Camelot, the high city, a paradise for the famous and wealthy built to loom over the crowded streets of the upper city just below, and further crush the slowly-rotting lower city beneath its might- deeply and truly, Ruber hated this place. The lofty towers that stretched high into the clouds stood only as a testament to the fact that, here, above the trash and filth struggling just beyond the horizon choked by the city's glittering lights, the worst of humanity could thrive simply by sitting around. The higher you climbed, the more backwards things became, coming from the lower city, where the maggots of humanity worked for close to nothing- rodents struggling against the tight coils of a snake just to take one, single breath. It took every ounce of will not to fly into a rage as he looked out at the view that could be seen from the steps leading to Pendragon Tower- a view that used to fill him with something akin to hope.
Ruber hated this place, but, unfortunately for him, business always brought him crawling back up from the shadows and into the sterile light.
With a beleaguered sigh, he turned away and continued his trek from the street to the front entrance, where two men in security uniforms stood at either side. They reacted to him marching up the steps like someone would react to seeing a charging bear, and even though they clearly tried to be subtle about it, Ruber could see their fingers twitch in the direction of their gun holsters.
Finally, some entertainment.
A certain type of a certain type of people were ever summoned to Pendragon Tower, the home base of the conglomerate that had a hand in almost every industry the high city was built on the backs of, and Ruber had always been very much an outlier in that regard. Vanity was less of a luxury and more of a myth within the shadowy depths of the lower city, and he was very much a living example, with the hairline of his long, red hair having seen much better days, permanent frown lines cutting deep around his mouth, deep-black eye bags that even a lifetime of sleep couldn't help and teeth sharp enough to be comparable to a beast rather than a man. There was hardly a situation where he didn't stand a good head or two above anyone else, sporting bulky muscles that only added to his imposing mass. He was like a barbarian, if you could get one to dress well enough for an important business meeting, and he took great pride in how often he could scare the shit out of people just by simply being around, and saying nothing at all.
"Hey, state your business!" One of the security guards barked, clearly trying his hardest to sound intimidating. But, trying to intimidate Ruber was like hoping to move a mountain with nothing but a breeze, so it only succeeded in furthering his amusement, as he let slip a mocking chuckle. "Did you hear me! Stop!"
"You two must be new, I can't imagine why else someone could be so rude to an invited guest," Ruber smirked as he took a few more, good steps, just enough so that he could smell their unease, before he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and retrieved a single, red card, embossed with the three, gold rings that made up the Pendragon Conglomerate logo. "I hope you at least know what one of these means."
"Oh, I- That's..." The other security guard fumbled for his words, neither of them having expected to see such a thing in the hands of someone like Ruber.
"Arthur Pendragon, himself, is expecting me." He said with a grin. "So, move aside."
That being said, he didn't even bother to wait before he shoved passed them both and waltzed proudly into the lobby. He looked around, watching as the staff monitoring the ground floor all made an incredible effort not to meet his eyes. A hush fell over the lobby, and all that could be heard were the sound of his feet thudding against the polished marble floor.
This was better than the wealth it would take to be accepted into the ranks of the high city, and far more satisfying. To Ruber, the only true, universal currency that mattered at all was fear.
He made it to the elevators uninterrupted, and checked his reflection in the metal doors as he waited for a lift. At least, from here on, it was best to make sure he looked as presentable as he could be- as good as a feral animal could look, anyway. They were waiting just above, after all- Arthur Pendragon's elite of the elite, handpicked from among his closest advisers and business partners- and in their presence, he was one of them, and worth something to the miserable high city of Camelot.
"Hey, hold the elevator!" He heard someone call out as he stepped onto the arriving lift, but ignored it and instead watched as whoever was just behind him was forced to shove their hand between the closing doors, just narrowly catching them and forcing them to open again. It would have been annoying to have to share an elevator ride, had Ruber not immediately recognized them.
"Lionel, fashionably late as usual, I see," he said in place of a greeting.
"I could say the same thing to you," Lionel sighed as he took a moment to straighten himself out, clearly having sprinted from wherever he had come from.
Out of all Ruber's collection of work acquaintances, Lionel was probably the only one he could bear to stand. Unlike the others, who had public appearances to fuss over, Lionel was a much more down-to-earth, simple man, the sort to drink a beer and aimlessly shoot the shit with. He was friendly, with a disarming smile and pleasant disposition- not exactly qualities Ruber sought out when it came to business partners, but when among a lot made up of people he would happily strangle if ever given the chance, being mildly annoyed with pleasantries felt palatable in comparison.
"You're awfully calm, given the circumstances," Lionel observed as he pressed his own card against the sensor that stood in place of a number pad, getting a hardly-audible beep in return as the doors fully closed. "I don't think I've managed to sleep a wink since Arthur sent out his summons."
"I trust things are going to fall into place tonight, I just want all of my hard work I've invested in Pendragon's ambitions to be worth it," Ruber said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Whatever else he decides isn't any of my concern."
"This concerns all of us, Ruber. What Arthur chooses to do tonight isn't going to just effect us, it's going to change everything, from Camelot to the lower city," Lionel corrected him, his brow furrowing a bit. "The world as we know it is going to wake up to a dawn unlike anything we've seen in our lifetime- in dozens of lifetimes!"
