"My King, are you truly not going to summon Sir Lancelot back?"
"It's too late. I told him before the wedding that Guinevere urged him to marry quickly. When news of the enemy's attack arrived, even you couldn't find him, could you?"
Considering the proportion of Great Britain's landmass on Earth, the territory destined to be ruled by the King of Knights was actually quite small.
Without baggage to slow them down, without enemy forces to impede their progress, and with the Knights of the Round Table riding at full speed, a hundred-plus knights could have reached the front lines and established camp within a day and a half.
According to the discussions at the Round Table last night, their strategy was to catch the enemy off guard, strike swiftly, and achieve a decisive victory. The fact that the enemy had launched an unprovoked attack on the very day of the King of Knights' wedding had further fueled the knights' morale.
However, most of the knights had drunk heavily the night before. After a day and a half of relentless riding, attempting to secure victory against superior forces while exhausted and sleep-deprived would be utterly unrealistic for the King of Knights.
After dispatching scouts and setting up camp in a forest outside Hamburgh, the King of Knights had no choice but to allow the knights to rest on the spot.
As for whether they should remove their armor, the King of Knights remained stubbornly insistent that they should.
"Your Majesty, now more than ever, we cannot afford to be careless. The enemy is only twenty miles away, and this time we don't have Master Merlin to conceal our movements. He drank too much last night and was nowhere to be found when it was time to depart."
"Brother, answer me this first: was Master Merlin truly drunk?"
After setting up camp, the King of Knights and Kay spoke privately inside a small tent, guarded by Gawain and others to ensure no eavesdroppers.
The King of Knights' question initially baffled Kay, but he quickly caught on.
"Master Merlin can foresee the future. He must have seen that this battle will be an easy victory, and that's why he drank so much?"
"No. If Master Merlin was feigning drunkenness, it could only be because he foresaw the battle's devastating outcome and wanted to avoid our future resentment. He has never shown any inclination to alter the future."
If someone can foresee the future, and others understand that person's nature, they can infer the rough outlines of the future from that person's actions.
In the past, Merlin had accompanied the army, even personally dissuading enemy forces from advancing. But those battles had always been easy victories for the King of Knights.
"Your Majesty, do you truly believe we'll be defeated? Then why have you placed us in such a desperate situation and ordered us to remove our armor?"
Kay stopped his questioning, realizing the urgency of a swift resolution—a point they had discussed at length the previous night.
Even if they ignored the possibility of the Vassal Kings rebelling, they couldn't afford the consequences of a slow advance.
Given the enemy's military strength and the Kingdom's border defenses, the enemy forces would inevitably secure a series of victories. Every day they delayed their arrival increased the risk of the Kingdom's western territories devolving into a living hell.
Only by making themselves a target could they force the enemy to consolidate their forces. This would give the Kingdom a chance to seize a once-in-a-millennium opportunity for a decisive battle and compel the enemy to gamble everything on a single, desperate attack.
"A weary army, Your Majesty's presence here, our defenseless state while removing our armor... If I were the enemy commander, the only reason I wouldn't attack would be if they genuinely hadn't detected us. So, Your Majesty's insistence on removing our armor is merely a ploy to lure them out?"
"Not just that. If the enemy intends to strike, I believe they'll wait until two hours from now, when most of the knights will have fallen into deep sleep. By then, night will have fallen, making a night raid even more advantageous."
The King of Knights paused, a flicker of sorrow briefly crossing her eyes.
"Go tell everyone," the King of Knights said. "I've led them into danger. The sacrifices in this battle will be great, but I can guarantee victory."
As the King of Knights spoke, Sir Kay remained motionless. As her foster brother, he was older and more ruthless. After the King of Knights devised her plan, his focus shifted to increasing its chances of success.
"Your Majesty," Kay said, "if you've already decided how to turn defeat into victory, I don't believe it's necessary to inform the knights of the danger. If they know, some might desert, and there could even be enemy spies among them, either of which would jeopardize your strategy.
Losing this decisive battle would likely force us into a protracted war against the Five Kings—a war we cannot afford.
Therefore, we should consider making the bait even more tempting!"
Inside the tent, the King of Knights' emerald eyes met Kay's unwavering gaze. She couldn't deny the practicality of his suggestion, but her title, universally recognized, was simply "King of Knights."
Honest, rigid, and despite having a well-crafted strategy, still heartbroken by the "necessary sacrifices." Moreover, the greatest bait in this battle was undeniably herself; she was the enemy's primary assassination target.
"Brother, I already feel guilty for bringing them to this perilous place. If I didn't warn them that this is a trap to lure out the enemy, I would never forgive myself for the rest of my life.
For this battle, I've chosen knights who have served with me for over three years. I trust there are no spies among them. If any are unwilling to face death with me here, they will be allowed to leave.
Now, issue the order: have everyone remove their armor and rest, but remain vigilant against a surprise attack."
With these words, the King of Knights fell silent, her hand resting on the Sword of Promised Victory as she closed her eyes to meditate.
After Kay departed, a commotion quickly erupted in the small camp. But once the clamor subsided, not a single knight chose to leave, nor did any show signs of wanting to betray the army to the enemy.
Moreover, the knights who had previously refused to remove their armor now stripped it off faster than anyone else.
Their King was willing to trust them, and as knights, they could only repay such trust with unwavering loyalty.
In the hearts of every knight here, courageous sacrifice was a knightly virtue; fear of death disqualified one from knighthood.
Soon, the clatter of armor being removed outside the tents ceased. The veins on the King of Knights' hands, which gripped her sword with excessive force, bulged conspicuously.
Moments later, Bedivere entered the tent, unarmored. As the King's Personal Knight, he was ready to stand guard by her side.
Yet, precisely because he was her Personal Knight, he understood better than anyone else who she had entrusted with the scythe of harvest when she personally led the vanguard as bait.
"Bedivere, do you think Guinevere will obey my orders when she wakes up, or..."
"Your Majesty, given the Queen's troublesome habit of rushing to the Training Ground to challenge knights, how could she possibly remain confined to Camelot City?
My only concern is whether the Queen and her few dozen knights can truly reap the Coalition of the Five Kings while they're thrown into chaos by the night raid.
If the enemy doesn't commit their full strength and holds back a reserve, then I fear..."
"Bedivere, do you believe in Master Merlin's prophecies?"
"Merlin the Great Mage's prophecies have never been wrong."
"Then victory is assured. I have yet to become the Fated King destined to rule all of Great Britain. Even if Guinevere doesn't come to our aid, I will swear victory upon my sword to you all."
The King of Knights' words were too mystical, yet Bedivere believed them, and when he relayed them to the camp, all the knights followed suit.
They were convinced of their inevitable victory, but they playfully teased each other about who would be the unlucky soul to fall in battle.
Of course, there was another possibility: that the enemy truly hadn't discovered them, allowing them to rest sufficiently before transforming from bait into the vanguard of a night raid!
"Your Majesty, I believe we will undoubtedly achieve victory in this battle!"