"Enough, Sovell. Don't let them wag their tails and beg before me like roadside dogs. It disgusts me to watch.
Romans, take your people and get out of Britain."
Artoria waved impatiently, signaling for the guards to show them out.
And so the Roman delegation, which had arrived with heads held high, departed looking as though their parents had died.
After the court assembly, Sovell found himself surrounded by the generals, particularly the knights of the Round Table.
The reason was simple.
It had felt so good!
As subjects, they had no authority to punish another nation's envoys, while having their King personally take action would have been beneath her dignity.
Sovell, on the other hand, occupied the delicate position of a prince, making him the ideal person to act.
He could keep the king's hands clean while making the Pendragon family's stance clear.
As for whether he had overstepped his authority?
That was the least of their concerns.
Lord Sovell and the king were so close that even the common folk were beginning to suspect some sort of bedroom arrangement. His stance was practically the king's stance already.
In fact...
That was indeed the case.
The anger deep in Artoria's eyes was plain to see, and her fingertips tapping against the marble armrest spoke of her disgust for Rome.
Had she not been the king, she would have cut them down already.
The next day, before Camelot's Heroes’ Monument, Artoria gathered her subjects and the people of the Royal City and delivered an impassioned speech:
"I know that most of you here understand why I have gathered everyone.
Yes. War is upon us again.
We have enjoyed less than a year of peace.
I know that resentment weighs on your hearts.
Winning every battle is nothing for