Chapter 26: Chapter Twenty-Five: The Advancing Aniya!

On a small slope beside a stream.

Deng Ken and the others gradually approached; Duke Tintagel rose and stepped forward to greet the knight who had saved his life.

He was the Duke of Cornwall, owning vast territories, his power second only to King Uther, with whom he was also in rivalry; before the massive Saxon invasion, he had even clashed with Uther.

Long ago, during a meeting with Uther, Duke Tintagel brought his wife Igraine, and Uther fell instantly in love with her, longing for her day and night.

Later, with the aid of the knight Ulfius and Merlin, Uther transformed himself and infiltrated Igraine’s chambers, spending a night with the beautiful duchess, who subsequently bore Arthur.

Cornwall lies at the very bottom of the British map, in that remote, protruding corner; to avoid Saxon pirates, Deng Ken’s group had landed slightly off-course.

Deng Ken’s party drew nearer.

Duke Tintagel-Gorlas could not help but glance at the group that had just saved his life—undoubtedly, the most striking figure was Severus, for his attire was legendary in Celtic Britain.

A druid priest!

Only then did his gaze fall upon the lone rider, young, bow on back, sword at hip—too young; Number One’s human vessel was only nineteen, had just spent half a year as an apprentice blacksmith, and had been banished back to the border village of Bran for seducing the still-vivacious wife of the neighboring shopkeeper.

Handsome, upright, eyes deep and luminous, features carved like ancient Greek statues, impossible to look away from; when those eyes met yours, your spirit trembled slightly. Duke Tintagel prided himself on his own appearance, yet even he felt a pang of inadequacy before this young knight.

In truth, Number One’s human vessel had decent looks to begin with—otherwise he wouldn’t have taken shortcuts—but truly extraordinary beauty? Only above-average.

The real transformation began with Deng Ken’s relentless slaughter; his appearance acquired a unique aura forged in bloodshed—yet he remained as still as a deep abyss; when he moved, it was like thunder and lightning, his eyes radiating cold light that made others shudder.

Unconsciously, blood and fire had shaped him into something distinct; combined with the Holy Grail’s blood and enhanced physicality, the change became even more pronounced.

The Crow Queen—Tris veiled her face, concealing her breathtaking beauty.

Thus, Duke Tintagel quickly turned his gaze to the witch—Aniya; his expression betrayed a flicker of awe, as if bewitched by her stunning beauty, momentarily stunned.

Had he not just lost so many men in battle and barely escaped death himself, he would have tried to court such a radiant Roman noblewoman.

But now, his entire focus rested on Deng Ken alone, and his gaze burned intensely.

A warrior!

He had never seen such a fierce knight in his life!

Deng Ken rode forward; Aniya led by half a horse’s length, the others lagged behind—clearly establishing hierarchy.

“It seems this Roman noblewoman holds the highest status.”

Duke Tintagel quickly realized this, yet he also noticed the warrior’s high standing—everyone deferred to him, and the beautiful Roman noblewoman frequently glanced back at him, her expression marked by clear dependence and affection.

Aniya carried the overwhelming aura of old Roman imperial nobility.

Whether in her haughty posture, facial features, skin tone, or attire, she exuded the unmistakable bearing of a time-honored noble family—only those born into true aristocratic lineage could cultivate such refined opulence.

After the last Roman legion withdrew from the province of Britain, other powers carved out their own territories; Duke Tintagel inherited part of the Romans’ legacy.

Otherwise, he could never have assembled even a low-tier field army—the British legion.

Duke Tintagel stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Deng Ken, yet he greeted Aniya first: “Thank you all for your rescue!”

A mighty general!

What he needed most right now was a warrior like this.

In comparison, though Aniya was breathtakingly beautiful, his wife Igraine was among Britain’s greatest beauties—he had seen too many to be easily impressed.

Aniya gave a slight nod; though her status was lower, her demeanor could not yield—old Roman nobility never lost face, even when outmatched.

You know what? Aniya’s proud posture genuinely unsettled Duke Tintagel.

After all, Britain was a remote backwater, a forgotten imperial province; though the title “duke” sounded impressive, this was no medieval era—dukes here were no match for counts, for counts were actual commanders of the empire’s field armies.

