Ch. 147 The lunch break farce continued for a while

“Fou!”

The lunch break farce continued for a while.

Finally, Merlin had to take the chance when Fou was shaken off to run far away and surrender, ending the minor battle.

Fou sat on Torrent’s rump, licking its paws.

It had still held back.

Although Merlin’s arms were covered in scratches and his clothes were torn into ribbons.

But those wounds were at most minor scratches, some not even breaking the skin, just leaving white marks.

He got off easy.

Fou glared fiercely at Merlin, who didn’t dare approach.

Compared to the ‘harmony’ on this side.

Artoria was immersed in her own world.

She repeatedly swung the sword in the stone at the air.

As if practicing.

The battle on Anglesey Island.

She remembered that in the illusion, this sword had emitted a golden light.

The sword had unleashed its power for an instant.

She closed her eyes.

Merlin had said that only by being able to wield the power of this sword and gaining its recognition could she become a true king.

How should she do it? Like in the illusion before? Could that scene be replicated?

‘I will become the King of Britain!’ she repeated her determination in her heart, swinging the sword at the air in front of her.

Naturally, nothing happened.

She tried several more times, but the result did not change.

No matter how she swore in her heart, the sword in her hand remained unchanged, as if it were just an ordinary, albeit ornate, sword.

‘…’ A bit disappointed, but Artoria knew something must be wrong.

Has the sword of selecting kings not yet fully recognized me?

She gazed at the blade; the mirror-like surface reflected her face.

“Artoria, we’re heading out!” Mia called from not far away.

“Mm, I’m coming!” The girl sheathed her longsword and met them with a smile, running to join her companions.

Back on the road.

“We should reach the next village before evening,” Kay judged after studying the map they had bought earlier.

“Then let’s follow the road.” Wilden flicked the carriage reins.

They had long since left Wales and entered the “Caledonia” region, known to later generations as “England,” along the west coast of Great Britain.

In the minds of the Celts, this was the central part of the island of Britain and still part of Great Britain.

The mountains of Wales receded over the past few days as they traveled along the fertile plains.

This was the territory of another lord.

“The Anglo-Saxons who occupied the south are still coveting these lands.”

With the Anglo-Saxons’ steady northward advance, many farmlands and villages in the border regions had been abandoned to escape the ravages of war.

They had become favorite habitats for wild beasts.

Before they even reached the next inhabited village, an ill omen appeared in the distance along the dirt road.

A gallows made from a wagon’s axle and frame.

Three people were hanging from it.

The three had been hanged by the side of the road; as one walked past, a thick stench could be smelled.

They had been dead for several days.

“Anglo-Saxons?”

Artoria frowned, looking solemnly at the three hanged travelers.

“No one but them would do something so barbaric,” Kay replied.

This was not good news.

The travelers being dead for days meant that there were traces of Anglo-Saxons here several days ago.

However, it had rained the day before yesterday, and there were very few discernible tracks left on the dry dirt road.

“Let’s bury them,” Artoria suggested compassionately, looking at the stinking corpses.

“Alright.”

Wilden pulled out the axle, and after he lowered it…

…the group buried the poor travelers together.

Even so, they were moving faster than Kay had expected.

Before sunset, they saw a small village situated on a distant hill.

It stood there like a castle, though the walls were made of wood.

Wilden drove the carriage to the village entrance. The gate was wide open, and there was no one on the ramparts. Only a single guard stood at the entrance, dozing off; when he saw the carriage approaching, he subconsciously stepped aside.

Just like everyone else in these parts, he was startled by Wilden.

Gripping his spear tightly, he stood by the gate, eyeing the group warily.

But clearly, judging by their attire and demeanor, none of them looked like bandits or Anglo-Saxons.

“Excuse me, are you the guard of this village?”

Artoria rode her horse to the front.

The answer to this question was obvious.

The guard nodded vigorously.

“Why do you leave the gate open like this and not have anyone on lookout?”

“Uh…” The guard felt a bit displeased.

These were not things a stranger should be asking.

However, perhaps because it was a young girl, he wasn’t so firm in his annoyance.

Though he was somewhat unhappy, he still spoke.

“Why bother? There’s no need for that.”

“It is necessary, Mr. Soldier,” Artoria said somewhat urgently. “We found victims on our way here. The Anglo-Saxons are nearby!”

The guard stiffened his neck and retorted, “What are you trying to say, little girl? And are you coming into the village or not?!”

Kay frowned and started to step forward.

Wilden spoke up.

“She only means well, friend. We did indeed see… victims of the Anglo-Saxons on the road.”

His golden eyes gazed solemnly at the guard; his weathered, middle-aged face carried a natural authority without needing to be angry.

Wilden had quite a good impression of the young girl, Artoria.

Setting aside the reasons involving Mia.

What attracted him was likely her persistence in her ideals.

Even if she was still a bit immature.

The guard shrank back a step.

“If possible, please strengthen your security,” Artoria offered some advice at the appropriate moment.

She believed that at this time, it would leave an impression on the guard.

“That’s not a decision I can make. Just get into the village!” the guard said stubbornly.

“…” Artoria turned her head away in disappointment.

The carriage drove into the village behind her.