With Woodworth's command, the vanguard pressed the siege, while his rear guard—fully a thousand tribesmen of the Tooth Clan—turned and charged at the Round Table army's ranks like a pack of wolves, their eyes gleaming with a chilling hunger.
Guinevere ordered the archers to fire arrows tipped with Morse's poison at Woodworth's rear guard.
At her cue, you wove amplification magic over the bowmen. Their volleys grew faster; the arrows struck with greater force.
A dense storm of poisoned shafts erupted from the Round Table lines, blotting out the sky like a black thunderhead before raining death upon the Tooth Clan warriors. The shock was so fierce that the enemy faltered. Unarmored, they could neither dodge nor withstand the barrage—and though each arrow nicked only flesh, the poison inflicted roughly ten percent casualties on their ranks.
Still, the Tooth Clan surged onward. Only three hundred meters now separated them from the Round Table. Guinevere calmly ordered another volley. A second wave claimed another ten percent. At two hundred meters, a third wave brought down an additional fifteen percent—yet the survivors pressed on, bloodlust ignited by the carnage, exuding a fetid stench so overwhelming you nearly broke and fled.
But you glanced at Guinevere, seated unflinching on the field throne, and steeled your courage.
"Javelins!"
At her call, the archers stepped back, and the prepared javelin throwers advanced, hurling their spears forward. You once more strengthened them with magic—their throws flew swifter and struck harder. At such close range, the javelins wreaked havoc: another ten percent of the Tooth Clan fell.
"Again!"
The second line of javelin troops strode forward, repeating the deadly assault for a further ten percent loss.
"Last round!"
The third volley shattered twenty percent more of the charging host.
Where once stood nearly a thousand warriors, only a quarter now staggered onward—and their morale snapped.
"Charge!"
With Guinevere's final order, Percival led the elite knights of the Round Table in a shining cavalry assault—white horses, silver lances—straight into the shattered Tooth Clan lines. The enemy collapsed in disarray.
"Excellent! Now is our chance to counterattack!"
From the battlements, Bogarde ordered the gates flung open and personally led his troops out against Woodworth's flank. Caught between the Round Table's pincer and the Sheffield garrison, Woodworth's brigade suffered grievous losses and was forced into a hasty retreat.
Thus did Guinevere's human host triumph over the Tooth Clan in open battle, striking fear into all of Britannia! Your first taste of large-scale warfare ended in victory, and your battlefield prowess grew—next time, you would fight even better.
"Wow, wow, wow—amazing! Archers are that useful?!"
Artoria's eyes sparkled with excitement. "So this is the power of 'otherworldly knowledge'! Incredible—no wonder it's Guinevere!"
Though the archers proved their worth, other human forces—scarce among the fae contingents—failed to appreciate their value. Bogarde thanked the Round Table for their aid but, believing he could have held the city alone, declined a formal alliance, instead demanding outright vassalage.
Guinevere proposed negotiating on the condition that Bogarde help rid Norwich of its blight—his homeland's curse, he couldn't ignore it. Percival accepted the plan; they forged an alliance, stipulating that whoever first captured Springhaven Fortress would claim Norwich.
By Guinevere's suggestion, Percival arranged a friendly spar with Bogarde in the latter's court at noon the next day. Each fought to a draw.
"It's a bit troublesome," Guinevere mused, frowning. Though Bogarde and Percival held their own, he sensed that in a true fight Percival—the youthful dragon—would outmatch Bogarde—the mighty boar. This thwarted Guinevere's hopes of uniting them firmly against Woodworth.
Despite routing Woodworth, Guinevere dared not pursue—he knew Woodworth's losses were superficial; once cornered, that monster-level general would cast aside his troops and personally cleave through any army.
What to do? Guinevere concluded that only overpowered heroes could subdue such an adversary—if Lu Bu-level champions were needed, he would need at least the Five Tiger Generals.
Percival was the young Zhao Yun: valiant but not peerless. Bogarde was more like Hua Xiong. Together they formed barely one general's worth of might. As for Guinevere himself—though a marshal, he was more akin to a regional commander than a peerless champion.
After days in Sheffield, word reached you of the Northern Queen, Norcenlai. Legend said her predecessor, Mab, had led the Northern fae to victory over the other clans in the ancient Summer War—only conceding peace through the Savior's intervention. Norcenlai, Mab's heir, was said to possess her grandmother's glory and power, and stood as Morgan's greatest rival.
"That queen sounds formidable," Guinevere admitted ruefully. In your previous playthrough, you'd treated Norcenlai as a funding source—ignorant that she, too, was a peerless champion. If only you had persuaded her personally to attack Woodworth, the outcome might have differed.
You dispatched envoys to seek her alliance—but Norcenlai refused.
"Hiss…" Guinevere pondered. "Why refuse? Last time she joined easily… Could it be because I allied with Bogarde, who was doomed to fail?"
"How can I lure her aboard my pirate ship?"
You began investigating Norcenlai's interests, hoping to ingratiate yourself. The next day, Artoria approached you:
"Hey—why are you suddenly digging into Norcenlai's preferences? Are you… courting her?"
"Huh?" Guinevere blinked. Artoria's hands gripped her tunic anxiously. Surely Guinevere couldn't fancy that arrogant tyrant?
You explained you simply sought alliance. Artoria's fae-sight revealed your true thoughts:
"To beat Lu Bu, you need at least three great heroes."
Artoria's brow furrowed at the candid analysis, but she was relieved you harbored no romantic designs.
"Oh—Artoria!" Guinevere exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "Weren't you said to be best friends with Norcenlai in the simulation? Ask her!"
"Ah—yes!" Artoria replied, tilting her head, though clearly uneasy. "The… Handsome Stratagem?"