"Are you so sure Pendragon is going to make the selfless choice, though?" Ruber asked, meeting Lionel's gaze with a doubtful glare. "He's never been open about what he planned to do, if our goal was met during his lifetime. It's just as likely that he could be thinking of only himself."
"Arthur is my friend, Ruber, I've known him since we were kids," Lionel said with incredible certainty- so much that Ruber couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I know him well enough to be positive he isn't going to just think of himself."
"That's just it, though, you only know Pendragon as your fond childhood friend. Nobody knows Arthur Pendragon, keeper of the Holy Grail, not you, not me, not the entire rest of this miserable planet." Ruber concluded as the elevator slowly came to a halt. "Power, even the slightest bit, changes a person, who knows what the promise of unlimited power could do? If I had the Grail, I wouldn't hesitate..."
"I guess we'll see who's right after tonight, then," Lionel clearly was forcing himself not to argue any further as the doors slowly slid open, but it was even more clear that Ruber's words had gotten to him, even if it had been the slightest bit.
"Oh, you'll see plenty, trust me." Ruber spoke just under his breath as he followed Lionel out and onto their floor.
Their destination was made up of one, single lounge, outfitted with seats, a bar, and a window that offered a perfect view of the high city. For every person waiting, there was a member of security detail, paying more attention to diligently doing their jobs instead of the guests. Ruber caught a cold glance from one of them, but hardly reacted as he joined his fellow associates: Arthur's personal "knights".
Guinevere kept her distance from the others, looking out at the city with a drink in her hand- a common accessory, especially when her own husband was involved. It was hardly a secret to even the most common insect that her and Arthur's marriage was merely a footnote in a business merger and nothing more, and she dealt with him more than she cared for him. The wealthy heiress, known for her beauty plastered all over and gushed about inside magazines, was hardly the picture of what could be seen in photographs. Her obvious contempt for having to continue to be involved in her husband's long-running schemes turned her into the ugliest person in the room- and that was saying a lot, with Ruber now among their cast.
The other three remaining members of the group stood chummily together, although their smiles were clearly forced, even more so than usual. There was a stiffness to all of them, and their pleasant conversation over drinks was simply a sad attempt at putting on airs. Maybe they didn't see through their disguises, themselves, but Ruber certainly took note, and reveled slightly in their growing discomfort. They all knew where they stood, despite their social standing, in the face of real, powerful magic.
Galehaut was a politician, one Ruber was incredibly familiar with outside his dealings with Pendragon's exploits- although "familiar" didn't quite equal out to "friendly" by any means. Galehaut was always meddling in the politics of the lower city, trying to make life easier for a people who he didn't understand. Especially when it came to Ruber's line of work, he made things extremely difficult, and did so with a smile. It also didn't help, either, that Galehaut was built like a bear, and one of the few humans who would look him directly in the eyes.
Lancelot, on the other hand, was the chief of the high city police, and everything that Ruber couldn't stand in a man. Throughout his life, Ruber had learned there were two types of people who could never be trusted: fae, and cops. Lancelot implemented enforcing what he believed to be right into every facet of his life, and carried his badge everywhere he went- there was even a chance he was probably carrying it around now. There was also the not-so-subtle-secret that Lancelot was Guinevere's paramour- an old flame carried over from before she became contractually married to Pendragon- but that just stood as a piece of amusement, if anything. Seeing them together in a public setting and watching them squirm in each others presence, desperately trying to act like they weren't fucking behind her husband's back, was entertainment at it's finest.
Lastly there was Galahad, the one keeping it together the least out of all of them. Outside that room, and outside their collective, he was just another yes man working for the Pendragon Conglomerate, who sucked up to the boss enough to trick him into thinking he was worth something. Galahad was remarkable in how unremarkable he truly was, just someone who stumbled into sitting among the elite, and hadn't gotten his bearings, even after all those years. It would have been funny to Ruber if it hadn't blown right passed being sad, and settled right into being irritating years ago.
"Finally, look who's arrived!" Galehaut announced to the others, raising a mostly drunk glass of scotch in greeting. "We were all starting to place bets on who wouldn't actually show up."
"I wouldn't miss this day for the world, what are you talking about?" Lionel chuckled, eagerly joining their ranks while Ruber lurked near the elevators- no point in getting comfortable, now that everyone was present.
"After everything I've been through to get to this point, I can suffer through one more night with the rest of you," he said, eyeing each of them, who returned his glare with one of their own. "One more night of having to put up with being one of Pendragon's personal dogs."
"Don't think you're the only one who hasn't been overjoyed over what we've had to endure these passed several years." Guinevere spoke up, setting her empty glass down. For once, she matched him in her bitterness, and Ruber had to hold himself back from feeling the slightest bit impressed. Maybe her and Pendragon had gotten into a fight that had to be cut short for their little club meeting. "But, could you at least try to not act like the biggest asshole in the room, for once?"
"You know, I've always been a horrible actor," he sneered, to which she sharply clicked her tongue.
"Let's try to keep things civil, especially tonight," Lancelot interrupted. "Tonight's a night of new beginnings, no need to be bitter about what's happened in the past." He looked over his shoulder at Guinevere, who made a point to turn away and fold her arms in frustration.
"Ooh, trouble in adultery- I mean, paradise?" Ruber asked, raising an eyebrow as his smirk grew more severe.
