In the capital of the empire, within the grand royal hall of central Camelot, armored knights stood guard while white-robed priests chanted the sacred teachings of the church.
At the center of the hall sat a round table, surrounded by ten individuals.
Duke Bedivere, the swiftest warrior of the empire and commander of its most powerful military force, was blessed by the Lady of the Lake. He was the victor and husband of Olwen, the daughter of the giant king Ysbadadden, and the wielder of the legendary magic spear, the Wall-Piercer. Clad in a full suit of armor with a flowing blue cape, he sat with a noble presence. At fifty years old, he had lost none of the beauty of his youth.
To his left was Duke Percival, the Mountain-Splitter, donning full plate armor with a golden cape. At forty-five, he still bore the handsome features of his youth. Beside him sat Duke Galahad, the Perfect Knight, the Banishment of Demons, and the Healer of the People. Blessed by the heavens, he wore gleaming white armor adorned with a red cross.
To Bedivere's right sat Duke Gawain, known as the Knight of Maidens, the Elite of the Round Table, and the Guardian of the Empire, clad in full armor and a black cape. Beside him, Duke Gareth, the Knight of Wisdom and Insight, more talented in magic than swordsmanship, wore a crimson cape over his polished armor.
Further to the right sat Archduke Lancelot, the Unrivaled Knight, the Undefeated Warrior, the Eloquent Speaker, and the Knight of Love. Draped in a sky-blue cape, he exuded an aura of elegance.
The last to sit at the table, shining in pure golden mithril armor, was none other than King Arthur—the Warrior King, the Mad Bear, the Unifier of the Empire, and the Final Word.
Opposite Arthur, the seat of an old man named Merlin remained empty, his absence weighing heavily upon the meeting. Arthur, after surveying those present, turned his gaze to the noble knights standing around the hall.
Among them were Duke Lionel, Duke Tristan, Duke Brunor, Duke Bleoberis, Duke Lacot, Duke Kay, Duke Elyan, Duke Lebel, Duke Degonet, Duke Bruce, Duke Safir, Duke Ector, Duke Lucan, and Duke Palamedes. Though they were powerful in their own right, they lacked the influence or responsibilities required to earn a seat at the Round Table. As Arthur's gaze fell upon them, they bowed their heads in deference.
Despite the absence of war, every man in the room was clad in full armor, armed and ready. It was an ironclad rule of the Round Table—any knight attending must always be prepared for battle, never fearing the fight against evil.
As the meeting began, Arthur's eyes flickered from Lancelot to Merlin's empty seat.
"Merlin has been absent for too long," Arthur declared. "Deliver my message to him: if he refuses to attend, I will appoint another sorcerer as the King's Mage in his place."
Bedivere spoke next. "At a time when Mordred's mercenary army advances, and now that he has allied with Vlad the Impaler and taken control of the Dark Dragon Tribe, Merlin has deprived us of his knowledge to face them. I suggest mobilizing his apprentices in Camelot to find him rather than dismissing him outright."
Duke Gareth slammed his iron gauntlet onto the table. "Merlin is the King's Mage. We cannot exile someone of such power over a few mistakes. The old man will surely return in a few days."
"Vlad, Mordred, or even the King of the Dark Dragons—it matters not. My blade will cleave them in half!" Percival declared. "The greater crisis is the sudden appearance of countless monsters, some of which belong to unknown races. We must find a solution."
"Percival is right," another duke added. "In my lands, thousands of strange creatures have emerged, bringing chaos."
Duke Gawain stood. "I call upon all those who have faced a similar crisis in their regions to report it now, so we may coordinate our response."
"The death toll is rising," Galahad said gravely. "The church struggles to heal the wounded and cleanse dark curses. The financial burden on the people and the church has become unbearable."
Arthur raised his hand, calling for silence. "Galahad, summon the Pope to attend our council. Unlike Merlin, his presence is voluntary, but inform him that his presence is required. As for financial losses, taxes will be suspended for two months."
His gaze returned to Lancelot, who averted his eyes. Arthur rose from his seat, stepping toward him and resting a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Regarding the mysterious creatures, Lancelot, you will take command of the northern front and cleanse our lands of Dietrich's forces. The rest of you will secure your own territories. Percival and Bedivere shall oversee the southern front, while the others will reinforce their armies. If there are any objections, speak now—including you, Lancelot, for you will be facing Dietrich's sorcerers and Valkyries."
Lancelot let out a quiet but audible sigh before rising. "Obedience to the king is my duty. I will carry it out to the best of my ability."
Without another word, Lancelot left the hall. His son, Galahad, unaware of the tension between him and Arthur, followed soon after. The rest of the knights began to disperse.
As Bedivere approached Arthur, he leaned in close and snapped his fingers to create a soundproof barrier.
"Few know of the Queen's betrayal, but if your anger toward Lancelot erupts, it will ignite a civil war. I implore you—treat Lady Guinevere with kindness and do not exile her from Camelot. Our intelligence reports suggest that Mordred seeks to capture her. If that happens, the morale of our people will shatter."
Arthur's veins bulged, his face turning red with fury. A single strike from his hand could easily kill a lord.
Minutes passed before Arthur placed a hand on Bedivere's neck, pressing their foreheads together.
"Never leave my side, Bedivere," Arthur murmured. "If Excalibur is drawn, it will not return to its sheath until millions have perished. This sword is not a blessing—it is a curse, driving me closer to madness each day. The Lady of the Lake, that wretched mother of Lancelot, has damned me. Tell Gawain to strengthen the Imperial Guard, for even my trust in the Round Table has waned. As for Guinevere, she is your responsibility. I cannot bear to look at her for now—lock her in the high tower until this crisis has passed. After that, her fate will be decided."
Bedivere bowed deeply before departing, leaving Arthur alone in the grand hall.
When the doors reopened, the servants hesitated at the sight of him. Not daring to enter before he left, they waited. Arthur's eyes, once void of life, slowly regained their fire.
"This old man is too short-tempered," he muttered to himself.