L'étranger0: Merci
Perconcino: I understand that you are eager to read the rest of a story that you enjoy (I am in the same situation), and I am honored that this FanFiction is expected. There is no better reward than to hear readers say that the updates are not coming fast enough, that the episodes are too short... in short, that they would like to read more of this FanFic. Nevertheless, I have a life apart from writing (and not an easy life) and several series (two of which have more readers than Order ab Chaos) to write. Even working almost every day for several hours, I can hardly do better than one update per month for each story.
King dedede: As I explained elsewhere, I have a (bad) humor based on Tex Avery (Looney Toons) so I use the Head Tilt as a kind of ridiculous Running Gag. In addition, many readers ASK me for Heads Tilt. I write to please, so as long as the readers want to read this kind of cutie meme, I will continue. I try to please everybody...no, I'm not stupid enough (er... let's just say that the jury has not yet finished debating about it) to believe that I can please everyone. But I still try.
Reditus Lancelot (pars prima)
(Lancelot's Return, First Part)
"When the Old Ones first crafted their Gates from the substance of stars, I was there to assist their labor. Down the long ages I have come, watching the rise and fall of you lesser races and your civilizations. I've laid waste to knights and cities, burned fields, and routed armies in my years. I could tell you much of the world that you have forgotten and more that you never knew, but I think not. You and yours are suited for nothing more than to provide me with amusement and the occasional graceful bauble for my lair. I see little else worthwhile about you."
—Brinrairdih, also known as the "The Storm that Roars," Ancient Wyrm
Mess was the most important city of the Marches of Couronne. It was a fortress-city built on Dwarf ruins dating from the Beard War. These massive walls were surrounded by two rings of Dwarfs' forts that had no visible entrances... According to Lancelot, these forts could only be accessed from underground tunnels. Most of these small fortresses had been abandoned for thousands of years. But some - notably the two forts which guarded the river port, upstream of the city, and the fortress downstream had permanent garrisons. These powerful fortifications had earned Mess the nickname "Virgin of Steel". The city had never been conquered by strength alone since... well since its founding at the time of the Beard War.
As for the rest of the underground...
Lancelot turned to Hakuno Kishinami, offering her that beautiful smile that made him the most attractive of the Knights of the Round.
"Underground? No one likes to stay there, Master. Dwarves have built low-ceiling tunnels to block any Elven assault. You can only move there bent in half. And the daring explorers who ventured there met huge red-eyed rats who attacked them in a strangely coordinated way. Also, most of the Dwarves' forts remain unoccupied."
Hakuno turned to Saber, who was riding beside her. King Arthur merely replied with a nod... she agreed with her Master, the Skavens had established a colony under the city of Mess, spying on humans and probably preparing to spread the plague or cholera to decimate the population.
The troupe of Bretonnian's Knights, the Marienburgers that had followed Hakuno into exile, and Hengus a Truthsayer of Albion and is two Giants companions, Cachtorr and Bologs, passed through the gates of Mess.
Behind its high walls of white stone reinforced with towers with conical roofs, the city formed a maze of narrow alleys bordered by houses of wood shingles and torches.
A large crowd departed upon their arrival to cheer the knights with enthusiasm, to watch the Marienburgers in a hostile silence and the Giants with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.
Hakuno kept turning her head, drawn by the joyful noise of the street. The merchants sold on their doorstep and tried to attract buyers by boasting about their goods. The street was a mixture of colors, smells - pleasant and unpleasant- and various noises. Blacksmiths, jewelers, and tanners exhibited their creations, while merchants of Oublis (1) and the touts of the taverns tried to make themselves heard by shouting louder than the others.
As they walked through the streets, Lancelot continued to speak, dividing his attention between Hakuno and Saber.
According to the Knight of the Lac, the capital of the Marches of Couronne had 20,000 inhabitants. It was one of the largest cities in Bretonnia by size. Located on the Mosel - a navigable tributary of the Sannez- Mess was also at the crossroads of four major trade routes.
For a long time Mess had suffered from the proximity of Couronne and this had hindered its development. Especially since the Marches were divided into two rival counties, Mess (coat of arms: red with a black sword) and Nancy (coat of arms: white with a red eagle). Several feudal wars had opposed the two counties. However, everything changed when Countess Patricia de Mess married Count Adrien de Nancy after the death of her father and brother, killed on the battlefield by her new husband.
