I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

Lotte turned his head and asked softly, "How is it?" The woman who pushed open the door was a slender woman in a blue robe, about twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old, with long golden hair that almost reached her waist. She wore a black veil over her face, and her beautiful features were faintly visible.

She placed her hand on the door, and after a moment, gently shook her head: "...It still failed."

"Is that so?" Lotte fell silent upon hearing this, glancing into the half-open room. The room, with the curtains drawn tightly shut, still reeked of blood. On the bed lay a figure covered by a white sheet, but the sheet wasn't large enough, and parts of the hands and feet were visible, revealing a blue bodysuit with yellow stripes.

"I'm sorry." The woman's voice was slightly hoarse, carrying fatigue and a hint of disappointment. Lott, with his left hand behind his back, gave an exaggerated bow and handed her the plate he was holding. "Have a drink. You've been busy all night... Be careful, it's hot."

"It's already cold."

"Forehead……"

After speaking, she lifted her veil, downed the cold tea in a few gulps, and even swirled the cup around. Although her attire and demeanor exuded the air of a noblewoman, her playful girlishness didn't seem out of place. Lott was slightly taken aback, then laughed along, "If you want some wine, I'll keep you company later."

"Let's forget it. At a time like this, even the best wine won't taste right. Let's talk about it later."

"Too."

Nodding, the woman took the wooden plate, divided the food into two portions, fed them to Lotte, and then began to eat herself. Despite her hunger, she ate with great elegance, not letting any crumbs fall onto her veil or clothes. After quietly finishing her meal, the two continued their previous conversation: "This is the last one... In the end, I only managed to save three people."

“This isn’t your fault.” Lotte paused. “No one will blame you for this.”

“But someone has to grieve for this.” She smiled, though a hint of sorrow lingered in her eyes. “My father said that a king must always remain calm. So…” She straightened Lotte’s collar and sighed. “I’ve already ordered the Scottish and Orkney soldiers to be buried, but what about the Picts?”

"They were also valiant warriors; let them be buried with dignity. In fact, if possible, I would even like to win over this troublesome nemesis as well. I have a feeling that the changes in the north are definitely related to them in some way..."

"Your key ministers will not agree."

"Why bother with those guys who can't see the reality of the situation?" Lotte smirked, revealing a disdainful smile. "It's fine under normal circumstances, but in this situation, if we still insist on getting bogged down in pointless power struggles and hatred, then it can only be described as foolish."

"Like that Scottish prince?"

"Humph."

Just mentioning this person made him feel uneasy, so Lott waved his hand and didn't continue the topic.

Like Scotland, Orkney also noticed the unusual activity in the northern forest about two weeks ago. However, unlike the successive defeats of Balan and Leodogran, Lot realized that the northernmost outposts had lost contact and immediately tightened the defenses. As a result, they were able to withstand the first wave of attacks from the "Claws of God" head-on. Of course, this was also because there was no potential crisis in Orkney and there was no need to use war to divert attention from the problem.

After a two-week tug-of-war, although the front line had been lost, the loss of combat strength was not significant compared to the severely weakened Scotland, as most of the strongholds were abandoned voluntarily.

During this time, Lotte originally wanted to ask King Lyons, with whom he had a close personal relationship, for help, but gave up because of Queen Morgan le Fay's persuasion. Lyons was indeed a brave and righteous man who valued loyalty and honor, but his brother, the scheming Nero, might take advantage of the situation and even try to interfere in Orkney's affairs.

Considering these reasons, he ultimately did not tell Lines about it, but instead refused to join the North Wales coalition, citing the Picketts' renewed unrest as the reason. He knew that this matter would likely leave a lingering resentment in Lines' heart, but given the reality, there was nothing he could do.

Meanwhile, the envoys sent to Scotland only received news of Leodogran's fall and the army's crushing defeat. Prince Pat, the current ruler, stubbornly refused to join forces, the reasons for which were known to all. Pat was furious; he already had a poor impression of his old friend's son and now wished he could kill him outright. Left with no other choice, he could only send men to search for Leodogran and the other missing Scottish soldiers while single-handedly dealing with the strange enemies constantly emerging from the forest.

