The thunder of hooves, the roar of battle cries, the clang of weapons, the thud of knights falling from their horses...
By the time Guinevere led her forces to the battlefield, it was already a chaotic melee. The King of Knights' hundred-odd knights had successfully drawn the enemy's five hundred into a swirling clash.
As time wore on, the King of Knights had slain the King of Ireland in a single exchange, and the Round Table Knights, capable of conjuring magical armor, continued to dominate their individual duels. Yet among the ordinary knights, the King of Knights' forces were struggling to hold their ground.
Despite their superior individual strength, the enemy knights were still knights. Fighting unarmored against armored foes, and outnumbered more than two to one, their slight advantage quickly evaporated.
By the time dusk had deepened into night, nearly half an hour had passed. Over four Round Table Knights and more than thirty ordinary knights had fallen, and most of the survivors were wounded.
On the enemy side, apart from the King of Ireland, only about a hundred knights had been slain.
Though the kill ratio appeared favorable, the King of Knights' forces couldn't afford to rotate their troops for rest. Already exhausted, they would inevitably struggle to maintain their current exchange rate, and signs of defeat would become increasingly apparent.
"Your Highness, aren't we going to attack? If we delay any longer, the King of Knights will fall, and even more knights will die."
"Tristan, attacking now wouldn't be ideal. We can't secure a decisive victory in a single strike. The best-case scenario is to wait until the King of Knights retreats into the forest, and the pursuing enemy knights lose their formation."
"But what if the King of Knights doesn't retreat?"
"Do you think I specifically donned the King of Knights' armor in the bedroom for no reason? If they fight to the death and refuse to retreat, then it will be my turn to impersonate the King of Knights and charge into battle. This will create chaos among the enemy ranks and draw a portion of their forces toward us."
Five miles from the chaotic battlefield, Guinevere, Tristan, Morgan, and the sixty-three knights who accompanied them gazed steadily at the carnage. The knights awaited Guinevere's signal—the raising of the Counterfeit Excalibur—to unleash their attack.
After deciding to come to their aid, Guinevere and her knights had rushed here at breakneck speed. Each knight had three horses, and having rested well the previous night, they were ready to engage immediately upon arrival.
As for why Morgan was here, Guinevere had specifically sought her out. Although the witch desired the King of Knights' death and sought to usurp the throne, she had no wish to see the King's kingdom fall.
Therefore, after Guinevere agreed to certain conditions, Morgan chose to accompany them and, in place of the unreliable Merlin (whom Guinevere couldn't find either), provided the entire group with Concealment magic.
Furthermore, Morgan's mastery of water magic greatly alleviated the fatigue of the journey for Guinevere and her knights.
"Your Highness, perhaps we could launch a surprise attack on the enemy's main camp..."
It wasn't Tristan, nor Morgan, but a knight of slightly lesser renown under Guinevere's command. After considering his proposal, Guinevere replied:
"The idea is sound, but if our forces fail to quickly overwhelm the enemy's camp and become entangled with their two hundred cavalry and thirty thousand ordinary soldiers, and if the King of Knights is defeated in the meantime, then all hope would be lost.
Alternatively, would you be willing to lead ten riders to raid the camp and announce our arrival to the King of Knights?"
The knight who made the suggestion was both strong and fiercely loyal. Faced with this near-suicidal mission, his expression flickered before he struck his chest lightly, accepting the task.
"Your Highness, your subordinate obeys."
Reining in her horse, Guinevere surveyed her knights. Ten knights immediately stepped forward of their own accord. Had Guinevere not intervened, they would have willingly charged to their deaths.
"Enough. Settle down. I'm not willing to sacrifice you so easily. Besides, there's no second Lady Morgan here to accompany you and cast Concealment."
In this critical moment, Guinevere suddenly recognized the importance of flattering Morgan. Yet Morgan remained utterly impassive to her praise.
Regardless of its effectiveness, Guinevere had no choice but to continue:
"Besides, with Lady Morgan here, there's no need for you to throw your lives away trying to notify the King of Knights. You agree, Lady Morgan?"
Still veiled in black gauze, still dressed in her revealing attire, Morgan laughed aloud as she was hoisted high.
Only she knew how unbearable it was to watch the King of Knights squander her knights' lives so recklessly. In her view, this battle didn't need to be so brutal.
She loathed humans, despised Faeries, detested the weak, abhorred the ugly, hated equality, and scorned peace...
She believed everything depended solely on herself. A single King was sufficient to lure the enemy.
"What utter... trash!"
Morgan murmured these words, yet only Gawain heard the telepathic message in his ear.
It was already night, and having just unleashed the Holy Sword, Gawain had lost his composure. The sudden voice startled him, nearly allowing the five enemy knights attacking him to gain the upper hand.
Yet he persevered, charging toward the King of Knights, who was surrounded by even more foes, and urgently pleaded for a retreat.
"Sir Gawain..."
Beneath her helmet, the King of Knights first appeared puzzled, then, trusting Gawain's judgment, understood the situation. She loudly ordered a retreat, commanding all Round Table Knights to cover their withdrawal.
"Not just trash, but also utterly inflexible," Morgan muttered. "Had they decisively abandoned some, they might have saved even more lives."
Even as Morgan spoke, she was about to act, but Guinevere stopped her. At this point, Guinevere wanted the King of Knights' retreat to appear even more convincing.
Soon after, the knights who had been conserving their strength suddenly surged forward, while the King of Knights and her companions unleashed their concealed powers. After suffering some unnecessary casualties, all the knights broke through the encirclement and 'fled' into the nearby grove in disarray.
"Pursue them?"
"It could be a trap."
"A trap, my ass! Our capital has fallen!"
After a brief exchange, the knights of the Four Kings hesitated. Only the Irish Knights, who had lost their monarch, surged forward without hesitation, chasing the King of Knights' forces into the grove.
This hesitation by the Four Kings created a temporary gap between their forces and the retreating knights, giving the King of Knights' forces, who had retreated into the grove, a numerical advantage for a counterattack.
Soon, cries of agony began to echo from within the grove as the vanguard of Irish Knights was ambushed.
Stripped of their numerical advantage and hampered by the grove's narrow terrain, which was ill-suited for heavily armored units, the individual disparities in skill between the Irish Knights and their opponents immediately became apparent.
By this point, the Four Kings had no choice but to pursue. If the Irish Knights were annihilated, their own forces would likely be picked off one by one.
"Fuck!"
-
The din of battle—shouts, clashes, curses—and a growing unease spread through the ranks of the Knights of the Four Kings. They had come here not for a deathmatch, but to raid and plunder at the invitation of the King of Ireland.
Before the battle, they had believed this invasion would be a swift and easy victory.
But the root cause of their current predicament lay in their knights' lack of strength. Despite outnumbering the enemy five to one—five hundred knights against just over a hundred—they had failed to crush the smaller force in short order.
As the Four Kings led their raucous charge into the grove, Guinevere finally drew her Holy Sword and ordered her knights to raise the banner of the King of Knights.
At that moment, Guinevere's knights roared:
"The King of Knights is here! Victory is ours!"