It was a hot, humid day in Camelot It was the kind of heat that drains a person of all energy, with little motivation to do anything but lie in the shade and pray for rain. On this day, the only thing on the minds of King Arthur's knights was beer and a cool bath. Unfortunately, the knights had orders to practice their fighting skills, so they had to spend the day out in the training fields in full armor, working tirelessly with their swords and fists, sweating and panting under the glaring heat of the sun.

One knight was having trouble, practicing his skills against dragons. He wielded his sword high, feet apart, and stared hard at the small but strong training dragon at the other end of the field. Both creatures stood perfectly still, knees bent, neither breaking eye contact. The dragon's golden scales glinted in the bright afternoon sunlight. It's claws dug into the dirt and its teeth bared, mouth twisting into a menacing snarl. The knight's eyes narrowed, twisting his hand around the hilt of his sword, shifting his shield closer to his body. The dragon emitted a loud roar and charged at full speed, racing towards the knight. As it ran, the heavy iron chain that was attached to its collar flapped behind it, clanking noisily. The knight lifted his sword higher, bracing himself against the great scaly creature bearing down upon him. Just as he was about to drive his weapon into the beast's heart, there was a shout and a blur of silver.

Before the knight knew what was happening, the dragon lay in the grass in a helpless heap, with somebody else's sword protruding from the poor creature's shoulder. "That dragon nearly got you, didn't it, Sir Anderson? The heat must be getting to you, perhaps you should take a break before you hurt yourself." said the figure standing over the creature.

Anderson spluttered in disbelief. "Sir Holmes, that was completely unnecessary! That's the fourth time today that you've taken one of my kills!" he exclaimed indignantly. True, the heat combined with the weight of all the armor was putting him off his senses, but no reason for anyone to know that.

"Calm down, you would have been mincemeat if I hadn't gotten this beast in time. You should be grateful." Sir Holmes stood up to his full height to tower over the other knight, wearing a smirk on his pale face. "Remember, I have led more battles than you. King Arthur himself comes to me for help more often than he does you, and there's a reason for that."

"If you're implying that you're a better knight than me-" Sir Anderson began, but he was cut off by Sir Holmes' deep baritone voice.

"Oh no, I'm not implying anything. All I'm saying is that I have slain countless beasts and rescues an endless number of damsels in distress, and the amount that you have can be counted on one hand." The tall knight bent down to extract his sword from the pitiful form of the dragon. Wiping it in the grass, he turned to Sir Anderson and said "Perhaps if you observed my techniques a bit more closely you might hope to achieve half of my greatness, though I highly doubt that." he then turned and walked towards the archery area, leaving Sir Anderson fuming behind him.

That night, Sir Holmes sat in the dining hall, sipping on a large mug of beer with his feet up in the table. His voice echoed around the stone walls of the room as he loudly told yet another story about yet another village he had rescued from attackers. One hand waved enthusiastically in the air, his voice rising excitedly as he spoke. His voice boomed as he regaled how he had cleverly figured out the bandits' plan, his eyes staring off into space, lost in his own words. Sir Anderson and Lady Donovan sat at the table, exchanging annoyed glances and dramatic sighs of exasperation. They had lost track of how many stories Sir Holmes had told them, as they had stopped listening long ago. They let him carry on talking to themselves while they sipped at their drinks and waited for the king to arrive.

Finally the doors burst open and King Lestrade strode into the room, flanked by a pair of guards. All of the knights, even sir Holmes, quieted and sat at attention. They waited in respectful silence as the King took his seat at the head of the table. From the grim way his face fell, the knights could tell that tonight's meeting held grave news.

King Lestrade inhaled deeply, then spoke.

"Knights, we must increase our training. There have been reports of outsiders sighted among the outlying villages. Whoever they are are not from this kingdom, and surely they mean to overthrow me from the throne and take over Camelot. They have already burned down the village of Tarus. There was only one survivor, a teenage girl. She was found wandering the woods, covered in scorch marks. She told us that the only reason that they let her live was so that she could deliver a message to me: That Moriarty's army are coming, and will stop at nothing to get what they want. These men are few, and we know very little about them. We know they're dangerous, and we must be ready for them."

Sir Holmes spoke up from the far side of the table. "What do we know about these men so far?"

"We know that they are foreign. There are very few of them, maybe as little as twenty men. Though they are few in numbers, their skill and cunning make them extremely dangerous. And they are all loyal to their leader."

"Who's their leader?" Inquired Lady Donovan.

"Some man named Moriarty. He must be from far away, otherwise we would have heard of him. He's powerful, very powerful. We must be ready, we don't know when he will attack. Increase your training and keep your eyes open for suspicious behavior. Any questions?"