His queen, Morgan le Fay, was the daughter of King Uther. She was sent to a convent from a young age and is said to have learned incredible magical skills from a nun. She was especially skilled in transfiguration and healing wounds. In Orkney and even in all of Britain, there were probably fewer than ten people who could compare to her in these skills.

She realized the approaching shadowy figures were the result of some kind of spirit possession. After informing Lott, to confirm this, Orkney orchestrated the capture of over ten shadowy enemies, handing them over to Morgan le Fay for a rescue attempt. However, Morgan only managed to save three lives: two Scottish knights and one Pict, all still unconscious. The group could only wait for them to awaken and see if they could glean any information.

Thinking about these things, Lotte escorted his queen back to her bedroom and watched her fall asleep before turning to go to the conference room. Starting at noon, there were three consecutive meetings, all discussing the current situation. The knights held their own opinions and argued endlessly, but in the end, they failed to come up with any valuable plans. He used to personally participate, but after such a situation continued for a full half month, all that remained was endless exhaustion.

As the third meeting drew to a close, it was already evening, and raindrops finally began to fall outside the window, which had been gloomy all day. The knights, who had been pointing fingers and hurling insults at each other, suddenly scattered, some closing windows, others looking up at the sky, creating a chaotic scene. Lott sat at the head of the long table, pressing his temples, without uttering a word.

Judging by the time, Gahoris and Gareth should be back soon, tomorrow or the day after… Three days ago, he ordered the two of them to lead a team north to search for possible intelligence. Although their strength was not as great as their elder brother Gawain, they were still first-rate knights. Even if they encountered those shadowy figures—though Morgan said they should be called “Shadow Spirits,” Lot always forgot to change the name—based on his observations over the past two weeks, the most Shadow Spirits had ever appeared at once was eight. It shouldn't be a problem…

The thought briefly crossed his mind before being replaced by other thoughts. After a while, a knock on the door interrupted another debate about counter-offensive versus defense, and then a letter was delivered to Lotte.

Looking at the familiar, bold handwriting on the paper, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, quite surprised.

"This is truly... an unexpected reinforcement."

……

A cold wind blew in, chilling the heart, while the torchlight meandered endlessly, looking down from above like a stream slowly flowing forward in the forest.

A drop of cold rain fell from the sky, landing on the tip of the paper on the boy's nose. He pursed his lips tightly, his still somewhat immature face straining to appear more authoritative. He spurred his horse to turn around, raised his hand, and shouted, "All troops, listen to my command! We will camp here tonight!"

"The whole army obeys the order——"

"At your command—"

Several voices relayed the order. Seeing the horses behind him gradually stop, Gahoris dismounted, took off his heavy leather gloves, and looked at his palm, which had a red mark from the reins, and couldn't help but smile bitterly.

Having ridden for several hours, he felt pain all over his body. He jumped around a couple of times to stretch his limbs and began helping the people around him set up camp. A moment later, the sound of hooves approached rapidly, and a figure clad in full armor, completely covered like a tin can, jumped off his equally heavily armed warhorse with a thud.

A cloud of dust billowed up. Gahoris waved his hand dismissively, and as the smoke dissipated, the skeletal knight abruptly dropped his large shield, then unfastened the sword and lance hanging on the other side of his horse, clattering as he walked towards them, awkwardly fiddling with his helmet. Gahoris sighed, went over, and helped him lift the visor, revealing a face strikingly similar to his own.

Perhaps because she had been cooped up in that "tin can" for so long, the girl's face was flushed, and her hair was wet as if it had been soaked in water. Feeling the sudden openness of her vision, she was stunned for a moment before she smiled and said, "Thank you!"

“I told you, this gear will get you killed sooner or later.” Gahoris glared at her, his tone not very friendly.

"Hehe, this makes me feel safe. Look, dressed like this, no one can cut me down—" The girl spread her arms and spun around in place, but because of her bulky armor, she looked like a grizzly bear preparing for winter, looking rather clumsy.

