Chapter 162: A Legacy of Strength

A Legacy of Strength

Lott looked at Vortigern as the defeated king stood there, flames licking at his form. "The winner is king, and today that title belongs to you. But I ask that you don't let the Celtics fall to anyone else. Whether it's fairies or legendary forces, ensure our people don't suffer losses."

"Other enemies? The fairies?" Lott probed, hoping to gather some last intelligence from the dying king.

"Who knows what they truly want? When it comes to scheming, no one can outmatch you. Just go in and fight; forget tactics. Those fairies sought to outsmart you and look where that got them," Vortigern replied, a smirk crossing his face.

As the flames began to consume him, Vortigern's thoughts turned inward. Don't look at me like that! I just want to lie down and win. Who has time for manipulations? I still have my beautiful hair; it must remain intact!

Morgan, observing from the side, couldn't help but roll her eyes. Compared to his cunning, Lott's greatest trait was his laziness. But for the sake of his hair, I guess it's worth it.

As Vortigern continued to burn, he turned to Lott and declared loudly, "If you want to keep me from dying willingly, then win this for me!"

"Damn it! How am I supposed to do that? I don't want to lose, and I don't want you to die willingly!" Lott replied, taken aback by Vortigern's last words.

King Uther cleared his throat and stepped in. "Ahem, let's not forget, he's still a hero in his own right. Lott, you should ensure he's buried properly."

"Forget it," Lott responded instinctively.

Morgan chimed in, "Does he deserve a proper burial? Father, have you been swayed by his bravado in death? What good has he done? You can ask the territories he harmed or the soldiers who died because of his greed if they think he deserves it!"

Morgan's words rang true. Vortigern had caused nothing but suffering, and any resources spent on his burial could instead support the families of those who had fallen.

King Uther looked at his daughter, emotions swirling within him. How had she changed? Once lively and full of innocence, now she openly questioned his judgments. His heart sank as he thought of Altria, lying helplessly nearby.

Just then, Uther turned his attention back to Gawain, who stood strong with her sword of victory in hand. "How did she become like this?" he asked Lott, pointing to Gawain.

"This…" Lott glanced at Morgan, who turned to Gawain. "You should explain yourself, Little Gawain. The details are yours to share."

Gawain looked up at King Uther, her expression innocent. "Grandpa?" she asked, curiosity shining through.

"Yes," Uther replied, softened by her presence.

"Hello, Grandpa!" Gawain greeted with a nod. "I just wanted to help my father!" she declared, turning her gaze to Lott and noticing his injuries. "Dad, are you okay? I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner!"

"It's fine. With you here, I hardly feel any pain," Lott reassured her with a smile.

Morgan stepped forward and began to weave her healing magic. "What are you saying? You have too many wounds! Let me heal you so you can rest."

King Uther observed the scene, feeling a mix of pride and melancholy. His daughters had grown strong, but he couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness as he watched Morgan care for Lott instead of him.

"Father, let me treat your injuries too," Morgan urged Uther. "You left without saying goodbye, and I thought I'd never see you again! You're okay; that's what matters. Come back to Camelot with us!"

But Uther gently blocked her advance. "My wounds are nothing. As for returning to Camelot, I think I should find a quiet place to live out my remaining years," he said, his voice steady but tinged with sadness.

As he walked away, he picked up Vortigern's body, glancing back with a sombre expression. "Though he was a terrible person, I still bear the responsibility of a brother. I'll ensure he has a proper burial. Don't worry about that."

"Also, Lott, take good care of my daughter and granddaughter," Uther instructed, his gaze serious. "Morgan, you too."

Though unspoken, the message was clear: Lott was to protect them both, including Altria, who lay incapacitated. Uther understood the precarious situation in Camelot but kept his thoughts to himself.

"Good!" Lott and Morgan replied in unison, determination in their voices.

King Uther, with a small smile on his face, felt a sense of satisfaction. His daughters had strength, reputation, and a deep care for family. Under their leadership, Camelot would thrive.

And Vortigern's defeat only solidified Uther's legacy. He was not a failed king.

But as he reached a point where Lott and Morgan could no longer see him, he finally succumbed to his exhaustion, sinking to the ground, and breathing heavily.

He had pushed himself to his limits, driven by sheer determination. After the battle was over, his resolve faded, and with it, his life. Vortigern's words had rung true; Uther had been clinging to life out of obsession, but now, his time had come to an end.