Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

their knowledge of the full plan, of course.
    To begin with, he had made a deal with their leaders. Savages, all of them, but so easy to buy off. When he had first stepped onto their lands, crossing the Hadrian’s Wall and pushing through unexplored terrain, he had been unsure of how they would react to his proposal. He had expected every possible scenario, including violent bargaining at the tip of a sword. However, all he had to do was offer them free, uninterrupted raids on villages known for their wealth and fair maidens. The savages had agreed immediately. Not only would they keep terrorizing the northern part of the island; they would also wait for his command to launch an unprecedented wave of attacks. Vortigern would indicate where to strike, as well as ensuring the defenses of their targets were weak and unable to protect their own. All the Picts had to do was to leave a few survivors, who could spread the words of terror and tell the horrifying tales of they had lived through.
    It pained him to remember all those lives that had been lost in the pursuit of his goal, but sacrifices had to be made, if Britain was to become the great nation it was destined to be.
    Once he had his diversion set up, Vortigern had moved on to the next phase of his plan, a fairly easy one. As an additional chip on the bargaining table with the Picts, he had requested that one of them kill Constantine II. Vortigern would provide safe passage to the castle and the opportunity to strike, in return for some extra gold for the family of the murderer.
    A week later, he was attending the king’s funeral and supervising the execution of the Pict assassin.
    The relentless attacks on the northern villages, by the savage hordes living on the other side of the wall, combined with the murder of the king by one of those wild men, had successfully generated enough outrage among his countrymen to provide Vortigern the diversion he needed. During the following months, no one had paid attention to him, and he had been free to put in motion the next part of his plan: recruiting an army.
    Dealing with the Saxons and their leader, Hengist, had proved to be much more difficult than bargaining with the Picts. The pagans from the eastern continent had more serious demands, asking not only for gold and treasure, but also for land and food for their own people. They were essentially looking for a place to settle down and start over. Nonetheless, although they were ruthless people, governed by laws of violence and akin to animals, they were also vital to the execution of Vortigern’s plan. He had had no choice but to agree with their terms. More than once, he had hesitated to carry on with his scheming, fearing something dreadful was looming in a distant future for himself, but every time, he had remembered why he was doing this.
    For the greater good. For his people.
    What’s more, he had been able to get something for himself in the bargain, which had made the decision to go forward with the plan a lot easier: he had acquired the daughter of Hengist. She was a woman of pure beauty, with long hair the color of autumn and green, lustrous eyes. She may not have been a Christian, but she would still make an absolutely stunning queen.
    Once the deal had been struck and sealed by a blood oath, the Saxons had crossed the sea and settled on the southeastern part of the island, their presence hidden from the Britons until the time would come. There they would build houses, hunt and receive regular tributes from Vortigern, waiting for his command to attack a target he would point out.
    And just like that, he had his own private army.
    After Constantine’s death at the hands of a Pict, every advisor and noble residing at the court, including Ambrosius and Uther, requested that the eldest son, Constans, be crowned and placed on the throne. He had spent most of his life away from the castle and in solitude, but they all insisted it was both customary and lawful for him to succeed his father. Vortigern, of course, had foreseen this minor setback. However, he had not been sure if Constans would accept his new role or even if Ambrosius would not make a move to secure the throne for himself. Wisely, he was prepared for both eventualities. When the eldest son, the weakest of the three, had returned home and declared he would try his best to bring prosperity to his people, Vortigern had almost danced for joy, because he knew his time was now at hand.
    Had it been