"Can it." Lancelot's voice grew immediately cold as he pointed a threatening finger in Ruber's direction.
"Ruber stop, this isn't the time or the place." Lionel stepped in. "Save all this bickering for another time, alright?"
"You talk as if there is going to be another time after tonight," Ruber said, "I might as well get my shots in while I can."
"He talks like he hardly gets the opportunity to run his mouth on a regular basis," Galahaut could be heard muttering under his breath, against the rim of his drink.
"I personally never understood what Arthur sees in him," Galahad said in an equally hushed tone, nodding his head.
"I could say the same thing about you, kiss-ass- all of you, as a matter of fact!" Ruber snapped, their private conversation not exactly being hard to eavesdrop in on. "You all get to moonlight as Pendragon's valiant little gang off the clock, while I've been doing all of the undesirable work, because god forbid you surface dwellers get your hands even a little dirty-!"
Before he could continue, he caught a shocked look in Lionel's eyes, and bit back the rest of his words, whatever tirade he had built up deep in his chest escaping between his clenched teeth in an exhausted growl. He despised the others- there wasn't a doubt in his mind that, if circumstances were different, they would have been personal targets of his instead of colleagues- but Lionel, as usual, remained an exception, as far as his opinions were concerned.
"Let's not pretend our relationship hasn't been anything to look back fondly on, or that any of that is going to change after tonight, so save all this talk of peace and new beginnings- nothing but hollow bullshit," He grumbled, earning sideways frowns and side glances that revealed private feelings of begrudging agreement from the others. "I'm here to be compensated for the work I've put in, just like the rest of you, and then this can all be over."
"Excuse me." Before things could progress, or more likely digress further, yet another member of Pendragon's expansive security detail entered, calling all of them to attention. "Lord Arthur is ready to begin tonight's meeting, so if you would please leave all of your cellular devices here..." he paused, very specifically eyeing Ruber, who met his gaze with an unamused frown. "... As well as any weapons you might have."
"No trust, even after all these years, eh?" He asked with a long roll of his eyes.
"It's all these years that's made Arthur aware of how you operate," Guinevere said, resting not one, but two cellphones, as well as a smart watch, down on the center table nearest the group, followed by everyone else. Before long, there was a small mountain of tech piled high on the glass surface. "I'm sure you can stand to be separated from your toys for an hour or two- and it's not like you'll be needing it downstairs."
"I do suppose you have a point, princess," He relented, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a switchblade, an old gift that he kept on himself that was mostly for show, as well as deep into one of the inner pockets of his jacket to reveal a pistol, which was not. "Where we're going, there are weapons that would make anything I could smuggle in here obsolete."
The six of them were escorted down the hall, each with a member of security, to a different elevator- one that only could be boarded on that particular floor, as well as another floor tucked deep beneath Pendragon Tower. It was a large service elevator, capable of holding them all and giving them room enough to keep from brushing against one another as they descended. All the way down, they all remained uncharacteristically quiet, but the looks that were shared in the silence spoke volumes. Ruber could feel the tension becoming more and more of a physical presence the further they went... and it took everything in him to keep from smiling to himself.
Their destination was another, single room, this one without any luxuries to speak of, or even windows. In this room, nothing hung in the air but old secrets kept locked away from the eyes and ears of everyone but the most trusted few. To be invited there, at one point, had been an an honor of the highest degree, but now the sight of the place filled Ruber with an almost exhausted sort of annoyance- and the single person waiting to meet them even more so. He allowed himself to openly glare while everyone else stood seriously, only because it was probably expected of him at this point.
Arthur Pendragon was, to date, the youngest president of the Pendragon Conglomerate, having inherited the wealth and power from his father who had been taken by disease far too early. He was an eager young man- young enough to still cling to scraps of a bright-eyed naivete about the world and how it worked. This was a man who had never suffered or even struggled his whole life, the closest he ever came to it being having to finish the remains of his father's life's work, the lasting efforts of the Pendragon linage. It had all fallen into his lap: The conglomerate, their secret league of knights and all the secrets they kept, as well as...
Ruber eyed the sheathed blade fastened unsubtly at Pendragon's side. It was an archaic thing that looked incredibly awkward worn by someone like him, but Ruber knew better than to think of it as simply that. That sword was the reason they were all there after all- that and the six other weapons laid out neatly on the table between them: three other swords, a dagger, a shield and a spear. He looked down at each of them with a respect he'd never offer his fellow knights- their power was fleeting and temporary, after all, something that would crumble to dust and be forgotten within a few generations. The power of the weapons that lay before them, however, was eternal.
"It's an honor to have you all gathered here tonight," Arthur began with a smile on his face, but a completely different tone in his voice. It was uncertain and nervous, enough to bring Ruber's annoyance to an almost fever-pitch. "Without all of you, I couldn't have finished the great work started by my ancestors. Soon, the secret war held over these weapons will be no more, and the world will finally know peace it hasn't felt for centuries!"
"As much as I love a good, rousing speech, could we possibly get to the point?" Ruber interrupted. "This isn't some corny graduation ceremony, we came here to see results!"
"We came here to witness a miracle!" Galehaut corrected sternly.
