In the blink of an eye, another month passed.
Today in Camelot, the long-standing peace was finally broken. What people had whispered about for so long had now come to pass.
The kings of Britain had arrived—some in person, others by representatives—to hold a heated discussion in Camelot about how to combat the Saxons, the prophecy of the Flower Magician, and Britain's future path.
Choosing today for these talks was itself a sign of the kings' sincerity.
It was no exaggeration to say that those who came in person risked their lives.
Winter had settled in, rendering any offensive by the kings impossible. Even if they were assassinated in Camelot and all perished here, they could do nothing in retaliation. In that light, their arrival spoke volumes about their intention.
"It's a fine day. Both the work and the weather are pleasant," Arthur said with a relieved sigh as the meeting ended.
But the two knights by his side clearly did not share his sentiment.
"King Arthur, why do you—"
"After today, Camelot's power will be seriously shaken."
Lancelot and Kay murmured, their faces heavy with dismay as they watched the carriages slowly depart through the city gates. The kings left Camelot with satisfied smiles, their pride intact.
What they left behind was humiliation—deep, suffocating humiliation—for Camelot and for King Arthur himself.
Indeed, humiliation.
In the eyes of those two knights, everything that happened in today's meeting was humiliating.
They even felt it would have been better not to have served as guards or been present. If so, they could have unleashed their swords and shown all Britain the might of Camelot and the glory of their king.
The oppressive weight of shame and anger crept into their minds.
They only vaguely recalled that during the meeting, their king had spoken humbly, calm and composed as always.
"Britain has always been a land of conflict, never ceasing for a moment, breeding endless frictions and grievances among its kingdoms. I am sure you all harbor many complaints against Camelot and against me."
"Yes, I have been king less than a year. Compared to you, my power and influence are negligible."
"The prophecy Merlin foretold—how I will defeat the White Dragon, Vortigern the humble king—I have none of that power now, and I suspect you all doubt it too."
"The British Isles face their darkest hour. We must set aside our grudges and prejudices to solve our internal strife. United, we can face the true threat: the Saxons. They are our common enemy."
"Yes, we must cooperate and watch one another's backs."
"Geographically, I believe the northern kings bear the heaviest burden."
"It is reassuring to have a king like you leading Britain. Ah, that's not to say I think you should face the Saxons alone. I am no traitor."
"No, no, that's a misunderstanding. For example, the defense line formed by the northern kings is a strong alliance."
"Yes, exactly. My point is that until the White Dragon is defeated, we should treat the kingdoms as one, each maximizing its strengths. If your military is strong, focus on that. If you excel at animal husbandry, breed warhorses. If your land is fertile, improve agriculture."
"Of course, not for free."
"Yes, open trade. Not just within Britain, but with Rome too. I plan to visit Rome after the snow melts."
"Trade with the northern kings must deepen. Rest assured, since you block the Saxons for us, we owe you supplies, free of charge."
"Ah, not all free. Even Camelot can't afford that. I mean discounted."
"Yes, that's it. From now on, Camelot will be the granary of Britain—the granary of the world."
"Good at fighting? No, that was just some minor tricks unworthy of the stage. Compared to you kings, I am an ordinary man."
"Hahaha, I don't even know why I became king—it just happened."
And so, the covenant was established.
Those humble, self-deprecating words were like steel knives to Lancelot and Kay, slicing through their hearts and spilling fresh blood.
They could not bear to see their king smile that way.
"My king, I cannot stand it. You are humiliated! Allow me to lead the army. I will prove Camelot does not need to bow. We can defend ourselves and repel the Saxons. Wait until next spring, and I will—"
Lancelot, unable to contain himself, drew his sword, his vow ringing with passion.
"Stop, idiot! Do you want to ruin my plan?" Arthur snapped, slapping Lancelot's head in frustration.
The blow landed hard enough to redden his hand.
"Ahem, plan...?" Lancelot blinked, confused and unable to grasp Arthur's scheme.
He only saw his king, wearing a forced smile before the other kings (as Lancelot saw it), flattering those fools to sap their fighting spirit.
It was unbearable.
"Can't you think? My goal is to buy Camelot time and resources to develop rapidly. The northern kings get our grain—but as trade, not charity. In return, we receive rich northern minerals and keep the Saxons at bay."
"Th-that..."
"If the Saxons attack, we will fight. But by trading grain, we avoid wasting military strength, resources, and money—and gain profit. The northern kings will have incentive to protect Camelot, not attack it."
"But..."
"No buts! Camelot will expand agriculture and produce luxury goods for all Britain and Rome. The benefits will far exceed your imagination. We will weaken the kings and make them dependent on us. When they have only soldiers left, we can take all of Britain without losing a single soldier."