Lincolnshire.

A troop of cavalry galloped along the Four Directions Avenue. Over the past six months, Duncan had driven a large number of Saxon captives to repair the roads, along with temporary conscripted laborers from various places, finally bringing two major avenues built by the empire back to normal operation.

The Roman Empire had built only three Four Directions Avenues in the British Province over four hundred years of rule. Duncan couldn't waste them; he must make good use of them.

Outside the military camp.

This team of knights dismounted swiftly. The lead Sarmatian rider, face flushed with excitement, rushed into the tent and said in a deep voice to Kvito, "The Governor's order!"

"The Sixth Legion is to immediately set out to attack Yorkshire."

Upon hearing this, Kvito instantly stood up and said to his personal guards on both sides, "The Governor's order has finally arrived. Someone, get me armored!"

"Deliver the order to the centurions of the Sixth Legion, the army will set off immediately!"

Thud, thud, thud!

A dull battle drum sounded. After hearing the bugle resound throughout the camp, squads of soldiers, full of excitement, assembled on the parade ground. They were then led by their respective centurions to the quartermaster to collect supplies and equipment.

Under the normal training of the imperial legion, javelins and heavy shields aren't usually carried on their person. These are only brought along when preparing for an expedition. The heavy shields of the British Legion are iron-plated shields, with two types of javelins in regular supply, a heavy spear and a light spear, along with one or two days' worth of emergency rations.

Inside the military camp.

The dust began to rise, as squads of a Hundred-Man Squad prepared to set off. There was barely any noise or clamor, only the loud commands from the centurions and banner bearers. On their rugged and steadfast faces was a barely suppressed excitement. Once ready, they quickly set foot on the Four Directions Avenue outside the camp, advancing directly towards Yorkshire and Hadrian's Wall.

They had been waiting for this day for over half a year.

Rejoicing at the sound of war!

The entire British Province now felt like a repressed beast of war. Only Duncan could suppress the soldiers' desire for battle. He had spent nearly half a year preparing, like oiling a massive war machine, and now, finally hearing the call to arms, many soldiers eager to achieve merit were starting to feel restless. In the British Province, martial achievements were the most straightforward means of advancing in rank—just win a battle and instantly leap up the social ladder.

This is somewhat akin to previous conflicts between the Central Plains and small bordering countries—the more suppressed from above, the more desperate for a fight below.

Isn't it winnable?

For farmland, for recuperation, they endured—but now that farming is over, if not now, then when?

Kvito led a unit of light cavalry racing on the avenue, with the logistics unit behind. He personally led the British Legion infantry on a swift, light assault, the light cavalry at his side serving as messengers. Lincolnshire was just neighboring Yorkshire, and his reconnaissance riders had long been dispatched.

Duncan's army split into three forces.

One led by Galavin, mainly comprising the Barbarian foreign legion, attacked Lancashire from Cheshire. The other two, commanded by Kvito and Kulin, attacked Yorkshire from two sides, taking one fortress after another, completely eradicating Saxon power on Great Britain.

As for himself, he had already gathered elite forces and reached Oxford.

After the Saxons' defeat in the Kingdom of Kent, many Barbarian tribes on Great Britain were already struggling for survival, except Yorkshire, which put up a bit more resistance; others were mere small fries.

Duncan wasn't about to seize glory, giving others under his command the chance to gain experience and, in passing, train the reorganized legions a bit.

This time, the participating forces were all second and third-line legions.

His true elite under command were reserved to deal with the Pictish and Gael Black Sword Warriors.

Eboracum.

This was the leading major town in Yorkshire, initially a capital designated in the British Province's early division. Later, as London prospered, it completely replaced this town.

The British Legion under Kvito had arrived here.

The Saxons seemed to have realized their dire straits, with many fleeing back to their old nests, remaining restlessly, hoping to make one last desperate struggle. Thousands of troops gathered nearby, ready to fight to the death. Many of these people no longer had a foundation at home and couldn't bear to abandon the lands they occupied in Britain, choosing instead to live for the day. These Saxon pirates severely plagued the local British natives.

The native inhabitants of northern Great Britain had longed for the royal army!

Kvito, just after leading the Sixth Legion to surround Eboracum, was greeted with a native uprising within the town. In a situation that caught the Saxon pirates off guard, hundreds of slaves fought for weapons and counterattacked, alongside the wavering Saxon civilians, the rebels succeeded in opening a crack in the city gates.

"Charge!"

"Press forward! Don't let them retake the gates!"

Kvito instantly seized the opportunity. He donned armor and personally led the elite British Legion towards the city gate. Beside him, the chief centurion, Sain, shouted, "Javelins ready!"

"Throw!"

Over a hundred light javelins were hurled; the Saxon infantry trying to retake the gates on the wooden walls immediately suffered heavy losses.

"Shield wall!"

"Shield wall!"

Every Thousand-Man Legion had a chief centurion, generally a formidable figure second only to the legion commander. That chief centurion had his men form a shield wall, braving the arrow rain of Saxon hunters, forcefully crashing open the closing gates. Then heavy shields were raised, forming a shield wall over two meters high right at the spot, and thus, the gates were jammed.

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