"A miracle for Pendragon and Pendragon only, he just wanted an audience!" Ruber snarled, looking back toward their host, who gave him a conflicted frown. "Speaking of audience, where's that suspicious magician whose always shadowing you?"
"Merlin chose not to attend... not after we discussed what I've decided to do moving forward." Pendragon explained, as a new, curious hush fell over the others.
"What do you mean? You're using these weapons to summon the Holy Grail, isn't that what that old bastard wanted?" Ruber questioned, narrowing his eyes.
"That's just the thing..." Pendragon's gaze slowly drifted towards the ground, and every second that passed, Ruber's frown grew more and more severe, until he looked back up with an apologetic look in his eyes. "... I've chosen not to summon the Grail, at least not right away."
"What!?" Finally, someone besides Ruber spoke, this time being Guinevere, who clenched her hands hanging down at her sides int fists. "I thought you said you were set on summoning it! We discussed this last night. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden- without even talking to me about it!?"
"You'd understand if you were in my shoes, the power of the Grail... just the thought of it threatens to drive me mad. Not to mention that Merlin-" Suspiciously, he cut himself off, a look of regret suddenly filling his eyes.
"What about Merlin?" Lancelot questioned.
"... Merlin had no intention of trying to convince me to use the Grail. From the beginning, his goal has been finding the seven weapons of legend... and destroying them." Pendragon admitted.
"And you never told us this!?" Galahad shouted, to a chorus of confused questions and outrage. Ruber, however, allowed the group's arguing to reach a fever pitch in silence, for once having nothing to add. For once, the mood of the rest of the group matched how he felt- then, and for years leading up to that very moment.
"What are you planning on doing, then?" Lionel's voice broke through the chaos suddenly, loud, strong, but hardly holding even an ounce of anger. "I'm sure you wouldn't have called us all here to say you don't have a plan. I know you well enough, we all do, you wouldn't throw away our trust- you never have."
Ruber's eye twitched as he gave Lionel a scowling side glance.
"I need time to make my own decision about the Holy Grail, and how I want to use it. It has the power to fully restore magic back to this land, but I don't know if that would be best... magic is equal parts wonderful, and terrifying, unspeakable horrors could follow just as well as miracles." Pendragon explained. "In the meantime, I've arranged for each of you to be the keeper of one of the six remaining legendary weapons. You've all proven yourselves worthy these passed years, I find it fitting to trust you all with the power they all hold."
With a surprising amount of reverence, everyone approached the table where the six weapons lay- everyone except for Ruber, who remained rooted to where he stood.
"I'd think twice if I were you- don't get too caught up in Pendragon's honeyed words," he snapped, eyeing the man in question with a withering gaze. He held back not an ounce of his contempt, as there wasn't any point to- not anymore. "He says he trusts us with their power, but what he's really saying is that he's perfectly fine with burdening us. Generations of people motivated by greed have fought over these weapons, and as long as they remain, the secret war we've fought so hard to put to rest will continue, and be brought to our doorsteps."
"I promise you all protection, of course, in the meantime-"
"But you can't protect us from those weapons, can you, Pendragon?" Ruber continued. "Don't lie to me, you know the power those weapons have come at a high cost. All who use those weapons will be saddled with their curse- all but one."
Ruber didn't have to specify, Pendragon resting his hand against the scabbard that held his sword said all that needed to be said.
"Excalibur only stands as a symbol, the mark of a leader- a king," Ruber went on to explain, his words growing more and more irate, louder and louder until he found himself shouting. "You're no leader, Pendragon! Tonight alone you've proven yourself to be unworthy, but you always have been nothing but a cowardly worm with a fancy title! Excalibur, and the right to the Holy Grail, should not be simply handed over to you because of blind nepitism!"
"So who do you think is worthy then, Ruber?" Pendragon had the audacity to ask, finally being pushed to the brink and giving in to his frustration.
"Oh, I think you already know the answer to that," Ruber smirked, before snapping his fingers. Before the others could react, each member of their accompanying security detail had their guns drawn and raised, each pointed at every person in the room, save for Ruber.
"Bastard!" Galahad let slip as he backed up into the table. "You set us up!"
"Clearly you don't run as thorough background checks as you should," Ruber laughed, reaching into his jacket pocket to reveal his own pistol: the one he had supposedly left behind upstairs. Everyone had been so focused on the meeting, no one had even taken notice to the world's most unsubtle slight of hand. "A pity you won't live to fix that gross oversight."
"Ruber stop! Think about what you're doing!" Lionel begged.
"I am thinking- tonight is the result of years of thinking, planning and waiting, and Pendragon didn't disappoint in hammering the final nails into his own coffin!" Ruber barked, taking aim at the man in question. "Excalibur is mine, and soon the Grail will be as well! I'll do what you're too much of a coward to even think about, and usher this world into a new age!"
He punctuated himself with the pull of the trigger, the loud pop filling him with so much satisfaction is was almost pleasurable. However, the blood that sprayed into the air, and the body that fell to the floor wasn't Pendragon's... but Lionel's. The icy chill of his mistake replaced the euphoria of what was meant to be his victory, leaving Ruber standing shocked for a very unfortunate second, as his shot signaled for the others to start firing, which only provoked the other knights, now his former colleagues, to act. Hardly a second passed before chaos filled the room enough to keep Ruber from being able to make a second shot, and as his plan that had been so carefully arranged blew up fantastically, his rage boiled over, leaving him with a frothing anger that would have driven a lesser man mad.
