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"THEY JUST DON'T STOP coming," Tristan breathed, fighting off another Baron trying to climb the altar. Arthur turned to his side, one of the Barons charging towards him. As he swung his sword, Arthur bent down, and the Baron rolled over his back right into the path of a waiting Kyan, who shoved him back off the altar.
"Incoming!" Tristan warned, looking up and moving to the side.
Arthur followed Tristan's gaze; a large lumpy object was falling right where Arthur stood and falling fast. He dodged out of the way right as it landed, the dog's bones cracking with a loud yelp of pain. Tristan froze, staring at the dog.
Arthur glanced at Tristan; the lad was awfully pale. “Tristan,” he said quietly. “We have to go.”
The dog whined as it bled out on the altar, and Tristan couldn't take his eyes off it. "It's a dog," he murmured. "It's not a wolf, it's a dog, it won't hurt you, it's dying, oh my Gods, it's dying...."
Arthur looked over to Kyan, then back at Tristan, moving him along. Tristan peeled his attention away from the dying dog, trying not to flip out while Arthur moved him.
From the bottom of the altar stairs, Percival and Gaheris fought attacking Barons, their skill too unmatched for the black cloaks to handle.
“We need to get you out of here,” Percival said.
“Where did Ergott go?” Arthur asked, looking up at the balcony.
"He disappeared back inside," Peter panted, running towards them. "The whole lot of them. Something went wrong with the dogs."
“Tristan, go with Peter,” Arthur said. “Mind if I borrow that sword?” he pointed to Peter’s scabbard.
Peter pulled his short sword free of the scabbard and handed the blade to him pommel first. "Be my guest, don't lose it," he said.
“Get the citizens to safety,” Arthur said to them. “Make sure they get indoors.”
"Where, exactly, is safety?" Kyan asked.
“Anywhere the Barons aren’t,” Arthur looked at him.
“And where exactly are you going?” Percival asked him.
“Hunting,” Arthur grinned and ran towards the castle.
Percival watched as Arthur ran off and sighed through his nose. “Gawain is going to kill me.”
"You know you could just not let him go, right?" Kyan frowned at him.
“Easy for you to say," Bedivere called to him. "You haven't tried stopping the bastard."
“And where is he going?” Galahad asked, running up to the gathered group.
"Somewhere he shouldn't," Gaheris muttered.
“Let’s get these citizens to safety!” Lancelot called to them, shoving a Baron off him.
They ran towards the Gates, Kyan lagging behind with a scowl. "So, we're just going to let him get his ass kicked?" he asked incredulously.
"You go and get him if you think you're capable of turning him around," Bedivere snapped at him. Kyan glowered and followed them with a sigh.
Leading the group, Percival ran through the courtyard as more Barons began to join in on the fray. The silly bastards don't know when to stop. A whole litter of their mates were thrown around the courtyard dead; Percival didn't know how they could keep coming when the evidence that they couldn't win was right in front of their smooth black masks. He raised his sword at the ready.
A Baron swung his sword towards Percival’s chest; he deflected the attack with a parry and shoved the Baron back onto the ground, knocking him out with a swift kick to the temple. The others quickly disarmed and knocked out the rest of the Barons surrounding them and headed down the stairs, spotting the tail end of the fleeing citizens heading Northbound.
"They're heading towards the Training Hall," Gawain barked from behind them, fighting off the Barons that followed behind. "Geraint, you genius! Help him herd them towards it. It'll hold them all!"
"It'll hold a whole city?" Bedivere raised a brow.
"You'd be surprised," Gawain growled.
“No time for questions, Bedivere,” Lancelot said from beside him. “Let’s get moving.”
"What about Arthur?" Tristan questioned. "He's in the castle."
Gawain snapped to him. "He's what?" he roared.
“Back in the castle,” Percival said. “Dealing with Ergott.”
Gawain growled in frustration. "If I have to save this boy's ass one more time this century, then I swear to the Gods," he cursed and turned back around to charge up the stairs.
