Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator

You are considering proposing to King Uther—perhaps it's time to initiate a full-scale war with the Anglo-Saxons. Whatever Hengist is plotting, a war would force his hand and disrupt his schemes. This is the ultimate strategy of the military art: using the orthodox to conquer the unorthodox.

If you can't negotiate trade, then force them to trade through military might.

Capital always chases profit—this is a fundamental law, impervious to any individual's resistance. Assets are driven by their natural urge to expand; if they cease to grow, they destroy themselves. Anyone in this position will inevitably be swept away by the tide of capital.

Perhaps... this applies to you as well?

Your heart grows increasingly uncertain. Have you forgotten where you came from?

Are you still the sage who believes that the virtuous will ultimately prevail, or have you begun to accept that pursuing wealth and profit, even at the cost of a war drenched in blood, is a necessity?

---

As Kaelar approached his sixteenth birthday, he had grown into a more commanding presence than ever. Like a radiant sun, he exuded a charisma that was difficult to resist. He now stood tall like a fully grown man, his hands rough with the calluses earned from years of training with cold steel.

He had also become the strongest knight of Maple Ridge. At his formal coming-of-age ceremony, Kaelar single-handedly bested all of Maple Ridge's knights. Over the past years, he had introduced a crest—the Kaelar Insignia—which became the emblem of honor that every knight coveted.

"It seems Hengist and his brother are indeed up to something," Kaelar muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Those two are a real headache, far more troublesome than Vortigern."

There had been no Anglo-Saxon raids or trading missions for some time. Kaelar knew it was likely due to a decree from Hengist himself, forbidding any ships from setting sail. In the earlier trade ventures, some of Kaelar's loyal informants had already hinted that Hengist was investigating his philosophy of mercy and education.

Kaelar had warned them to lie low and avoid unnecessary risks, but it appeared his warnings were ignored—or they simply weren't able to evade Hengist's suspicions.

"Morgan? Morgan?" Kaelar called out mentally. Over the years, the spiritual link he shared with Morgan had grown stronger. Unless she was hidden in a secret realm like Avalon, she would respond immediately to his summons.

"What is it?" came Morgan's icy, detached voice. The distant, ethereal tone of the ice queen would have made most people hesitate, but Kaelar remained unfazed.

He was too thick-skinned for that.

Ignoring her cold demeanor, he said warmly, "Morgan-sensei, I need a little favor from you..."

"Kael! You're now a renowned hero of Britain, so stop relying on me—a woman—for everything!" Morgan's icy composure shattered, her frustration spilling over. "Keep this up, and I swear I'll never answer your calls again!"

The term "call" was something Kaelar had taught her—a simple, magical form of communication that was only one-way. Morgan would only answer his calls.

"This is the last time, I swear! Just this one last favor, Morgan-sensei, I promise!" Kaelar pleaded with a playful smile. Morgan wasn't physically present, but if she could see him now, she'd probably smack him.

Morgan didn't buy it for a second, laughing coldly. "Ha. Not interested. I'm busy researching magic."

Kaelar hurriedly protested, "No, no, don't go! My dear Morgan, please, just one small favor! I wouldn't dare disturb you unless it was truly urgent!"

Morgan's attention, however, caught on a different point. "Did you just call me old?" she asked, her voice frigid.

"..." Kaelar swallowed awkwardly, dodging the question. "It's about the Anglo-Saxons. They haven't shown up in months. I suspect Hengist is behind this. If you have the time, would you mind checking out their territory?"

"Hmph. I knew it. You never call unless you need something," Morgan replied coolly. "When it's 'Morgan-sensei,' you're all needy, but when it's 'Lily,' you act all casual... It sounds like your life has been pretty comfortable, Kael."

"...Morgan, please, don't sound like some bitter, secluded maiden. It's... unsettling," Kaelar retorted, half-exasperated.

"Get lost! I'm not helping you!" Morgan snapped, abruptly severing their mental link. Yet, Kaelar wasn't worried; he knew this prideful sorceress would still end up helping him despite her bluster.

He had a knack for handling this old-school tsundere.

"Speaking of Lily... What's the little lion up to?" Kaelar wondered aloud. He couldn't help but marvel at Artoria's progress. The future King of Knights—the fabled Red Dragon of Britain—was indeed in a class of her own. Even at her young age, Artoria was far stronger than he had been at the same age.

Artoria seemed to possess an innate, A-level talent for combat and horsemanship. If she were a simulation character, her skill attributes would be nothing short of legendary—far surpassing Kaelar's own 'All-Weapon Mastery,' which barely rated as 'blue tier.'

She now served as the commander of Kaelar's Lord's Guard, leading an army of 3,500 infantry.

"Arthur, leading troops at the tender age of ten," Kaelar mused with a smile. "My way of teaching is far better than that useless old fool Uther's."

Merlin still infiltrated Artoria's dreams nightly, imparting King Uther's vision of kingship, striving to mold her into the ideal ruler of the king's imagination.

But such an ideal ruler would merely be a cold, unfeeling machine, ultimately undone by the very perfection it embodied.

Besides, if you couldn't even defeat Vortigern without the Romans' help, what sort of vision could Uther possibly have? If Artoria were to fully embrace Uther's ideology, she'd be forever limited by his stunted imagination.

Luckily, that scenario would never unfold. Kaelar had been using examples from Rome and China's greatest rulers as lessons, showing Artoria how history's finest kings truly led. With such teachings, it was impossible for her to stray from the right path.

At that moment, Artoria was busy training the Lord's Guard in the Yan-Yang formation. The essence of the formation was straightforward—discipline that far surpassed the standards of the era.

Japan's Warring States period saw a similar evolution. Emerging from Tang dynasty influences, it charted its own course. Even a handful of rogue Japanese pirates could devastate entire provinces, showcasing their formidable skills.

Qi Jiguang, a legendary Chinese general, had trained miners into elite troops using the Yan-Yang formation, armed with specialized weapons for forest and village combat. They could eliminate thousands of pirates while sustaining minimal casualties.

The only thing that ever posed a threat to Qi's army was betrayal from within—like a false order calling them to collect pay without weapons or armor, leaving them defenseless.

The Anglo-Saxons were also a seafaring people, experts in ocean survival, perhaps even surpassing the Japanese pirates of old.

This was, indeed, a perfect match.

Artoria, frowning, turned to Kaelar. "Kael, I have a bad feeling... something's not right."