Knights! Knights!
“Knight! Knight! Hmmm... Hmm? Knight!”
“Is that such a strange name?”
The high-ranking Romano-British officers who had become knights set off once more for their missions across the land, and Merlinus arrived to fill the empty space. Winter preparations were always like that—no matter how much you planned, something was bound to go wrong. For a normal head of household, it meant constantly bustling about, especially right at the start of the cold season.
If managing one house was that demanding, there was no need to explain how busy someone responsible for an entire nation's affairs must be.
Fortunately, I had this man Merlinus right in front of me, making things a bit easier.
...To be more honest, yeah. Truth be told, I didn't have much to do myself. I was just good at fighting, and thanks to my advantage of having revived from a distant future, I could meddle in various matters here and there.
Just watching Merlinus sit in that spacious office in Londinium, knocking out tasks all day long, made my head spin after the time it took to empty a jug of wine. My vision would blur, I'd nod off dozing at the desk, and before I knew it, the day was done.
Desk work just wasn't my constitution. No matter how I looked at it, I was cut out for fieldwork.
I could barely slog through final approvals on one-page, maybe two-page summaries, but anything more was pushing it.
“It's an unfamiliar name, sure, but strange? From the moment Magister Militum declared it so, the term 'knight' ceased to be strange. Knight! Haha. Knight.”
“Enough with the nonsense... So, what do you think? We bestow the title of knight on those with proper merits, manage them under the state. You could see it as an elite group of soldiers. Either way, the goal is to publicize throughout former Romano-Britain wherever and however these men earn their achievements—boosting our prestige, granting them honor.”
“Hmmm. I needn't remind Magister Militum how most renowned soldiers in this empire have historically ended up, need I? Excluding the highly unusual case of Stilicho, they all met tragedy in the end. You know that, right?”
“If we're too scared to grant well-deserved honors because of that, then maybe such a nation deserves to fall—it's only natural.”
“Puhahaha!”
Had I spoken too bluntly? Merlinus stared blankly at me for a moment before bursting into laughter, then shook his head as if reining himself in. Still grinning, he took a sip of wine and continued.
“Remarkable confidence, Dominus Artorius. But it's true enough. Perhaps the empire's in this state precisely because it couldn't manage the obvious.”
“It'd be best to formalize it with you, Dominus, taking full responsibility for managing these knights.”
“Me? All of it?”
“The number isn't that large, and it's military business, isn't it? Give them full autonomy on everything except hygiene and heating matters. I'm less qualified for military affairs than Comes Uterius, so the top expert should handle it. The only hitch is—even with honors, we need something material too... Any other ideas on that front?”
“Hm.”
This time, I downed my wine in one go.
In my past life, there were medals. Surprisingly, the Roman army here had plenty of similar things. Most notably, crowns worn on the head.
For the 'brave citizen' who saved a fellow citizen's life, they gave an oak-leaf crown. To the first soldier scaling the walls, a mural crown shaped like battlements. There were also crowns for the first to storm an enemy camp, or civic crowns of oak leaves for commanders who saved entire legions.
Plus chest disks of gold, silver, bronze; necklaces, bracelets for promotions—one or two ranks; even bits of land.
The Roman reward system was far more developed than I'd thought. Maybe that's how they held on even as the empire crumbled in real time—or maybe not, with so many fine systems, how many were actually followed?
Either way, I had plenty to reference.
“First, draw up a roster and manage it. Gather them once a year to build camaraderie. Give each a fine cloak brooch to wear daily. What else?”
“We'll implement all that, but let me suggest a few key additions.”
Merlinus, who'd been listening to my ideas with a stuffy, skeptical tilt, now straightened up.
“First, the sacramentum—the oath. Before the sacred lake, blessed warriors of the holy sword Caliburnus must swear it themselves. It must include unwavering loyalty—to Dominus Invictus Artorius. The rest can be any noble sentiments.”
“...”
“Next, a symbol. Sworn before the sword from the sacred lake, Caliburnus—they need something distinct. How about twisting the old Sol Invictus emblem? An outer sun with a water drop inside?”
