No fortune is vast enough to withstand a wastrel heir.
With Guinevere dead-set on joining the Round Table, King Leodegrance was utterly powerless to stop her.
Treating it as though he were sending his daughter off to marriage, Leodegrance tallied up his knights.
A contingent of one hundred fifty seemed appropriate enough to ensure her safety.
Even in the worst battlefield rout, they could protect her.
Leodegrance clutched his chest inwardly.
Thus, the next day, his gaze toward Morgan and Lot remained distinctly unfriendly.
Morgan fully aware of why hid the lower half of her face behind a fan Lot had given her, her eyes crinkling in victory.
Lot, however, was baffled.
[You tried to poach my sister-in-law, and now you're giving me dirty looks?]
Hearing his thoughts, Morgan nearly laughed.
Go on. I may be in the wrong here, but you avenge me.
As Lot continued staring him down, Leodegrance's anger flared.
His eyes bulged, as if attempting to develop the supernatural ability to kill with a glance.
The two men stood locked in a battle of withering stares
Until Artoria hurried in, breaking the tension.
"...Huh? What's going on?"
She blinked in confusion.
But she knew better than to pry if she wanted to keep eating peacefully.
Turning to Lot and Morgan, she reported:
"Your Majesty, King Rience has rallied his forces and approaches once more. He seeks another battle."
At this, both Lot and Leodegrance snapped their attention to her.
Leodegrance frowned in concern.
Lot, however, broke into a grin.
"Perfect. We've been waiting for them."
He strode toward the door, calling over his shoulder:
"Morgan, Artoria distribute what I brought back yesterday to every Knight of the Round. Have each carry a few. And handle them gently. Watch for my signal later."
[Time to let our enemies taste the Soviet's black tech.]
[Going full 'big boom' every bunny's favorite pastime.]
Morgan tilted her head at Lot.
Why is he calling himself a 'bunny' now?
Does he like being praised that way?
...Should I start calling him a 'good bunny' from now on?
On the castle walls, Lot distributed the RG-60TB thermobaric grenades to the Round Table knights.
For all their flaws, the knights were at least obedient.
They held the grenades carefully, making no sudden moves.
Lot nodded in approval.
These grenades crafted by the Red Bear were the most powerful in the world. Packed with 70 grams of thermobaric explosive, their blast yield matched 550-660 grams of TNT, with ten times the destructive force of standard grenades.
A single throw would be... spectacular.
The Round Table knights were heroes of the Age of Gods, each physically surpassing even the elite athletes of Lot's previous world.
Their throws would rival mortar fire.
As King Rience's army assembled below, Lot instructed:
"At my command, mimic my motion and hurl these toward Rience's position."
Artoria clutched a grenade, tense but resolute.
Below, King Rience surveyed his troops with smug satisfaction.
So what if you beat me yesterday?
So what if you have a few strong knights?
You won through cowardly ambush!
Face me properly this time!
His numbers still held the advantage.
Today, he wouldn't give them any opening to strike first.
After his humiliating retreat, Rience had regrouped with his scattered forces.
Exhausted from the previous battle, Artoria and Leodegrance hadn't pursued far, allowing most to escape.
Reinforced by garrison troops, Rience had mustered another formidable host.
The mages, however, hadn't returned having fled at the first sign of danger, they knew reappearing would earn them Rience's blade.
Not that it mattered.
His numbers were sufficient.
He'd returned for vengeance, unwilling to accept yesterday's defeat.
They only won through surprise.
In a fair fight, with fewer troops, they stand no chance.
As his army reached the castle's base, Rience squinted upward, expecting to see fear on his enemies' faces.
Instead, he found them holding... metal lumps?
Hah! Are they planning to throw these at us?
The knights hurled the objects downward.
"Have they lost their minds? Do they take us for helpless fools, to be pelted with scrap?"
Rience laughed scornfully, raising his lance to bat the "scrap" away
A chain of explosions engulfed him.
The last expression frozen on Rience's face was one of bewildered amusement.
From the castle walls, Lot watched the explosions swallow Rience with deep satisfaction.
"Tch. And here I was hoping to duel him properly. Ah well."
His tone was almost disappointed.
Around him, every face even the knights who'd thrown the grenades was pale with shock.
None had anticipated such catastrophic power.
This... is terrifying.
Lot's gaze slid to Leodegrance.
[Still feel like glaring at me now?]
Morgan, hearing his thought, couldn't suppress a giggle.
This guy... really holds a grudge.