"Aww Red, I dunno about this now. This is making my gears twitchy." Crosshairs' voice came through the speakers, the little light on the dashboard flashing with each word. His steering wheel moved of its own accord as he navigated the motorway that would take them into Oxford.
"The boss is gonna kill me when he finds out you're gone from the cottage."
Cordelia thought back to the early hours of that morning when she had very awkwardly climbed out of the cottage's upstairs window and into Crosshairs' waiting arms.
Getting into the green Chevrolet Corvette Stingray had proved exceedingly difficult when lumbered with a seven-and-a-half-month baby bump. She adjusted herself in the passenger seat and uncrossed her legs.
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. I just had to do this Crosshairs. I can't explain it, it's just this feeling in my gut that I need to go and meet this woman and ask her what she knows."
"What if she knows nuthin'? She's probably just another idiot 'uman who thought it would be good to 'ave 'er say about us."
Cordelia noticed the seat heat up by a fraction of a degree. She gave it an affectionate pat.
"The article didn't even mention any Cybertronians at all. She was just going on about the noble death of chivalry in the twenty-first century. But it's the picture that got me in! Why was the painting with a metal dragon attached to that article?"
"Ahh I dunno. Ratchet would have known. Bastards that killed him. Sure, Lockdown pulled the trigger but they put the gun in his hand. Corrupt wankers, the lotta them!" The car sped up for a heartbeat before going back down to a steady seventy miles per hour.
"The way I see it, is we have nothing to lose. If we find this Viviane woman and she knows nothing about you guys or ancient Cybertronian knights…then we'll apologise for bothering her and be on our way."
"You're just gonna waddle right up to her and ask if she knows anything about an ancient Cybertronian legend? Yeah, good luck with that one Red."
"Don't be such a defeatist Crosshairs. Where's that fighting spirit of yours?"
The Corvette was silent for a moment as the sun began its ascent into the sky, christening the sky in pastel colours of blue-purple.
"I dunno how you talked me into this. Optimus is gonna do more than peel my paint when he finds out that I took you from the safety of the cottage. You haven't got long before that mini-human inside you decides to introduce herself to the world either!"
Cordelia moved her hands to cradle her bump. Although in the last four weeks it had exploded in size, she was still carrying relatively small, considering that she was almost eight months into her pregnancy.
Pain in the small of her back was a daily occurrence and Nova's ever-increasing movements caused her ribs to ache, like a permanent indigestion pain.
"I still have one month to go. You need to stop worrying, we'll be back to the cottage before Optimus even knows we've been gone. You haven't been in contact with him, have you?"
"Course I haven't, he can't risk our signals being intercepted by Decepticons or the TRF."
"There we are then. He won't know that we've been away. So just relax. How long have we got to go?"
"I tell you who ain't gonna be happy Red. Leo is gonna punch the roof when he figures out you've gone."
Cordelia winced internally at the mention of Leo's name. She'd left a letter on the kitchen table, apologising profusely, and assuring him of her (eventual) safe return.
"He'll be fine…and it's 'hit the roof', by the way."
"Hmph. We've got about an hour to go if the traffic stays clear."
"Okay. I'm gonna get a bit of sleep."
"Alright Red. I'll wake you when we get there."
She shuffled further down into the seat, turning slightly so that she could lean her head on the door. Within minutes, the quiet purr of Crosshairs' engine had lulled her into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.
.o
Cordelia woke to someone gently shaking her awake by the shoulder. She tried to swallow past the furry taste sitting on her tongue, but it was as if her throat had forgotten the reflex. A bottle of Evian spring water was thrust into her lap.
"Here. Have a drink before we go in."
Cordelia nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of a man in his early forties sitting in the driver's seat.
He had cropped brown hair and brown eyes so dark they were almost black. Stubble accentuated his round face that was framed by two small ears that sat close to the sides of his head.
He wore a navy shirt coupled with a sleek waistcoat that looked to be leather on the back and satin on the front. Skinny jeans were paired with chic black leather shoes.
He was chewing on what looked like a toothpick.
"Jeez! Is that you Crosshairs?" Cordelia clutched at her chest as her heartbeat came down to a healthier rhythm. Nova squirmed in protest at the sudden noise and movement.
