If this were any other enemy, a single sword strike to finish them off would suffice.
The problem is, King Mark is both Tristan's uncle and adoptive father.
In the original history, this bastard might very well have stabbed Tristan in the back later, leading to Tristan's demise.
But none of that has happened yet.
If Lot were to kill him now, it would be far too cruel to Tristan.
So, how should this King Mark be handled?
"Will you surrender?"
Lot addressed King Mark directly.
In his view, during their previous battles, King Mark had always chosen to flee when outmatched. Now that he'd been captured, he ought to surrender.
However
After Lot spoke, King Mark shouted defiantly, "Kill me if you must, but I will never surrender!"
His words left Lot momentarily stunned.
Wait,
Since when did you grow a spine?
What gives you the right to be so stubborn?
Lot stared at King Mark, perplexed.
"Why are you acting differently today compared to before?"
He pressed the edge of his sword against King Mark's throat.
"I'll give you a chance to rethink your answer. Will you say the same thing again?"
King Mark, however, remained obstinate.
"No matter how many times you ask, my answer will not change."
Then, seeing Lot's confusion, King Mark explained himself.
"Running away doesn't mean I've stopped fighting. Even if I flee, I'll always stand against you. But if I surrender, my dignity will be trampled beneath your feet."
Hearing this, Lot understood his reasoning.
[Then how should this be handled?]
He pondered silently.
Morgan, observing the situation, pulled Lot aside.
"Listen to me…"
She whispered her plan into his ear.
After hearing it, Lot and Morgan nodded in satisfaction.
Yes, this would work.
With that, Lot approached King Mark once more.
Seeing him draw near, King Mark closed his eyes, ready to accept death.
"Go ahead. See if I so much as flinch when you kill me."
But instead of delivering the fatal blow, Lot hesitated.
"Tie him up first. Then we'll inform Tristan and let him decide what to do."
As he bound King Mark, Lot spoke calmly.
Hearing this, King Mark glared at him.
"King Lot, if you have any honor as a knight, kill me now. Don't you dare involve that bastard!"
"This matter is no longer yours to decide."
Ignoring King Mark's protests, Lot turned and left, leaving him bound and shouting in frustration.
After exhausting himself with curses, King Mark finally fell silent, his expression weary as he closed his eyes to rest.
But then, Lot and Morgan returned, their faces tinged with sorrow.
"What's happened to you?"
King Mark's eyes lit up with malicious glee at their distress.
Had Vortigern's forces defeated Camelot's army?
Or had Vortigern's mysterious ally launched a surprise attack at the critical moment?
He had no hope of surviving his capture, but if he could at least relish their misfortune, that was enough.
Lot reached for the ropes binding King Mark and untied them.
"Congratulations, King Mark. You are free."
His tone was flat.
Freed from his restraints, King Mark smirked.
"And why is that?"
He wanted to know the reason so he could mock them properly.
But Lot's expression only darkened further.
"Your nephew Tristan offered to die in your place. He said the hatred between you and me stems from him. So… he took his own life."
King Mark froze.
"What? Tristan… killed himself?"
He grabbed Lot's armor, his voice trembling.
"Yes. He chose to end his life to erase all hatred."
Lot nodded solemnly.
King Mark released his grip, his mind reeling from the shock.
Tristan had always been melancholic by nature.
Would he really resort to suicide?
After a moment of thought, King Mark realized it was entirely possible.
He… would go that far?
His expression shifted from disbelief to utter devastation.
"He… is really gone…"
He muttered the words numbly.
He had hated Tristan so deeply for stealing his betrothed, for making him the laughingstock of Britain, for taking away the woman he loved.
But now, faced with the news of Tristan's death, an unbearable grief overwhelmed him.
His hands trembled uncontrollably, his body seeming to wither before their eyes.
"Why… did it come to this?"
Lot stood beside him and spoke quietly.
"All of this is because of you. Love is not a one-sided affair it requires both parties. You believed you loved Iseult enough, but her heart belonged only to Tristan."
"I…"
King Mark had no retort.
He had known Iseult didn't love him.
Yet he had tried to force her to stay.
He had told himself that time would change everything.
