—an older lady for the time. I would guess late 40s.

"Mother Labhradha," he said as she came forward holding a basket with a tarp over it. "This is Prince Artoria, the potential future King of England, the one that the local diocese has asked us to take care of."

She looked me over before chuckling, saying, "Young and short, no wonder they're demanding we use the Prince title until you take the throne. You look like you'll be eaten up by the first Pict that comes down from the north."

I chuckled before saying, "Appearances can be deceiving."

"Ha, sure," she said with a shake of her head before turning to the father. "So this is the one I'm supposed to get the measurements from?"

He nodded before she reached out, grabbed me by my shoulder, and said, "Then let's get that over with. We're wasting time. The armorers and dressmakers have assembled a lot of the stuff already, but we need your measurements to complete this, so let's go."

Sir Kay and Sir Hector looked on in amusement as the older woman carried me away. I just looked at them, wondering if they should be trying to rescue me at this point because this could technically be counted as a kidnapping.

Turning a corner, I asked the woman, "Measurements? What measurements?" As we approached a door, she opened it, pushing me inside.

Mother Labhradha shrugged before saying, "We have to have your sizes for the people, which means we've got to know how the clothing is worn on you, so strip."

"Ahh, I'm not sure about that."

She laughed before saying, "What, you want me to get your measurements in the armor for a pair of armor? That doesn't make much sense. Pull it off now."

Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I sighed and did as requested, pulling off the metal pieces of armor and the chainmail and throwing the leather to the side, so I was down to my pants, boots, and overshirt.

"Boots, too," she indicated, sighing. I did as requested, now having my feet free on the cement floor and feeling a chill.

"And finally, remove the rest because we need your measurements, not your 'with your clothing on' measurements. Get it off."

"I'm not sure about that," I said as she shrugged and stepped forward, saying, "What, are you embarrassed? Listen, I've been around the block for 47 years. There's nothing that surprises me." She grabbed my shirt and pulled it off, throwing it to the side, overpowering me with just how fierce and fast she acted, and quickly pulled down my pants as well, forcing me to take a seat on a chair that had been behind me and flapping my pants to the side, saying, "Terrible quality. You're supposed to be the future King, and you're wearing something a peasant would wear," before throwing it to the side as well. She turned to look at me, her eyes taking it in before saying, "Oh... okay, you managed to surprise me, princess."

My hands were, of course, covering the important bits, which meant one was across my chest and one was to the south, and it wasn't hard to figure out that from there and my posture, I was female. Plus, being completely nude didn't help.

"You cannot tell anyone what you see here," I said in annoyance, and she nodded her head before saying, "I don't give a damn if you're king, queen, princess, or prince. As long as you do a good job and make sure stability comes forward, I'll keep it secret. Hell, I'll even be your tailor to make sure your clothing in the future is fitted right.

"But if you want me to keep this secret," she folded her arms in front of her chest, "you best be on your best behavior while I'm trying to get these measurements and not block my tools." She said, pulling forth a string with several notches in it. "Now stand at ease so I can start measuring you."

Nodding my head, I did as she requested, moving my hands from the protective places, and she got to work taking my measurements.

Artoria

Okay, that had been the most embarrassing moment of my life, and the result two days later was probably going to be the second most embarrassing one to come tomorrow. Looking down at my bed, I shook my head at the outfit that had been prepared—the Christian King clothing.

It was a damn dress. A white and black dress. Now, I know where this came from. Mediterranean style and royal fashion did lean towards dresses as a male outfit for a bit, but damn, did this thing just look like a dress. Granted, it was probably the most scandalous dress in this era, considering that it left my shoulders bare to see with arm gloves that went up just beneath the midpoint of the upper arm.

The white clothing was outlined by black lines, giving it some depth and perception, and there were a few secreted crosses here and there. How annoying that I had fallen so far back in time that gendered clothing became a bit more mixed for the royalty at least. If I was being forced to wear a dress, no one would actually question if I was male or female. It was just assumed I was a prince of style. That might be a pain in my ass in the future because they might expect me to wear stylish clothing of some kind, but I would deal with that in the future. That was such a minor issue I didn't even want to worry about it. Thankfully, I had a white and black cape to wear with the outfit that would cover my shoulders, so I didn't seem that scandalous.

The annoying part, though, would probably be the armor or the attempt at armor.

There were plates for my chest and back, plates for my hips—a very shiny and bright silver plates that would have me looking like the center of attention but weren't really armor. There were plenty of holes for an assassin to shoot through. I would need to use the magecraft that Merlin had taught me to make sure that this outfit was enchanted and protected me from archers, that was for sure. But I could deal with that. I could even deal with the armored gloves that went over the more fancy long gloves that were more designed for style than use.

The really annoying thing, the thing that I was going to hate the most, were the armored boots because they had a heel, almost a high heel. Again, European fashion was trash compared to what was needed for the battlefield. Fancy armor to appear to the public's opinion—this was so going to be an annoyance, I thought, rubbing my forehead.

Well, this was going to secure my control over York. That's what I had to keep telling myself. Once I had control over York, I would have a better chance at defending the North. And if I had to suffer the indignity of wearing this outfit to a baptism one day, so be it. It's not like I was being forced to wear this into the battlefield. I still had my other clothing and armor for that.

Shaking my head, I sighed and turned away, opening my tent flap and stepping into the night air, getting a good breath of fresh air. The mother superior of that monastery did have one good point. I was going to need to have clothing made for me in the future, and I was going to need a good staff of people to keep the secret that I was female. I meant I would need people like her, people who could keep a secret and help me with skills that soldiers couldn't give me. I would have to keep my eyes open and find people I could trust and gather them to me when I took the throne for myself.

Shaking my head, I looked across the darkness of the camp, seeing the woods off in the distance, and tilting my head as I thought I saw an extremely pale girl staring back from the woods. Wearing black clothing, she was almost easily missed, but her hair was bright white—hard to miss that even at night. I blinked and she was gone. Weird, I thought, before taking one more deep breath and stepping back into my tent. I needed to get that clothing ready for tomorrow. Might as well shine it up with polish while I was thinking about it.