With an infuriated bellow, Ruber charged into the fray, pushing passed several people and putting himself into foolish harms way, grabbing the first thing his hand could reach on the table: the dagger. With a new weapon in hand, he set his sights on Pendragon, who was knelt down beside Lionel, his suit stained with the blood of his fallen friend. A pang of regret shot through Ruber's heart, but it wasn't enough to put even a damper on his momentum as he plunged the blade down, wanting nothing more than to feel the satisfying sensation of penetrating flesh.
However, a gleam of metal forced him to blink, and he opened his eyes to see his own reflection in the silvery surface of Excalibur, pulled from its scabbard and poised to block his blow. Anger overcame logic, forcing Ruber to follow through as metal met metal, followed by a blinding flash and a force so powerful it knocked the air clean out of his lungs. He felt himself being pushed backward as the ground vanished beneath his feet. Only when his back slammed against the opposite wall, followed shortly by his skull, did he finally regain his bearings flavored by intense agony, and even more intense defeat. Forcing himself to keep from passing out, Ruber could feel the warm, slick sensation of blood from the palm of his hand, still clutching the dagger, to his shoulder. He groaned in pain, wrenching one eye open, and then the other.
His henchmen had been dealt with, all lying prone on the ground while Pendragon's knights stood victorious, each having been forced to chose from the weapons left behind on the table- each having picked their own poison... just as Ruber had done. He looked down at the dagger still held in his blood-covered hand, as if it were the source of all his problems.
"It's over, Ruber..." Lancelot panted from behind the shield, the surface of which was slick with someone's blood.
"Over? Do you really think... I'd let things end this easily, after everything I've done?" Ruber spat through a pained cringe. "This... is only the beginning, and it ends with all of you cursed beyond what you could imagine, and Pendragon dead! This will be over once all of this is mine!"
How very convenient it was, in the end, that he had chosen the dagger- or maybe fate had a hand in it all, and the dagger had chosen him. He knew the "gift" that came with the weapon, and had no time to reflect on the after effects- all he wanted as a way to escape, and he had it in spades. Using his will to manipulate the dagger, he encased himself and the rest of the room in shadow that no light could even hope to penetrate, leaving the others to scramble in confusion and leaving the room, the building, and the upper city entirely. He escaped down into the shadows- into the depths he knew better than anyone, doing his best to ignore the bitter sting of defeat.
"Fuck!" Guinevere cursed sharply as their vision returned, revealing Ruber to have slipped away, unpunished. With a frustrated scream, she chucked the sword she had grabbed from off the table onto the floor. "Fucker!"
"We have to go after him!" Galahad insisted, shuffling from foot to foot in uncertainty.
"Well if you know which way he went, go ahead and lead the way!" Lancelot snarled, clearly just as frustrated as Guinevere, who had now turned to kicking one of the men who had made an attempt on their lives right in the ribs.
"Shit, Lionel!" Galehaut was the first among them to find clarity, rushing to Arthur's side, who held Lionel in his lap as he pressed his own jacket feebly against a gushing wound in the man's chest.
"We're going to get you help, Lionel, just hang on!" Arthur cried, his tone and his expression hardly anything close to being convincing. "I'm not going to let you die like this, not here!"
"I'm sorry... I should have... I didn't know..." Lionel muttered, his words muddied by blood that bubbled passed his lips, and each labored breath he took filled his lungs further with the stuff.
"None of us knew, you couldn't have known!" Arthur shook his head s tears filled his eyes. "I should be the one to apologize, not you!"
"J..." Lionel began, pausing to painfully cough up even more blood. "Juli...ana..."
"I'll make sure she's safe, I promise!" Arthur said, giving his dying friend as reassuring a nod as he could.
"And... my daughter, K... Kayley..." Lionel managed to sputter, desperation managing to break through the sickening gurgle of words.
Arthur looked back at him, silent and lost for words with his mouth hanging open. There was a clear waver in his demeanor, but he straightened himself and swallowed back whatever had just overcome him.
"Nothing is going to happen to Kayley, as long as I'm alive." Arthur spoke strongly this time, eyes full of equal parts determination and tears. "I swear it!"
"Thank god... I have a friend like you around..." Lionel somehow managed to crack a smile, a look of relief mixing with his pain before the sickening sound of blood bubbling up from his throat slowly died with one last, agonized sigh. His eyes went blank, and his body grew still, as a painful hush engulfed the room.
There wasn't anything anyone could say, and even less that they could do, that could ease the pain of loss they all suffered in that moment.
Deep within the dark heart of the lower city, Ruber finally emerged, far away from the prying eyes of the high city, or anyone for that matter. No one dared to go so deep, to the parts of a city long since buried by time, and sinking ever deeper the more that was built above- both a perfect hiding place, and an un-ideal location to be down one arm. At that level, even the shadows themselves posed a threat, but the danger of the twisted unknown was the better choice, if his other option was returning to his usual haunts that would no doubt be swarmed by police within the hour.
