Before the campaign.
King Uther had gathered an army of ten thousand, intending to drive the vile Saxons out for good in one decisive campaign—and to settle things with his elder brother, the Vile King Vortigern.
Anno knew little about the Vile King Vortigern. In fact, he knew almost nothing, having learned only a few details from Merlin.
Vortigern was a terrifying being who could transform into a white dragon. He was said to be Britain itself, and to oppose him was to oppose Britain.
The Vile King's younger brother, King Uther, Britain's Knight King, had sneered at the claim. Vortigern was merely a rat who had lost the contest for the throne, a creature with nothing but muscle between his ears.
Anno followed behind King Uther, alongside the other guard knights, protecting the king at the head of the column.
Britain revered strength, and as king, Uther was expected to lead from the front.
Watching the orderly army, Anno felt his spirits rise.
Yet behind that surge of courage lay a trace of reluctance and confusion. His hands had been stained with blood over the past year, but almost all of it had been Orc and Goblin blood. Now that he stood among this army, he was about to raise his blade against his own kind.
Uther gave what Anno considered a thoroughly uninspiring speech, but the soldiers answered with a thunderous roar, their morale soaring.
King Uther and the knights swung into their saddles and led the army off at a gallop.
Far to the north, in a certain city.
Inside a castle.
A gaunt man sat within the castle.
His hand propped up his face, his eyes closed. He seemed neither fully awake nor asleep.
Age had begun to show on him, but his presence remained formidable.
He had stolen Britain's will and become Britain itself, yet had drawn the Saxons' covetous gaze upon the land, seeking to overturn its rightful order. He was no longer human, but a vile ruler—the Demon Dragon Vortigern.
That was what he was.
A Saxon stumbled into the castle, trembling as he reported to Vortigern, "My king, the knights have set out from Camelot."
Vortigern's eyes snapped open. The Saxon soldier was so frightened that he fell to the ground.
Vortigern paid him no mind. He rose and walked to the window, gazing toward Camelot in the distance. A chilling smile curled his lips.
"So you've come, my brother, Uther." Madness gleamed in Vortigern's eyes.
As he rode with the marching army, Anno suddenly felt a chill run down his back. His right eyelid twitched of its own accord.
What was this feeling?
He suddenly had a feeling this war wouldn't be so simple.
Merlin noticed that something was off with Anno, but merely smiled and thought nothing of it.
In the future he had foreseen, King Uther, wielding nearly all his power and Mystery, had barely managed to draw with the Vile King. What chance did Anno have of taking part in a clash of Mysteries, when his only connection to Mystery was the Treasure Armor he wore?
Still, nothing was certain, was it?
Merlin cared for humanity as a whole, but paid little mind to individuals. Of course, if there was a beautiful young woman around, he was always happy to strike up a conversation.
Across every worldline, there was only one individual Merlin truly cared about: King Arthur—Artoria Pendragon.
Only that king was worth the attention of the Magician of Flowers.
Before you continue