The unification of the two houses put an end to the internal unrest ... for a time and gave birth to a marquisate (coat of arms: white and red, with a red and white double-headed eagle and a black sword).
Unfortunately, Duke Adrien was murdered by members of his family who did not appreciate the reconciliation of the two houses. His wife was also wounded but managed to escape with their two-year-old son. This aggression against the Marquis provoked a Jacquerie (an uprising of the "Jacques" as the Bretonian knights used to call the peasants, in a contemptuous way). After several weeks of confrontation, the "Jacques" took Nancy, set fire to the city, and looted it, slaughtering almost all the members of Nancy's house.
Having fled to Mess after escaping the murder of her husband, the young widow of Marquis Adrien suppressed the uprising and brought calm. She moved the capital to Mess, as the former capital had been ravaged.
Subsequently, her good management, her wise trade policy, and her support for the trade guilds enabled Patricia de Mess to beautify her hometown and make it the true capital of the Marches de Couronne. The town had a church of the Lady and the priests of Shallya cared for the poor free of charge, thanks Marquise Patricia financing the hospice. But it was not the religious buildings that made the people of Mess proud...
As he spoke, the troop had continued to advance and Lancelot du Lac turned to his king and Master, wanting to see their reaction.
In the center of the city, the Mosel surrounded a large island covered by a park and a large castle as if from a fairy tale. Surrounded by bright white ramparts, the castle had a central housing body with many mullion windows, a roof of blue tiles scalloped with a forest of chimneys. Three dungeons with conical roofs and a chapel of the Lady flanked the main building. On each tower of the enclosure, on each turret of the dungeons, flowed banners bearing the coat of arms of the great lords of the Duchy of Couronne.
"This is the castle of Belle Isle, the residence of the Marquise des Marches de Couronne Patricia de Mess."
Hakuno blinked with surprise, it was one of the most beautiful castles she had seen since her arrival in this world.
Artoria nodded:
"Indeed, I understand that the Messois are proud of Marquise Patricia's castle. Undeniably, it is a marvel."
Lancelot bowed, one hand on his heart.
The large audience room of the castle of Belle Isle deserved almost the name of "throne room", although the rank of Marquise Patricia does not allow her to wear a crown.
It was a long gothic room, bordered by a double colonnade that supported abutments that crossed to form a formwork ceiling. On each column, visitors could see a shield adorned with the coat of arms of a noble lord. The floor was paved with alternating white and black slabs, like a gigantic chessboard.
Artoria, Hakuno, and Lancelot entered, announced by a trumpet bell.
Three characters were waiting for them.
In the center, under the red and white banner adorned with the double-headed eagle of the Marches de Couronne, a tall woman of aristocratic stature sat in a large armchair almost like a throne. This noble lady was dressed in a black velvet cotardie dress. She has bobbed dark-brown hair, her belt was embroidered with gold, she also had a beaded necklace, as well as several rings.
Lancelot du Lac had made of her a description precise enough for Hakuno Kishinami to recognize the Marquise Patricia of Mess.
To the right of the marquise, a stunted, almost bald octogenarian was leaning on a cane. His skin was marked by old age spots. His white beard was so long that it reached his hips and his eyes were partly covered by thick glass pince-nez.
According to Lancelot, this was Professor Jeanjean, a historian and archaeologist who was also the principal adviser to the marquise.
The last character present was a colossus disfigured by a jet of acid that had burned half his face. With a shaved head, bushy eyebrows, and a mustache falling on his lips, he looked like a brute and he was a brute. Wolfram von Eshen was a Sigmarite mercenary who had been in charge of the marquise's personal guard for nearly twenty years. He never left his armor and had a long sword on his belt.
His men stood guard between every column. Almost as tall as their leader, they were clad in plate armor, their hands crossed over a sword with a wavy blade like a flame.
Lowering his silver trumpet, the herald announced:
"Hakuno Kishinami, Sovereign of the Moon Cell. King Arthur of Britannia. Lancelot du Lac, Earl of Nancy."
The two women turned to Lancelot:
"Earl of Nancy?"
It was Lancelot's turn to appear surprised...
"Oh yes, I forgot to tell you that."
A few weeks ago...
The Lady's Lake was the place that all knights wanted to discover one day. Since Gilles the Breton and his companions had drank from the Grail, the goal of any Bretonnian knight was to find the Grail in turn. Some wandered for years without finding the Lake... without being allowed of drinking from the Grail.
