Hans Christian Andersen never figured out why both Anno and Lawrence had taken issue with him over a fairy tale he had casually written, because the Sphinxes had already arrived at Lancelot's camp.
"Father." Lancelot came out to greet them. Looking at the group of Sphinxes carrying everyone, a faint smile appeared on his face. "It seems everyone from Chaldea had a smooth journey."
"Where are the King and the others?" Anno patted a Sphinx's furry arm and looked into the camp.
"According to the schedule, they have already departed in separate groups."
Anno beckoned to Fujimaru Ritsuka and Mash. The four of them walked together, while Xuanzang somehow drifted over as well.
"I have already arranged which areas along the route can avoid aerial reconnaissance. Now we only need to wait for the entire army to assemble. Once they are all here, we can immediately launch a full-scale assault on the Holy City." Having reaffirmed his resolve, Lancelot spoke with stern determination.
"What was the final troop count? Have Bedivere and the others communicated with East Village?"
Anno walked at the front, as though he were not Lancelot's father at the moment, but merely his superior officer.
"The exact number is 8,422, excluding Servant units. Their equipment is in good condition; it was all hidden here by me beforehand." Lancelot reported swiftly.
Anno's steps paused for a moment, and his gaze at Lancelot held a somewhat... inexplicable meaning.
"What is it?" Lancelot asked in confusion.
"...Nothing." Anno looked ahead again, acting as if nothing had happened. "Who left first? How long have they been gone?"
He had the feeling that his son might have an unexpected talent for rebellion.
"Percival left first, at dusk yesterday." Lancelot did not notice anything unusual and continued his report. "Then Bedivere led another