To be a King (2)

When morning struck again and I was greeted once more with the sight of my 'new bedroom', my lips parted to let out a miser groan about what was now my life and…

How screwed I was over the fact that I was dealing with a full-fledged barbaric invasion by being the ruler of the closest 'kingdom' to the main front against the Germanic Tribes.

It was not an immediate screwing, but a painful, lengthy one that would surely see me tortured and killed if I failed to play my card properly against the clearly-superior forces threatening my new fief, and all those living within my lands.

Pressure much?

I wasn't even contemplating what was going on inside and nearby the limits of Londinium, the massive chaos created by the unrelenting wave of brigands, murderers and other kind of scumbags that were currently disrupting the functionality of the kingdom that I was now leading.

While the main armies were still waiting around to consolidate to begin their major assaults, plus the time they would spend to march right where the castle was, I still had to deal with the few bastards that merely wanted to have their own solo 'adventure' around this 'nice land' ready to be plundered by their ambitious attempts.

Major roads were surely blocked as of now because of the dangerous presence of foreigners littering the forests that were setting up some malicious checkpoints and I had yet to verify if there were contacts between the main authority (ergo, Londinium) and the rest of the cities, minor castles and temples spread out in the general region that were supposed to swear support for me.

Not fealty, there had yet to develop a sense of feudalism within English aristocracy, the conception of a centralized and stable ranking system for the elite class ruling over the peasantry.

I was fairly sure that proposing such an initiative right now would only create to me even more issues than I wanted.

The system was flawed when it was conceived, spawned by the conflict between Church and State, and it was sure not going to work with how unsure the loyalties were until now.

I didn't need to find myself toppled by some band of nobles trying to impose another dictatorship because I granted them too much trust.

Everyone was nervous nowadays and I was quite sure that some proper attention was needed before granting some legitimization of their current holding.

Huffing and standing up from the bed, I decided to search around the room for any other objects that I might have missed the day before.

While I had been getting accustomed over the map of the castle that was now my property by wandering around the place after a nice rest by the inner courtyard, I hadn't been that much attentive over the things that were there in my bedroom.

Quietly humming and scanning around the various pieces of furniture that were there for me to look carefully into, I ended up finding some old tomes, a mix of old diaries with somewhat perfect English words and some tomes with easy-to-read titles.

It hadn't taken me much to realize that the summoning, the 'spell' that had taken me away from my lone trip in the woods and right into this big crisis I was supposed to solve, had also given me the ability to understand, read and speak fluently the Latin that was still being used by the people living by the castle-city.

A last sign of the Roman foothold over England, the city that was now supposed to represent the undefeated spirit of the newly-'freed' nation that I was now leading to success.

…

Hopefully it was success and not utter doom, the chances were still fairly low for a grand victory but…

Never say never~!

Gah, I regret quoting that horrible piece. I could have picked a better line instead of-

Oh?

My thoughts vanished just briefly as my full attention was grasped by the dark-blue robe that I had found by one of the dusty constructs of wood that I've been searching through until that moment of quiet.

Eyes glancing all over this tunic, I had my left hand caress around the gold-like lines that gave it quite the regal air and… I decided to try it out.

It was a slow process as I decided to wear the robe over my modern clothes, unwilling to part away from some of the few things that I had left of my previous life away from the current danger I had to face on my own… plus several hundred lance-wearing peasants.

The measures were mostly correct, the only issue being the length of the arms' sections that needed to be rolled up a little to not fully cover my hands, and I gave a glance at the full-body mirror set by one of the room's corner.

It was perfect. The visible jeans and shoes hid well with the dark-blueish color of the tunic, making those stand out just a little compared to the current clothes' trend.

As I started to ponder whatever or not should I have been focusing to make some better clothes for my subjects, starting to get irritated by the constant itching I felt by my exposed wrists, I tensed up as I heard someone knocking thrice by the door.

I eased a little as my mind brought back some logic about the possible individual standing behind the little barrier, knowing only one individual having gone out of his way to greet me earlier yesterday's morning.

"Come in," I allowed with a polite but loud-enough voice, the door opening mere moments later Altuos slowly entered inside, a patient smile on his face as he approached me.