Those who found the Lake indicated that they had found it in a particular forest or region, but those who followed their indication never found it. There were several lakes that were known as the "Lady's Lake" (including the one where Hakuno appeared when she arrived in the Old World). But they were nothing more than places of worship. None of them was the true Lady's Lake (2). Among the wise, the consensus was that the Lake was not a fixed place and that any place could become the Lady's Lake. Others said that the Lake was a kind of state of mind. Those who deserved to drink from the Grail found the Lake where they stood.
The truth was simpler and more complex...
The Lady's Lake was a Marble Phantasm (3) the Lake was nowhere and everywhere.
The Lady's Lake looked like an ordinary lake. There was water, and beneath the surface of the water were fish, seaweed, and a castle... uh, maybe not such an ordinary lake after all.
Especially since this castle was inhabited. The strangest thing was that this underwater castle was and well... underwater, filled with water and therefore well... without air. Yet people walked in the halls, ate at the banquet table, wrote, read, or trained with weapons. Exactly as if they were on the surface.
The inhabitants were mostly women, the famous Grail Damsels of Bretonnia. Most of these girls were very young, children who were undergoing training that would make them powerful spellcasters.
Others, their teachers, were much older. They were Damoiselles de Magie who had retired to the Lady's Lake after several centuries of life and were beginning to suffer the effects of old age.
Most of the men were Wood Elves, the Fay Folk of Athel Loren.
And the Elves were riding giant seahorses, the girls were playing ball with fish as familiar as dogs...
A strange world of wonders.
Suddenly a horrible cry sounded, breaking the serenity of the place:
"RRRrrrRRrrrrRrrr... RRRRrrRRRR... rrrrRRrrr!"
"Hold him, don't let him escape!"
The room was devastated like a cyclone. The furniture was broken. Some of the walls seemed to have been shot by cannonballs.
The Green Knight, very recognizable in its green armor with a ghostly spring grass-colored glow, nodded.
"None shall pass!"
His phantasmatic voice echoed in the water that filled the room.
He firmly grabbed Berserker Lancelot. The dark knight was screaming and struggling violently, but the ghost of Gilles the Breton was as powerful as the Servant.
Nimue, the Lady of the Lake was a very beautiful woman with very pale green skin, her sumptuous outfits were made of seaweed, just like her hair. She was obviously not human, nor was she a 'real' goddess. She was a powerful elementary spirit of water.
In her hands, she was holding a splendid cup of gold. The object had no ornament but did not need it. Its proportions were perfect, harmonious. Moreover, the interior was filled with a liquid from which emanated a very pure golden glow.
While the Green Knight immobilized her unfortunate child, the Lady of the Lake poured the contents of the Holy Grail on the head of Lancelot du Lac.
Even for Nimue, rewriting the Saint Graph of a Servant was a very difficult exercise. Fortunately, with the Holy Grail, it was just 'difficult', not 'impossible'.
Lancelot was gasping on the ground.
The crisis seemed over.
Slowly the armor changed from grey-black to purple, while the furious, haggard expression on his face dissipated. The other transformations were even more astounding. Lancelot's teeth, a shark-like dentition, regained a more normal appearance.
The reddish pulsations in his chest faded. The fuliginous aura that surrounded him as a smoke withered away.
Nimue nodded his head. Her son once again resembled the young knight she had raised after the death of her biological parents, King Bran of Benoïc, and his wife Queen Elaine.
"Just a few more sessions and you'll be ready for your ordeal, my son."
These words drew Lancelot from his apathy:
"A trial, mother?"
"Yes, Lancelot, an event worthy of the greatest knight of the Round. If you pass it, I will consider you cured."
The Forest of Arden spanned most of the duchies of Artois and Gisoreux. To the east, the last trees rose to the first slopes of the Pales Sisters, sinister mountains that, in remote times, had been sculpted by ungodly hands transforming certain peaks to give them the shape of skulls with the eyes sockets lit by wisp light.
On the cold night of this late winter, a freezing mist had spread between the trunks. The forest was silent except for the distant hooting of an owl.
But suddenly, near an ancient mossy dolmen, the mist convulsed, repelled by a sudden movement of air.
A sphere of light was formed, illuminating the ivy-covered trees with a golden glow. The sphere grows, grows... before it suddenly dissipates. In its place, stood three characters, two armored knights and a beautiful lady.
Nimue turned to her son:
"Kneel, Sir Lancelot."
