Prologue 2:
A letter written by English Soldier, Nathaniel Eyre, to his best friend who is on the eastern from. July 2nd, 1943
Dear Chester,
It has been three weeks since I was reassigned to a desk job in London. The new position isn't to bad, Churchill is a crude, but effective boss and I can eat food without the sound of mortars overhead. It also does feel nice to not have water soaking into my socks constantly. However the more I sit here, the weight on my shoulders grows. Just three long weeks ago I was side by side with my brothers in arms fighting to stop German expansion, now I am stamping documents...what a sadistic jokes God must have played on me to go from adorning me with a rifle to defend my brothers, to a stamp that notifies my comrades families that they are gone. This mundane depression can only be compared to a still sea, its calm but sea-sickness still persist. I will only tell you this in confidence...but I wish I hadn't kicked that grenade away.
I know, it's awful to say such a thing, after all I am regarded as a hero to those around me, but those men I saved get to fight and gain honor; while I am stuck with this bloody stump of a leg! Even though I use to be a capable man who brought fear to those who dared to stand against me, I am now reduced to a charity case. People fulfill their daily good deed by getting me coffee or holding my hand across the street. Like I am a f*#king infant...If I hadn't saved those men I would still be there, right beside you Chester. Bestowing fear upon the enemy like no soldier had before. You and I together could rival the likes of Achilles and Apollo. That fake Hector who calls himself a Fuhrer would tremble in fear before us.
But now...I am just a bloody cripple. Living posh and content as if I am like these sheep around me that live normal lives not knowing the glory one can find in defeating a great enemy. Not like you and I know…
I have to regain my Arete...I have no other place.
Sincerely,
Nathaniel Eyre
A letter written by deserter, Nathaniel Eyre, to his best friend who is marching towards Berlin July 28th, 1943
Dear Chester,
In a little less than a month I have gone from a hero to a disgrace. The sheep expect me to be silent and quiet, accepting my hero status passively. The say they revere and respect me but can't seem to handle when I drink a little on the side or get in a few fights just to null the pain. The other people in the office tried to confront me, saying they wanted to help, but they did so with the fakest f*#cking eyes I have ever seen. Churchill himself was the only one who was honest with me, the bastard of a prime minister, told me I was worthless outside of a desk without my leg. I swung at the fat bastard but without the use of my other leg, I ended up just falling over right in front of him. You know what he did after that? He didn't laugh, or snicker, he just sighed...then walked away. I wasn't even worthy of his pity! Imagine that, me, not even worthy of a bloody sack of lards pity! Does he know what I have done for his country! Does he know that I was the only Captain willing to die with my unit...while he sits in his ivory tower and claims he is ending the war! To hell with all of it, so I left. I got on a train at kings cross and headed south.
I have been traveling for about 12 days now. My money ran out 4 days ago and no one is willing to spare even a quib to a drunken soldier like me. I have dug through the trash to find anything that can be considered a meal but have resorted to just letting the hunger mull around inside of me...letting it fuel my anger. I don't care if I can't eat, I don't want livestock's scraps. I will find my own way. I will regain what I have lost, no matter the cost.
I have heard tales of ruins near Exmouth. The tales say that the ruins of Camelot sit there waiting for Arthur to return, and be restored to glory. They tell of Merlin himself sitting and waiting for his king to return. I have not gone so insane to believe Merlin actually exist...but what if something there waits for me...what if I am to be in Arthur's court...then I could finally be free.
Nathaniel Eyre
A letter written by homeless, Nathaniel Eyre, to his best friend Chester in the heat of battle
August 10th, 1943
Chester,
Upon my arrival in Exmouth I found exactly what I had feared...nothing. Just a quaint town with forgetful bloaks looking at a disgusting sea of brown water. I started to travel outside of the city (more of a hamlet really) to find fields and trees. No ruins or Arthur, just flat English land. About 5 days ago I had resided to dying in the middle of the woods, not letting my body be found . What was my life worth anyway? Let the past two months have been a dream and let me escape to images of Valhalla that may come when I sleep my final rest. I was never a Norman, but I think after this time I have a better understanding of the vikings, it is better to die in battle than to live in a disgusting state. The rotting corpse that use to be a soldier was dying by the day now and I had nothing left. However, someone wouldn't let me die.