But now…
This was the result.
"Where is Tristan's body? I want to see him."
His voice was hoarse with emotion.
"Come with me."
Lot's tone was cold as he led King Mark to another part of the castle.
"Just ahead."
King Mark nodded silently and stepped forward.
Pushing the door open, tears welled in his eyes.
"My dear Tristan "
His voice cut off abruptly.
King Mark saw Tristan alive and unharmed attending to his duties.
Artoria and Bedivere were there as well, working alongside him.
There was no sign of tragedy.
Rubbing his eyes, King Mark found the scene unchanged.
Tristan, noticing his uncle and adoptive father, looked up in confusion.
At that moment, Lot and Morgan entered, with Lot swiftly restraining King Mark again.
"Carry on with your work. I'll handle him."
Lot dragged King Mark outside, where the latter erupted in fury.
"You bastard! You lied to me!"
He swung a fist at Lot, who easily blocked it.
"Behave yourself."
A sharp reprimand silenced King Mark.
Then, Lot spoke bluntly.
"Yes, I deceived you."
"Why? What was the point?"
King Mark demanded.
"To show you what will become reality if you refuse to change."
Lot's voice was firm.
"What?"
King Mark didn't understand.
Lot continued, "Let me be frank. Tristan is invaluable to Camelot. His wishes carry weight he would never allow me to kill you. But I cannot simply let you go, either."
"So, the only outcome is the one I just showed you."
As he restrained King Mark once more, he added, "This is for you to reflect on. Tristan's life began in tragedy. Do you truly wish for his end to be the same?"
"Now, I must prepare for the battle against Vortigern. You… will remain here and reconsider your actions."
With that, Lot ordered the nearby soldiers to guard King Mark preventing escape but ensuring no harm came to him.
Then, he sought out Morgan.
When he found her, he couldn't help but grin.
"Well done, my queen. That was brilliant."
Morgan accepted the praise with pride.
"Of course."
Her smirk was triumphant.
The idea had come from Lot's own thoughts about Tristan's fate how King Mark, after orchestrating Tristan's death, would be consumed by regret.
So, she had made him experience that loss in advance.
Some things are only truly appreciated once they're gone.
"Of course, I'm not as foolish as King Mark. Even without losing him, I know how precious my husband is. I could never live without him."
Morgan squeezed Lot's hand affectionately before turning serious.
"Enough about King Mark and Tristan. Their family affairs are theirs to resolve. We must focus on Vortigern."
The coming battle would not be easy.
Scáthach had already declared she would not aid them this time.
The responsibility fell solely on Lot and Morgan.
"Let's go. Vortigern has bullied us with his superior numbers long enough. This time, we strike back hard."
"No more schemes?" Morgan teased.
"No more. Plans carry risks. The pinnacle of strategy is steady, relentless pressure. We have the advantage now no need for tricks."
[Besides, if I keep overthinking things, I'll go bald. And that would be a disaster.]
Morgan imagined Lot's handsome face paired with a bald head and shuddered.
No. That was too horrifying.
Her husband must never go bald.
And if he did, she'd magically weld a wig to his scalp.
…
The next day, Camelot's army arrayed itself for battle against Vortigern's forces.
Both sides took formation.
Vortigern's numbers were still formidable though they'd lost nearly ten thousand the day before, they still fielded fourteen or fifteen thousand.
Lot's forces numbered just over ten thousand.
But their morale was incomparable.
Camelot's army burned with fighting spirit.
Vortigern, pale from his unhealed wounds, commanded troops whose will had been shattered by yesterday's defeat. Their formation was in disarray.
This time, Lot and Vortigern exchanged no words.
Only battle remained.
"Artoria, Galahad both of you, engage him together."
Ganging up on Vortigern had become standard practice.
Without hesitation, Artoria and Galahad charged.
Vortigern gripped his weapon, glaring at his attackers.
At the same time, Lot ordered the army forward.
"Morgan, you take command from here."
As the charge began, Lot turned to her.
"Understood."
With that, Lot himself rushed toward Vortigern.
His sword, Joyeuse, had been waiting long enough.
It was time to draw the blade.