Before long, the other four Knights of the Round Table raised their heads one after another.
Time continued to pass.
One minute.
Three minutes.
Five minutes.
Gradually, most of them raised their heads.
The light in some people's eyes had dimmed, while others' eyes shone brightly.
Seeing this, Artoria continued:
"Good. I can see that, to some extent, you have all found answers of your own.
Let me sum things up a little.
First, many of you-mostly infantrymen and archers-are farmers or hunters who were conscripted.
Of course, some volunteered for the generous pay offered to soldiers.
To survive, or to live better lives, you had no choice but to take up swords and bows and fight.
You were fortunate. You have survived to this day."
The king on the platform resumed her regal bearing and made this declaration with aloof pride.
Countless men among them clenched their fists.
But the king did not care.
"Second, more than ninety percent of our cavalry come from hereditary knightly families, and quite a few are of distinguished birth. You are even more fortunate.
Even in defeat, you generally will not be killed. Instead, your families will ransom you.
And a considerable number of you came to this battlefield for nothing more than a single word:
-'Honor.'
Whether personal honor or your family's honor, there is nothing wrong with that.
But in my eyes, you are fundamentally no different from the two kinds of people I just mentioned."
The king delivered this verdict coldly.
Her voice traveled through the amplification Magecraft Array Sovell had built, reaching every corner of the camp and every soldier's ears.
The instant she finished speaking, an uproar erupted throughout the camp. The soldiers whispered among themselves, and Artoria heard every word clearly:
"How