“Gawain! Not the time!” Galahad interrupted him. Gawain ignored him as he ran back up towards the castle, shoving Barons down the staircase as he went.
“I guess it’s the time,” Lancelot rolled his eyes. “Geraint needs our help.”
A small figure ran towards them from the bottom of the stairs, their arms waving above their head. "Hey! Hey guys!"
Percival immediately frowned at the boy, coming to a stop as they neared him. “Tyler?! What in the Gods names are you doing here?!”
Tyler paused a few steps down, panting fast, holding his side. "Oh, my Gods, that was a run," he puffed. "Why is this city so big?"
“What are you doing here, Tyler?” Galahad asked firmly.
"I came to help," he panted. "I saw Geraint herding them towards the North. I stayed back to-"
“Tyler,” Lancelot stepped forward. “You were told to stay back at the caves; this is too dangerous for you.”
Tyler shrunk a bit. "Well yeah, you did say that, but I thought I'd come along to help and look!" He pointed towards the alleyway he came from. "No tail-enders! I told them where they all went and made sure they caught up, but Gods, the run here was unbearable."
“Tyler Agravian,” Gaheris snapped at him, his voice deep as thunder. Tyler flinched and looked at him in fear. “You were given specific orders by the commanding Knights of the Roundtable to stay at the caves, and you disobeyed their orders.”
“You could’ve gotten yourself hurt,” Percival said. “Or worse, killed.”
Tyler seemed to shrink in on himself, the small lad wide-eyed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I just thought I'd do something outside of my comfort zone."
Lancelot gave him a warm smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your bravery is considerable, young Knight, but you need to listen once we give out orders, especially if they’re from myself, Gawain, Galahad, and soon Arthur.”
Tyler nodded, then paused. "Wait," he said. "Young Knight? I'm not a Knight."
“That could change,” Lancelot smiled warmly. “But right now, I need your help to gather the citizens.”
Tyler's eyes widened, and he nodded quickly. "Okay, okay, uh," he stammered, looking around the alleyways.
Percival rolled his eyes in amusement. This kid has no idea.
"Oh! They went this way!" Tyler said and ran down the alleyway, going at an incredible speed.
Percival’s eyes widened, and he looked at the others. “Did anyone else realise how fast he just ran?”
“He’s a kid,” Galahad mused. “They’re fast.”
"I'm pretty sure no normal kid reaches a building three hundred metres away in five seconds flat," Bedivere said, astonished.
“You’re just jealous he’s faster than you,” Percival smirked at Bedivere.
Bedivere raised a brow. "Want to race?" he challenged.
“You know I’m faster than you,” Percival dismissed.
"Just follow the citizens, will you?" Gaheris sighed, jogging after Tyler.
Bedivere took off at a sprint before Percival could move. "Are you now?" he teased.
“Not fair!” Percival called after him, sprinting behind him.
“Those two keep trying to one-up each other,” Galahad sighed, jogging after the group.
"Seems natural," Peter said, keeping pace. "Everyone I've seen in training tries it too."
"Targeted much," Kyan frowned.
"He's not wrong," Tristan shrugged.
"Shut up."
Adrenaline surged through Arthur as he ran up the castle staircase, his breathing heavy but his focus clear. No Barons were to be seen around the hallways peeling away from the stairs; they must all be outside or with Ergott. Wherever they were, Arthur was going to find his uncle. Arthur ran through the castle, searching every corridor.
A strangled cry sounded from a distant hallway, the sounds of struggle echoing towards him. Arthur paused; he looked towards the sound and walked over to it slowly.
"You girls have had it too easy for long enough," a muffled voice snarled from around the corner. A choked sound protested the voice, whimpers following it. Arthur turned the corner, the short sword gripped firmly in his palm.
One of the younger castle Maidens was pinned up against the wall by the throat, a Baron holding her there. Two more of the girls were crouched against the wall in fear, another Baron holding them at sword point.
