Battle of the British Coast.
On the surface, things remained calm between Britain and Rome.
Arthur knew that no matter how swift the blitzkrieg or how covert the night raid, the Roman army would not be able to defeat them outright. The skill and cunning of the enemy's military advisor were legendary... No, that wasn't quite right. The real reason the enemy was formidable was that they understood Arthur as well as Arthur understood himself.
As a result, Arthur's tactical arrangements could be anticipated and easily countered every time.
Conversely, due to outdated equipment, the Roman army held an overwhelming numerical advantage.
Yet because of those same equipment limitations—and overall backwardness—the Romans had few tactical options. Eliminating strategies they couldn't employ and conditions they couldn't meet due to terrain, Arthur could predict and even reverse most of their actions.
Even so, the mysterious Roman military advisor had managed to offset all disadvantages, resulting in a hard-earned stalemate.
That's right: a draw.
Neither side could gain the upper hand.
Thus, the conflict had shifted from open warfare to covert maneuvering.
Both sides tacitly understood this.
Aside from the fierce and brutal skirmishes between their scouts, waged solely to gather intelligence, the Roman and British armies coexisted like cordial neighbors long settled on the same island.
"It's really difficult."
In the conference room, Arthur sighed and asked, "Lord Agravain, did the troops led by Sir Kay fail again?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. We were discovered when we entered the Roman army's cordon. Per your instructions, we did not proceed with the mission and are now en route back," Agravain replied respectfully.
"Hmph, I can't help but wonder who that Roman military advisor really is."
"Your Majesty, why don't you suspect Lucius himself? The emperor may be arrogant, rude, and vile, but when it comes to war, I must admit—he's a genius among geniuses, just as the rumors say."
"Lucius? Impossible. His style is completely different," Arthur replied coldly, visibly annoyed at the mention of that red-haired pervert. "And don't you think the Roman tactics are a little too novel for this era?"
"Your Majesty—"
"Enough. Don't worry. Actually, that Roman bastard has been using recent skirmishes to send a signal: he wants a head-on battle. If worse comes to worst, we'll just grant his request and confront them directly."
With that, Arthur lost interest in the conversation and stared down at the communication crystal on his wrist, as though expecting something.
Yes, no matter how the battlefield was arranged, nothing new would come of it.
In that case, let the Roman army make the first move.
Due to the natural barrier created by the Holy Grail, Britain could not send troops to invade Greece or other regions, resulting in a bloodless stalemate.
But now that the enemy had approached territory within Britain's reach, things were different.
Soon, the communication crystal lit up, and the image of a scout appeared.
"My king, the intelligence has been relayed. Our army's show of weakness along certain fronts has been quite effective. The kings of Spain and Egypt are growing increasingly confident."
"Hmm, so it worked?" Arthur smiled.
First, offer the enemy hope—and let him lose himself in it.
Hope: a simple word, yet intoxicating to all mankind. No matter how disciplined we may be, we instinctively yearn for it.
Next, the Roman vassals who earned military glory would continue racking up victories and gaining Lucius's favor, creating a sharp gap between their status and that of other vassals. From there, a well-timed provocation would trigger unrest among the "unrewarded" vassals.
After all, they were all subjugated states. Who wouldn't want independence?
After all, their loyalty to Rome stemmed only from threats of force and the constraints of treaties.
True loyalty? That didn't exist.
"I'm guessing the kings of Spain and Egypt received plenty of praise?" Arthur asked, smiling.
"Yes, my king. The Roman emperor hosted a banquet yesterday. Not only did he reward those two in front of all the vassals, but he also offered varying rewards to the others."
The scout, unaware of the broader strategy, simply did his duty and reported the Roman army's activities in detail. He even apologized at one point for the limited intel—but it was forgivable. The Roman army was on high alert, and relaying information from within was no easy task.
Arthur suspected that many spies and Roman magicians who had once defected to Britain had already been discovered by Rome.
At this point, Arthur could only access the information that Rome wanted to leak.
Which meant he needed to judge it himself.
As the scout's report continued, Arthur's smile faded.
Under normal circumstances, the Roman military abided by strict principles of merit. Rewards and punishments were clear. Those who achieved military success were richly compensated.
But Roman command was rarely generous to those who failed.
Why did some battlefronts succeed while others faltered? If all the fronts struggled, that would be one thing. But if your troops alone suffered losses, while others held the line or advanced, then you were clearly at fault.
Typically, such failing commanders would face disciplinary measures.
At the very least, they'd be ignored.
But no—this time was different.
At the banquet yesterday, Lucius was unusually affable, surprising many vassals and officers who had braced themselves for a scolding.
No favoritism. No punishment. No dissatisfaction.
And just like that, Arthur's plan unraveled.
In other words, the enemy's military advisor had seen through his scheme—and answered it with calm, deliberate action.
Arthur's heart sank. Raising his hand solemnly, he said, "We failed. Order the scouts and spies to begin retreating. The Roman magician has—"
He paused.
"—just reveal a little."
Meanwhile, in the Roman army...
The long-dormant communication crystal finally glowed.
Looking at the three "Roman elders" in the projection, Lucius smiled in high spirits. "What's this? Do you have good news for me?"
"No, we're simply concerned about the British front. Rome cannot stand without Your Majesty. We all hope you'll return soon."
"Haha, you three are so adorable. Old as you are, you're like children who can't bear to let me out of their sight."
"Your Majesty, you—"
After some idle pleasantries, the three elders finally heard what they wanted.
"But I must admit, I'm starting to worry. Artorius is proving more difficult than I anticipated. We can't let this drag on any longer. Begin mobilizing the troops. I'll defeat Artorius with one decisive battle!"
Lucius declared this proudly.
It was time to show Rome's true might.
Artorius was camped in a city not far from here. If Lucius could seize it, victory would be his.
The black-robed man who had silently accompanied Lucius all this time narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.
Rome's trump card…
-End Chapter-
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