Silence.

"Then the court is dismissed. We start early tomorrow." the Knights bowed their heads briefly to the King and filed from the room, muttering to each other about this new information.

"What kind of a man can this be? He can't be that powerful, if we've never heard of him." Said Lady Donovan. Sir Anderson shook his head.

"You heard the king. He's already killed an entire village, he's obviously dangerous. We've got to be ready for him."

"Don't worry, Anderson!" Holmes' voice interrupted the conversation. "This man might be dangerous, but I'm sure I can handle them!"

"You mean 'we,'" Said Anderson halfheartedly, knowing full well that Sir Holmes meant every word he said.

"Well, I'm sure you and the other knights will fight, but you won't be of much use. You're all idiots anyways, perhaps it would be better if I faced them on my own when the time comes." Lady Donovan rolled her eyes. "Oh don't give me that look, Donovan, you know you need me. If it weren't for my superior strength and intellect this kingdom would be in ruins."

"It's not all you, though!" Donovan said indignantly. "The rest of the knights and myself are perfectly capable and necessary to this kingdom! If it weren't for us, you would be nothing!"

"Yeah," agreed Anderson. "We aren't idiots, otherwise we wouldn't be knights."

"If it makes you feel better, you can tell yourself that. Just remember who Kind Lestrade goes to first for advice."
Sir Holmes smirked and strode off, leaving Sir Anderson and Lady Donovan fuming behind him.

The next evening found Anderson and Donovan leaning against the stables, exhausted after a long day of tiring training. King Lestrade had doubled the amount of work they were to do in preparation for Moriarty's army, and many of the knights were so tired that they could barely stand. Anderson and Donovan leaned against the stables, passing a canteen of water between them, panting heavily. The day was as hot as before, and they were sweating in their armor. The sun was beginning to set, dying the sky brilliant shades of pink and orange.

The two knights stood in silence as they watched evening fall over the courtyard. The business of the day was slowing, and all of the other knights were beginning to leave, sauntering off to their homes or to the tavern. Sir Holmes sat on the opposite side from them, polishing his sword. Soon the courtyard was empty, and it was just the two of them and Holmes in the growing darkness. Sir Anderson and Lady Donovan enjoyed each others' presence, neither feeling the immediate need to say anything. All that could be heard was the shuffling sound of horses and the light breeze.

Suddenly, they detected movement coming from the entrance to the courtyard. The two exchanged glances and turned to the movement. As they watched, a man stumbled into the courtyard. He appeared to be out of breath, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. Sir Holmes glanced up from polishing his sword, then returned to his work, deciding that this man wasn't worth his interest. Anderson and Donovan rushed forward.

As they reached him, the man sat down on the cobblestones. Anderson called out to him as he approached.

"Hello. And who are you?"

The man was about the same age as Sir Anderson, perhaps a few years younger. His boyish face was topped with a mop of messy brown hair. He wore relatively good clothing that was a bit worn around the edges. He looked up when he was spoken to.

"My name is James, I come from the village of Harrow." He pulled himself up off the ground and offered his hand.

"I am Sir Anderson and this is the Lady Donovan," Said Anderson, taking it. "What business do you have here?"

"I heard of Moriarty's army and I came here to help fight. I have encountered this man before and I know Camelot will need as much help as they can get."

"You wish to fight?" said Lady Donovan. "But you aren't a knight! Only the knights of Camelot can go to battle."

"I have encountered Moriarty once before. When I was young he attacked my village, showing no mercy. He and his men not only possessed more strength than I have ever encountered, but they were clever and cunning as well. He has a way of getting into people's heads, and his men are loyal to the end. I may not be a knight, but Camelot will need every man fighting if it wants to survive." The two knights exchanged glances, unsure of how to proceed.

"Perhaps you can speak with the king and beg him to allow you to fight. But he'll have retired to bed now, you will have to wait until morning." Said Lady Donovan. James nodded.

"Very well, I will do that. Until then, is there somewhere to stay the night?" The two knights nodded and directed him to the inn. James thanked them and bid them farewell. When he was gone, Anderson and Donovan walked together towards their houses.

"He seemed like a nice enough man. Do you think he'll be allowed to fight?"

"I'm not sure. He's willing, and if the King is desperate enough, he probably will let him. He's right, we do need every man fighting." Said Anderson.

"Yeah," agreed Donovan. "But there's something about that man, something I couldn't quite put my finger on."

"Like what?" Donovan was silent for a moment.

"I'm not sure. I just got this uneasy feeling from him. I wouldn't trust him just yet."