Gahoris remained silent for a while, and finally gave up on continuing to discuss this issue with his sister, who seemed to have lost her mind. After all, Fina had said that fools are often lucky, and if that was true, then his sister was probably the luckiest person in the world.

"Come help start the fire. It might rain today, and I don't know if the magic flame my mother made will last until we get back..."

"It's going to rain." Just as Gareth looked up, a raindrop smacked his face. He wrinkled his nose. "If it rains, those monsters will definitely attack again... just like last time."

"So we'll take turns keeping watch tonight. If anything seems amiss, we'll wake the other person up immediately."

"Okay, I'll keep watch for the rest of the night!"

"No."

"Why!?"

"You still ask why... Think back carefully, when haven't you been snoring before 10 o'clock every day?"

"Forehead……"

He waddled over like a penguin, and after a while, Gareth retorted, "You're talking nonsense, I sleep very quietly!"

"Shut up--"

A delicate magic device was tossed to her, which she caught hastily, then wrinkled her little nose. "Yes, yes, yes, I'll shut up, I'll shut up, okay? Humph—" she stuck her tongue out at her brother and turned to walk away. Morgan's magic device, though simple and easy to use, required a certain amount of magic to activate. Of this group, only she and her brother, along with three other magicians accompanying the army, could use it. Lighting all the campfires before the torches became wet and unusable was proving to be a very tight schedule.

At this marching pace, they should be back home by tomorrow. Unfortunately, they still couldn't find Uncle Leodogland and the others. The two countries have always maintained frequent exchanges, and Gahores considered the King of Scotland and his children like family. Thinking of those familiar faces now, he felt a mix of worry and a slight sense of loss. He just hoped they were alright…

The rain intensified, and golden flames began to ignite before their eyes. The magical flames couldn't be extinguished by water, but the warmth they provided was no different from ordinary flames. After the first batch of scouts returned, Gahoris ordered everyone to prepare dinner. Like King Lot, the three siblings disliked extravagance and usually ate the same things as ordinary soldiers—however, compared to Gawain's "mashed potatoes" that existed only to fill his stomach, Gahoris's sense of taste was still at the level of an ordinary person, and he wouldn't produce any truly culinary disasters.

In contrast, Gareth was very good at cooking, which made him think that his sister was more suited to be a cook than to go to war... He would never dare to say this to Gareth herself, otherwise she would probably chase him all the way from Orkney to Scotland with her shield.

Reflecting on the past, his heavy heart lightened slightly. Gahoris sat by the campfire, examining a sprouted potato for a long time. Fina had said this kind of potato was poisonous, but everyone else said it was edible if you removed the spoiled parts; throwing the whole thing away seemed too wasteful. After thinking for a moment, he tossed the potato into the nearby forest.

In the flickering firelight, he watched the potato arc through the air, while on the other side, Gareth, still clad in her heavy armor, swayed as she carried her shield, nearly as tall as herself. From the camp, the sounds of soldiers' laughter drifted in and out, and suddenly, he felt the air vibrate.

whoosh-

The potato, which had just reached its highest point and was about to fall, suddenly stopped.

It suddenly exploded before his eyes!

The campfire in front of him suddenly went dark, and the trembling sound in the air became clearer. Gareth stood up, reached out and drew the longsword beside him. Before he could speak, Gareth suddenly ripped off his mask, and a huge shield flew towards him, just in time to block the second arrow that was flying towards him.

Beneath her helmet, the girl shouted in a muffled voice, "Enemy attack!"

A sharp horn sounded then followed. Gahoris gripped his sword, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings. From the shadowy forest, one after another, dark figures gradually emerged from the night...

P.S.: I spent ages thinking about how to describe Sister Wang's outfit in Fa, but I figured no matter how I wrote it, it probably wouldn't pass the sensitive word list...emmmm

In short, Qingbai has been working hard lately to keep the plot from getting boring. Given how diligent he's been, shouldn't you all vote for him and post some comments and reviews? I'm really looking forward to it!

Chapter 196 Three Siblings (Part 2)

"Form ranks—"

"Remember what you learned during training!"