"It's time now that we get what we want," the Baron snarled, tightening his grip. The Maiden bucked beneath his hand, straining to get free.
“Oi,” Arthur said firmly. The Barons turned to him sharply, the Maiden looking at him with wide eyes. “Aren’t you meant to be following your King?”
"Aren't you meant to be dead?" the Baron sneered. The other black cloak moved away from the girls against the wall, standing beside his comrade, weapon raised.
Arthur grinned and twirled the sword in his hand. “Some people manage to avoid death,” he shrugged.
"Clearly," the Baron snorted, dropping the girl who fell to her knees coughing. The other Maidens moved to her, pulling her away from the Barons.
Arthur shuffled his feet in place and eyed both Barons. Two daggers on the left one. Right, one has a short sword.
"Let's see what the supposed Born King is capable of," the left Baron growled and launched forward, drawing both daggers.
Arthur moved towards the Baron, narrowing his eyes at the black cloak as he met the daggers with the short sword. The Baron spun his arm and sliced towards his side; Arthur jumped out of the way and grabbed his forearm, twisting it. He yelped and shot his leg out, hitting Arthur's shin with a mild crack. Arthur grunted in pain, glaring at him and snapping his arm with his knee.
The Baron yelled and broke out of his grip, rolling away from him and clutching his arm, his daggers scattered across the floor.
Arthur turned to the other Baron, quickly ducking beneath the arc of their blade, and drove his shoulder into his stomach; the Baron stumbled back with a whoosh of air. A fist launched up towards Arthur's jaw, clipping him with a shock like lightning. His eyes went fuzzy as he stabilised himself, and his breath drove from him as the Baron kicked his stomach, sending him into the wall with his head rocketing back against it.
Arthur slid down the wall, his head pounding at the force of impact. The Baron moved again, and Arthur rolled, the clash of metal against stone echoing down the corridor. He swung the short sword in a wide arc towards the Baron and felt the crunch of bone against the blade as it buried itself in the black cloak's thigh.
The Baron hissed in pain and collapsed to the floor beside his mate, blood spilling as the blade pulled free. Arthur got back up and caught his breath, picking up one of the scattered daggers and thrust it through the fallen Barons' forearm, both of them crying out in pain behind their masks.
He turned to the young Maidens, panting heavily. “You lot alright?”
The Maidens watched with pale faces and wide eyes, the girl that was pinned holding her bruised throat gently. Arthur walked towards her and crouched down in front of the scared girl. “Are you alright?” he repeated softly.
She looked at him with big blue eyes and nodded, trying to clear her throat. "Thank you, Arthur," she croaked.
“Do you know where the Training Hall is?” Arthur asked, glancing at the other two in the corner.
"I do," one of them said. "My brother was a Knight; he showed me once."
Arthur handed her the dagger hilt first. “Take this, and as many Maidens, as you can find," he said. "The Knights of the Roundtable are there waiting for you all there.”
The girl's eyes lit up in hope as she took the dagger. "They returned? They're not dead?" she gasped.
“The Old Roundtable,” he smiled warmly at her.
A little bit of the light died from her eyes, her face falling. "Oh," she murmured. "Silly me, I thought you meant Ergott's."
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Right now, I need you to do me a favour. For your true King. What’s your name?”
"Elain Dawn," she said.
Arthur’s eyes widened. Taryn had a sister? “Your brother will be missed by us all,” he said softly.
Elain smiled slightly. Arthur could see it now; the same shiny black hair and sharp features, the same bright blue eyes. She's definitely a Dawn. "I'm sure he's having the time of his life up there, picking on Lorsaw probably," she huffed.
“I'm sure they’re all picking on Lorsaw,” Arthur smiled warmly.
"I wouldn't doubt it," she laughed. "Or maybe Lorsaw finally clapped one over his ears. Taryn would have deserved it."
“He would be proud of you,” Arthur said. “’Cause right now, you’re going to do something important for me.”