The knight in purple armor put a knee to the ground while the Green Knight crossed his hands on the knob of his sword.
"Sir Lancelot du Lac, Knight of the Round. Tonight will be the beginning of your ordeal. I won't give you any indication of what to do. Just know that you are in the right place and that the trial will clearly appear before the first light of dawn. Behave like the knight you are and you will pass this test."
"Yes, Mother."
"I have two gifts for you. The first is my ring."
The Lady of the Lake handed Lancelot a simple gold ring decorated with a small sapphire.
'You've already had an identical one. You know how to use it. Do not worry, this ring will pass on the astral plane at the same time as you."
"Thank you, Mother."
"My second gift is this shield."
Nimue made appear a knight's shield adorned with a coat of arms easy to recognize: d'Argent à trois bandes de Gueule (white with three red stripes that crossed the shield diagonally).
On the inner part of the shield was engraved the personal motto of Lancelot: DV LAC MA DAME.
"Don't forget my son, tonight will see the trial of a knight worthy to be celebrated as the best knight in the universe... it's not a trial for a rabid dog."
After the departure of the Lady of the Lake and the Green Knight, Lancelot found himself alone in the cold forest. Rain-laden clouds hid most of the stars but did not completely veil the two moons of Fated World (4). Mannslieb shone with a calm silver glow, peaceful and timeless. But Morrslieb, the chaotic green moon, looked troublingly like a face with features distorted by dementia.
As the first drops of cold, fine rain began to fall on the emaciated trees, Lancelot listened. He had just heard the sound of voices. Was it an effect of his imagination? No, a horse had just whined nearby. Turning around, the knight saw a light among the trees.
Cautiously, he decided to Astralize, disappearing into a whirlwind of blue prana.
The road was just a muddy path. Yet a large troop was passing through it. They were Mounted Yeomen. Dressed in chainmail or padded armor under black and red overcoats adorned with the head of the white deer of the duchy of Gisoreux, the first horsemen were armed with spears and almond-shaped shields on which were also painted the coat of arms of Gisoreux. Those who followed had bows. The helmets of these soldiers on horseback varied almost from one man to another.
But Lancelot only glanced at them. They were simple, poorly armed, and equipped serfs, they were not "well-born" like him. Dirty, stupid, and rude, they did not belong to his world. He noted, however, that many of the soldiers had bloody bandages and that their horses were exhausted.
In the middle of Yeomen's column, Lancelot du Lac noted the presence of two characters that immediately drew his attention.
First, because they wore helmets surmounted by heraldic animals and adorned with silk veils as well as magnificent armor and knights' shields adorned with coats of arms; they were Bretonian knights... But one of them had a woman lying across his saddle, tied up and gagged! Despite the dim light, the Knight of the Lac guessed that her blue dress torn and covered with mud had been splendid.
Lancelot's blood began to boil in his veins. These wretches foul had kidnapped a lady of a noble lineage!
His first impulse was to materialize and attack but his mother's words echoed in his ears: "Don't forget my son, tonight will see the trial of a knight worthy to be celebrated as the best knight in the universe... it's not a trial for a rabid dog."
Lancelot was strong, but if he attacked without thinking, he risked causing the lady's death rather than saving her.
He tried to calm his anger and the impulse that forced him to materialize and slaughter these wretches... and to roll his head back to look at Morrslieb and scream with all the strength of his lungs.
He was a knight... not a rabid dog.
One of the knights was trying to encourage his men to press the pace, going through the horsemen line and distributing blows with the edge of his sword to force the serfs to advance.
While the knight's steed was at the height of the captive, one of the Yeomen called the knight:
"Sir Mâchelion, you think Sir Romuald will reward us for our feat?"
The knight beheaded him without a word.
A terrified silence spread among the Yeomen.
As the headless body fell to the ground, Sir Mâchelion quietly wiped off his silverite blade wrapped in a golden light.
"This is the only reward for the talkative" Mâchelion grumbled in a scornful voice. "There are spies everywhere. Maybe even here!"
Saying this, the knight looked around as if he were really looking for a spy. His helmet then turned to the other soldiers.
"Hurry, Hurry, we must have arrived at the Dragon's Tooth before dawn!"
While saying this, the knight punched one of his men and sent him rolling in the mud of the road.
Always Astralized, Lancelot had a smirk of contempt. This man was unworthy of the title of knight. He reminded him of Bruce the Merciless and Meleagant, two of his worst enemies, knights without faith, without mercy, without honor, who mistreated women.