Aniya, a seasoned imperial courtesan, handled this backcountry duke with ease; she displayed Roman arrogance to perfection, making Duke Tintagel feel uneasy about his own origins.

After brief exchanges, Aniya responded with effortless grace, instantly convincing Duke Tintagel that this Roman noblewoman hailed from a true imperial field-commander family.

Though the imperial legions had withdrawn, the vast empire still held influence in Britain.

Even Duke Tintagel’s own ancestor was a Roman legion commander who married a native chieftain’s daughter.

In terms of lineage, Aniya was clearly nobler than he.

Though Duke Tintagel spoke to Aniya, his gaze kept drifting to the cold, stoic guard lagging half a step behind—Deng Ken. No need to guess: this fierce warrior was surely the Roman noblewoman’s personal bodyguard and lover; only a true old imperial noble could recruit such a formidable knight.

Of all present, only Aniya’s status could be openly acknowledged.

Deng Ken, born a lowly imperial commoner, was harder to leverage; Aniya, though usually lowly—barely above household goods—now carried herself with supreme arrogance, even daring to glance back mockingly at the Crow Queen—Tris.

The Crow Queen—Tris smiled silently, a sly curve touching her lips, causing Aniya to shiver involuntarily.

Endure.

Now was not the time to directly challenge the Crow Queen’s authority.

Aniya had spent her life among nobles; compared to her effortless elegance and pride, Duke Tintagel seemed like a crude country landowner. He had always thought his wife Igraine a graceful, noble beauty—the rose of Britain—but now, beside Aniya, he wondered if only Igraine’s beauty could rival hers.

Duke Tintagel grew frantic, unable to find a chance to speak properly with Deng Ken.

Mighty general!

No matter how beautiful that woman is, she’s merely a fallen noble. I am a lord with real power—why not serve me? I’ll make you a noble knight.

Undeniably, on the battlefield, a mighty general is more alluring than a beauty.

Beauties are common; mighty generals are rare.

This mutual probing had revealed each side’s true nature—true noble lineage could not be faked; many details betrayed authenticity. Duke Tintagel also learned why Aniya’s group had washed up in Britain.

They had encountered Saxon pirates!

Over the years, the Britons had steadily retreated; the coastline was now largely controlled by Saxon pirates.

The group traveled together back to the castle.

On the way, Aniya fell slightly behind and whispered to Deng Ken: “Say little. Leave the talking to me.”

To the two witch sisters, Deng Ken was still a nineteen-year-old tender shoot, unfit to deal with such seasoned foxes.

Aniya was skilled at reading expressions; seeing Duke Tintagel constantly glance at Deng Ken, she knew he was fascinated by her “personal guard.”

She would turn the tables!

To seize the initiative, she must lure this backcountry duke—she truly looked down on him; a backcountry duke of Britain? What was he? In the imperial court, he wouldn’t even earn a seat.

True Roman nobility was this bold.

It was time to show this man her power—the Crow Queen—Tris? Hmph. Merely a brute with strength.

Having escaped death, Duke Tintagel finally exhaled.

He dared not return to gather his routed troops; he only wished to flee swiftly to his own lands, rally other forces, and seek aid from allied native tribes to block the enemy’s advance once more at his castle’s front line.

This field battle had been launched because he held numerical superiority—he believed victory was assured, only to be crushed outright in direct combat.

Three thousand men against a thousand—utterly shattered in one charge.

Along the way.

Aniya exchanged light words with Duke Tintagel, avoiding battlefield matters entirely; instead, she explained how she had accidentally been stranded in Britain and promised lavish rewards if he helped her return to Rome.

This was the first step of turning the tables—Aniya advanced step by step, waiting for Duke Tintagel to bite.

As expected.

Duke Tintagel bit immediately, solemnly declaring: “You saved my life without asking for anything in return.”

“I shall surely find a way to escort the lady back to Rome.”

Initial intent must not be too obvious.

Aniya openly stated she wished to use his power to return to Italy, for they now had no ship.

Ahead appeared farmland, all on flat plains near rivers and lakes.

Aniya spoke slowly, recounting court affairs in Rome—including the current emperor Valentinian III and the Patrician Aetius—as if intimately familiar with these imperial elites.