"Cassius."
"Huh?"
"Cassius. In front of other humans, call me Cassius."
"Oh, right. Okay." Cordelia rubbed the sleep from her eyes and took a deep swig from the water bottle. The fresh liquid washed the last dregs of tiredness from her and helped to bring her to full alertness.
She pushed herself up in the seat and looked out of the window to take in their surroundings.
A huge gothic, grey stone building loomed over them. Gulls were perched on its rooftop, waiting for the next unsuspecting tourist to wander across their line of sight with an unprotected meal.
Behind the building was a vast amount of green space. Cordelia could see multitudinous picnic benches, a pond and a children's play area. A small flock of ducks waddled from a small cluster of trees over to the pond, waggling their tail feathers as they got into the water.
Next to the wrought iron railings was a black Citroen DS. In front of that were several bikes that had been toppled like dominos.
Crosshairs got out of the car and Cordelia followed suit.
He whistled appreciatively, going over to the car to have a closer look. "Ooh, I would."
"Bloody hell, come on!" Cordelia grabbed Crosshairs by the hand and hauled him into the building.
The view inside took Cordelia's breath away.
The ceiling arched upwards into many lines and striations. It was reminiscent of a gothic cathedral and Cordelia couldn't get over how detailed the exquisite architecture was.
I'm standing in a building that is hundreds of years old…before they had drills and power lifts…they would have chiselled away at that for years…amazing.
She shook herself out of her reverie and turned her attention to Crosshairs.
He was examining a scale model of the Santa Maria.
He barely stifled a snort. "This geezer went over the Atlantic in this? A bunch of wooden sticks glued together?! Hah!"
Two elderly tourists turned around and fixed Crosshairs with a look so icy it would have made the Arctic Circle look like a summer destination.
He slunk behind Cordelia like a dog who had been caught doing something naughty.
"Shh," she chastised quietly. "You can't go around shouting in a museum Cassius, people come here to –" Cordelia was interrupted by a sudden flurry of activity.
A group of about ten people ambled into the room, led by a tall, slim woman dressed in a crisp white shirt and a smart pencil skirt.
Her dark brown hair was piled high into a ballerina bun on the top of her head and her striking blue eyes were framed by dark glasses.
Cordelia's breath hitched. She pulled on Crosshairs' sleeve.
"It's her!" He did not answer but placed his hand gently on the small of her back and guided her closer to Viviane Wembley, all the while maintaining the image of an innocent tourist perusing the contents of the museum.
"484 BC. A desperate last stand between civilisation and barbarism. Two worlds colliding; only one survives." Viviane stood in front of a landscape painting that depicted a fearsome battle between medieval knights and what looked like to be a group of huge Saxon warriors.
She addressed a large group of students, all of whom were eagerly clutching clipboards and looked to be hanging off her every word.
"Lancelot. Percival. King Arthur. Honourable men. Brave, muscly men. Sweat glistening off their bodies. A few brave men willing to sacrifice all for victory. It sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? That's because it's horseshit."
The students she was addressing all chuckled politely, though the looks on their faces betrayed their lack of understanding.
"Arthur. A likely composite of a Roman general and a Celtic king. The dragon-" here she motioned to the three-headed metallic beast in another painting. "Nothing more than a medieval catapult. And then we have Merlin. Our Kingmaker."
She pointed out the cloaked figure who clutched the staff tightly in a gnarled, bony hand.
"He probably never existed. The question we need to ask ourselves is 'why?' Why do we tell ourselves these stories? Other than the fact that dragons are wicked.
"It's because we want to believe. We want to be able to believe that we can be heroes in our own lives. When all seems lost, a few brave souls, us, can save everything we've ever known. Now, I want you to go around the paintings and choose one thing about it that you like. What is it about it that draws you in? What does it make you feel? I want you to tell me why the use of symbolism in historic art portrayal is so important. Off you go!"
She sat down on one of the backless wooden benches and took a sip from her coffee.
Cordelia took a deep breath, feeling suddenly self-conscious of her large bump. She pulled her denim jacket over her bump, covering her scoop-neck black and white polka dot maternity dress. Her Doc Marten boots suddenly felt out of place in the museum where everybody was wearing Brogues and smart heels.
