"Lord Vortigern, I greet you on behalf of my queen, Morgan."
Dismounting and handing the reins to a follower at the side, Souya performed a knight's salute to the old man waiting at the city gate.
To be frank, he was very surprised to see Vortigern personally waiting for him at the city gate. After all, the other party was one of the two dragons that were currently stirring up the storm in Britain. Even if he had taken the initiative to request a meeting with Lamorak, there was no need to condescend to welcome him like an ordinary old man. What's more, there were no soldiers by his side. From beginning to end, he was alone.
"There is no need for excessive ceremony between you and me, Lamorak."
Seeing the Souya who had become more mature and restrained compared to the past, the corner of Vortigern's mouth subconsciously curved up.
"Then it would be disrespectful to refuse."
Souya said politely, then pointed to the transport team behind him, which was disguised as a merchant caravan, and said, "Then now, do you want to inspect the agreed-upon supplies first, or do you have other arrangements?"
"The inspection of these supplies will be handled by the acceptance officer later. For now, let's enter the city first." Vortigern waved his hand, his tone suggesting that he didn't care about these supplies at all.
And if the other party didn't care, then as a guest, he naturally wouldn't say much more.
Following the vile king into Londinium, he first entrusted the task of transporting the supplies and settling the personnel to a trusted subordinate, then accepted Vortigern's invitation to stroll around the city and chat with him.
Along the way, his gaze constantly scanned the city's facilities, buildings, and the lives and faces of the common people.
What surprised him was that under the command of Vortigern, who was reviled by most of the Celts as a traitor, there were still many Celtic residents. And whether it was their lifestyle, the smiles on their faces, or their behavior, there was no sign at all that they were Celts living under the rule of a brutal vile king.
The scenes he saw now were all in contradiction with the negative reputation and evil name of Vortigern that were spread outside.
"Very surprising, isn't it? As a traitor to the Celts, the Calamity White Dragon, the brutal and despicable Vortigern not only has a large number of Celtic subjects, but also behaves in a way that has no connection with the name of a magic dragon."
As if he had sensed the trace of shock on his face, Vortigern teased him with a smile. At this time, the two were sitting in a tavern on the side of the street. There were few customers here. The owner had even recognized Vortigern and had, with great respect and joy, said that their consumption would be on the house. Even the wine on the table before them now was a free gift from him.
"Mhm, this is indeed not like the you of the rumors," Souya replied truthfully. He picked up the wine on the table and took a shallow sip. The entrance was filled with the aroma of fruit and a hint of sweetness.
Experiencing the quality of this fruit wine, he was stunned for a moment. Why would such a high-quality fruit wine appear in a small tavern at the end of the Age of Gods?
"Hehe." Seeing his expression, Vortigern chuckled lightly and turned to another topic. "Lamorak, on your way here from Camelot, did you feel and discover anything?"
"Are you talking about... the environment?" Souya had a feeling and knew what he was referring to. In fact, he had discovered this problem on the way here and had intended to ask him about it, but he didn't expect the other to bring it up first.
"Yes, it seems you have discovered it. Compared to the past in our memories, the flora and fauna of Britain have decayed far too much." Vortigern stroked his beard, his old face showing a few traces of vicissitudes. "Do you know, Lamorak, this is something that is bound to happen. The plants will wither, the animals will go extinct, there will be no more fish swimming in the streams, and the farmers' fields will no longer be able to grow mature rice ears. Having lost all food sources, the future of the Celts is conceivable."
Souya was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "This is all the result of the decline of the Age of Gods, is it?"
"Of course." Vortigern gave a definite answer, then pointed to the cup of fruit wine he had just drunk and asked, "You should have tasted it just now. The quality of this cup of fruit wine is clearly higher than in other places in Britain. This is the result of me imposing the influence of the Age of Gods on the land of Londinium, allowing the plants and crops grown on this land to, to a certain extent, reproduce their appearance when the Age of Gods existed."
"Can such a method work?" Souya asked softly. He had sensed a flaw in Vortigern's unfinished words. "Or rather, is it meaningful to spend your energy to do this?"
"How can it be meaningless?" Hearing this, Vortigern chuckled lightly. He shook his head and, like Souya, picked up his cup of wine and took a sip. "At least through this experiment, I am sure that I have no way out."
"No way out?" Souya subconsciously repeated.
"Yes, besides a desperate struggle, I have no other choice." Vortigern swirled his wine cup. Although he said such discouraging words, his expression and tone showed none of the decadent aura that should have been there. "People always say there is always a way out, but this sentence does not seem to suit this old dragon who is trying to challenge the might of heaven. Even if I use magic to fix the Age of Gods on this land, without the support of 'True Ether', this so-called Age of Gods is just a rapidly declining phantom. In the end, I can only fight a life-and-death battle with that little niece of mine who was created, to decide the final fate of the Age of Gods in Britain."
With that, this old man who was already over fifty drank the fruit wine in his hand in one gulp. That hearty drinking action, in his eyes, was both like a fearless hero and like a lone king who had been driven into a corner and was preparing to fight back with all his might.
"But Lord Vortigern, are you confident in defeating King Arthur and her Round Table Knights?"
Looking directly into the vile king's amber pupils, he really wanted to know what this old man who had shouldered an era and walked alone was thinking. And whether he, who was also chosen by the Age of Gods, could find the answer he wanted from him.
But to his surprise, the answer Vortigern gave him was extremely straightforward, and could even be said to be decisive.
"No confidence."
"Ah?"
Hearing the old man's unthinking tone, he was at a loss for a moment. No, you, as one of the two dragons, the shadow that looms over the whole of Britain, you're just admitting that you can't beat the red dragon?
He felt a bit of a toothache. He felt that he really couldn't see through this vile king Vortigern. But the other party didn't seem to think this was a big deal. On the contrary, a smile hung on the corner of his mouth as he said, "Think about it, it's also very normal. That's the son of the red dragon born of the will of the world. How can she, who is supported by so many Celtic knights, be defeated by a lone person like me?"
When he said this, it's unknown if it was an illusion, but he felt that Vortigern had deliberately glanced at him. Pushing aside the strange feeling in his heart, he still couldn't help but ask a question he had wanted to ask for a long time. "But Lord Vortigern, since saving the Age of Gods is to save the lives of all the Celts and Britain, then why don't you say it? If you say it, even if Uther and Merlin still choose the future, there will still be many Celts who will follow you, right? In that case, you wouldn't have fallen into this, um, isolated and helpless situation, right?"
Human beings, no matter how noble and selfless they are said to be, if it concerns their own life and death, then the vast majority will still selfishly choose to save their own lives. No one wants to die, and no one should die in vain. He believed that if the people of Britain knew that the vile king was rebelling against Uther to save them, then there would definitely be many capable and righteous people who would be willing to join and help him.
But Vortigern's next sentence made the puzzled Souya fall silent again. "It's not that I don't want to say it, but that I can't. Lamorak, what do you think would happen if the Celts, as a part of the Age of Gods, knew the secret of its demise? In this idealistic world, how long would the Age of Gods disappear, and how much time would we have to save it?"
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