A month had passed since Merlin bestowed his second blessing on Gawain.
Over that month, Sovell had reorganized the military and arranged training for the soldiers on the king's orders, preparing to launch a war to unite all of Britain.
Today, the spies planted among the Six Kings' armies sent another report:
"You're saying... those six scoundrels have joined forces with another five rebel lords, formed eleven armies, and are preparing to rise against the crown again?"
"Yes, my lord."
In the palace, Sovell sat in the secondary seat, listening to the messenger's report from below.
"According to reliable intelligence from our inside source, the five newly joined lords are Duke Eustace of Cambernet, King Clarence of Northumberland, King Brandelis of Strangore, King Adris of Cornwall, and King Clydemas.
They've been openly recruiting troops among their subjects, even swearing to share good fortune and hardship alike.
Together, these eleven forces have fifty thousand cavalry and ten thousand infantry..."
"Wait, HOW many cavalry?!"
Before the messenger could finish, Sovell could no longer contain his astonishment and blurted out his question.
"Say that again. How many cavalry do they have?"
Artoria, seated on the highest throne, asked the messenger to repeat himself. She, too, doubted the report's accuracy.
The messenger wore a conflicted expression. When he had received the intelligence from their inside source, he had asked the same question as Sovell.
He had even written back to ask whether the information was reliable. The source's reply had first given him a thorough scolding, then confirmed that it was true.
After all, a spy's only reassurance was the people openly backing him. If they could not trust each other, the intelligence he sent would be practically worthless, and so would he.
"Your Majesty, my lord. Fifty thousand cavalry. There is no doubt."