Crosshairs gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Go on Red. I'm right behind ya."
Cordelia swallowed her fear down into the pit of her stomach and walked forward with what she hoped was purpose.
"Hi!" She said, extending her hand towards Viviane.
"Hello?" Viviane said, taking Cordelia's hand in her own French manicured one. "Can I help you?"
Cordelia stuttered a little. "Umm, I'm sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing the end of your lecture. Do you have time for a quick chat about…medieval legends?"
Viviane stared at her blankly for a few seconds, confusion present on her attractive face.
"Oh God sorry, my name is Cordelia. Cordelia Prime."
Viviane recovered. "Pleased to meet you Cordelia. I'm Viviane Wembley. And who do we have here?" She motioned to Crosshairs who had a gormless expression on his face.
"Erh this is Cassius. Cassius Aldridge. He's my uncle."
"Nice to meet you both. Let me just get rid of this lot and I'll be with you."
Viviane walked over to her group and dismissed them. Crosshairs approached Cordelia and leaned one arm on her shoulder jovially. He stood at 5'11" and although he was nowhere near Optimus' height in his holoform, he was still significantly taller than Cordelia.
"Uncle Cassius eh? What's an uncle?"
"I'll tell you later, look, here she comes."
Viviane came over to them, smiling. "Would you like to come up to my office? I have a coffee machine that makes much nicer coffee than the shit they serve in the cafeteria."
Cordelia nodded and made to follow Viviane.
She took them through a maze of wooden panelled corridors, furnished with dated portraits of men in white wigs and white-faced women with dresses that had voluminous skirts.
Students wondered the corridors clutching files and books, hurrying to their next lecture or trailing behind friends.
The old parquet flooring clacked noisily underneath Viviane's Christian Louboutin heels as she led Cordelia and Crosshairs deeper within the bowels of the university.
Finally she stopped at a massive oak door, which bore her name and the many letters after it. She inserted a key into the lock and twisted the handle open with a flourish of her wrist and then stood to the side.
"Please, go inside and make yourselves comfortable."
Cordelia made her way into the ornate office. A huge writing desk sat in the centre, holding a pure white orchid, an expensive looking desktop computer and an antique typewriter. Pictures of Viviane at her graduation ceremony adorned the walls amid images of her family and friends.
Opposite the desk were two plush leather armchairs. Cordelia sank into one whilst Crosshairs moved to occupy the other.
Viviane shut the door behind her and moved to lean against her desk so that she was facing her two visitors.
"So, how can I help you?"
"Medieval legends. Specifically legends about…metallic dragons." Cordelia dropped her gaze to her feet, not wanting to see Viviane's reaction to her request.
There was a few seconds of silence before Crosshairs spoke up. "Hey, missy," his tone was snooty and somewhat derisive. "The lady asked you a question, I think the normal response is to give an answer."
Cordelia's head snapped up at the sound of Crosshairs' voice. She stood and placed a warning hand in his shoulder. "Easy Cassius, this will get us nowhere."
Viviane pushed herself off the desk and removed her glasses, coming up to Cordelia and studying her intently.
"Wait a minute. I know you. I've seen you before somewhere. Did you say your name was Cordelia?"
Cordelia felt her cheeks begin to burn as the blood rushed to the surface of her alabaster skin.
She took an involuntary step back, away from the advancing older woman.
Her mind began to race.
How could she have been so stupid? What if Viviane Wembley was involved with the TRF and Cordelia had just walked herself and Crosshairs into a trap?
"Easy, I don't mean you any harm. Yes!" Viviane jumped up and down on the spot excitedly, a look of realisation on her pretty face. "I know who you are! You're 'Prime's girl'! I saw you in the magazine with Optimus Prime."
Cordelia groaned inwardly at the mention of the nickname that the world's media had christened her with.
An opportune photographer had snapped a tender moment between Cordelia and Optimus immediately after the battle of Chicago. Cordelia had sprinted over to Optimus after he'd discarded the shotgun he'd used to kill Sentinel. He'd turned to see her and scooped her up and held her close to his face, nuzzling his lip-plates across her face and shoulders. She'd held herself fervently to his face, eliminating all space between them.
The next day, the image had been plastered on the front of every major publication on the planet.