When I had planned to let myself finally drift, I felt something hit me in the head. I opened my eyes to find an apple, red and plump with just a small bruise from colliding with my forehead. In my head I contemplated whether to eat it and continue on with my mortal coil even though existence was suffering or let myself starve, but my body reacted without command and I consumed it as if it were the last apple on Earth. At around breakfast the next morning I felt something hit me in the head again to find a Muffin with jam laying the ground in front of me. This continued to happen with more food appearing for each meal until food was now simply materializing in front of me. By the third day of this occurrence I was receiving platters of biscuits and tea, along with locks and bread. I first believed them to be delusions before I finally passed, but I began to full stronger as I ate the food, I was regaining my strength. After I composed myself and decided they were indeed real, I began to ponder where they had come from; that is when he appeared before me.
Yesterday morning I woke up from my bed of grass ready to eat but there was no food waiting for me. I became puzzled and then I heard a rustle come from the trees. Out stepped a man, tall with long black hair and casual fishers clothes, holding a bowl of soup. He smiled at me as I grimaced at him. He offered me the bowl holding it out towards me to grab and I could smell the minestrone soup wafting out of the bowl. I grabbed it thankfully and began to savor the flavor. He and I began a conversation and I will try to recount it to the best of my ability because even now it astounds me in its content:
Man: I hope my food has been to your liking
Me: Yeah its great, I didn't ask you to do this though
Man: I assumed I would be a bad host if I didn't give the man who has been searching for me something to eat
Me: and who exactly am I looking for, to me you just look like…
Man: another sheep, yes you are rather fond of that term, you express it in all your letters
I fell silent a moment after he said that
Man: my name is Merlin
Me: Bullsh*t
Man: I can assure you it is. You are Nathaniel Eyre, captain of the 118th infantry unit, your a man of great prowess on the battlefield
Me: Well if you know who I am so well then you should know that isn't me anymore, I am a ghost of that man
Man: stop being so poetic and get yourself together. You really believe you can stand in Arthur's court like that.
Me: Stand in Arthur's court?! I can't stand in general, not without help anyway.
Man: Ah yes that won't do, I knight should be able to bestow fear upon those in his way, not uncertainty of capability, how would you like your leg back
Yes Chester, this man "Merlin" claimed he could give me my leg back. He said many things that made me question him, like Arthur and saying that he is Merlin; but him saying I could have my leg back was exactly what he needed to say to get my attention.
Man: it won't be the same as before, obviously, but it should be better than what you remember
Me: How would I get a new leg
Man: simple, all you would have to do is completely trust and follow me
Chester. I fear that this man is to enticing for me to handle. His words don't seem to deceive me, yet I remain hesitant out of fear of losing my grip on reality.
Me: you sound like you are trying to manipulate me, I already did my time serving under someone unworthy, I won't do that again
Man: I can promise you the worth you seek. It may seem far fetched, even beyond possible, but I can promise you that leader. His name is Arthur and he is coming back, however things must be accomplished before he comes.
Me: What things?
Man: well that depends on if you are truly his knight? Can you truly be a knight worthy of the round table?
I sit here writing this letter now, still unsure of if I am. Can I really be like the knights of olde?
Man: if you are ready to be a real warrior, Nathaniel..
The man pointed behind me. When I looked back a door of complete gold stood closed behind my back. The symbol of the round table imprinted upon it.
Man: walk through that door.
I turned back to look at Merlin but he was already gone…
I didn't touch the door, or question his disappearance after he left. For the past day I have just been staring at the door. No food as appeared before me again, and Merlin is no where around. The only thing that captivates me is the door.
Chester I think this is it. I think this Merlin truly means to make me a knight. He can give me honor like I have never seen before. I still haven't touched the door, because well I know once I do that this will be it. I may never see you again, write you a letter, or even be Nathaniel Eyre. However, it is only a matter of time before I go through...even now I can hear it calling to me. Saying...
Achilles
A letter written by Achilles Eyre, formerly known as Nathaniel, to his old friend Chester who is missing
July 2nd, 1953
Chester,
Camelot is beautiful beyond compare, someday I hope I can meet you here as well. I will be the conduit that allows Arthur to return. The world is not ready...but it will be.
Mortality is a pain, I will destroy the very existence of Troy, so my master can return.
So long Apollo,
Achilles.