War upon the seas was nothing new in this world.
In the distant past, the Sea Peoples crossed vast oceans to bring about the fall of the Hittite Empire and weaken Egypt. Closer to the present, the naval battle of Actium between Rome's Octavian and Antony saw nearly a thousand ships combined on both sides.
Compared to those, Lot's fleet of fewer than a hundred vessels was hardly noteworthy.
But for the island nation of Britain, this strategy of a long-distance strike against the enemy's rear was still quite novel.
[Heh, dear Vortigern, the Usurper King—just wait and see how I lead my men to thoroughly wreck your backside!]
Sitting aboard his warship, Lot munched on an apple stolen from Merlin's stash, grinning smugly to himself.
Nearby, Morgan, who happened to be passing by, overheard his words and shuddered violently.
Thanks to Lot's teachings, Morgan was now well-versed in certain… metaphors.
That analogy is just too weird!
Do you actually have those kinds of preferences?!
Even if you're not into men…
Horndog, I'm warning you—don't you dare get any ideas!
Thinking this, she raised a finger and flicked it threateningly in Lot's direction.
Lot stared at her gesture, baffled.
What's this reaction about?
"Morgan, what are you doing?" he asked, puzzled.
After a moment of thought, he concluded that aside from sneaking and eating the sweets she had hidden away yesterday, he hadn't done anything to offend her.
I just forgot to bring my own, and I was craving something sweet, so I took hers. It's not that big a deal, right?
Or is it because I was planning to sneak in and steal her clothes while she was bathing, leaving only a JK uniform behind? But I haven't actually done that yet!
Morgan clenched her fists.
Truly, a dog through and through.
"Reflect on what you've done wrong," she finally said, glaring at him indignantly.
Go on, I've got mind-reading active right now. Confess all your sins.
I'll note down every last grievance.
We'll settle them all later.
After reconsidering the two incidents, Lot firmly shook his head.
"Nope, nothing at all."
Lot answered with utter sincerity.
Then, quickly changing the subject, he asked, "By the way, weren't you just inspecting the other ships earlier? Did you find anything?"
The best way to handle his wife was to bring up official matters whenever she tried to discuss personal ones—and vice versa.
"Aside from Artoria's ship running low on food, there aren't any issues with the others. But the soldiers don't really understand why you're making them eat a lemon every day."
Morgan was curious about this too, but she would never ask outright.
These were the soldiers' questions, after all.
Nothing to do with me.
"They don't need to understand. They just need to know I'm doing this for their own good," Lot replied.
[Explaining things like scurvy and vitamin C deficiencies would be pointless. Better to just enforce it as an order.]
Hearing these unfamiliar terms, Morgan was utterly lost.
What is he talking about?
She wanted to ask directly, but doing so would make her seem ignorant.
I'm a magus, and even I don't know these things. How would a knight understand?
Just wait—I'll quietly ask the veteran sailors about these symptoms, study the effects of lemons, and figure out what this "vitamin C" is.
Then I'll show you what a real surprise looks like.
As a first-rate magus, I'll master this subject far better than you ever could, Lot.
But outwardly, she simply nodded and sat down beside him.
"Fine, I'll pass that along to them."
Morgan stretched lightly and picked up an apple.
Taking a bite, she remarked, "It's really sweet. Is this Merlin's?"
"Of course. Stole it right from him," Lot said with a sly grin. "No one else could've pulled it off."
"True, only you could manage that." Morgan paused, then added, "So go steal some more."
"After all, things stolen from that old swindler taste especially sweet!"
Both Morgan and Lot spoke the same words in unison, then shared a knowing smile.
This wasn't something Morgan had eavesdropped—it was genuine, straight from the heart.
Their thoughts had aligned perfectly.
Somewhere in the shadows, a certain white-haired trickster rubbed his nose.
While he couldn't use clairvoyance to spy on Lot, that didn't mean he couldn't watch with his own eyes.
Steal from me, then slander me behind my back?
Merlin mused that if he were capable of real emotion, he might've jumped out right then to chastise them.
Unaware of Merlin's hidden gaze, Morgan turned serious, voicing her concerns about the upcoming battle.
"Do you really think striking Vortigern from behind will guarantee victory? How can we further strengthen our army's combat effectiveness?"
"At this point, only monetary incentives will motivate the soldiers. Other methods won't work as well."
[The best way to boost a soldier's fighting spirit is to give them unwavering faith—a cause to fight for, not some false deity, but for the nation itself. Combined with strict discipline, such an army would be formidable. But there's only one force like that, nearly impossible to replicate. The soldiers of Orkney lack the education for it. The crudest method—financial rewards—is all we can rely on to enhance their morale. A shame, really. We'll just have to refine our tactics to minimize losses.]
An army fueled by faith and iron discipline?
Such a force actually existed?
Morgan was stunned by the thoughts in Lot's mind.
Her competitive spirit flared.
After I become queen, I'll create such an army too.
Getting ordinary soldiers to that level would be incredibly difficult.
Morgan frowned, troubled—until a sudden idea struck her.
Soldiers might not be up to the task, but what about knights?
What if I established an order of knights who fought not for God, nor for land, but for Camelot's strength?
Would such a knightly order be even more powerful?