At the mention of his leader, Crosshairs shifted his holoform from his human guise to his robotic self.
His faceplates scrunched into a cold scowl as he put himself between Viviane and Cordelia.
"Good. Now that's out in the open, answer the girl's question."
Viviane was visibly shaken but held her ground. "Let me guess, this is about the horns."
Cordelia peeked out from around the side of Crosshairs' arm. "Horns?"
"The horns that have suddenly appeared on various continents around the globe? The metal ones?"
Cordelia's mind raced as she moved to sit back in the armchair, cradling her bump protectively.
"Metal horns? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Horns have been appearing all over the world for the past few weeks, growing at rates of three metres per day. Scientists have no idea what they are, where they came from or why they are here. There's nothing to link them to anything on the planet."
"She ain't bluffin' Red, I've found reports of one having grown to four hundred metres and it shows no signs of slowing down. The humans are shittin' themselves."
"What can you tell me about Knights of Cybertron?"
Now it was Viviane's turn to look confused. "Knights of Cybertron? There's no such thing. Tales that have been spun by hopeless romantics in an attempt to humanise the aliens."
Cordelia rose from the chair, grabbing Crosshairs' arm. "Thank you, Viviane. It would appear that we have had a wasted journey. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. Crosshairs?"
Crosshairs shifted back to his human holoform and held the door open for Cordelia. "Come on Red, let's be goin' on," he inclined his head to Viviane. "Miss Wembley."
Cordelia followed Crosshairs wordlessly through the maze of scholarly corridors, not taking in anything from her surroundings. Her mind was a tornado of unanswered questions and intrusive thoughts. What if the horns were related to the Creators in some way? What if the Creators had lured Optimus from Earth on purpose to kill him? What if she never saw him again?
Crosshairs noticed her shallow breathing and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Come on Red, let's go."
They were just exiting the building when an elderly man in a tweed jacket planted himself in their path.
He wore smart chino trousers and a blue shirt couple with a waistcoat. A watch on a chain hung from the breast pocket of his waistcoat, partially covered by the blue and red silk scarf tied in a loose knot around his neck.
He rolled his walking stick easily between his palms. "Ahh, what wonderful timing. Crosshairs, Cordelia? I would very much like it if you were both to accompany me to my place of residence. We have much to discuss and I'd much rather do that over a cup of tea in my parlour than out here in the rain." He indicated the ominous grey clouds that had suddenly appeared overhead.
"We ain't goin' nowhere with you," Crosshairs snarled, ushering Cordelia over to where they had parked earlier.
"Oh, you are mistaken my good fellow. I mean neither of you any harm. In fact…" he lowered his sunglasses to expose brilliant blue eyes. "…I expect you want to know all about the Cybertronian Knights and the horns, hmm?"
Cordelia stared at the man, open mouthed. Nova chose that moment to kick her forcefully in the ribs, causing her to involuntarily vocalise a small moan.
"Cybertronian Knights?" She asked, pressing a fist to the left side of her bump to try and encourage Nova to kick somewhere less uncomfortable. "Wait, who are you?"
The man smiled at her and extended a hand. "My name is Sir Edmund Burton, the twelfth Earl of Falgan." He eyed Crosshairs speculatively. "I'm afraid I must insist that we hurry, we have much to discuss, and time is not on our side."
Cordelia looked at Burton, trying to second guess him. She sighed and made to follow him.
"Come on Crosshairs, what have we got to lose? If it helps Optimus, then so be it."
Crosshairs sighed. "Fine. But at the first sign of trouble, we're outta there."
.o
The journey to Falgan Castle was silent and a little tense. Cordelia sat in the driver's seat of Crosshairs' vehicle form, Sir Edmund Barton in the passenger seat beside her.
Burton had supplied the coordinates of his castle to Crosshairs and he was now navigating toward the ancient building.
"By my calculations, we got about twenty minutes before we reach our final destination. You gonna be alright Red?"
"Mmhmm," came Cordelia's strained reply. She'd not been to the toilet since before they'd left the cottage all those hours ago, and Nova's weight pressing down on her bladder was beginning to make it protest, somewhat painfully.
The rest of the journey passed mercifully quickly as they passed through the rolling green hills of the English countryside.