Following the path, Lancelot arrived in the morning in the small town of Guéfort.
The whole city was in turmoil. The escort of Lady Ariane, the daughter of Duc Chilfroy d'Artois had been attacked. The carriage had been found abandoned. Lady Ariane's followers, her valets, and the knights who were her escorts had all been ruthlessly slaughtered. But the worst was that the bodies of the aggressors were dressed in tabards and had shields adorned with the arms of the duchy of Gisoreux!
As Lady Ariane went to her wedding with Jean de Mess, son of the Marquise Patricia des Marches de Couronne, it was a major diplomatic incident!
Duke Chilfroy threatened Duke Hagen of Gisoreux to go and find his daughter at the head of his army if he did not return her immediately. Duke Hagen claimed his innocence. But Marquise Patricia supported her son's future father-in-law, and Gisoreux risked ending up at war on two fronts.
Lancelot called one of the serfs:
"Tell me, my man, have you ever heard of a place called the Dragon's Tooth?"
The man dressed in rags took off his hat and held it nervously in his hands, bowing respectfully to the knight in purple armor.
"My lord, this is an ancient dwarf city that has been abandoned for centuries, so it is called because a dragon has taken up residence in these ruins. No one came close. A few valiant knights went to challenge the dragon... but none ever came back."
"And you've heard of a lord named Sir Romuald?"
"Oh... I think it was the young brother of the late Marquis Adrien des Marches de Couronne. He was banished from the kingdom by royal decree for murdering his older brother to seize his lordship."
Lancelot was not as adept as Agravain when it came to deciphering court intrigues. But there was no need for a subtle mind to understand that Lady Ariane's abduction was a machination. Of course, Sir Lancelot could not guess what Sir Romuald's real objective was. But Sir Romuald would provoke war and strife in Bretonnia, many innocent people would die.
While Lancelot asked the serf what was the most direct route to get to the Dragon's Tooth, the latter grew pale:
"The river that crosses Guéfort begins in the Dragon's Tooth, just follow it upstream. But... there are goblins in the woods, giant spiders, wolves, werewolves... and also Zanzabar the necromancer."
"Zanzabar the necromancer?"
"A criminal who practices witchcraft and pulls the dead out of the graves."
The serf nodded firmly.
"And of course, there's the dragon."
Sir Lancelot smiled. Arondight -his sword- was a dragon slayer blade.
"I'll take this dragon."
Following the river to the north, Lancelot quickly left behind him the Guéfort fields to sink into the Arden forest.
After walking for several hours, Lancelot reached a small clearing. On the ground, many footprints crossed. Strangely some of them were human and others... were that of a wolf that must have been gigantic.
Lancelot frowned but decided not to try to understand. His goal was the Dragon's Tooth. With the war looming, he had no time to investigate the bizarre phenomena he encountered along the way.
He continued on his way, the Guéfort river had changed direction, slanting towards the west and the sun was descending on the horizon. In this mountainous region, in this season, the day was short. However, it was impossible to continue to advance on this bank. A succession of high cliffs blocked the road to the west.
Of course, it wasn't really a problem for a servant. Artoria would have walked on the water... he Astralized and rematerialized on the opposite bank before resuming his path.
As the darkness was now total, Lancelot decided to climb into a tree and spend the night safely away from the ground.
The night had not been very pleasant. Two giant vampire bats had attacked him. Not really a problem for a Heroic Spirit, but Lancelot now understood the bad reputation of this part of the Arden forest.
However, after walking for an hour, the Knight of the Round finally reached the mountain called The Dragon's Tooth. The river came out of a large dark cave but the mountain peak was not just the work of Mother Nature. A road cut into the rock waved towards the summit. Its point of departure must have been to the south and the Knight of the Lac decided to go this way.
After two hours of walking, Lancelot was attacked by a Giant Spider. The monster looked like an ordinary spider except... well, it was big enough to attack a cow or a man.
After having cut the monster in half, Sir Lancelot spat on the ground with a disgusted look.
Continuing along the cliff, an hour later, the knight was attacked by a second giant spider! These monsters were swarming!
A little before noon, the Servant finally discovered something interesting. First, the trees had been toppled nearby, like after the passage of a huge creature. Feeling that it was perhaps the trail left by the dragon that lived in the dwarf ruins, Lancelot felt his blood boil with anticipation, finally an opponent worthy of him.
