Ch. 148 They Are Coming

After booking a room, Mia said she wanted to walk around the village with Melina to see if there were any shopping opportunities.

Meanwhile, Artoria began her routine search for commissions.

It was already May.

After the spring plowing ended, the slack season had arrived.

The tavern gradually began to fill up.

Even during the day, it was a noisy scene.

“Are you sure you’re serious? Are you insulting our king?”

“I’m just telling the truth. Nite is a cripple; he has no ability to rule this country.”

In the tavern’s open-air courtyard, an argument was breaking out at the central table.

“A cripple? He has done everything he could. If by ‘cripple’ you mean the injuries he sustained from being knocked off his horse by an Anglo-Saxon javelin during the Siege of Bilgrum, then what were you doing at that time?”

“What about it?” a brown-haired man waved his hand arrogantly. “Doesn’t that just prove his lack of ability? After that, he messed up the whole country. Did he lose a hand or his head?”

“Nonsense!” The Soldier arguing with him was a short man, who slapped the table in anger.

The people around also noticed the commotion.

“Someone has to clean up this mess!” the brown-haired man countered heatedly. “It’s been ten years, and there are seven kings on this island! They’re all fighting each other in a chaotic mess. Someone has to appear and unify everything! Otherwise, if this chaos continues, we might as well surrender and give the land to the Anglo-Saxons!”

“Do you dare say that again?”

“I will!” The man stood up, and with everyone watching, he shouted, “To hell with the king! He might as well surrender to the Anglo-Saxons!”

“You bastard—you Anglo-Saxon spy!” The man he was arguing with suddenly leaped over the table and threw a punch at the loudmouth.

“Beat him! Thrash this traitor!!!”

The surrounding people were clearly supportive of their king.

“Since he likes the Anglo-Saxons so much, tie him up and throw him to the south!” someone jeered.

The brown-haired man dodged a straight punch and, not to be outdone, smashed his wine cup into the short man’s face.

Then followed a flurry of punches, sending the short man who had initiated the fight reeling back.

“Everyone, get him!” someone in the crowd shouted.

The onlookers immediately lunged at the brown-haired man.

Unexpectedly nimble, the brown-haired man climbed onto a table under the crowd’s pursuit, kicked down someone trying to grab him, and then jumped onto another table.

Within minutes, the whole tavern was in total chaos.

People grabbed plates and food, hurling them at the scurrying brown-haired man.

“What are you doing!” the tavern’s female owner shouted, trying to approach.

As a result, in the chaos, she was knocked to the ground by someone.

She let out a scream.

Witnessing this scene, Artoria tried to squeeze into the chaotic crowd to find out what was happening.

“What’s going on?”

As for the man next to her, he was clearly caught up in the crowd’s passion.

“This is none of your business, woman!” he shouted, roughly pushing Artoria aside.

The girl stumbled a few steps and bumped into someone else.

“Go home!” The man she bumped into pushed her hard again.

“Ugh—” Artoria was shoved back and forth by the restless men.

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Thump, thump, thump.

Merlin tapped his staff, his voice crystal clear amidst the chaos: “Is bullying girls the only thing you’re good at?”

As soon as he finished speaking…

…everyone turned their heads.

Fou sat on Merlin’s shoulder, while the man himself wore a mocking smile.

“Who do you think you are?!” a red-faced, thick-necked man bellowed.

“Just a passing Magus.”

Merlin pulled Artoria over and shrugged.

“You’re not welcome here.”

“Oh?” Merlin scratched his head. “But sorry, do you own this tavern?”

“Don’t push your luck—”

Shouting this, the hot-tempered fellow rushed forward…

It was a truly classic tavern brawl scenario.

Thump—Kay suddenly appeared and floored him with a single punch.

“Boss?!”

Two more young men rushed forward.

It seemed the guy who got knocked down was a local gang leader.

“Outsiders, don’t go too far!”

Thump, crack.

Two more guys fell flat on the ground.

The gathered drunks shuddered and crowded backward.

“Merlin! What on earth is going on?”

“I just wanted to protect Artoria; surely you understand?” Merlin said righteously.

“Then what were you blabbering about just now?” Kay scolded irritably. “And Artoria, try to break that habit of meddling in other people’s business, will you? Weren’t you going to pick up a commission?”

“But…” Artoria tried to argue.

However…

Judging by the current situation…

The original goal—de-escalating the conflict—had presumably been achieved.

“Sorry, I’ve caused you trouble again, Brother Kay.” A somewhat guilty Artoria shuffled behind Kay.

Kay scanned the drunks present with an expressionless face.

The disheveled tavern owner stood up from the ground, patting the ash off her white apron with a livid expression.

“What are you all staring at?” she roared. “Sit back down!”

“You!” She pointed at the brown-haired man who had incited the chaos with his rash words. “Do you think you can insult the King in my shop without paying a price? Get out! From now on, you are not welcome here!”

“…Tch…” The brown-haired man jumped off the table, seething with resentment.

He shoved aside the Soldier blocking his path.

That Soldier also stepped back.

“Are you done yet!” Seeing another fight about to break out, the female tavern owner roared again.

Her voice was so loud that even Artoria, standing behind her, felt deafened.

Only in this way could she suppress all the men present when her physical strength was insufficient.

Under the gaze of most people, the man, already branded a ‘Celtic traitor,’ strode out of the tavern.

The man had just stepped onto the street, still being watched.

A scout on horseback, wearing a uniform, came galloping down the road.

“Move aside, move aside!”

The scout spurred his horse and shouted ahead.

At this moment, no matter how much temper one had, one had to get out of the way.

The anxious scout sped past the tavern.

“What happened?”

Most people felt a bit bewildered.

A military scout riding in such a hurry only happens when something major is about to occur.

Just as people were looking at each other, speculating.

A horn blast that made people’s hearts tremble echoed throughout the village.

Someone rushed to the second floor and looked out toward the farmland outside the village.

About a mile away, something was glinting in the sunlight.

Those were a few helmeted Anglo-Saxon cavalrymen, reining in their horses and standing on the edge of the field.

The herdsman tried to run into the wooden walls in a panic.

Perhaps out of disdain, the Anglo-Saxon scouts, who clearly carried bows, did not draw them.

After exchanging chilling glances with the people of this hillside village.

The Anglo-Saxon cavalry raised their reins and left.

“How many of them are there?” Inside the village’s great hall, the lord of the village, a knight, asked his scout.

He received a despairing answer.

“More than 1,500.” The scout was panting heavily; he had practically tumbled off his horse, bursting through the knight’s door with no regard for etiquette.

The round-faced knight gasped.

“Are you really sure?” He curled his palms nervously, holding onto a sliver of hope as he confirmed with the scout.

“I swear by my father’s name, my lord. I am loyal to you, and no one would want to invent such bad news.” The scout looked sorrowful; he shook his head and provided more details.

“They are coming from the main road to the south. They have already raided one village. There are about 1,500 infantry and 50 cavalry.”

“I understand.” The knight took a deep breath, sitting tense in front of the dining table, gripping the armrests tightly.

“Um, my lord.” The scout swallowed.

Bowing his waist, he asked: “What should we do?”