"Infiltrate the lair and gather intelligence."
The words sounded simple, but the task was anything but.
The enemy was no ordinary foe but the Despicable King, who had dominated the island with his fearsome reputation for a decade. Though all Britons scorned his vile tactic of allying with foreign tribes for victory, they couldn't deny he was an overwhelmingly formidable adversary.
Otherwise, King Uther would not have created Artoria, the "red dragon in human skin." To confront the White Dragon King.
"Ordinary scouts wouldn't even reach the city before being crushed by the Despicable King's power." Artoria mused.
"A frontal feint to distract him, followed by a small elite cavalry unit striking his lair directly… it could work, but the choice of who leads the assault and the route for the surprise attack must be meticulously planned."
Artoria was troubled. She sought a flawless strategy... one that would uncover Vortigern's true situation while preserving her forces, ideally with no casualties.
But Morgan told her there was no need for such complexity.
"You can ask Merlin."
"That man knows everything... but he won't say a word unless you ask!"
Though she had outwardly reconciled with Merlin, the Red Dragon Princess still loathed the magus, speaking of him as if he were refuse.
Artoria found Merlin in Alaric's sanctuary.
The magus, ever fond of charming women, had apparently provoked another noblewoman and sought refuge in this divine realm, hidden from outsiders.
Truth be told, Alaric was not pleased by the magus's presence.
But for the sake of the white little beast Merlin brought along, he reluctantly opened the sanctuary's gates.
"Fou... "
It was an amusing sight.
On one side, a petite creature, barely thirty to forty centimeters long without its tail.
On the other, an enormous dragon, as majestic as a towering mountain.
The contrast between these two "beasts" was stark, yet they played together in an astonishing harmony.
"They seem to get along well." Artoria remarked, arriving just in time to see Alaric toss the little beast into the air with his tail, letting it slide down his back like a slide.
She was surprised by Alaric's playful nature. But then, she realized he was only three years old... a fact his massive size often made others forget.
"Yes, I hope they can always be this close." Merlin said with a smile, his words carrying a meaning Artoria couldn't yet grasp.
The conversation inevitably turned to the Despicable King and Morgan's scathing opinion of Merlin.
"It's a misunderstanding!" Merlin wailed, his face a mask of exaggerated sorrow, as if he'd suffered a grave injustice. "I don't tell you things because I cannot meddle in mortal conflicts, not because I'm hiding anything!"
"But regarding that White Dragon King, I can make an exception and share his story."
Merlin winked, adopting a mysterious air before his expression returned to normal.
And that was why Morgan despised him.
Falsehood.
From head to toe, the magus was devoid of truth... pure artifice. As a half-incubus, his every emotion was a performance, crafted from observing humans to know "what expression fits what moment."
The magus who knew all decided to recount the tale of the White Dragon King.
Where to begin?
"There's time, so let's start from the beginning."
Back then, Vortigern was not yet the White Dragon King but merely the leader of a small tribe, a warrior slightly stronger than most.
Like Artoria, who once toiled in the mountain hollows, this Despicable King, now reviled by all Britons, had a "legendary" past.
"He was a man whose aggression burned like fire." Merlin began.
"Under his leadership, his tribe grew into one of the mightiest forces. But his radical... nay, plundering... policies made other feudal kings loathe and fear him."
"So, at their urging, your father, King Uther, united with the other kings to wage a 'just' war against him."
That battle brought Uther fame. After defeating Vortigern, he was chosen as Britain's leader, nominally ruling over all kings.
"But Vortigern did not perish in that war."
"Though defeated and stripped of his tribes, he survived, fueled by rage and a thirst for vengeance."
"With his kingdom in ruins and barely escaping with his life, he realized he couldn't face so many foes alone. So, he sought the aid of the Mysteries."
"It was a grueling journey, but he succeeded. He found the greatest miracle left on this island."
Merlin paused, glancing around. Seeing everyone's rapt attention, he nodded in satisfaction and spoke the name that held immense significance for Vortigern, the island, and the world:
"Albion."
"The name of a dragon, the last true dragon of the Age of Gods, who died on the earth's surface for failing to return to the Reverse Side of the World. My apologies, Your Majesty the White Dragon, you did not exist then."
"No one knows how Vortigern did it. But he found the corpse of the Dragon of Albion and stole the power within."
"And when he returned, he was the White Dragon King known to all."
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