Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [44]
Artoria watched him for a moment before she skillfully gathered firewood and prepared dinner. She skewered the meat with Kaelar's decorative sword, and by the time Kaelar noticed, the best sword from the village's blacksmith had already absorbed the aroma of grilled meat.
After they had eaten, Kaelar suddenly pulled Artoria aside as she washed the sword by the river. "Lily, did you discover anything new today?"
This had become their little ritual—each time they visited a new place, Kaelar would ask her what new things she'd observed, even in the most desolate forests.
"…"
Usually, Artoria would answer quickly or simply say she'd found nothing new. But this time, she meticulously cleaned every inch of the blade before slowly responding. "Kael, do you think Britain's resources are running dry?"
Kaelar raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed by her insight. As expected of the future savior of Britain—the Red Dragon, the Eternal King, and the last true ruler of the Celts.
"What made you think that?" he asked.
"Kael, the closer we've gotten to the kingdom ruled by the Pale King, the poorer the land has become. Food is scarcer, the trees no longer bear abundant fruit, rivers lack fish, and the number of beasts and magical creatures in the forests has dwindled."
Artoria pointed at the stream before them, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Like this stream—there isn't a single fish left."
The Age of Gods in Britain was fading, and it was fading fast.
Back when they were children, the resources of Maple Ridge seemed endless. Trees cut one day would regrow the next. Fields harvested bare would sprout new shoots overnight. The land was bountiful year-round, with ample fruit and game.
Streams and rivers teemed with fish, and the air was thick with ether, so dense it felt like one could drown in it. Living in such an environment, even doing nothing would make one stronger than ordinary people in the later eras.
But now, aside from the so-called unfallen "Golden City"—the lands surrounding Camelot—only remnants of the Age of Gods remained. It was here, in the heart of Britain, that Artoria realized just how much the Age had receded.
"Comparison may be evil," Kaelar said softly, prompting Fou to raise her head, only for Kaelar to ruffle her fur again. Artoria stayed silent, knowing his statement would have a follow-up.
"But even now, Britain is still a chosen land compared to Europe and the outside world."
"Britain is only experiencing the end of the Age of Gods, but it's still an Age of Gods. Beyond our borders, there are no more fantastical creatures—it's purely the Age of Man."
"Those Anglo-Saxons braved countless dangers to reach Britain because they sought a better life."
Kaelar's smile was warm. "Lily, don't mourn for what's already lost. Even if the Age of Gods truly ends, it's not something we can prevent. But without the Age of Gods, we can still bring people a good life."
Artoria was silent for a moment before asking, "Kael, is that why you showed mercy to the Anglo-Saxons?"
"You knew they were invaders, that their hands were stained with Celtic blood, but you still chose to spare them..."
She lifted her gaze to meet his. "…Is it because you can empathize with their hardships—not just as Anglo-Saxons, but as the struggles of the common people?"
"Do you want to conquer their spirits, so that the outsiders might become loyal subjects of Britain?"
"Close enough."
Kaelar nodded gently. "When the granaries are full, people learn manners. When they have enough to eat, they understand honor. I wouldn't judge someone for resorting to cannibalism if they were starving. I'd first ensure they had food, and only then would I teach them morality."
To preach virtues of propriety to someone on the brink of starvation was something Kaelar would never do. That's why he always offered food to the Anglo-Saxons before anything else.
The lands controlled by the Pale King, Vortigern, lay on the outskirts of Britain, where the decline of the Age of Gods began. Naturally, these areas—inhabited by the Anglo-Saxons—were not as rich as the lands held by the Celts of Camelot.
Driven by the scarcity of resources, the Anglo-Saxons had turned to raiding. Kaelar knew he couldn't simply lecture them about the evils of raiding and expect them to listen.
People needed to eat!
"I get it now!" Artoria's face lit up. "As a king, it's not about learning those empty ideals of kingship. It's about giving everyone the good life they yearn for, and that begins with filling their bellies!"
Artoria's words cut straight to the heart of the matter. Feeding the people—that was the essence of a good life, of peace and prosperity.
The needs of the people were simple, yet few rulers throughout history truly understood this.
Kaelar was momentarily stunned before he burst into laughter, clapping his hands. "Exactly! You understand what it means to be a proper king. Lily… you will be an excellent ruler!"
Their conversation continued as they emerged from the dense woods and stepped into the lands under Vortigern's rule.
It was almost comical—despite the majority of Vortigern's subjects being Anglo-Saxons, the lords under him were mostly Celts. The few Anglo-Saxon lords that had served him were either executed after the disastrous battle led by Hengist or were undergoing "reform" in Derlin Prison.
Vortigern was desperate for acceptance, particularly from the Celtic nobility. For all his power as a calamitous dragon, he yearned for the approval of those lesser Celtic lords.
Any Celtic noble who pledged allegiance, regardless of their bloodline, would find favor under Vortigern's rule.
It was like a person starved of love—their thoughts could be bafflingly hard to comprehend.
Kaelar adjusted the hood on his cloak and told Artoria, "Be cautious. Our goal is to travel and observe. If possible, let's avoid unnecessary confrontations."
"…Kael, that's what I should be saying to you," Artoria sighed. "Just don't meddle too much."
"Don't worry. If we run into any trouble, we can always let Fou loose!" Kaelar stroked the little creature perched on his shoulder, who instinctively hid herself. Her peculiar cuteness would certainly draw attention if spotted.
"Fou!" Fou waved her tiny paws in protest, and Kaelar scratched her ears, adding, "If things get hairy, you can use your 'comparisons' to feast on their emotions."
"Fou! (In that case, I'm ready!)"
Fou even seemed eager for someone foolish enough to challenge Kaelar.
After all, Kaelar kept her tightly controlled, forbidding any antics and treating her just like a little house cat.