There were a few things that I’d noticed in my time here in Argedwall. The most apparent that certain every one of my people had noticed was that there was a very distinct pseudo-medieval feel regarding the Knights. That was abundantly clear from their names alone, of course, but as we saw more and more mech suits that were tailored to look like oversized suits of armor, I felt that perhaps the obsession was a tad too pronounced.

When I saw the actual location for the Knights headquarters, I felt like, perhaps, they weren’t too far off the mark.

The literal castle would have towered over the next nearest buildings even without its superior location. Said location that had been preserved atop a hill, rounded by a layer of three meter tall walls and a winding trail through three checkpoints. I’d never seen it back when it was just a cultural monument, but seeing it now was like stepping back into the past.

If the past had lumbering mechanized knights, anyways. There were plenty of retrofits that had been applied to the structure, a massive platform elevator that could be used to bypass the trails one of the more obvious ones. Armored as we were we nearly could have fit right in.

Except, my armor looked closer to some revenant masquerading as a man. Daniel’s mech was a juggernaut that had already garnered some reputation for being a freight train. Fran was iconic as well, floating easily next to Daniel, wings flared ever so slightly, gleaming lines of orange now shining across them. Alice and Richard moved fluidly along the outsides, relaxed and yet more than capable of erupting in violent motion in an instant. Terry’s mech had been modified yet again, bearing limbs that were currently in the form of tank-treads after having decided that using the ionized hovering set of limbs might be a little too over the top.

Even so, he drew a great deal of attention, considering his mech looked like a frankenstein monster of seemingly unlike parts.

Peter headed our procession, informing us of what was considered good and bad manners at the Round. It was, fortunately, not based off of historical context, and was wholly pragmatic. The Knight-Commander - though I couldn’t attest either way if this was normal or not - was the head of the table and would call the round to activity. At that point, even though the Knight-Commander was effectively the leader of the city, they would exclude themselves from introducing any topics. They would, however, control order at the table in order to ensure that everything didn’t devolve into a shouting match. His authority was iron-clad, and Peter explained that there had already been a few instances where a Lord was rejected from the table in a session because they couldn’t behave.

When things like that happened, they may or may not be present for the next session until the Knight-Commander decided that they’d been punished enough.

“That’s pretty much it,” Peter nodded to himself as he considered things, “there’s not much else, aside from not being intentionally antagonistic.”

“Not particularly hard,” I nodded, “are all of the Lords going to be present for this?”

Peter opened his mouth to speak when someone else answered for him.

“Aye, we’re all going to be here for this one. Not everyday we get visitors,” a man with a deep baritone voice walked forward. He was clad in similar metals as Peter, though his emblem was different.

It was a white rabbit with blood red eyes.

“Ned Helman, Knight-Lord of The White Rabbit of Caerbannog.” He greeted, reaching out a hand.

I frowned at the name, feeling like it was familiar somehow. “Matthew Reaper, Leader of The Reaper’s Legion.”

We shook, and he tilted his head slightly at the title, stark white hair and beard well kept and sharp, “Reaper your last name?”

I paused at that, and immediately decided not to take a trip down that thought process. With a shrug, I responded, “something like that. Interesting name you have yourselves.”

He grinned, “we’re all fans of Monty, even if you don’t know it yet.”

I blinked at that, and shook my head with amusement as I realized the reference they were making. “Are there more of you here?”

“One other,” Peter answered for him, “and please don’t encourage them. They’re insufferable when they get going.”

Ned took no offense it seemed, instead laughing loudly at Peter’s expense, “at least we don’t take ourselves too seriously, Wolf.”

Peter ignored him, and gestured through the broad gates that led into the castle's interior, “after you.”

I walked forward, bemused at the Lords’ interaction. Behind me, I could hear Ned talking with someone else, Daniel I think, considering how much he loved those movies.

The architecture dragged my attention away, vaulted ceilings and hardened, seemingly enamel coated walls and floors giving a shiny, new appearance to the surfaces within. Given that we were still in mech suits, I supposed that the coating was more to protect the structure than anything else.

It didn’t take long to get to the main hall, and the many decorations on the walls helped to break up what was otherwise a mono-colored building. The walls themselves were a dull grey, and while the floor was checkered black and white in most places, there were also some areas that bore much more intricate designs in the same colors. Pillars were lightly adorned, primarily with reinforcement disguised - albeit barely - as decor that spiraled up along the outsides of the stone.