He stumbled and fell onto what had probably been an old subway platform at one time, a collapsed tunnel at either side, a rotting length of rack, and a walkway of crumbling stone being all that he could see under lights that flickered and faded just above. Power still ran deep within the lower city, but not consistently, and the threat of being bathed in complete darkness, along with being injured and buckling under the crippling weight of defeat, was a very real possibility.
"Shit!" He gasped, losing grip of his dagger once he came to a halt. The blade clattered to the ground and slid out of his reach, leaving him to clumsily slap at the cracked concrete in an attempt to reach for it.
There he remained for a moment, his breathing heavy, burning his lugs with each inhale. Just one use of the dagger had taken its toll on him, and left him winded. Despite the fact he was still struggling to properly fill his lungs with air, white-hot anger forced a furious growl out of him, that built into a howl that sounded more animal than man. He balled his good hand into a fist and slammed it against the ground, breaking the already cracked surface into even smaller chunks and sending them scattering. If it weren't for his weakened state and broken body, he could have possibly screamed indefinitely.
"Lionel... you bastard..." He spoke, with his voice now ragged and raw. "Always stopping me... always..."
Clenching his teeth, he allowed himself one, last, furious growl, before he raised his head, expecting to see the dagger resting just out of reach... however, what he wasn't expecting to see was the dagger poking out from beneath the toe of someone's boot.
Nothing good came from meeting another person this deep into the lower city, even in the best condition. With a gasp, Ruber reacted, despite his heavy limbs and aching lungs, pulling the pistol he'd managed to escape Pendragon Tower with and aiming it at the new threat in front of him. He dared not show anything close to fear, only a readiness to kill- the only thing worth a damn this far below the surface.
His new foe, it seemed, was a woman, or at least, that's how she appeared. At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary about her, but the longer he stared her down, the more the unnerving parts of her features stood out, like the colorful markings on a poisonous animal. Long, black hair hung in her face, seeming more like long, drifting strands of shadow than hair. Her limbs were long and thin, like a spider's legs, and she held herself with incredible confidence, but also like someone who wasn't quite used to being in a human body. The collar and cuffs of her jacket were decorated in a thick fur, only makeing her silhouette even stranger than it already was. Her eyes were by far the most noticeable thing about her: brilliant green, and piercing through the darkness, like emerald flames.
She looked at him, and then at the gun pointed unwaveringly in her direction, as a smirk slowly grew on her face. Laughter soon followed, high-pitched and very amused, accompanied by the wild shaking of her shoulders. Ruber remained unmoved, watching her without so much as a blink until she got a hold of herself, letting out a satisfied sigh.
"Go ahead, try and shoot me." She egged him on, resting her hands on her hips. "It will be the last thing you ever live to do."
Out of the corner of his eye, Ruber could see the shadows in all corners of the platform shift and twist, becoming sharp and almost looking like they had mass. It was as if he were in the palm of a shadowy hand, with sharpened nails curled inward, ready to stab into him and crush him into a pulp. He locked eyes with the woman, who raised both her eyebrows in an expectant manner behind her wispy strands of hair, as if eagerly waiting to see if he would actually follow through and shoot her.
"Tch..." Ruber frowned sharply, dropping the gun instead, letting it clatter to the floor. He refused to avert his gaze, instead keeping her locked in his sights and watching as her lips turned up in an approving smile.
Her attention waned, however, as she turned it towards the dagger still pinned under her foot. With an affectionate sigh, she reached down and picked it up, holding it in her hands like a precious treasure.
"Carnwennan, at last we're reunited!" She said, stroking the blade against her cheek. "I haven't held you in my own, two hands since you were first forged, and finally you return to me..." She paused, meeting Ruber's gaze once again with a smile that was nothing short of chilling. "... And, you brought such an interesting specimen with you as well."
She approached him slowly, like a predator sizing up another who dared to invade their territory. Ruber held his ground, refusing to move a muscle in response. Even the slightest jerk of a leg or an arm would be a sign of weakness, and even as he bled, he refused to let a single crack in his mental armor show.
"And what does a creature like you call themselves?" She asked once she was practically looming over him, hunching over to further add to the effect.
Ruber opened his mouth not even halfway, before his lips bent into a harsh scowl.
"Only a fool would give their name to a fae," he snarled.
"My, my, my, aren't you smart? Can't get anything passed you, now can I?" She laughed as she reached down the the tip of the dagger, pressing it against the bottom of his chin and forcing him to raise his head. "Not that I don't already know your name- you're quite the figure in the underworld, Lord Ruber."
"What do you want?" He snapped.
"Only what is rightfully mine- just like you," She said through a smirk as she pulled the dagger away, only to turn it over in her hands and point the handle in his face, with the blade pinched between her fingers. "I think we can help each other."
"Help you? I don't even know who you are..."
"Oh, of course, where are my manners?" She sighed, pulling away and standing at her full height. Somehow, she seemed even taller than before. "My name is Morgan Le Fay, but you, Lord Ruber, can call me Morgan. If you seek the Holy Grail, you would be a fool to turn down my help."
"How-"
"The darkness in your heart matches mine, I know deep down we share the same goal." She answered his question before he could even finish asking it. "Or, you can hide down here in the darkness, licking your wounds, without a plan and without Carnwennan."
Ruber took a second to think, but not much longer than that. He knew the better of two options when he saw one.
He reached out, and roughly snatched the dagger out of Morgan's clutches.