As Crosshairs navigated around a tight hairpin bend, a grand stone castle came into view.
It sat innocently like a grey pearl on a cushion of green velvet. Starlings flew in perfect synchronicity around the turrets, rising and falling like ominous rainclouds.
The smooth surface of the road gave way to the bumpy sensation of gravel underneath Crosshairs' tyres as he drove through the grand gate that would admit him entrance to Falgan Castle.
The 'drive-way', if it could be called that, was about half a mile long and traced through the centre of a field of daffodils.
Amongst the yellow heads of the springtime flowers, another recognisable shade of yellow caught Cordelia's eye.
A familiar yellow Chevrolet Camaro was parked within the castle grounds, the tinted windows throwing back a perfect reflection of the castle's impressive courtyard.
Edmund Burton sighed, evidently annoyed by something. "I told him not to park on the gravel, it has only just been levelled."
His complaint fell on deaf ears as both Cordelia and Crosshairs were too occupied with the presence of their friend to be too worried about Sir Burton's gravel.
Crosshairs pulled up next to Bumblebee…on the gravel.
Burton muttered something inaudible under his breath and exited the vehicle, shielding his eyes from the bright springtime sunshine. Cordelia was about to open her door when it popped open of its own accord and she felt the seat beneath her raise ever so slightly.
"Just givin' ya an helpin' hand Red, on account of that human in yer belly."
"Aww thanks, you don't know how much I appreciate that Crosshairs." She pushed off on the steering wheel and heaved herself into a standing position, all too aware of the precarious strain on her over-filled bladder.
As soon as Crosshairs' doors had swung shut, he and Bumblebee transformed in perfect synchronisation and high-fived each other.
Bumblebee then turned his attention to Cordelia and gathered her in his arms, nuzzling happily into her auburn hair. "There's a little more of you than when I last saw you!" His earnest optics lowered to look at her swollen abdomen and she grinned at him, cradling her bump with one arm.
"Yup, not long to go now! She's cooking nicely. How have you been Bee?"
Bumblebee shrugged and wagged his 'door-wings' happily. "Oh, you know how it goes. Saturday I was slagging it down with Drift and then Monday I was makin' me some scrap metal out of Decepticon punks."
Cordelia laughed as he set her back down on the floor and then gasped as Cade emerged from around a corner.
He'd grown his hair out and now hung down to his chin in dark brown strands, accentuating his chiselled jaw and dark eyes. He wore a torn grey t-shirt coupled with a raggedy short-sleeved denim shirt and his signature grease-stained jeans.
His eyes widened when he saw Cordelia and he stepped forward to take her into a one-armed bear hug. "Hey kiddo, how are ya doin'? You're lookin' really well."
"Thanks Cade! It's great to see you and everything, but what are you doing here? I thought you were helping Cybertronian refugees in North America?"
"So did I until about thirteen hours ago. Then this crazy, psycho, loud-mouthed, full-of-attitude leprechaun told me I had to come over the pond to keep my friends safe. Still don't know what he needs me for, but it's sure good to see you kiddo."
Cordelia was about to respond when Edmund approached them with a broad smile on his wrinkled face. "Ahh, Mr Cade, what a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"
If the situation hadn't had been so bizarre, Cordelia would have burst into huge amounts of laughter at the totally bemused expression on Cade's face.
"It's just Cade. I dunno what you're smokin' in that pipe my friend, but my journey here was anything but pleasant. I don't make a habit of being abducted by four-foot mental psychopaths on a daily basis, so you'll forgive me if I'm not all that chatty at the moment."
Confusion made itself the dominant emotion in Cordelia's brain. She was confounded as to who and what this 'four-foot mental psychopath' was and where they were at this precise moment in time.
As if in answer to her unspoken thoughts, a metal figure emerged from behind Bumblebee's legs.
He was indeed, no more than four feet tall and closely resembled a decorative suit of armour that one might find in a country house or modest castle. He didn't have an externally obvious mouth or facial plating that resembled a mouth, but his face was not devoid of interesting features.
His optics were an almost bronze colour on the inside and framed by the 'traditional' azure-blue that most Autobots were blessed with. His head had a perfect dome shape to it and there was a little bulkiness to the back of it, which Cordelia assumed was the visor which would come down to cover his facial features.