"Do not leave the area illuminated by the fire—"

The whistling sound of arrows piercing the air instantly enlivened the temporary camp. Gahoris had only brought a little over a hundred men this time, but they weren't facing the usual army or bandits.

The shadowy spirits, skilled in martial arts and elusive in their appearance, along with the endless strange hands lurking in the darkness, rendered the advantage of numbers extremely weak. No matter how many ordinary soldiers there were, they often could not leave behind any shadowy figures or stop the strange hands, only increasing casualties.

With this in mind, the battle-hardened King Lot quickly responded. He ordered the selection of a select few exceptional soldiers to undergo rigorous, teamwork-oriented training, with the aim of countering a select group of top fighters. Gahoris's recent mission, besides routine reconnaissance, was also to test the effectiveness of the past two weeks of training.

In fact, the soldiers' performance did not disappoint him.

The enormous shield swung through the air in a stunning arc before crashing heavily to the ground, kicking up clouds of dust. Countless decaying leaves and soil sank to the ground, filling the air with its distinctive, unpleasant odor.

"Is it okay!"

With his right hand holding a longsword, Gahoris picked up the black feathered arrow from the ground with his other hand. He watched as the black mist gradually dissipated, yet still tried to corrode his steel gloves, only to be blocked by a magical shield that appeared. He then nodded and replied, "Your assistance is always timely."

"Hmph, after all, I'm different from someone else; I'm quite clever." After tossing the shield over, Gareth, completely concealed beneath heavy armor, wobbled over like a penguin, speaking in a muffled voice. She was dragging a dark figure along her left arm; the smoke swirling around the figure was gradually dissipating, but it seemed it would take a while to identify the person.

Although he couldn't see the girl's expression, Gahoris could easily imagine his sister's nose practically pointing to the sky. He smiled faintly, didn't respond, and turned to look to the side.

The battles in other directions were also nearing their end. The soldiers here had all undergone rigorous training. Although their individual combat abilities could not be greatly improved in just half a month, their cooperation with each other was enough to produce impressive results in these small-scale skirmishes. When the results were being evaluated, one of the requirements was that they be able to hold out against Brother Gao Wen for 15 minutes.

Of course, Gawain wasn't in a blessed state, but even so, it was satisfying enough.

Gahoris watched as these specially trained soldiers, in groups of eight to ten, moved forward and backward, each wielding a different weapon—swords, spears, or lances. The two at the front carried shields, and several even held fishing nets, waiting for an opportunity to throw them.

Their opponents were individual Shadow Spirits, separated and fighting on their own. Although they used different weapons and had different fighting styles, their extremely refined combat skills made this young man, who was considered outstanding among the younger generation, feel his scalp tingle.

In a one-on-one fight, he would almost certainly be defeated by any of the Shadow Heroes here. Even on an ordinary battlefield, dozens of ordinary soldiers probably couldn't defeat a strongman of this caliber and would only become his dead souls.

"But even the fiercest beast, without intelligence, ultimately poses no threat..."

Iron shields parried, spears crossed, and a sword thrust through the gaps felled the last remaining Shadow Spirit still resisting. The campfire blazed brightly. He helped Gareth remove his mask, gathered the fallen Shadow Spirits, along with the other enemies, and placed them in the open space in the center of the makeshift camp. After a simple meal, about an hour later, the boy gathered everyone together.

"There were no fatalities, but two people were injured. Neither of them is in life-threatening condition... and they have been bandaged up."

"These eight Shadow Heroic Spirits that have appeared this time are different from any we've encountered before..."

"...It's different from what was in the intelligence."

The staff officer and several more knowledgeable squad leaders discussed among themselves. Gahoris looked at the eight corpses placed on the open ground. It was no easy task to capture a powerful warrior alive. Previously, they had spared no expense to capture a few survivors in order to get Morgan le Fay to investigate the cause and find a way to rescue him. There were only nine prisoners, but they had still caused Orkney heavy losses, losing seven officially knights, more than thirty squires, and more than a hundred soldiers.

They can't afford another loss like this.