"Your Majesty, I see that you are fully awake and..." He paused, his attention take by the dress I was wearing. "I see that you have found the robes designed for the former governors of the city."

I blinked at his words, glancing down at the tunic itself and… just now noticing the little SPQR symbol but the upper section of the chest.

"So this is something ceremonial, or it's just something that isn't used anymore?" I asked with a hint of curiosity, my mind lit at the fact I was wearing the former robes of a high-ranking role within the now mostly-defunct Roman Empire.

"The previous governor, the one that assumed control merely a year ago before leaving three weeks ago, didn't get the time to don such a regal outfit," Altuos replied with a calm hum. "He was constantly moving around the territory to keep people loyal to Londinium but… ultimately he was forced to leave when the province of Gallia collapsed to the various factions in the region."

If I remember correctly, the lands where modern France would exist were split between the Roman Soissons, the Visigoths and the tribes of the Franks. Thus the Roman influence was already waning swiftly away from their previous strongholds.

England was a particular case as the tribes from the north, those that were born from the fragmented Picts, weren't able to sustain a full offensive to vanquish the Latin presence in proper England and Wales.

Yet there was already a rebellious kingdom in the form of Dumnonia and, considering the age and time, I was quite sure that this new nation had already switched from Chalcedonian to the old pagan religions lingering within the Welsh/Cornish people, only to fall in some minor civil war between Christians and pagans.

If I remember correctly, around this period a certain King Arthur was supposedly was supposed to be waging war as one of the contenders to take over the throne of his dead father, Uther Pendragon, after spending years training either in some unknown village in Cornwall or after making some experience in battles against the tribal invasions in France.

The stories and the authenticity of the legendary figure were shrouded in mystery.

Some would confirm his existence, others would dismiss it as different important characters that had names similar to the one bestowed to the holder of Caliburn.

Maybe I will give it a proper look about his possible whereabouts once I was done with, you know, the crazy bastards marching towards Londinium in the effort of burning it to the ground.

I nodded at Altuos. "I suppose I can use to make my introduction to the court," I muttered quietly, gaining another nod from the elder as he started to led me out of my room and right towards where the throne room was.

The walk was particularly brief, the important area of the castle being fairly close to where my bedroom was and… I was introduced to a modestly-sized but still humonguous room.

It wasn't an Imperial Throne Room, but considering that this was created from the place where Governors would address the issues present in this former Roman land, I could see it as a well-prepared place where to hold debates and conversations.

And boy, did I plan to hold quite the debates and conversations in this pretty room for the sake of survival, betterment and… survival.

Did I say survival?

The vast space allowed by the setting permitted the presence of a noticeable group of people already standing near where the throne was.

From their clothes I could recognize some of the nobles present at my summoning, some looked to be wearing religious tunics.

I could also see Commander Marcus and some of his soldiers and some individuals donning light-gray cloaks with some peculiar items. One was wearing several jeweled necklaces at once while another was donning what seemed to be… some iron knuckles?

From seeing this particular group wearing clothes similar to Altuos, it was simple to deduce that they were possibly a part of the same guild. They were those adept with the pseudo-magic the elder had displayed back when I doubted the truth in his words yesterday.

Still, wasn't this a bit too early for thugs to be using magic for doing crazy stuff? What's next, some hypocrite?

Just as this thought ran through my brain, I was forced to stop my approach directed at the chair designated to be used solely by me because an unfamiliar old man wearing some well-decorated white robes and some 'tall' hat paced calmly right towards me.

"I assume you are King Joseph, the magnanimous ruler that Our Lord bestowed to us," He spouted out with a somewhat familiar tone of spiritual elevation. The preachy kind.

Be bowed just a little, some other men rushing to follow his same example, they were wearing white clothes just like the leader himself and… I hummed.

"May I ask your name?" I questioned bluntly, holding back just enough to not sound overly-annoyed by this sudden interaction. "You know my name, yet I don't know yours."

He tensed just a little, yet his 'so-devoted' expression barely twitched at the insolent tone I had taken to regard him.

"Felicianus of Dubris, Bishop of Londinium, and sole holder of the Church representation here in this island," He bowed a little more, head leaning forward. "Apologies if I introduced myself with far too much vigor… it was the joy of seeing you, the true proof of Our Lord's mercy upon us in these dire times."