However, he also discovered the entrance of a cave in the cliff, about thirty meters above him. It could be a way to get into the Dragon's Tooth.
And Lancelot was hesitant.
On one hand the glory of having killed a dragon, defying it in a great fight, the joy of defeating a powerful opponent...
On the other, the rescue of a lady who was kidnapped while she was on her way to her wedding.
The knight tried to calm down. Once again, his mother's voice seemed to resound in his ears:
"Don't forget my son, tonight will see the trial of a knight worthy to be celebrated as the best knight in the universe... it's not a trial for a rabid dog."
Lancelot breathes in, breathes out... breathes in, breathes out... Ok, let's go!
He jumped and with incredible dexterity climbed along the cliff. He had a damsel in distress to save. The classic trial of a Knight in shining armor.
The cave that opened into the cliff was a wide natural passage that sank far into the mountain.
After sixty meters in the tunnel, Sir Lancelot discovered a huge cave. From a crack fell a ray of sunshine that lit up a pile of skeletons and broken weapons. On this "bed" slept a huge dragon! A Fire Dragon (sometimes called Red Dragon) is a hot-tempered and intolerant beast who literally has a flaming breath!
The knight smiled, he had resisted the impulse that drove him to follow the dragon... and he discovered it at the lodge. The Lady of the Lake was with him.
Lancelot brought forth his helmet, his sword, and his shield before advancing in full light:
"Greetings to you, O Winged Tyrant of these mountains, my name is Sir Lancelot du Lac, Knight of the Round Table. Hear my name and remember it, for it is the knight's name that will put an end to your reign of terror!"
You had to be an idiot... or be called Sir Lancelot du Lac to wake up a sleeping dragon in fanfare.
Emerging from his sleep, the dragon stood up and turned his head furiously, his eyes narrowing cruelly when he discovered the puny human who dared to challenge him.
It must be said that this winged monster was an impressive creature. From the muzzle to the end of its tail, it must have been thirty meters long. He had huge bat wings, now folded on his back. His head was adorned with multiple thorns that folded over his neck. The neck was very long, snakelike. Its front legs were similar to human arms, finished with four-fingered hands with an opposable thumb. His back and neck were covered with a crest of spikes that extended to the end of his long tail.
The dragon deserved its name of Red Dragon since its scales were a dark red, except on the belly which was a lighter red.
The dragon began to laugh.
"You have sacrificed your one chance to kill me, insignificant creature. But I must thank you... you and your stupid chivalry. As you have given me your name, I must return the courtesy to you. My name is Verthumgard, the winged splendor of the Arden. My tail is a ram, my fangs are spears, my claws are swords, and my wings are like a hurricane. I am an army of my own and countless are the ones I have devoured. Oh, I forgot," he laughed, "my breath is deadly."
Breathing in, Verthumgard spewed out a long cone of flames.
The monster laughed again, but his hilarity ended abruptly.
The flames burning on the ground lit a silhouette shrouded in smoke.
Lancelot held his shield up and a bluish aura of energy surrounded the weapon. He had transformed the shield his mother's gift into Noble Phantasm thanks to Knight of Owner: A Knight Does Not Die with Empty Hands.
Then Lancelot jumped forward.
Catapulted like a meteor, Verthumgard came out of the tunnel leading to his lair. Several clear-cuttings marked the scales of his torso and arms. A deeper wound marked his snout.
The dragon was furious... a reaction that masked the fear that was beginning to creep into him.
This wretched human could hurt him! His sword broke his scales! It was impossible! But he resumed his calm. In the sky, his kingdom, he was protected from any retaliation.
If the dragon had been human, he would have smiled. His vengeance would be commensurate with the outrage.
With a flutter of a wing, Verthumgard turned around, returning to his lair.
The winged Tyran discovered his despicable enemy, his shield in his hand. Again, the breath of the Fire Dragon formed a cone of destruction.
The trees exploded, incinerating them in an instant, while the infernal heat - by simple thermal conductivity - ignited the leaves on the ground and the branches of other trees, igniting a huge fire.
The dragon began to laugh.
Even though his enemy's shield could block his breath he was now completely surrounded by flames. The heat and the lack of air would certainly kill him.
Veering into the sky, Verthumgard returned to Lancelot, eager to witness his agony or finish him if he was not already dying.
But...