“Symbol can be any pretty shape. What about a cross?”
“Best leave the chi-rho for the empire and emperor. No need to provoke the church.”
“...”
The chi-rho was the empire's universal emblem. I didn't quite get why using it for my knights would rile the church, but shape didn't matter much, so I let it slide.
“Now we have oath and symbol. What's next?”
“...Land?”
“No. No need to grant your knights land right now, Dominus Artorius. None under you go hungry—they're all wealthy. More land would be inefficient value-wise. So, third: discipline. New rules, distinct from imperial or Britannian forces. An extension of the oath—the precepts Artorius's knights must follow.”
“...”
Honestly, I hadn't thought it out that deeply. But Merlinus was spitting out far more concrete details than I had.
“Loyalty to Artorius trumps personal faith. Stick to that core, and adorn the rest with whatever noble mottos you like. Ten? Too many—seven? Five works. Start there. Haha! This is fun! Romano-Britain's knight order—fascinating, isn't it?”
“Loyalty (Fides), Courage (Virtus), Order (Disciplina), Justice (Iustitia), Honor (Honor), and Mercy (Misericordia).”
“Perfect. Couldn't ask for better.”
Merlinus even clapped, leaving me a bit embarrassed. Most of those were virtues baked into Rome's traditional Fides—faith, trust. I'd just picked the catchy ones, so even listing them sounded impressive on the surface.
“Curiously, Pietas—piety—is missing. Why?”
“Faith is free, but personally, I'd rather it not encroach on secular realms, so I left it out. Should I add it?”
“No, no. Care to elaborate?”
Hm. Maybe it was just my basic atheism. I don't deny the energy of belief itself. Faith has power, sure. But that doesn't mean I believe in gods.
I figured intangible energies like mental fortitude exist, but gods? Skeptical.
I didn't want my knight order fanatically pushing one faith forever. Better they blindly follow and stay loyal to me alone—at least then I could use them reliably.
Thinking it that way, my direction as ruler felt more objective.
“Just realized—I hate any group outside our administrators and soldiers meddling in this land's governance or military. Church or whatever. Merlinus.”
“Understood, Dominus.”
Huh? His crisp reply made me glance at him. Instead, he eyed me like what's up?, so I rolled my eyes first.
“The church has its role, as do other faiths. We can't tolerate anything shaking the stability we've built in Romano-Britain.”
Yeah, the man's a zealot.
“I asked for a reason.”
“Hm?”
“Heard Brother Hector called Marcellus for a talk a few days back.”
“Oh, that? Marcellus told me. Something about a Solstice festival?”
“Related to that—people came from southern Gaul and beyond, into Italia.”
“?”
What now?
“Comes Uterius chased them off, suspecting ill intent. But they were spies, for sure.”
“Aha.”
Spies, huh. No big deal. Merchants crisscrossing our lands, Gaul, Italia, Hispania, Frankish territories were politely traders—or pirates and spies, depending on the phrasing. That's life in Roman lands.
“But I checked their identities. Among them, church-sent agents. Backed by one bishop who fled Romano-Britain fastest—and two nobles. What's your take, Magister Militum? Your will?”
That's different.
This land had bishops once. One in Londinium, another in some city—I hadn't paid much attention, so details fuzzy. High church clergy, yes—but when the false emperor rose and took all legions to Gaul, they vanished too. Guess to Italia.
Here, fine monks manage poor abbeys, soothe uneasy farmers. But apparently, sleazy clerics exist too.
Good people outnumber bad. Doesn't mean no bad exist.
And I wanted bad ones far from my people.
“They'll never set foot here again. While I draw breath, those who abandoned Romano-Britain like cowards won't return claiming a share. Clear?”
“I shall remember it well, Dominus Artorius.”
No idea what satisfied him, but Merlinus bowed slowly, a clear smile of approval on his face.
These Romano-Italians, though...
“Can't reclaim lost Gaul or Hispania, yet eyeing our Britannia already?”
Astounding. Infuriating.
Time for countermeasures? Something to mull over.