The nobles started to whisper with each other, fascinated by this new claim over my presence here, clashing with the one presented by Altuos. In fact, I could see the hooded members of the Magus Guild tensing up and showing some irritation at the attempt to slander their efforts, an attempt that I didn't plan to see completely unfold like this.

"I suppose you could consider my presence a divine blessing," I started subtly, trying to come up with the best way to counter the little clout he had over the aristocracy.

The Church had yet to enforce its domination upon Kings and the not-yet created Holy Roman Empire in this century, and their influence was still strong enough to be problematic if not handled with a certain… 'attention'.

"But it would be incorrect to confuse Our Lord's intervention as a direct and immediate miracle," I continued with a certain tone, my eyes fixed on the confused expression on the bishop's face. "While the will was of God Almighty, a mortal hand was the direct responsible for such an event. Just like Jesus was a representation of the Lord's interest upon His subjects, so the Magus Guild acted upon the same reasoning."

His eyes widened in shock, the holy man was certainly unprepared to deal with someone that had this much preparation about the bible itself.

Catechism did leave me a certain cultural knowledge over some aspects of Christianity, some of those were even expanded upon when I ended up reading some of the books attached to the Divine and the Holy.

I wasn't supposed to gloat this early on as the discussion was far from over, yet I couldn't help but grin in my thoughts at the fact I shattered the initial perception this jerk had over me.

Since many heirs to aristocracy were taught by priests over the importance of 'some' of the bible's precepts and I hadn't been 'born' in that role, I would consider a possibility that Felicianus had thought me to be a mere fool that he could have manipulated so quickly and so brazenly.

Maybe it had been fear at the idea that Altuos had been around me since I had woken up yesterday, 'possibly giving me the wrong ideas over the Church', or maybe there was some stupid panic at the chances of having gotten a heretical king from this circumstance.

Catholicism had yet to fully manifest and many heresies like Nestorian and Arianism were plaguing the war-torn areas of Europe while Christianity battled against the Barbaric tribes and other pagan religions hailing from the east.

"B-But they are not devoted believers," The old priest rebuked quietly, trying to keep reason as his main argument. "Their mission wasn't one ordained from God-"

"Does God seriously need to speak to people to put them in charge of a heavenly duty?" I said with a tighter voice. "Did God have to truly enforce His might upon the Jews when they started to worship other deities? Didn't He Himself demand their submission with his first words proclaimed upon the Holy Covenant?"

His eyes were now wide-open, shock filling him as I had gotten him well-enough surprised over my grasp over the History of the Old Testament.

I had him right where I wanted him, the mood and the awe just what I needed to commit myself to quite the risky speech.

"The Lord himself promised love with the birth of Jesus Christ, the son of two humble believers, and proof that a good life can be made without the need of sinful means," I explained with some resolution in my voice. "While the Magus Guild isn't a completely loyal to God, their virtues within their mortality make them worthy enough of being our brothers in soul and in true times of need."

"Y-yet they don't believe-"

"God's mercy is eternal, while He might found doubtful the state of their devotion, He Himself wouldn't deny the fact that their mission is just like any faithful Christian's," I proclaimed with a determined smile. "An endless war against the Wicked One and those that stand by his sinful ways. The infidels that are currently marching towards Londinium, ready to commit the most heinous atrocities that a good man could ever consider for the sake of honor and elation at the possibility."

He seemed to realize what I was talking about, just what I needed from him in this moment. Faith was a double-edged weapon, especially in times of war and suffering.

When a man or a woman are left before an inevitable disaster coming towards them, their only certainty is faith in someone. Someone above and beyond their comprehension, that would never betray them or bring them any wrongful judgment.

"T-The infidels- T-The invaders!" He exclaimed in dread. "They represent Hell's own destructive ambitions!"

I smiled at the heated reply and I nodded. "Indeed, they are trying to subvert what is right and good, what is holy and divine."

"This is… why the Magus Guild will make sure to cooperate with King Joseph," Altuos interjected with a calm voice, drawing the attention of the bishop upon himself. "Even though animosity was the sole emotion that we shared until now, I wish to make sure that the innocents and the weak are protected by the onslaught approaching."