The pain makes him roar. Astonished more than anything else, the dragon turned his head to discover a hole in one of his wings!
At that moment he heard a kind of detonation and... a projectile struck him in the muzzle. Holding a moan of pain, the dragon looked towards the ground.
He discovered the knight in purple armor. Apparently unhurt, he had just picked up an object from the ground.
It was the simplest weapon, the oldest to have been used by humanity: a stone.
But in Lancelot's hand, it was a Noble Phantasm A++ rank... a weapon capable of injuring even a dragon.
When the Knight of the Lac threw the stone, the projectile reached the sound wall almost instantly, causing a powerful blast.
Again struck, Verthumgard howled as much anger as pain and frustration. The Red Dragon veered into the sky, passed over Lancelot, and... hit the cliff with a powerful tail's stroke!
A large section of the cliff collapsed! Several tons of rock fell down the slope!
Lancelot demonstrated absolutely amazing reflexes. Running towards the forest, he dodged several rocks, jumped over a block of rock that had just hit the ground in front of him, jumped again to the side, while deflecting another rock with its shield.
He emerged unharmed from the avalanche, the only blocks that had happy him having ricocheted on his armor.
However, Verthumgard was already returning to the Knight of the Round. He had plucked two young trees from the ground and threw them in his direction!
Once again, Lancelot jumped aside to dodge the first projectile. Simultaneously, he elbowed down at one end of the young tree and knelt up on the other side... flipping back and forth the projectile... turning it into Noble Phantasm, and returning it to sender.
Verthumgard dodged the first projectile, his eyes almost coming out of his sockets under the effect of stupefaction. But the second tree followed immediately afterward, leaving him no chance of avoiding the attack. The improvised Noble Phantasm hit the winged dragon so violently that he fell to the ground, crashing into the forest and smashing several trees in its fall.
A broken wing, Verthumgard dragged himself miserably, trying to escape.
More than the pain, the humiliation was unbearable.
He, the great Verthumgard killed by an inferior creature! Worse, this despicable human had played with him, giving the impression that it was EASY! Impossible! Impossible! He would never accept an end like that!
The wounded dragon suddenly stopped.
The knight was already there, ending his flight. But the arrogant brat hasn't his shield! That wretched biped had made the last mistake of his pitiful life underestimating the mighty Verthumgard.
Standing in full stature, the Fire Dragon breathed in, preparing to resort again to his flames, his most powerful weapon.
Simultaneously, Lancelot raised his sword before his eyes:
The Arondight began to radiate with a blue light.
The Knight of the Lac leaped to the head of the Red Dragon while swinging down his Sacred Sword.
"Oath to my King!"
"Reaching the very end, beyond the boundaries. King on the other side, look at this light!"
"Arondight Overload!"
The blade described a dazzling trajectory, tracing a thin blue line from the dragon's head to the bottom of his belly...
For a brief moment, Verthumgard seemed unharmed, just paralyzed. Then the line turned out to be a fresh and deep cut from which came out an intense blue light.
A violent explosion of blue light shook the forest, throwing down the trees for a fifty-meter radius.
Author's note: the sequel will come very quickly. I stopped here because the chapter is already quite long. But I have already written a rough draft of the rest of the story.
The power that Lancelot shows in this chapter is based on Fate's canon. Sir Lancelot is stronger than Artoria who is as strong as a Grand Dragon. Moreover, Arondight is a dragon killer sword. Poor Verthumgard, he was 'only' an adult dragon!
(1) Biscuits similar to modern-day buttered biscuits.
(2) These lakes and ponds are the places where the Lady appeared to give drink to a knight deserving the contents of the Grail. Incidentally, the lake where Hakuno appeared is the most sacred of them, the place where the Lady appeared for the first time, in front of Gilles the Breton. This is the most sacred site in Bretonnia.
(3) Marble Phantasm is the ability possessed by the Nature Spirits that are the planet's sense of touch, allowing them to reconstruct the world through Probability Alteration. By connecting their will to the world, they can transfigure it into whatever environment they imagine. However, the same cannot be done with things like humans or animals, which exist independently of the world. Imagination Realization is purely the ability to freely transform one's surroundings. Marble Phantasms are a form of Bounded Field. But they are far superior to Reality Marble. Because a Reality Marble changes forcibly one aspect of reality transgressing the nature's laws, and a Marble Phantasm changes many aspects of reality by utilizing nature's laws.
(4) Name of the Warhammer planet.