The days leading up to the funeral felt like they had lasted years at a time, and the event itself had felt like a slow, crushing eternity. Juliana was no longer just running on fumes, she felt like a husk- like a puppet held up by string, with someone else jerking her along. Hunched over the sink full of dishes left behind by the repast she had hardly managed to get through with her dignity intact, she felt as if it were her who needed to be laid to rest in the ground. She couldn't weep, or even shed a single tear- she'd done plenty of that already, and now she couldn't tell the crushing sadness from the exhaustion.
"Mama..." She felt the small hand of her daughter, Kayley, tug on the skirt of her dress, pulling her from her thoughts, or lack thereof. "... Are you alright?"
"Yes, my darling, Mama's just... tired," Juliana sighed, kneeling down so that the two of them were face to face. Her daughter had her late husband's eyes, caring and kind regardless of the situation. "I should be asking you the same question- I'm sure this has been hard."
Kayley sniffled slightly, turning her gaze to the ground. Given the unique life she had led up until now, she had grown up knowing about a world of things most children her age didn't, but no knowledge of legendary weapons or magic couldn't prepare her for the loss of her father. Suddenly not having him around probably felt more like a fantasy than the Holy Grail did.
"You've been so brave through this whole process, your Papa would have been proud," she said, gently patting her head and running her fingers through her hair. "I know I am."
"Papa always said to look after you while he was gone... I guess I'll be doing that a lot more, now," Kayley muttered solemly.
"We'll look out for each other, he'd want the both of us to stay strong." Juliana put on her warmest smile as she gently grasped Kayley by the shoulders and pulled her in close for a hug. The young girl nuzzled against her shoulder, giving a quiet "mm-hmm" in agreement.
"Why don't you go up to your room and rest, you must be tired." Rising back to her full height, Juliana gave Kayley's head one, last, soothing pet. "I can finish cleaning up."
"Don't push yourself," was Kayley's surprising response.
"Hmm, your Papa was always saying that, wasn't he?" Juliana asked, fondly reflecting on her memories.
"Yeah, he said that a lot." Kayley nodded
"Go on, I'll check up on you later," Juliana said, easing her out of the kitchen and towards the stairs- and, just as Kayley exited, someone else joined her, and the mood in the room shifted away from nostalgic melancholy in an instant.
"How's she taking things?" Arthur asked, holding what Juliana hoped were the last of the flatware that had been left by her guests that were all long gone.
"Surprisingly well for a girl her age- she must get that from..." Juliana paused, frowning slightly before shaking her head. "She'll be fine, with time, just like the rest of us."
"Is there anything else I can do?" He asked, and Juliana knew that short of bringing back the dead, Arthur would do anything if she requested, especially now, but she dared not take advantage. She wasn't the only one who had lost Lionel, there was little doubt in her mind that he was suffering in his own way, as well.
"You've done enough, Arthur- most people would lose their minds over how much you've dropped on my family's funeral expenses," she chuckled weakly.
"Lionel died saving my life, Juliana, paying for his funeral was the least I could have done," he insisted. He rested his hands on the counter top, suddenly seeming like he was struggling to keep himself upright as he hung his head. "I wish I'd seen the signs, maybe I could have stopped Ruber from betraying us... I could have spared you all this grief."
"If you focus too hard on what could have been, you won't be able to move forward- Lionel would want for us to do that," she said. "Right now, we need to focus on the present, and I'm sure you have a lot more on your plate than making sure Kayley and I are alright."
"... There is one thing- I've waited long enough to discuss it with you, and I think you know what that is."
Those words caused a feeling of dread to build in the pit of Juliana's stomach. He was correct, she knew exactly what he was talking about without him even saying it- in truth, it had been in the back of her mind since she had gotten the news about Lionel's death: an agreement long forgotten, with no chance to regret it until it became a reality she was sure would never come.
"Can't we discuss this another day?" She asked, unable to hide how easily shaken she had become.
"Juliana, you know that when Ruber comes back from wherever he's hiding, he's going to come looking for Excalibur!" Arthur warned.
"I know, I know, it's just-" Juliana muttered, shaking her head.
"- And when he does, he's going to find out that all I have is an enchanted, convincing replica!" Arthur spoke in a sharp whisper, as if he suspected someone could be listening. "And when he does-"
"Him finding out isn't a guarantee, though, Arthur!" She argued desperately.
"Even the possibility of him finding out is enough, Juliana! We made this choice years ago, regrets aside, we can't back out of what's been done." He said, grabbing her shoulder, but Juliana was quick to pull herself away, arms wrapped around herself defensively. "We can't just ignore it and hope the worst doesn't happen! It's already happened!"
"I know!" Juliana cried, tears beginning to form in her eyes before she squeezed them shut and turned her back toward Arthur. "I know, I know, I've always known! I've known I made a grave mistake for seven years... the worst... and best mistake of my entire life."
"I'm sorry, I wish this came up much later down the road... personally, I wish it had never come up at all," he said, at the very least keeping his distance now. "But now, with everything that's happened... we need to talk about the best plan of action, so that mistake we both made doesn't turn out much worse."
Juliana remained silent, arms still wrapped around herself as she half sighed/ half sobbed in response, nodding despite how much, deep down in the farthest reaches of her soul, she didn't want to agree. Unfortunately, what she wanted and what needed to be done were at odds, and she knew, in that very same place in her soul, which was going to win.