She looked back up at him. "Whatever it takes," she said, determination on her face.
“Don’t stop running, Elain,” Arthur said. “All of you,” he glanced at the others. “Stay together and go straight to the Training Hall. Don’t stop until you get through those doors. Do you understand?”
"Yes, my liege," she said, and the other two nodded.
“Go,” he said, a small smile forming on his face. Run son! Run Arthur! His father's voice echoed through his head, and he could hear it clearer than in his dreams.
The Maidens got to their feet and ran off down the hallway, heading towards the servant stairwell. The servants’ quarters were full of hidden routes and guaranteed to be harbouring scared Maidens and servants alike; one tunnel was destined to get them out of the castle without them being followed. Smart girl.
Arthur stood up and ran further down the hallway, ignoring the groaning Barons as he turned down the corridor. A few fleeing servants rushed past him as he neared the balcony, the door left wide open with no one in sight around it.
He turned to look out the door and stopped, the strange woman from before still standing on the balcony. Her black hair floated around her head like it was being held aloft, her elaborate red dress shifting as she turned to face him. Glowing golden eyes watched him with interest, red lips turned in a smirk. "So, you made it through into the castle?" she purred, her voice like sour honey.
“Is that a common eye thing?” Arthur huffed, his sword pointed at her.
"It seems like it, doesn't it?" she hummed and lifted a hand. A bright yellow orb formed quickly in her hand and began to spin quickly, glowing brighter and brighter. "I suggest you duck."
“I don’t take suggestions from a witch,” Arthur sneered at her.
She raised a brow and huffed. "Your choice," she dismissed and launched the orb high into the air, a great gust of wind whooshing around the balcony with the explosive sound of a sonic boom.
Arthur yelled as he rocketed back inside the castle to roll down the hallway, his ears ringing as his head cracked against the marble. Splintered pieces of the wooden balcony door scatter around him in shards, the door completely destroyed.
The orb pulsed a bright yellow light from the doorway, flooding the castle as it dimmed and brightened. Arthur tried to shake his head clear, his vision swimming. The witch walked back inside the castle and looked at him, his blurry vision flickering her appearance from a young woman to an old, wrinkled hag, her face contortion as she laughed. The sound echoed in his ears as he tried to clear his head, rubbing his eyes.
He looked back up as his hearing somewhat cleared and saw nothing but the castle hallway covered in debris. She was gone, along with the light from the orb. Arthur's head still throbbed as he stood up, using the wall to help him. Arthur looked around, disoriented and stumbling. All he could feel was dust harassing his nose, coughing uncontrollably.
A muffled bark sounded behind him, the thud of footsteps coming towards him from the hallway. Arthur turned around slowly, squinting his eyes through the thick cloud of dust and debris.
Gawain emerged through the haze, grabbing his shoulders and staring at him with an angry face. "Arthur! What... the castle?" he questioned, his voice cutting in and out of his hearing.
“The witch,” Arthur coughed. “She got away with E...Ergott.”
"Witch? That's not..." his hearing faded again, and Arthur shook his head, stumbling forwards slightly. He could see Gawain's lips moving, but nothing was coming out. "... gotten into you? You look... got a concussion...."
“Gawain...”
"Come on, boy... are waiting for you... Training Hall." Gawain's hand moved to the top of Arthur's head, and he looked at his eyes. Arthur's vision was going doubled, and he shook his head slightly.
The next thing he knew, the world was tilting around him, and he felt the hard bone of Gawain's shoulder on his stomach as the world turned upside down and moved all around in thuds, his legs held by a strong bond. Gawain is carrying me?
Indeed, the old Knight had lifted Arthur over his shoulder as if he was a small child or a heavy sack of potatoes. "Don't throw up on me," Gawain warned, Arthur's hearing clearing especially to hear that. Arthur huffed in amusement. Typical.
But what was the witch doing on the balcony? And why did she let off that orb? Perhaps it was some kind of signal? His head swam too much thinking about it. Or was that from being upside down? He tried not to think too much about anything else other than keeping his food in his stomach at the repetitive lurch of motion.