This was step two: elevating her status.

Britain’s isolation made Duke Tintagel listen intently; he learned the empire now faced dire straits.

But a dying camel is still larger than a horse.

The Roman Empire still stood firm against a half-million-strong Hunnic invasion—this number made the backcountry duke’s heart tremble. Compared to the empire’s vast territory, the province of Britain was expendable.

That was the empire!

For centuries, Britain had been the most insignificant province, abandoned precisely because it held too little value—the empire found maintaining provinces here increasingly unprofitable, a losing venture.

Aniya secretly observed his expression and continued fishing, sighing softly: “I never expected to be stranded in Britannia.”

“It was all because North Africa descended into chaos—the Vandals invaded Carthage.”

“My business suffered greatly.”

Hm?

Hearing Aniya’s words, Duke Tintagel immediately perked up.

This was step three: the lure of profit.

Aniya spoke truthfully: after losing North Africa’s grain regions, the empire plunged into fiscal crisis; her merchant guild suffered too. Originally, her fleet controlled two trade routes: one from Rome to Alexandria in Egypt, passing numerous port cities with immense profits. (The most lucrative route—even extending to Jerusalem and connecting to the Silk Road.)

The other was from Rome to Carthage in North Africa—also highly profitable, for North Africa was a vital grain source.

Now, one arm was severed; the other was broken.

Her entire caravan was in crisis, unlikely to last much longer.

She had traveled by sea to Gaul, for the lands beyond the Alps were already at war.

A wealthy widow?

A very rich widow?

Duke Tintagel was tempted, yet seeing the cold, heroic Deng Ken, he felt he had no chance—he could never compete with that young man, sculpted like a Greek statue. He was no fool; he sensed Aniya’s inner disdain for a British duke.

It was like being a royal noble of the capital, your ancestors wielding military power, dwelling in the empire’s most prosperous heartland—how much respect could you possibly have for a local warlord controlling two or three counties on the Yunnan frontier?

Roughly the same idea—the governor of the British province was worth more than any king or duke.

Duke Tintagel was roughly equivalent to a daimyo in feudal Japan.

She had a fleet?

Can we still run ocean trade to the Mediterranean?

East to Alexandria in Egypt? West to Carthage in North Africa?

That’s incredibly tempting.

Britain is extremely remote, never a core province of the Empire; there used to be maritime trade, but after the Saxons invaded, everything fell apart—Saxon pirates nearly blocked all ocean trade with the European mainland.

Cornwall is somewhat isolated, tucked into a corner of Britain, but it has one advantage: proximity to the coast.

As a competent ruler.

Duke Tintagel realized this was an opportunity—if he could gain the support of this Roman noblewoman, perhaps he could regain his strength; whether grain, weapons, or goods, they could significantly revive Cornwall’s war-ravaged economy.

This was Aniya’s method.

Only tangible interests could attract such political creatures.

Deng Ken was also slightly surprised; he had heard from the Crow Queen—Tris that Aniya was wealthy and owned merchant fleets, but he hadn’t expected her to reach so far.

Actually, it was quite normal.

What could a fallen noble descendant (a confidant of the apostate Julian) possibly offer to marry the Empire’s current field marshal?

Beauty and wealth—that’s all it took.

After her husband died unexpectedly in battle, she legally inherited most of his family’s estate.

She was truly rich.

Hmm, I underestimated her. Next time, go easier.

Deng Ken thought to himself.

Aniya stopped speaking here, leaving Duke Tintagel to imagine the rest—fishing requires patience, step by step; right now she was just laying bait. Her true goal remained Deng Ken’s mercenary proposal, but her appetite was even larger.

She wanted to legally and legitimately claim a territory in Britain.

Preferably somewhere with a port.

Once she held land in Britain, she could consider transferring part of her wealth here; though trade wouldn’t match the Mediterranean, there were still many port cities along the route from Britain to North Africa.

Territory meant opportunity.

Most importantly, she could prove she was the best consort to help Deng Ken rise!

Men are always more satisfying when taken by force.

Hmph!

The Crow Queen—Tris? Just a barbarian brute.

No doubt.

Duke Tintagel was hooked.