Felicianus blinked, his lips parted but no response coming at first as he seemed fixed in time, stuck in a moment of immense doubt and thought.

"God is our father… our merciful creator and the one that is the final judgment of our sins or misled faiths," The bishop slowly spoke. "He is caring, but stern. He is loving but also righteous and I think His Will in this specific circumstance is to make peace with the misguided fools of the Magus Guild."

I was a little surprised by his hesitation and quick jabs at the 'rival group' to the Church, but I still nodded.

"United we shall stand against the wave of evil," I preached with a determined tone. "But if we stay divided, we shall fall before the carnage."

The two elders nodded at each other and I was finally allowed to take a seat by the little throne deeper in that room.

Everyone slowly started to kneel before me while Felicianus and Altuos kept standing up.

"All praise King Joseph, first of his name, and true ruler of Britannia, the home of the Holy, of the Just and of the Merciful," The bishop introduced solemnly.

"May his reign be long and prosperous, filled with joy and victory, of glorious feats and betterment!"

Wait, does that mean that my dynastic name is-

"Long Live King Joseph of Britannia, true King of the Isle."

The collective response got me impressed, awed and… quite nervous over this new step I just made.

It was another tentative one, this time it was careful manipulation that got me to sit in a stabler seat of power instead of dealing with inner dissent so early on in my reign.

I sighed, giving a polite smile at those still kneeling and I nodded. "You may stand and… we may begin the first session of Court… starting with the provisions required for the defenses-"

"That was quite the impressive speech, kingly," Marcus Ambrosius giddily proclaimed as he took a seat in the lone chair in his tent, staring at me as I glanced at him with some impatience. "Almost got me to shed a tear of absolute loyalty… yet it takes more than just some sweet-talking to prove your worth as the liege of this once-glorious city."

His words left me confused and the fact my brain was still recovering from the three-hour long court session I had to deal with just a while ago.

I wasn't certainly up to face any annoying deflection over the subject that brought me here instead of butting heads with the paperwork I was supposed to sign about by now.

Thank God, Altuos had decided to pick some of the less important topics to deal himself...

"I thought this was meant to be a training session," I bluntly interjected, my eyes narrowing at his shit-eating grin. "You said that-"

"This is in fact going to be the true proof of your words, of your valor as a conqueror and as a protector," He interrupted eagerly, almost snarling in preparation at whatever he had planned for me. "The first lesson will in fact be… to fetch yourself a sword."

...What?

"The first lesson is… to-"

"Fetch a sword, yes. There is no need to repeat what I just said, kingly."

My irritation bubbled even more at the cockiness I was facing against. "But isn't that too easy?"

His grin didn't falter. "If it is, then why are you here gawking like a brat that just crapped himself?"

I didn't comment at that insult, understanding that words wouldn't matter in this circumstance and I indeed started to search for a sword, starting right from the tent.

I could remember seeing some weapons stacked by a box nearby the entrance the day before, thus my stare turned right into a… now empty wooden box.

A blink, then I was walking out of that tent silently, not even showing any respect to bid a goodbye the still-smiling bastard as I paced towards the nearby barracks.

The building was mostly empty, the troops were currently training on another section of the city and thus leaving me free to raid the place for any sword left forgotten on purpose or by mistake.

I found not a single weapon. There wasn't even a single dagger left around the place and-

I blinked again as I left the building after ten full minutes of thorough searching in the various rooms assigned to the soldiers and a strong suspect had started to insinuate itself in my mind.

The task would have been easy to complete if it had been done in a normal situation, yet there was a strong possibility that Marcus had wittingly made sure to leave not a single sword for me to find in the normal places within the city.

He had wanted me to suffer for the rest of the day before giving me a true chance to train and get strong.

Now that magic was a variable, training on a personal level was a must both in terms of physical and magical defence.

The world was crazier than I thought back in Medieval Ages and only God knew what kind of threats I would end up facing in this predicament.

Vortigern, Morgana, Mordred and other villains that could easily tear me apart without some proper understanding of magic and swordsmanship.

Altuos had already promised some theoretical lectures before introducing me to some practical works and so I was left to deal with the 'mundane' aspect of my planned training which was the one proposed by the cheeky bastard of a commander that was Marcus.

