Albion 1

A group of figures were arrayed around a half circle table, each in a resplendent set of armor. Centered behind the table was an empty throne.

“Do we know when the King will return? It has been an entire fortnight,” said a man whose plate armor slowly shifted and reformed, never stopping.

Opposite Godrick, another man spoke up. His armor glowed like the morning sun. “This hunt is not about your average beast, Ser Godrick. We are speaking of the Ternion Serpent. The King’s honor demanded that he meet it in the field after the destruction of New Manchester.”

“And the kingdom is to drown in uncertainty until his return? Are not we each a [Knight of the Round]? It is our duty to die with our King, Ser Willem. Honor demands it,” shouted Godrick.

“And his honor demands that he face the serpent alone! Do you not understand?” Willem retorted.

“Silence.” A woman’s voice settled over the round table. She was clad in plate from head to toe. Her ensemble would have been the simplest of the bunch, if not for the two massive wings sprouting from her back. They furled and unfurled in agitation. “The serpent is a concern for the King and while he is gone, the kingdom is a concern for us.”

“Of course, Ser Amelia. I did not mean to speak out of place.” Ser Godrick wearily sank into his stone seat.

“What if the King does not return? The people need their King. What of Camelot? What of Albion?” Ser Willem asked, his tone somber.

“The people need not concern themselves with the King and his quest. We will govern in his stead. As far as the common man is concerned, the King is hale and victorious,” said Ser Amelia.

“We would feed them lies?” asked Ser Godrick.

“No. We would feed them peace of mind.”

-

Ser Hallon had been a [Knight] for nearly thirty years before the King recognized him and he became a [Knight of the Round]. He had proved himself honorable and valorous for his participation in the War of the North. Now, though, he was not so certain of himself.

Ser Amelia had bid him follow the King. It did not sit well with his honor as a knight, but if the King perished, so too would Albion. He had traveled night and day towards the blasted lands… towards the north. Visions of the war clawed at his dreams at night and cold sweat clung to his body. Each unexpected noise was enough to incite a bout of terror.

The King had shown no signs of distress, simply marching ever onward. Ser Hallon was certain that the King was marching to his doom. Before meeting the King in person, Ser Hallon would have never guessed at the man’s enigmatic personality. All of this was like a game to the King. The kingdom, their knighthood… everything. None of it held weight. It was an amusement, nothing more.

Each [Knight of the Round] had professed their concerns in darkened corners and hushed tones. Could the King be trusted? Was he a man of honor? Of course, nobody would voice their worries publicly. The King was beloved by the people. The people needed the King.

After only a week on the march, Ser Hallon could hear the roars of the Ternion Serpent. The beast was over level 400 and had ravaged the armies of Albion after the War in the North. Some say that the Northerners had summoned the dragon with a foul ritual, instilling within it a hatred for all who hail from Albion.

Ser Hallon knew he was no match for the dragon. He was only level 207. If the King failed in his quest, he wasn't sure what Ser Amelia expected him to do. He would have to return, giving word of the King’s demise to the other knights. Surely he could not face the beast?

-

Ser Hallon was certain that the King had spotted him. He had been careful to avoid notice, but he lacked any skills to provide him with stealth. Nobody knew what level the King was, or even what he was capable of. But it was more than reasonable to assume that he could figure out if someone was following him.

“I tire of this game, Ser Hallon. Why are you here?” asked the King. He was nearly a hundred meters away, but his voice rang clearly in Ser Hallon’s ears.

“Your grace!” Ser Hallon fell to his knees. “I must apologize! Ser Amelia bid me follow you.”

“Follow me? I thought I had clarified that this was my quest. You fools would only rob me of my experience points.”

“This was not my intent, your grace!”

“Go back, Ser Hallon. If you insist on remaining, I will let the dragon rend you asunder. I will complete this quest on my own.”

Ser Hallon remained kneeling as the King continued to walk off into the distance.

Why am I so craven that I cannot accomplish even this lowly task?