His body itself was small and compact, with a knight's armour in place on all four of his limbs. All in all, he looked like a very smart and likeable Autobot.
He approached Cordelia and offered her a dramatic bow before taking her hand and holding it to where his mouth would have been.
"Miss Prime, it is an honour to make your acquaintance. I am Cogman, staff member for Sir Edmund Burton, the twelfth Earl of Falgan."
A low, throaty, rumbling sound stole Cordelia's attention and the small gathering of humans and Autobots alike all turned their interest to the source.
An elegant black and burnt orange Lamborghini Centenario was making its way down the long driveway, its powerful engine reverberating in Cordelia's chest.
Edmund Burton chuckled, seemingly to himself. "Ahh, I do so love perfect timing. What a bitchin' car she is."
At his words, the Lamborghini broke apart and began to form a bipedal shape in the familiar whir of clanks and gears that Cordelia had become so accustomed to after the last decade or so.
From its interior tumbled a woman who was dressed all in black. She had a head of dark hair but Cordelia could not make out any more of her defining features from the distance that she was stood at.
The woman began to tumble down the hill that was adorned with hundreds of daffodils. The Transformer made to try and catch her, but she swatted him away with what looked like a wooden stick.
The robot threw its hands up in defeat, evidently frustrated by the woman's rejection of help.
Cade snorted. "So, is this a kidnapping experience or her first Transformer experience?"
Burton smiled ruefully. "It's both really. See her reflexes? She does have a rather beautiful fight or flight response. Guinevere would have been proud." He was silent for a few seconds and then began to walk towards the castle.
"Cade, Cordelia? Come inside and join me for a nice cup of tea. We have much to discuss and extraordinarily little time to do so. Our guest will join us momentarily."
.o
The opulent drawing room that Sir Edmund had directed them to was both grand and overwhelming in its décor.
A chaise lounger sat in the corner, adorned with a grey velvet upholstery. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases framed the walls, crammed with what Cordelia had no doubt were rare first editions of famous books by the likes of Charles Darwin and Stephen Hawking.
Cade sat opposite Cordelia on a plush armchair, nursing a cup of tea between his weathered hands. Next to Cordelia on the grand couch sat Viviane Wembley, who had been the woman who had been brought to Falgan Castle by the unnamed Autobot, who spoke with a fantastic French accent and introduced himself as Hot Rod.
Cordelia took a sip from her own cup of tea, grateful for the distraction of the warm liquid.
Edmund Burton reclined in an armchair, a look of total relaxation on his aged face. He clasped his hands together over a bent knee and regarded his guests.
"I believe all that remains now is to introduce Mr Cade and Miss Viviane. Mr Cade, this is Viviane Wembley, Masters in History, Doctorate in Philosophy and Doctorate of Letters, all from the university of Oxford?"
Viviane nodded, casting an uneasy glance at Hot Rod, who was shoving as much of himself as he could through the open window.
"Miss Viviane, this is…Cade Yeager from the state of Texas." There was an awkward silence as everybody digested Burton's short introduction of Cade.
"Well great, now that that is all out of the way, do you plan on telling us why we're all sitting here like a bunch of losers?"
Burton chuckled again and leaned forward on his knees. "Patience Mr Cade, all will be revealed in good time."
He settled back in his chair again, regarding them all seriously, excitement brewing somewhere behind his blue eyes.
"Now, there is no time for pleasantries or genial chit-chat. You three have been brought here for one reason, and one reason only. To save the planet from annihilation. To prevent the destruction of everything that we both know and love.
"The way forward will not be easy. But when you are armed with the knowledge I am about to give you, you will be prepared for every eventuality. Now, come with me."
He rose from his armchair and beckoned his three guests to follow him.
Cogman graciously helped Cordelia out of her seat and then turned to follow his master.
Burton led them out of the drawing room and through a grand dining room, which was adorned with dozens upon dozens of oil paintings. Burton explained that the paintings were of his distant ancestors, detailing the somewhat strange and amusing ways that they had killed each other.
They emerged into the sunshine and made their way across the grand courtyard and into a small antechamber just off the east side.
Cogman led the way down a narrow spiral staircase, lighting a single flame at the tip of his finger in lieu of a candle.