The boy had gotten a lot heavier since he first came to training, and it started to show. Gawain panted as he walked down the North alleyway, sweeping his vision to keep an eye out for anybody.
Not even the glint of a black cloak showed on a roof. Has Ergott and his kind finally retreated? The explosion from the orb at the castle had to be a signal of sorts. Witches don't just waste mana for the sake of looking powerful.
Gawain climbed up the stairway of the Training Hall, tucking Arthur in close to avoid hitting his head on the doorway. The hallways were still coated with debris, and all the alcoves where the historical armour was kept were ruined or were gone. It hurt his chest to think about it; priceless history and its stories, artefacts from the people's ancestors, gone to whatever Hell Pit the Barons had cast them to.
I didn't kill enough of them.
The chatter of voices echoed quietly around the Training Hall; the bleachers at the sides of the halls stood back up with people sitting on them. Thousands of citizens filled the space, the doors to each separate room wide open and filled to the maximum amount. The kitchens wafted all sorts of scents, the citizens all harbouring at least one cup of water and a makeshift plate. None of them noticed their King being carried over a Knights' shoulder down the tighter hallway.
“Do you think Arthur survived?” a familiar voice echoed from the medical ward.
"I don't know at this point," another voice said. "Gawain hasn't returned, and neither have Simon and Maria. It'll be a miracle if any made it out after that explosion."
"Well, hallelujah," Gawain announced as he walked through the door.
Inside the medical ward, the Knights were gathered around a few injured citizens, a few of them standing up to face him.
"Gawain, where have you been?" Bedivere questioned, looking at Arthur draped over his shoulder.
Gawain shifted Arthur to a standing position, holding him steady. "Fetching this dizzy tool," he replied. Arthur looked as if he had been hit by a horse's hoof in the head; it worried him somewhat. Head knocks were never good.
“Where’s Tristan and Maria?” Arthur asked, rubbing his eyes.
"I think you better worry about yourself first before worrying about them," Galahad said, taking the woozy Arthur and setting him on a spare chair.
“I have to admit,” Percival started. “You’re a brave soul, Arthur.”
"He's either very brave or very stupid," Gawain said, sitting himself down against the wall and panting. "All the way here, he was muttering about a witch. Ergott's new Queen isn't what she seems to be."
“A witch?” Lancelot asked. “They originate in the Willowing Keep within the Darklands. What is a witch doing in Camelot?”
Gawain flicked his eyes to Lancelot. "My best guess is that Ergott is using her to gain his powers." And if he truly believes that it is a good idea, then he deserves to find out his true fate.
“Only a tool like him would do that,” Geraint huffed. “And why would he get her to be Queen?”
"The Witches of the Darklands are very manipulative creatures," Gawain said. "Their magic is enticing to their targets, so much so that anyone who falls into their trap fails to see the benefits the Witches are milking from them."
“So, she’s also using him for her own benefit,” Lancelot said. “Intriguing.”
“Do we know where they’re heading next?” Percival asked, his arms folded.
"My guess is Dolorous Gard," Gawain growled. The infamous Kingdom of Dolorous Gard was fraught with dangerous beings, sitting right on the edge of the Darklands itself. The legends of the Kingdom were enough to scare any great warrior away and enough to attract any fool wanting to prove himself.
“Great,” Bedivere sighed. “I’m guessing Arthur would want to go there too?”
“Arthur isn’t that stupid to head to Dolorous Gard on his own,” Lancelot said. “Especially since you must traverse the Darklands in order to reach it.”
“Legend says that only a few people have made it to Dolorous Gard,” Gaheris said. “And one of them was King Benjamin himself.”
And he was lucky to come back alive. "The Barons and Ergott have teamed up with this witch, who I suspect was the catalyst to this whole thing unfolding," Gawain muttered.
“I wouldn’t doubt that,” Geraint nodded. “Witches are always catalysts for events like this.”