"We need to decide how we're going to keep Kayley safe."
"I swear, this level of slave-driving shouldn't be punishment for smacking someone in the head with a lacrosse stick one fucking time..."
Kayley groaned in frustration, pausing from her work to lean on the mop clutched in her hands, chin resting on the top of the handle. She looked at her handiwork, a half-mopped cafeteria, and felt her shoulders droop on defeat when she considered she hadn't even gotten to wiping down the tables yet.
"Uugh, Denicia got what was coming to her, she was asking for a beating! The fact I did everyone on the team a public service should have been taken into consideration- I didn't just hit her for no good reason!" She continued, ranting to no one in particular, except the echo of her own voice in the large, unoccupied room. "I wish they'd just given me detention."
With a grunt she straightened up, turning around and dunking the mop hard into the soapy bucket of murky water behind her.
"But, of course, why do that when they can use me for free labor!?" She roared, pulling the sopping-wet mop free and, in the process, knocking the bucket completely over and spilling its contents all over the floor. "Damnit!"
In an act of frustration, instead of attending to her mess, she punted the bucket as hard as she could, sending it soaring all the way to the far end of the cafeteria, where it slammed against the wall and clattered to a stop. With a heavy, exhausted groan, she considered just throwing the mop in the opposite direction and leaving her mess as it was- but, the resulting lecture she would receive if she did would be like torture. Accepting her screw-up and cleaning up after herself would probably be like heaven in comparison.
"Just think of it as an arm-strengthening exercise, Kayley, you'll be fine..." She quietly coached herself as she propped her mop against a nearby table, and went to retrieve her bucket.
"Kayley..."
A whisper coming from somewhere stopped her in her tracks. It was so quiet, and yet it seemed to echo from all around her. Holding her breath to keep from making a sound, she considered the possibility she had simply just heard things, until the whisper came again, sounding like someone was hissing right into her ear.
"Kayley..."
"H-hello?" She called out, spinning in circles as she looked around the room. "Is somebody there? If you're trying to prank me, I'm not afraid of getting punished for assaulting someone twice in one day!"
"Kayley... you must run, Kayley..."
"Oh, fuck this!" She muttered to herself, running back over to her mop and clutching it in both her hands. "You're asking for a real clobbering if you keep this up, you hear me!?"
"You must run, Kayley... you must..."
"Uugh..." Despite her threats, Kayley shuffled, inch by inch, out of the cafeteria, practically cowering behind her dripping mop. "If this is revenge for me hitting you with my lacrosse stick, Denicia, it's not funny..."
She peered around the corner, looking down the length of the empty hallway with only one eye. There was no way anyone could be hiding without being seen, she she would have heard them very clearly if whoever was whispering had booked it when they heard her coming.
Years of listening to the same ghost stories about the old school building all began to flood back, as well as how macho she had tried to act when confronted with accusations of being scared absolutely shitless about them.
"Kayley, you must go! Run away, Kayley, run away!" The whispers continued, leaving Kayley so terrified that she couldn't even move. "He's coming!"
"Hey."
A voice from behind and a hand on her shoulder were enough to sent Kayley over the edge, and she shrieked in horror with every last ounce of air in her lungs as she dropped her mop and leaped away. She nearly lost her balance, scrambling like a madwoman as she whipped around, hands clutching her chest to keep what felt like her heart from beating its way clean out of her ribcage and free from her chest. However, instead of an unspeakable horror, she came face to face with a student, and one she was very familiar with at that.
"Christ, you're dramatic." The girl frowned, tossing her hair that was her most noticeable attribute: flowing down to her mid-back and a silvery-white due to some unspecified birth defect, or so Kayley had been told. "You left a huge mess in the cafeteria. Someone could slip and get seriously hurt, you know."
"Whatever, I was just getting back to that... um..." Kayley paused, which only further annoyed the girl.
"I've attended this school just as long as you have, and you still don't even know my name?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Or... you probably call me by that dumb nickname everyone calls me by."
"Old hag?" Kayley let slip on impulse.
"Yeah, thanks for the reminder." She rolled her eyes. "It's Ayden, by the way- not like you'll bother to remember."
"Sorry, I..." Kayley trailed off, as curiosity got the best of her. "You didn't... happen to hear anything weird just now, did you?"
"Not unless you're talking about you yelling and screaming about nothing," Ayden said. "Why?"
"Nothing- it's nothing, forget it." Kayley quickly shrugged off her question as she bent down to pick up her mop. "Nothing at all."
"Sure..." Ayden looked back at her suspiciously, but with a sigh and a shrug she turned around. "Weirdo."
"Look who's talking," Kayley said under her breath as Ayden walked away. "What sort of person just walks around the school after hours?"
With their odd and rather unfortunate encounter now out of the way, Kayley turned to face the empty hallway one last time. Whatever the strange whispers had been, they had stopped, but they left her with a lasting sensation of dread that sent a shiver down her spine.
"It was nothing, just forget about it," she whispered to herself as she trudged back to the cafeteria. Regardless of what it was, at least she was more than motivated enough to finish up her work as fast as humanly possible. The tables, it seemed, would have to go one night without being wiped down.
"Just... forget about it."