The Old Woman with Two Guns

"Our losses this battle total over a hundred men, while we have claimed two thousand enemy heads and taken twenty-three thousand prisoners—a resounding victory! From this day forth, Ireland has no strength left to resist; a single proclamation shall suffice to secure it."

"However, the spoils of armor and weapons are meager, and the grain stores are pitifully sparse."

Once the battlefield was cleared and the tally completed, Leon received the final count of the spoils.

After a careful calculation, he realized that the total value of the seized supplies, if converted into grain, did not even amount to half of what his army had consumed during the campaign.

It was a total loss.

There was no help for it; Ireland was too barren. The local lords were so poor they could barely scrape by, and the island offered nothing but hills and mountains. With so little arable land, Leon could think of no other development strategy beyond planting potatoes.

Had it not been for his strategic vision—the need to pull this thorn from his back before marching upon the Europa Continent—he never would have bothered with such a destitute place. The cost of the expedition alone outweighed the gains.

"There is one more matter to report to my King: Commander Leish has been struck by a stray arrow and has unfortunately passed away."

"Hm? Leish is dead?"

Leish was a close friend of Luther, and a man Leon addressed as uncle. After Leon pulled the Sword in the Stone, Leish had been the first to pledge his loyalty, contributing men and resources to help Leon march on the capital and secure his rightful claim to the throne.

A veteran of many campaigns with vast experience, Leon had entrusted him with a thousand-man unit today, keeping him close to maintain the division of enemy lines and expand their advantage.

It was meant to be a position where he could claim glory without risk; hearing of his death on the battlefield left Leon momentarily stunned.

When he inspected the body, he found no other injuries; the armor was intact, save for a single arrow that had slipped through the gap in the gorget to pierce his throat.

One could only say his luck was abysmal.

Leon fell silent for a long moment before saying, "The old commander is dead. Let his son inherit his title, reduced by one rank according to the new laws, and let him inherit the estate. Since the battle is won, he may return to Britain early. Hold the funeral with the honors of the previous rank."

"Thank you, my King."

Leish's son, who had been prostrate over the body, knelt and wept with gratitude upon hearing Leon's words.

"Alas, mourn well."

After offering a few words of comfort to his childhood companion, Leon hurried away.

With the battle just concluded, there were countless matters to attend to; Leon had no time to dwell on personal grief.

"My King, what shall be done with the old commander's personal guard?"

Hearing the question, Leon replied with a blank expression, "Follow the law."

"...Understood."

Leon watched the messenger depart, knowing that this single order would lead to the execution of over a hundred well-trained knights.

But there was no choice; military law was merciless, and Leon would not break the statutes he had authored himself.

According to military law, if a commanding officer falls in battle, his personal guard is to be executed without exception.

With Leish dead, his hundred-man personal guard would be put to the sword, and since they were not considered to have died in combat, there would be no pensions.

It was a pity for those knights... at this rate, more men would die by military law than by the enemy's hand.

Leon placed Lancelot in temporary command of Leish's thousand-man unit. Having achieved the great merit of slaying enemy generals and seizing banners, Lancelot's ability should be enough to tame those troops.

The specific rewards would be granted upon their return to Camelot.

Most of the Irish lords had been captured, and while some were not present, they were incapable of causing any real trouble. As news of his crushing victory spread, they would surely lack the courage to resist.

Leon had wanted to absorb all these prisoners, but his own foundations were too thin to support them, so he had to release the majority.

When meeting the captured lords, Leon promised not to seize their lands or property, then appointed Kay as the Governor of Ireland to manage the territory. Simultaneously, he drafted a portion of the able-bodied men from the prisoners to form auxiliary troops to help maintain order.

Leon specifically established two thousand-man units, ordering these armed nobles to fill the ranks with their own men, while also taking their heirs into his personal guard as both a hostage and a favor.

As for future taxes, that was a matter of course; there was no escaping them.

With their lives and fortunes in his hands, the Irish lords dared not refuse Leon's demands.

Moreover, Leon's terms were not overly harsh; their lives and properties remained intact, and they were merely paying a "blood tax" in the form of military service.

Late that night, Leon summoned Kay to explain his full plan for Ireland.

"I have only two requirements: first, stability—Ireland must never again be a thorn in Britain's back. Second, assimilation—the locals must develop an identity with Britain and support Camelot's rule."

Stability was to ensure his rear remained secure when he marched east to the Europa Continent.

Assimilation was to gain Ireland's population; since their race and culture were similar, they would serve as a future source of manpower.

He could not occupy Ireland only to face constant terrorist attacks from an organization like the IRA, as in his past life; that would make the conquest pointless.

"Draft the commoners to build great cities to suppress and rule them. Keep the locals fed enough to survive but hungry enough to be exhausted by labor."

Much like the secret of politics proposed by Tokugawa Ieyasu, keeping the peasants on the brink of starvation ensured tax revenue while weakening their capacity for rebellion.

Leon found this deeply agreeable.

"I am leaving Agravain with you. He has shown capable judgment by my side these past few days; let him handle your paperwork and assist with administration. He is more than up to the task."

"As for the local forces, I will take those two thousand-man units back to Britain, but I will leave one unit here; that should be enough to help you keep order."

Leon intended to take them back to Britain, far from Ireland, to maximize the weakening of local armed forces and make Kay's administration easier.

Once these two Irish thousand-man units reached Britain, they could also serve as a check against Scotland and the Saxon territories, further stabilizing the domestic structure.

"Understood."

Kay's capabilities were plain for all to see, and with Artoria by his side, Leon could rest easy entrusting the territory of a large island to him.

As for how Kay would govern Ireland in the future, Leon didn't care much; even if Kay wanted to emulate the famous Queen Victoria of England, as long as he could maintain stability, he would accept it.

After sorting through the general workload, Leon led his troops to the bay camp on the island to rest. Seeing that Kay had handled the island's affairs quite well over the past few days, he began to think about returning.

Before he could make a decision, he heard a personal guard enter the tent to report.

"Reporting to the King, someone has broken into the camp head-on and is currently in a stalemate with Commander Lancelot."

Was there really someone on this godforsaken island whose martial arts could match Lancelot's?

Leon asked the messenger about the intruder's appearance as he walked. When he heard that the enemy was a woman in purple wielding a crimson spear, he immediately guessed her identity.

No way, is this old woman's personality really that reckless?

To dare to break into a camp of four or five thousand men all by herself—is she really that desperate to die?

When he arrived at the camp gate, Lancelot was already locked in combat with the enemy. White sword light and crimson spear radiance were entangled, overflowing with killing intent. Faced with such a high-level confrontation, the surrounding soldiers were unable to intervene at all.

Lancelot had been fighting for a while, and the opponent had already figured out his patterns and habits; he was now in a precarious situation, and it seemed he would lose before long.

The two combatants saw Leon's massive figure and immediately separated.

Lancelot stood before Leon with his sword raised, vigilantly watching the opponent. Knowing that his sovereign was also a man who enjoyed battle, he hurriedly cautioned Leon: "My King, please be careful. This person's martial arts are so strong that they are rarely seen in this world."

"I am already aware of this. To be able to fight you to a standstill is truly terrifying."

Looking at the woman standing there with her spear, her battle aura biting and cold, Leon's interest was thoroughly piqued. He asked a question he already knew the answer to: "Woman, state your name."