“And they’ll stop at nothing to get what they want,” Percival chimed in.
"They are infamous for using bargains with hidden repercussions," Gawain agreed, looking at Lancelot. "She may have convinced Ergott to do things to gain more power, like murdering the Knights. Although her motive is not easily as predictable, it seems."
“Witches only have their own goals for success,” Lancelot said. “She’s using him for something, and I would like to know what.”
"Wouldn't we all," Bedivere muttered.
“What of Camelot?” Percival asked. “Who will rule it now?”
"According to a little bird that tweeted in my ear, King George will be taking over," Gawain said.
Percival raised a brow. “From Rheged?” Rheged was a little-known Kingdom on the Western shores of Braynor; it specialised in harvesting seafood and maintaining the river flows from the ocean. As you could imagine, the rulership of a local peasant wasn't well-received among the royal ranks.
“Since when did a fisherman rule Kingdoms?” Gaheris chuckled.
“Why would Ergott choose a tool like him?” Percival asked.
“King George, despite his flaws, is a good leader,” Lancelot said softly. “He knows how to handle situations when under a lot of pressure, and he is a respectable man.”
Bedivere snorted. "The most amount of pressure that looney has been through is deciding what he wants for dinner," he huffed. "He's nowhere even close to being of royal blood either. My left pinkie toe is more royal than him."
“Being a King is no easy task, Bedivere,” Lancelot said. “I’m sure you would struggle to rule an over-exhausted Kingdom like Camelot.”
"Hey guys," Tristan panted from the doorway, holding onto the skirting. "We have an issue. Several, actually."
The Knights turned to him, their brows flicking up at the same time. "What is it?" Gawain said.
"One, we're out of apple buns," he puffed.
“Not relevant, but alas,” Percival said.
"Two, there's a whole lot of food missing."
“Again, not relevant,” Geraint frowned.
"Well, how are we going to feed the entire city then?" Tristan frowned.
“Find more food,” Gaheris said simply. “The market stalls are only a few blocks away.
"You go find more food," Tristan pouted at him. Gaheris gave him a look that shot fear through Tristan, the lad grinning nervously. "Three, Simon and Maria just showed up. She's not in a good way."
Arthur's eyes flew open, and he sat up. “Maria?”
"Where are they, Tristan?" Gawain asked, moving to stand back up with a groan. He wouldn't admit it, but everything was starting to wear him down. His old bones were creaking more and more as the day went by. And he'd copped a bad blow to the side.
Arthur got up from the seat and limped over to Tristan. “Where are they?”
"Arthur, sit back down," Galahad said, reaching for him. "You've got a concussion."
“I need to see her,” Arthur protested, moving away from Galahad.
Tristan looked at Arthur with worried eyes. "You look like something the cat dragged in," he muttered.
“Take me to them,” Arthur said, his head spinning.
"Arthur," Galahad warned. Arthur looked back at him, going pale. "Sit."
Arthur shook his head. “No.”
"She'll be coming in here; just wait for her," Gawain said to him and moved outside of the door.
Arthur nodded and collapsed to the floor in front of Tristan, the lad cursing and reaching for him. Gawain turned back around and cursed along with him, the other Knights moving quickly to Arthur's aid. "Get him on a bed," Gawain commanded. "And keep him there, for the Gods sake."
Gaheris stood from the chair and walked over to Arthur, picking him up from the floor. Tristan helped him to shift Arthur onto a bed, Arthur hanging limply between them. Gawain turned back around and continued down the hallway, Tristan following him quickly to take the lead.
“Where has she been?” Gawain asked from behind him.
"According to Simon, they got found in their hiding spot," Tristan shrugged. "Whoever found them was pretty rough, by the looks of things."
“What are the damages?”
"See for yourself," he said, turning the corner down the long hallway.