Seconds of silence passed and I was left wandering the partially-crowded mud roads within the castle-city, ignoring the stares I was getting from the people in my proximity as my target was-

"Waaah!" "No more!" "You are so strong!"

"Stop, you evil Romans!" A child yelled at three fellow children running away from him, the young boy holding a poor-quality wooden sword over his head while giving chase to his friends.

I stopped for a moment to stare at the scene unfolding before my eyes, confused at what was going on… until I heard the people around commenting about it.

"They are still playing at it? I thought the game was too hold for-"

"Some kinds need to show that they are brave," Someone interjected with a laid-back tone. "Let them play 'Nennius' as much as they want for."

"Perhaps you are right..."

At this point I had gone away from where these two fellows were as I rushed towards the gates of Londinium, an idea slowly bubbling up and providing me with a quick solution to solve this test without having to beg anyone for a sword.

Why would I forget about that detail about Londinium? How could I forget about that sword!?

Good questions that sadly were ignored out of mercy upon my wounded pride over my forgetfulness about something that was related to my historical and mythological knowledge.

My first objective was finding a shovel, something far easier than the mission imposed by Marcus as recovering one from one of the guards by the entrance, one of the few ones left in case of emergencies about the breaking of the gates.

The men stationed there were surprised by the request, but quick to offer me one as I started to dig right outside the city and in front of the gates, staring at the ground as I carefully attempted to find something important… and hopefully existing in this crazy place.

Twenty minutes of digging later, the resulting hole in the ground lacked the sword I was searching for.

Uneasiness swelled in my chest as I moved out of the newly-dig crater and went to replicate the same activity on a zone not too far away.

Three newer holes later, each making me lose some of my hopes of succeeding with my endeavors, I finally saw the results of my hardwork when I found a skeleton… an a sword embedded in its cranium.

And the blade was truly a beauty to look at, its decorations matching with its supposed potential hidden in its form.

The hilt of the sword was made with dark-blue metal that culminated on some blue pearl, the length formed by two alloys, an outer one of light-silver color and the inner one made of a golden-like section that contained some mysterious symbols engraved into it.

I lifted it up from the ground and out of pile of bones, the remain of the legendary Nennius of Britannia, the very man that stole the very sword of Julius Caesar and used it to kill dozens of Romans in the losing battle of Trinovantum (what now was Londinium).

The first Briton that patriotically stood out for his bravery and willpower against and aggressor and… now I was going to make use of this blade to protect Britain from another invasion, this one bigger, more gruesome and hopefully one that would see the defeat of the Germanic horde.

"Hey, Kingly!" A certain infuriating bastard shrieked from the gates of the city, standing right beside… the noticeable crowd of people that has been created to look at the initially-odd behavior of mine.

I had seen someone standing and watching me suffering while digging in that scorching sun, but I had been so unaware of how big my 'audience' had gotten after so much time had passed since I started my 'fun hobby'.

"What is that?" The commander finally asked loudly enough for me to hear and… I grinned madly, lifting the sword up in the sky and showing its full glory to the cast of people.

You wanted some proof of my worth?

"People of Londinium, I present you with this legendary blade," I exclaimed loudly and with some dramatic tone to it, my grin almost getting me to break the solemn introduction. "Once owned by Julius Caesar, before becoming the sword used by Nennius of Britannia, I show you the Yellow Death, Crocea Mors."

If this had been a cartoon, the military leader that was now gawking at the greatest Roman artifact left in Britain would have had his jaws dropping at the floor, the rest of the crowd recognizing its worth only by mentioning the two legendary heroes that once used this still-pristine that was now mine to use.

I looked up at it, the sunlight making it glimmer and show more of its holy appearance, making me wonder how much of a sign this was for my successes.

Propaganda was one thing but…

Can it lead me to victory?

Once this very thought concluded, I noticed an odd glow within the sword, almost teasing me and berating me from thinking that there was anything else but…

Success.

And as I made my way back to the gates of the city, the strings of destiny seemed to twist and change under the development I had just achieved, something that I would never know about… until the world started to roll brutally to fix such a change.

But who would win, an untrained boi with an aim-bot sword or a magically-enchanted cast of characters from the Arthurian Legends… and beyond?