Our destination, however, was quite different. I imagined that perhaps this had been an audience hall of some sort, only circular rather than the standard rectangular rooms we’d seen in the castle otherwise. The flooring here had been replaced with a much sturdier version of granite, likely due to the higher traffic here. The ‘Round Table’ as it had been called was actually made entirely of metal, welded together and adorned with the heraldry of each of the Lords. The first seat at each location was large enough to allow a fully mechanized Knight-Lord to sit without issue, while the one beside them was more suited to a man-sized individual.

The table itself was more akin to a ring, the center of which was empty save for a large metal device with several optical pieces that pointed upwards to a similar array that hung from the ceiling. This was the highest tech thing that I’d seen yet, but it was likely more of a holographic display than anything else.

In front of each seat on the ring heraldry hung, mirrored across on the backs of the chairs and then likewise hanging from the walls even further back. Every Lord had their own place at the table, and there was still room for a few more seats. Ours was obvious, it was the only chair present that wasn’t massive and had several seats laid out against the back wall for the rest of us.

Only one of us would sit at the table at a time, which made sense in any case. The only other person who would likely have all that much to say would be Fran, and if necessary she would take my place.

The intent for this meeting was more akin to an official greeting between The Reaper’s Legion and the Knights of Argedwall, with a bit of information sharing and communal planning. The actual diplomatic meetings would happen at a later date, a gesture of good will that the Legion didn’t intend on taking advantage of the Knights in times where they needed help.

Perhaps that was naive, but I believed that, especially in this case, it would work out for the better in the long run.

Other Lords were making their way into the room, and Peter quietly directed us to our seats. Peter and Ned sat on either side of me, and by some chance I was sitting directly across from the only person who had already been seated at the table.

The Knight-Commander sat on top of a steel throne, golden and blood-red mechanized steel flexed as he gestured to screens only he could see, fed through the Obelisk. His face was open to view, but even with the helmet pulled back there was what appeared to be a crown of what almost looked like liquid gold that formed around his head. He was a middle-aged man, salt-and-pepper beard and with a square jaw. The man could pass for Jeremy’s brother, had I seen them side by side.

He looked up from what he was doing, meeting my eyes, my own helmet already drawn back. We assessed each other, my red eyes and his green eyes meeting.

There were times, a lifetime ago it felt, when I’d seen something overly dramatic like this happen in movies or video games. Where there was some kind of unspoken clash occuring. It's always struck me as silly and awkward when you boiled it down; two people making eye-contact for far too long.

Now, though, feeling the challenge in his gaze, arguably a pressure of a sort from the man seemed to push from his attention. It was hard to describe, pushing back against that, like I was reaching with my own iron will across the gap.

And then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. Both of us shared a respectful nod and moving our focus to the rest of the gathering.

Of which, their attention was fully on us, where seconds had passed by without the leader of the Knights or the leader of the Legion moving. Peter and Ned both released a breath beside me, relief evident in him.

“You’re quite the monster yourself, huh?” Ned caught me off guard with the question as he turned to me.

I frowned in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know,” he began, “he’s rather intense, isn’t he? Like he adds weight to the room he’s in.”

I blinked, and he could tell that I still didn’t exactly know what he was talking about.

“You didn’t feel anything when he was staring at you?” Peter asked, seemingly surprised.

“I guess I could say that there was something, but I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing.” I frowned, turning my attention to what happened.

It was then that I noticed a message come to me from Alice, who could hear the conversation fairly easily from where she was.

[They’re talking about the… force he’d exerted. It was like physical pressure that the rest of us - I think - could feel, but you’re not really psychic at all, soooo… maybe you didn’t actually feel anything? Not sure, honestly.]

‘So he’s psychic?’ I blinked in surprise, looking back up to the man across the table.

“So he’s another one?” I murmured, not noticing the looks that Peter and Ned shared. “How interesting… I’ll need to ask him some questions later.”

Alice and Jeremy had prolonged contact with Yaga, a psychically inclined biotic. Given that, I had to wonder what triggered this man's capacity for psychic power. With luck, maybe we could figure out the exact mechanism, considering that it only seemed to be a boon for people.

Though, that was getting ahead of myself. First we had business to discuss...