si-mexico Chapter 36 Northern Territory
Chapter 36 Northern Territory
The roundtable meeting was held in the early morning.
In the hall, the knights took their seats one after another.
Kai was sitting in the first seat on the left, and the bandage on his left arm had been removed.
Instead, he wore a dark brown leather wristband, which he sewed himself, with crooked stitches, but he insisted it was "very stylish."
Gawain sat opposite him, Tristan sat at the end of the table with his harp in his arms, and Lancelot sat next to Tristan.
Bedivere sat to Arthur's right, his silver prosthetic arm resting on the edge of the table, with a roll of urgent news from the North spread out in front of him.
Arthur sat at the round table, directly opposite the doorway, because it was the last seat to become available.
"Urgent report from the North."
He unfolded the parchment, and the Dragon Power River automatically detected the remaining magical aura on the paper.
It was still cold and desolate, but paler than yesterday, like the last damp trace left on the remaining snow after it had been dried by the midday sun.
"Pictan scouts appeared south of Hadrian's Wall, in groups of three, four in total."
The northern lord's patrol cavalry encountered them; after a brief skirmish, the enemy withdrew north without casualties.
Kai frowned.
"A voluntary retreat to the north? When did the Pictish scouts learn to 'retreat voluntarily'? They usually practically want to rush to the city walls and challenge us."
"That's the problem." Bedivere pointed to a line of text on the parchment with his silver prosthetic arm:
"The Northern Lord's report mentioned that the scouts 'did not seem to be scouting, but rather looking for something.'"
Moreover, their first reaction when encountering patrolling cavalry was not to engage in battle, but to disperse and retreat.
Three groups successfully escaped back north of the Great Wall, while the fourth group was blocked from retreating, but they preferred to jump into the icy river rather than be captured.
Everyone fell silent for a moment as they pondered.
Gawain spoke up:
"The Picts are one of the oldest tribes in Britain."
They had lived north of Hadrian's Wall for centuries and knew that land inside and out.
If even they need to send out scouts to 'find something'...
"That means that thing isn't familiar to them," Tristan continued, his fingers pausing from plucking the strings. "Or rather, that thing wasn't there before."
Arthur placed the parchment back on the table; his Dragonforce Channel was processing the information.
Pickett scouts, voluntarily retreats north, searches for something, and would rather jump into a river than be captured.
These fragments are clear on their own, but they are missing a crucial connecting point when pieced together.
This is clearly not a military operation. If it were, the scouts' mission would be to identify weaknesses in the defenses, not to actively avoid combat.
It wasn't treasure hunting; the Picts were far less interested in pastures and livestock than in gold and silver.
What they were looking for was not a person, nor an object, but something they might be familiar with, but which shouldn't be there.
Arthur looked up and saw that the eyes of the five knights at the round table were all on him.
"I'm going to the North."
Kai was the first to speak, asking, "Are you alone?"
"Take a small team, lightly equipped and on fast horses, and reach Hadrian's Wall within three days."
"I'll go with you," Kai said.
"I'll go too." Gawain's fingers stopped tapping.
Tristan plucked a single note: "Winter in the North is not over yet. My bow's strings will harden in the cold, but it will still work."
Lancelot didn't speak, but simply picked up the longsword from his knees and hung it at his waist.
Bedwell didn't say "I'll go too," but rolled up the parchment and put it in his pocket.
"My lord, I stayed behind at Camelot. The Northern lord's report says that Pickett's scouts are 'looking for something.'"
If what they're looking for isn't south of the Wall, but further south... Camelot needs someone to guard it.
Arthur nodded. Bedivere never volunteered for battle because he knew where he was best suited to be.
The silver prosthetic limbs cannot hold a sword, but they can keep a castle running.
"We shall depart at dawn tomorrow. Kai, Gawain, Tristan, and Lancelot, each take three days' worth of provisions and a spare horse."
Bedwell will remain in charge; you will preside over the roundtable discussion in your stead, Morgan…”
He paused for a moment.
"I'll go tell her," he said.
The tower doors opened automatically before he could touch them.
Morgan sat at the black stone table, with a roll of parchment in front of him depicting the magical veins of Britain.
Her long, silvery-white hair wasn't tied up today; it fell loosely over her shoulders, the ends resting on the edge of the table, tinged a pale gold by the candlelight.
Her complexion was much better than last night; it was no longer as pale as paper and had returned to its usual cool, ivory white.
Morgan raised her icy blue eyes, glancing at the twin swords at Arthur's waist before returning them to the parchment.
"The North?"
"...You seem to know everything?"
"Because your Dragon Force River has a residual magic unique to the Northern Lords."
Cold, barren, and desolate tundra.
He was probably in a bad mood when he wrote the letter; the magic that seeped into the paper was 30% stronger than usual.
Morgan's quill pen added an arc to the parchment. "Pictants?"
"Scouts appeared south of Hadrian's Wall."
They deliberately avoided battle, preferring to jump into the river rather than be captured. The lord of the North concluded...they were looking for something.
Morgan's pen stopped.
"What are you looking for?"
"I don't know, but the Picts are the oldest tribe in Britain, and they know that land far better than we do."
If even they need to send out scouts to 'find' it... Arthur walked to the stone table and looked down at the scroll of magical ley lines.
Morgan put down her quill, stood up, and walked to the window.
The tower window faced the North, and the morning light bathed her profile in a very pale gold.
"There are some things on the island of Britain that are usually dormant, like seeds buried deep in the frozen soil, waiting for the right temperature to sprout."
The Picts lived in Britain longer than any other tribe, and they knew where the 'seeds' were buried.
If they're looking for something, then it's very likely that a seed has sprouted.
She turned around, her icy blue eyes staring directly at Arthur.
"Moreover, the sprouting location is wrong; it's not in a place they're familiar with, but south of the Great Wall."
"I will depart at dawn tomorrow and reach Hadrian's Wall within three days. Kay, Gawain, Tristan, and Lancelot will accompany me, while Bedivere will stay behind," Arthur said.
Morgan nodded. She didn't say "be careful" or "don't die."
She simply turned around, sat back down at the stone table, and picked up her quill pen.
"You've memorized the Northern Lord's magical characteristics. When you reach the Wall, if that magical trace is still there, you can find him by following it."
If it's gone... that means he's no longer there.
Her pen tip scratched softly on the parchment.
Arthur walked toward the door.
"Arthur".
He stopped and turned around.
Morgan kept her head down, her long, silvery-white hair falling to the sides of her face, obscuring her expression.
Only the sound of a quill pen moving across parchment, like winter fog spreading across an ice surface.
"When that seed sprouts, the surrounding soil will become cold."
It's not the cold of winter, it's the cold of death.
Every stone you touch, every inch of soil you step on, and every breath of air you take will carry that coldness.
That's because "the land itself is changing."
She raised her eyes, the candlelight reflected in her icy blue pupils.
"You are alive, the Dragon's Heart is alive, and that cold will try every means to penetrate you. Don't let it succeed."
Arthur looked at her, the candlelight dancing in her pupils like two tiny flames encased in ice.
"I won't."
He pushed open the door and stepped into the morning light.