He pushed open two enormous oak doors, revealing a huge, cavernous space behind them. Everything was gothic and dark, with a somewhat eerie aura about the place.
In the middle of the huge room, stood an impressive round table with twelve chairs. In front of each eleven chairs laid a single sword and shield bearing a crest which featured a dragon sitting back on its haunches, a forked tongue protruding from the open mouth.
As Cogman shut the doors behind them, the room was cast into darkness, but only momentarily. Within seconds, light flooded the whole area, birthed from candles bracketed to the wall every few metres.
"This place was built around the original round table. The birthplace of King Arthur's legends and reputation. This is where they sat. Twelve in all. And behind them, twelve Guardian Knights who came from Cybertron, all united with one common goal; to defend and protect.
"Twelve alien knights, who saw in Camelot what the human race could be at its finest." Edmund Burton's voice was husky with an unspoken raw emotion. He did not face his three guests but spoke with his back to them as if he was afraid of letting them see his face.
"Legend foretold that someday, one last knight would be chosen for an epic quest and the struggle for the world would begin. It would appear Mr Cade, that that last knight is indeed you."
Cade spluttered incoherently for a few seconds before Burton continued. "That little talisman upon your person is an ancient Cybertronian relic, only bestowed upon those who are worthy. Those who carry themselves with honour, dignity and fight for the freedom of oppressed peoples."
"The knights whispered a phrase; a mantra carried through the cosmos in the blanket of time and space. Seglass ni Tonday. 'With your dying breath, protect the staff.'"
Cordelia echoed Burton's words without realising that she had vocalised her inner monologue. He turned to look at her, a proud smile on his face.
"Ahh, Miss Cordelia, I trust Optimus Prime told you of the phrase?"
"Yes…shortly before he left to face…whoever is out there posing this threat against the planet."
"The staff which is referenced in the old legends did indeed exist and was bequeathed to the wizard Merlin by one of the knights. It was fused with his DNA the moment he first touched it, so that he and his descendants could be the only ones capable of wielding its great power. When Merlin died, the staff was buried with his body and kept hidden for over a thousand years. If it ever fell into the wrong hands, it would mean the end of our world as we know it.
"The staff must now be claimed before it is too late. The battle is upon us and we must not be caught unawares."
Viviane held her hands up and took a few steps back from Burton. "I'm sorry, what does any of this have to do with me?"
Edmund ignored her and motioned to Cogman, who gently took one of Cordelia's hands and one of Viviane's.
Cordelia initially pulled back, as did Viviane, but Cogman was surprisingly strong given his diminutive size. "Be still and calm. All will be revealed my ladies."
Burton continued. "Only a direct descendent of Merlin can hope to wield this instrument of raw and absolute power. And you Miss Viviane, and you Miss Cordelia, are Merlin's last descendants on Earth and as such, you are our final hope."
Cordelia's mind whirled as she reeled from this information. Nova reacted too, turning somersaults and kicking furiously.
"Woah woah woah. Hold on a minute. I'm not related to some long dead wizard and I'm certainly not related to this woman." She cast Viviane an awkward glance. "Sorry, I didn't mean any offence by that."
Before anyone had time to respond, Cogman pressed both their hands down onto the ancient table and for an instant that felt longer than an eternity but lasted no more than a heartbeat, the swords leapt up from the table and hung suspended in mid-air before clattering back down to where they had lain, undisturbed for one thousand years.
Cogman then slammed down a genealogy book, open at one page.
There, nestled within the yellowed pages were two pictures. One of Viviane, and the other of Cordelia.
Two lines rose from each picture, one to a man labelled 'Dr Wembley', the other to a man labelled 'Silas Winter'. Bile rose in Cordelia's throat at the sight of her father after so many years being free from him.
Cordelia watched as Viviane's finger moved to trace the one line they shared. It went upwards to a woman with shocking blue eyes and dark auburn hair.
Cordelia recognised the picture of her mother, having seen it only one other time in her short life.
Viviane gasped, her hand moving to cover her mouth.
"I knew my birth mother had died…but my father never spoke of her…"
Cordelia looked up and locked eyes with the woman stood opposite her.
A woman who she now understood to be her half-sister.