"Have you heard the northern scoundrel-king, Vortigern, was defeated?"
"No way — who told you that? Even the mighty King Uther joined with the sage Merlin and failed ten years ago. Who in this land could possibly stand against Vortigern now?"
"It was the 'Duke of Knights,' Lucan of Equinus."
The tavern that a moment ago had been noisy with merchants, travelers and minstrels fell suddenly, oddly silent. Not from fear — Lucan's name was not yet the sort to shut mouths — but from disbelief that it might actually be true. The rumor felt plausible, and that made people stop and take it in.
Ever since Uther's defeat, Vortigern hung like a shadow over Camelot. Even though rumors had flown for years claiming that the king's princess had grown into a force capable of opposing Vortigern, and that the foreign "Duke of Windmills" might join with her to resist the vile king, none of it had been confirmed. The terror he left was plain to see: the silver wreckage on the Cotswold Hills still stood as a testament. Save for the nobles who witnessed that day, no one had seen the princess and the duke's powers firsthand.
If this rumor were true — whether Lucan had utterly bested Vortigern, or merely fought to a standstill — it would mean Camelot would no longer be threatened by the Lowly King. The balance in Britain might shift again.
Amidst the wine-scented chatter, a corner minstrel raised his voice and spun out a song:
"Listen! The white dragon of the North, lord of winter's reign,
His breath freezes rivers, his wings blot out the sky.
From the East comes a knight with a god-sword,
Amid thunder, blade and claw dance.
Blood and fire, oath and glory —
The White Dragon falls, lost in northern mists.
Raise your cups, warriors of Britain,
For the Duke of Knights, for the coming golden age!"
…
In Vortigern's life records, he had only two defeats: one forced him to stop at Britain's northern edge, and the other decided the course of his life's end.
— Legends of King Arthur
"Really… a bunch of blowhards!"
In another tavern corner, a hooded girl listened with annoyance at the boasting crowd and the minstrel's exuberant lines. Beneath her hood, glittering gold hair hung down; she sniffed in displeasure and muttered, "They weren't there for the fight, and now they sing like they saw it with their own eyes!"
Across the table, Morgan's proud, put-out posture — her face actually betraying a faint shared pride despite the sulk — amused Lucan. He said: "Expecting them to rush off and help you was a bit unreasonable."
"Even Merlin would just be dead weight in a scrap!" Morgan snapped.
"Hm… indeed."
Hearing Lucan's merciless dismissal of Merlin, the affected annoyance on Morgan's face vanished in an instant; she nodded in agreement — conveniently forgetting that she herself hadn't been of much help against Vortigern either. Not because she lacked power, but because Vortigern was simply too terrifying.
[You recall the battle that had ended seven days ago.]
[It proved Vortigern indeed deserved his title as the northern menace to Camelot.]
[Even trapped by the ruse, with his mana being devoured and without external support, Vortigern — relying on draconic instinct — fought you for days and nights. Dragon-form alone approaches divinity, and Vortigern's chalky draconic body, born from the isle's will, can rival unusual gods; at his peak he is almost a high-tier god.]
[— Yet you still won.]
[Through body enhancements of divine magic, continuous operation of God-Mind, and the accumulation of more martial lore into your Armory, you grew.]
[You learned the art of dragon-hunting.]
[In the end, your relentless strikes forced Vortigern to fall back; with grievous wounds he tore through the bonds buried deep within your Yasleft and fled back to his fortress.]
[You had planned carefully — it was not a facile victory.]
[But after that fight, your Armory leapt into the divine tier of martial arts: 'Martial Refinement'.]
[As planned from the start, you finished the first phase of the Martial-Relic project — collection. Your Armory had reached the 'Infinite Martial Refinement' level, shining within your Thought-Circuits like a nebula occupying a piece of the Two Hundred and Seventy-Two God-Minds; it encompassed human arts, beast techniques, fairy blades, giant warcraft, dragon-hunting and more — almost every kind of skill in the era. This is the true Infinite Martial Refinement, the divine peak of martial arts.]
[Next, you must enter the 'Condensation' phase — to bind it with the Knightly "Precepts" and organize it into a whole.]
[Make it extractable; turn it into a unique Ritual Garb for yourself.]
[The knights' oaths you drafted were intended for this step: as more people follow them, the oaths will become an invisible force that helps condense your Armory.]
[This may take a long time, or it may be brief — you must experiment and explore.]
[After that battle, you entered a new realm. Confronted with Vortigern retreating into his castle, you chose not to pursue and finish him off — not because you didn't want to, but because you could not.]
[You were exhausted. The dragon in its lair had means you could not readily counter.]
[Also, there was no need.]
[You had dissected Vortigern's being with God-Mind and recorded his martial techniques in your Armory.]
[Vortigern had lost once — and would have no chance to defeat you afterwards.]
[Besides, beyond the horizon, seven mysteries stirred —]
[The Suppression of Human Order prevented you from slaying Vortigern, who by rights should have been killed by Arthur.]
[…]
[Afterward, you and Morgan returned south without further hindrance.]
[Merlin did not accompany you this time; he went on ahead — he told you this matter was too important and he needed to go to Camelot personally to report to the King.]
Seven days of travel later, Lucan and Morgan reached southern Britain again — the bustling core of Camelot. In the tavern they heard their deeds recounted: the news spread at a most unnatural speed. No surprise — Merlin had surely been the one scattering it along the route. That, more than anything, irritated Morgan: she was sore that Merlin had risked Su's safety to broadcast the tale. That was the deeper reason Lucan mocked Merlin so mercilessly.
Morgan was about to reply approvingly to Lucan when the tavern discussion turned anew.
"Wasn't there a rumor that the Duke of Equinus was to be betrothed to Princess Morgan?"
"There was, but I haven't heard it much lately…"
"But I think the chance is very high now! I heard the Duke went north with Princess Morgan this time!"
"That's wonderful — the Duke of Equinus is so strong, Princess Morgan's a genius; together they'll make Camelot's future shine!"
"I heard Princess Morgan is actually two years older than the Duke?"
"What's two years? Older women are like gold bricks, haven't you heard?"
"…"
Such nonsense. Morgan's mouth stiffened, but she found herself unable to be properly annoyed as before. When she met Lucan's expression across the table, she was a little stunned; then, in that look-exchange, she gave a small snort and a faint smile — a lovely one. She had already tacitly accepted it; no point in being annoyed anymore, right?
… Morgan le Fay.
[This journey had no great dangers, nothing dramatic,]
[but young hearts grow accustomed to the presence of another through trifles.]
[After a short rest you resumed travel.]
[Previously you'd gone south-to-north; now you head back to Equinus, the Windmill City.]
[On the road Morgan showed you new magecraft. She was interested in your Yasleft's pairing with chant-sorcery and, on that basis, created a new courtyard sorcery that could erode a will and root itself within the target as a wellspring — the "Dreaming Garden."]
[She also created the Devouring Water-Mirror, modeled on Vortigern's breath.]
[You know she is still below your Threefold Circulation in instantaneous inscription, but Morgan's talent is millennium-rare. She cannot instantly record every Mystery like you can, but she keeps growing.]
[You exchange magic constantly — she tells you of her future path: that she will establish four sorcery systems; 'Garden' and 'Mirror' are two — confinement and transposition — and she lacks one offensive and one defensive system still. She intends to rule Britain by them, and to one day defeat Vortigern herself so she won't be helpless again.]
[But halfway on the road you received dire news.]
[A report: 'King Uther is gravely ill.']