His position in Britain was awkward: King Uther was king, while he was a duke—equivalent to a regional lord—so his status and power were inferior. Had it not been for the Saxon invasion, he’d likely have been crushed by Uther.

Legend says that after his accidental death, Uther died violently two years later; regional lords rose up, and Britain entered its true age of chaos.

Later came Merlin’s support for King Arthur, and the famous “Sword in the Stone” incident.

Tintagel Castle.

Duke Tintagel returned in disgrace, his face grim; yet he still ordered his men to accommodate Deng Ken’s party and summoned his elite knights to muster troops against further Saxon invasions.

His domain wasn’t small—once he controlled the area around Winchester, though he began in Cornwall. He clashed repeatedly with Uther, but grew weaker over time; his vassals defected to Uther, and he himself was driven to ruin by the Saxons.

The British Isles cover roughly 240,000 square kilometers; England about 130,000, Scotland 80,000, Wales 20,000.

The warfare was concentrated in England.

With such limited land, divided among many lords, each controlled only small territories.

Inside the castle.

Aniya slipped quietly to Deng Ken’s side and slipped a sack of gold into his hands, whispering: “Distribute this to the servants later.”

Don’t be too generous, but don’t be stingy either.

Everyone had been starving during their escape; though defeated and disheveled, Duke Tintagel still wished to preserve his dignity and ordered a banquet to welcome them.

The Saxon barbarians were poor at siege warfare; they might not dare storm the castle.

His strength had plummeted, but as long as he lived and his wealth remained, he wouldn’t be destroyed outright.

Deng Ken nodded slightly.

During preparations for the banquet, he casually—but visibly—bestowed gold coins upon the servants and knightly attendants.

Not too many, not too few.

Exactly five gold aurei each: obverse bore the bust of a bearded man wearing a crown—Augustus; reverse depicted a winged goddess of victory, weighing roughly 4.5 grams. Within the Empire, one such coin could be exchanged for 30 to 50 denarii silver coins.

This gift delighted the servants immensely, making them profoundly humble and attentive.

Romans were arrogant; in their eyes, the Britons were backward country folk, and even their cities had been built by Romans.

The higher Aniya’s bearing, the more they believed it.

Not long after.

One of the gold aurei reached Duke Tintagel’s hands; he stared at the coin, listened to his knightly attendant’s words, and narrowed his eyes, lost in thought.

A whole sack of gold.

The knightly attendant stared, eyes wide—only a true wealthy woman would carry a sack of gold on her person?

Ding.

Duke Tintagel casually tossed the coin over; the attendant eagerly caught it. He was lost in thought—not because of the gold, but because of what the gold represented.

Earlier, Aniya had subtly hinted that she commanded a private armed force—a standard imperial private legion. (Deng Ken’s absorbed exiles.)

He believed it.

Because Deng Ken’s strength and combat style were clearly the benchmark of an army.

“This is an opportunity!”

Duke Tintagel quickly grasped this, but the question was: how could he secure cooperation with this Roman noblewoman?

The best solution, of course, was for him to marry this wealthy widow.

But his wife would never agree, and she might not want him either; other forms of alliance were clearly less stable than marriage.

Yet regardless.

This noblewoman, as if fate had arranged their meeting, offered him a possible way out of his current predicament.

This was Aniya’s brilliance.

She had no intention of approaching Duke Tintagel herself to request cooperation, nor of joining Britain’s side as a lowly mercenary; she wanted Duke Tintagel to beg her for help, to act as an ally—and in doing so, accomplish what Deng Ken wanted.

Namely: establish a legitimate, foundational armed force in Britain.

Legally, legitimately, not as invaders—but as true, rooted inhabitants of Britain!

“My lord.”

“The lady has arrived!”

A maid rushed in to announce.

Duke Tintagel was clearly impatient; Igraine had borne him three daughters, no male heir, and after years of marriage, their bond had long cooled—he’d even considered taking a concubine to sire a son.

Soon after, a graceful and beautiful noblewoman entered; she appeared to be in her thirties. Seeing Duke Tintagel’s impatient expression nearby, she trembled violently, clutching her mouth in alarm.

Her husband had suffered a crushing defeat.

Then who had spent the night with her the other day?

Duke Tintagel had not yet realized he had lost the battle—or that his home had been stolen by Uther.

………………