Gawain followed him around the corner and saw Maria and Simon seated on the foyer floor beside the doorway. He frowned slightly as he walked towards them, examining her wounds from afar; a black eye darkened the left side of her face, and she clutched her right shoulder, her skin peppered with light bruises and cuts, a particularly nasty one dashing across the left side of her neck.
Gawain crouched in front of her, lifting her chin up with his finger. “What happened?”
Her green eyes widened as she took him in. "I had the dogs there, I had the control over them, and then I felt something interfere with the connection," she said. "It was like another force was overtaking them, then I lost the hold over them, and by the time I figured out that I couldn't tap back into their minds, they were right behind us...."
“Maria, calm your breath,” Gawain said, patting her shoulder gently. “Who controlled the dogs?”
Her breathing started to slow a bit, and Tristan sat beside her, looking over at Simon and helping him out. "I don't know," she murmured. "But whoever it was, they had a lot more control of their power than I did."
Gawain furrowed his eyebrows and looked over to Simon. “Did you see anyone else near the border wall?”
Simon nodded. "I tried to ward them off while Maria got out of trance, three Barons and a strange woman."
“A strange woman?” Gawain asked.
"She was the one who gave Maria a black eye. We fought them off best we could, then a loud bang happened, and they disappeared."
“What did the girl look like?”
Simon waved his hand in the air in uncertainty. "Hood covered the face, but the eyes were glowing gold."
“Another witch,” Gawain scoffed. As if that's what this Kingdom needed. Ergott had set himself in a position that he would learn to regret later on. “Did you see which direction she went?”
"No, they quite literally vanished," he said. "One moment they were there, next minute they were gone."
“Witches have the tendency of vanishing,” Gawain frowned.
"Where is Arthur?" Maria asked, shifting to sit up and wincing. Gawain turned back to her and gently set her back down.
“He’s fine,” he said. “Just recovering.”
Maria nodded slightly and held in a groan, moving her hand to the cut on her neck. "I need some water," she said.
Gawain looked at the wound on her neck and frowned at it as blood leaked through her fingers. “We’ll take you to the medical ward.”
Simon shifted against the wall and used it to stand up, his braced leg making him grunt. He offered a hand down to Maria, and she took it; Tristan grabbed her other hand, and both of them pulled her to her feet.
“Easy now,” Gawain said, helping her ease herself. She gritted her teeth and started walking down the hallway with Simon, her hand still pressed on her neck.
Gawain led the group down the hallway, a few citizens passing by them, glancing at Maria while continuing their path. Tristan quickly ducked back into the kitchen and re-emerged with a cup of water, following them through the crowd.
Gawain could hear Maria’s bated breath from behind him, and it began to irritate him, not because it annoyed him, but because his trainee was in a bad state, and he knew he had to help her.
They turned the corner and re-entered the medical ward; Arthur lay unconscious on the bed, Galahad sitting beside him. His hands pulsed a dim yellow light as they waved over him, his eyes closed. Galahad's magic wasn't much of a secret amongst the rebels and the Roundtable, but to anyone outside of the bubble, it came as a shock, even though the legends told of his abilities. Gawain supposed that even though the legends were true, it was hard for some people to believe.
Like that ratbag back at Reigate. Gods, Lucan gets on my nerves.
Galahad looked up from Arthur, his eyes fading from the bright yellow back to brown. "He's stable; he's just got the-" he flicked his eyes to Maria. "Oh, Gods! Don't you look like you've been chewed up and spat out?"
"Feels like it too, don't worry," she winced and sat in a vacant chair.
“Any room for a second patient?” Gawain asked Galahad.
Galahad frowned slightly. "There isn't," he admitted, standing up and walking to Maria's seat. "There's too many casualties from the street rallies with the Barons, and not a single bed is available. There's just too many people." Gawain sighed and shook his head, looking down.
"And here you were saying it could fit the city," Bedivere muttered, fiddling with a coin.
Gawain looked over at him. “It can,” he said firmly.
"And it is," Tristan said, handing Maria the water cup. "Just not very well."