“Five Picts, two Scots, and this one…” He stepped forward and carefully removed the helmet, which was rotten and twisted by the black mist, to examine the other man’s face: “As expected…”

The staff officer, a high-ranking officer in the military who had participated in the previous capture operation, clearly recognized the man: "It's Sir Ryan, who was unfortunately dragged away by those arms last time..."

“We still don’t know where those people who were dragged away by those arms went.” Gahoris bit his lip, a thoughtful look on his still somewhat childish face: “I’m afraid that’s the answer.”

"You mean..." Gareth's expression changed several times. She understood, but the thought was stuck in her throat, and she couldn't say it out loud.

The boy shook his head: "Let's leave that topic aside for now. When we get back, we'll tell Father and Mother what they think. Gareth, give me the water—"

"it is good."

He took the water bag, uncorked it, and poured the water evenly over the corpse in front of him. In the drizzling rain, Gareth closed his eyes and softly sang a song of farewell to the dead. Behind him, amidst the clanging of armor, Gareth closed his eyes, his hand gently pressing against his chest as he sang softly. Some of the others sang aloud, some moved their lips silently, and some looked away in silence, but all their faces were filled with sorrow.

The chorus sounded like the wind passing through the forest. A few minutes later, Gahoris placed the empty water bag on the chest of the Orkni knight and used his hand to close the man's unseeing eyes. Gahoris turned around and said, "Bury them on the spot."

"Those Picts too..."

“They are facing the same enemy as us at this moment,” he replied.

"Yes." The staff officer bowed and raised no further questions. In Scottish legends, the gods of Danu reside in the fairyland of Tirnanor, and their messengers travel deep into the wilderness and forests, blessing the living who stray into the wilderness and guiding the dead to the stream of souls.

For most, being buried in the forest is a dignified end. Gahoris looked up at the dark, gloomy landscape ahead. Over hundreds and thousands of years, how many corpses had been buried in this vast forest...? In a sense, this was the common cemetery of the people of the North. Nobles or commoners alike, after death, would return to the forest until they would be reborn.

Life and death are as usual, and the cycle of reincarnation continues.

"Woo..."

"Don't cry." Hearing his sister sniffling behind him, he couldn't help but sigh, pulling his thoughts back from the sudden sadness. He patted Gareth on the shoulder: "Honestly, you're not a child anymore, yet you still cry so much."

"I wasn't crying..." Gareth pouted, covering his eyes tightly with the back of his hand.

"Okay, you didn't cry."

After a moment, she said in a muffled voice, "And, someone else has died..."

“My mother said that it’s a good thing that you can still cry over things.” After thinking for a moment, Gahoris could only comfort her with his mother’s words.

“I always feel like you’re laughing at me.” Gareth sniffed, rubbed her eyes hard, and when she lowered her hand, her face was covered in several streaks of dust. She didn’t seem to notice, and Gareth didn’t remind her, lest she become angry.

Besides, the two of them were probably too preoccupied with such trivial matters at the moment. Otherwise, he would usually remind his sister not to rub her eyes, as Fina had said it could get bad things in her eyes and cause illness…

"Go and rest. It's getting late, you can still get some more sleep."

"And you, Gahoris?"

"I was on guard duty for the first half of last night, and I'm not sleepy at all. I really am not sleepy... Don't stare at me like that, I'm really not sleepy at all!"

"...Okay." After staring at Gahoris for a long time without blinking, the girl finally nodded hesitantly, covered her mouth and yawned, then slowly strolled towards the tent.

Her armor was a birthday gift from her parents last year. Morgan had applied various magical effects to it—the most important of which was, of course, lightweight. Otherwise, how could someone as small as Gareth be able to wear such a suit of armor that could weigh down an adult male and still move around so freely?

That's why she could easily put on and take off the armor simply by reciting a spell, without needing anyone to help her. After seeing Gareth off to rest, the people to keep watch at the camp were decided. In the ever-burning firelight, the air became quiet. Gareth flipped through his notes, adding a few strokes now and then, making corrections or annotations. Several hours passed like this. The rain intensified for a while, then gradually subsided, and finally stopped in the latter half of the night.