“King George will arrive in a day's time with his men,” Lancelot said. “But until then, we need to be here for these people.”
“I’m with Lance,” Percival said.
“How do we know if King George is even coming?” Geraint asked.
“We don’t,” Gawain muttered.
"Oh, we'll know," Bedivere snorted. "You'll smell the brine on the wind before you see him."
“Percival,” Lancelot said. Percival flicked his eyes over to him. “Take Bedivere and Gaheris to gather more food. The citizens will need more than what we’ve provided. Take a few marketers with you.”
“Done,” Percival smirked, looking at Bedivere. “Come on.”
"Look at you, all leader-like," Bedivere mocked, standing up. "Rodney gives you one task, and your chest is more puffed up than a bellow on a winter's night."
“Better than you,” Gaheris chimed in, nudging Bedivere’s shoulder roughly.
"I still won that race," Bedivere goaded, stumbling slightly and glaring up at Gaheris. "Do you know how much you hurt people?"
“I’m fully aware,” Gaheris chuckled.
Percival nudged Bedivere on the way out of the door. “Don’t be a wuss.”
"Says the one who can't stand being called by his first name," Bedivere scoffed, following, and shoving him from behind.
Gawain shook his head at them. “Those two just don’t stop butting heads.”
“It gets worse when they’ve had drinks,” Geraint mused.
Galahad threw him an incredulous look. "You can't say anything about 'getting worse when drunk,' little miss dancing-on-a-bar-chair," he teased.
“That was one time,” Geraint said. “And I never did it again.”
"You learned real quick after cracking your melon open, didn't ya?" Galahad grinned.
“It was worth it,” Geraint grinned at him.
"Did you end up impressing anyone? Or do you just have a flair for embarrassing yourself now?"
“Both.”
Galahad raised a brow, and Simon chuckled to himself. "Who's the lucky lass? Or lad, even?"
“Hannah,” Geraint said, leaning back in his chair. “She’s got herself a good personality."
"So that's where that came in," Galahad smirked. "She fell head over heels for a man that quite literally fell head over heels." The Knights left in the room laughed, a few of the conscious citizens listening in quietly chuckling. Geraint chuckled along with them and shook his head.
Gawain smirked at them and turned back to face Arthur, watching his face twitch in his sleep. The boy was a tool, for sure. He couldn't keep his temper cool or follow orders for the life of the good Gods, and he always came up with the most reckless, stupid plans Gawain had ever seen in his fifty-seven years of existing on this Gods forsaken continent.
But the boy was most definitely his father's son. He had more than Benjamin's blood in him; Arthur had his courage. Deep down, Gawain could see that prophecy in him, the steel will of a King, steered him true. Even if it often steered him in the wrong direction.
He sighed through his nose and turned around to face the door. None of what he normally would teach trainees worked on Arthur besides bringing his anger out of him. A new approach would be highly considerable with this lad. It would come with time.
But right now, he was in safe hands; he'd gotten his Kingdom back from his bastardly uncle. Gawain smiled softly towards the hallway. He's got the first step under wraps, at least.
“Gawain,” Lancelot called back to him.
Gawain turned back around to look at him, dropping his smile.
“You’ve made him proud,” Lancelot smiled warmly.
Benjamin... Gawain smiled again at Lancelot. "I better have," he said. "It was an awful lot of effort for nothing if I hadn't."
“Arthur looks up to you,” Lancelot said, walking over to him. “It’s time you be his mentor and his father figure.”
Gawain's mouth was quirked. "You can keep the father figure part," he joked.
“We’ve all done him proud, Jonathan,” Lancelot smiled, patting him on the shoulder. “Every one of us.”
"See, that's why you're the father figure," Gawain huffed. "You get the soppy lines going." And Gawain wouldn't know how to do that if he tried.
“All Ben wants from you is to watch over the boy, care for him, nurture him,” Lancelot said. “You leave the father's business to me.”
And that's just the way Gawain liked it. “Deal.”
