The ferry boat glided across the shimmering waters of the Avalon Sea, with its hull cutting through the glassy surface with a gentle lurch. Sunlight bounced off the sea, making it look like a thousand diamonds scattered beneath the boat. The crisp scent of saltwater mingled with the faint odor of oil and metal— a mixture that spoke of both nature and the industrious world.
All around them, other ships traversed the waters— sleek vessels ferrying passengers to and from the Eastern Avalon Sea Harbor, while others sailed toward the colossal mesa that towered in the distance: Supreme Mesa.
Resting at the top of the mesa, Crossbell itself was a dazzling sight. The massive white megacity sprawled out like a heavenly kingdom— its towering walls scaling the sky, looking like an impenetrable fortress from below. Skyscrapers rose up like needles, with some piercing through the clouds themselves, and shining in the midday sun with reflective glass and shimmering metal. The whole city felt alive, brimming with technology and industry, but with a mystic undertone, as though ancient forces intertwined with its modern structures.
Goblin Slayer stood at the front of the upper deck, with his forearms resting atop the safety rail, and his orichalcum helmet catching the sunlight. His stitched leather armor, worn from years of service, held firm against the gusts of wind that swept across the deck. High Elf Archer, Dwarf Shaman, and Lizard Priest stood beside him, all leaning against the rail as they took in the same sights.
The ferry was crowded, but not overly so. Most of the passengers were finely dressed, and were composed of wealthy humans in tailored coats with brass buttons, and with sleek top hats adorned with complex clockwork designs. Their attire hinted at wealth and power, but also at an affinity for the mechanical wonders of the world— their clothes seemingly in harmony with the modern aesthetic of the city they approached.
Adventurers were scattered among them— clad in leather and steel, with weapons slung over their shoulders, exchanging tales of previous exploits in hushed tones.
Strategically posted at various points around the ship were the Royal Guardsmen, standing like statues with a quiet intensity. They wore armored robes— their flowing white garments embroidered with the golden insignia of the Pendragon Empire.
Each of them carried a long metal staff, the ends of which glowed faintly, as though elemental energy was contained within small crystal modules affixed to the tips. Their helmets featured blackened visors, completely obscuring their faces— adding to their air of mystery and authority.
Goblin Slayer eyed them cautiously. Their disciplined stances and aura of control made them worrisome, though he reminded himself that as long as he didn't cause too much trouble, there would be no reason to cross paths with the Royal Army.
He returned his gaze to the pier ahead, which grew larger as they neared it.
"They say Crossbell is the highest point in the world's civilization— built upon the island of "Avalon", where Urthur supposedly pulled a magical sword that was embedded into the top of Supreme Mesa itself," High Elf Archer said, breaking the silence between them. She leaned on the rail, her long ears twitching slightly in the breeze.
"Not sure how that is true, but it was the mythos behind that sword, Excalibur, that rallied his cause to restore order in Zemuria," She squinted up at the city, her lips curving into a smirk. "But part is for sure definitely bullshit… Anyway, I bet the view from up there is insane. Don't you think, Orcbolg?"
Goblin Slayer nodded, though his eyes stayed focused ahead. "Yeah, I'd say so," he said, more to himself than to her.
Dwarf Shaman grunted, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Aye, but ye' can imagine that no one in their fancy towers are gonna be lining up to roll out the red carpet for ye' on that one," he lamented with a half-cocked grin, before shrugging. "Aye, but do I know? Maybe they'll let you up there. Can't hurt to ask, lad."
"Ah, but do not forget the pleasures that await below the towering constructs of glass and iron," Lizard Priest rumbled, his long tail swaying behind him as he observed the city. "Here, in places like this, one can find wisdom, art, and the refinement of the soul. Such cities are bastions of knowledge, ancient and new."
"Knowledge, eh?" High Elf Archer chuckled. "I think you're just excited to sample their food…!"
Lizard Priest's tongue flicked out— tasting the air. "Ah, yes, one must not overlook the culinary delights available to Zemuria's highest echelon!"
Goblin Slayer remained quiet, while absorbing their banter as the ferry drew closer to the harbor. The hum of machinery from the engine below deck vibrated through the floor— a rhythmic pulse that matched the waves. He glanced again at the Royal Guards— their stiff postures and the slight gleam of magic from their staves.
"So, what's the plan once we dock?" Dwarf Shaman asked, while adjusting the strap of his satchel. "We headin' straight to the guild or takin' in the sights?"
The teen thought for a moment, before looking back down at the tarp-covered dolly by his side. "We'll find lodging first. We need somewhere to store our belongings. I don't want to talk to Xavniik while lugging around all these gifts."
High Elf Archer shrugged, her green eyes glittering with amusement. "Whatever you think is the best move to make, Orcblog. But after that, I'm dragging you to the fashion district! They've got stuff you wouldn't believe! Jewelry, glasses, hella cute shoes, and stylish outfits! The whole shabang!"
"Sure," Goblin Slayer replied, while the corner of his mouth twitched under his helmet. "But only AFTER we stop by Mythical Morning to talk to Xavniik."
She pouted, before rolling her emerald green eyes and sighing loudly. "Tch! Don't remind me…"
Dwarf Shaman let out a bark of laughter. "Let's not pretend that ye' weren't plantin' arrow after arrow in his men, back in the good ol' day, lass!"
Hearing that made High Elf Archer chuckle sinisterly, as the corners of her lips tightened up. "Heh, damn right I was..,! My only regret back then was not shooting even more of those bastar-"
Goblin Slayer's grip tightened slightly on the rail, as he cleared his voice conspicuously enough to garnish their attention.
"Let's… Talk about something else." He proposed with a cautious tone, before subtly gesturing with a nod over towards the nearest royal guard. that was stationed on the starboard side of the front— their black visor catching the sunlight, as they kept armored helmets ominously pointed in their direction, before slowly straightening their head.
And as the ferry boat drew ever closer to the dock, the sounds of the bustling harbor grew louder— voices calling out in various tongues, the clang of metal and machinery, the hiss of steam from the ships' engines. Goblin Slayer watched as the pier loomed ahead, the great walls of Crossbell stretching high above them— as if daring anyone to breach their mighty defenses.
Goblin Slayer pulled the dolly full of his new acquisitions behind him, the squeak of the wheels nearly drowned out by the busy harbor's symphony of sounds. The leather-bound guitar case, the bright red Flying V guitar, gramophone, vacuum tube amplifier, and box of vinyl records were strapped down securely under a tarp with bungee cords. He followed closely behind High Elf Archer, who had her nose buried in an open atlas booklet, her green eyes darting over the pages as she practically skipped forward in excitement.
The Eastern Crossbell Harbor was alive with movement. Passengers disembarked from ferries as others waited to board, the dock bustling with activity. Yet, amidst the throngs of travelers, there wasn't a single cargo ship in sight. This part of the harbor was dedicated solely to those who walked on two legs, exclusive to passengers, an air of sophistication and precision to its design. Goblin Slayer didn't dwell on it for long. His focus kept shifting as they moved deeper into the harbor.
High Elf Archer, too energized to stand still, turned back toward them— her voice bright as she rallied the group. "Come on, you guys! We're almost there!" She called, her face alight with enthusiasm. "It's been like, over a hundred years since I've been here! I bet there's a bunch of cool new crap to see!"
Goblin Slayer kept his grip firm on the dolly, with his pace steady. Behind him, Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest followed at a more leisurely gait— each taking in the surroundings with their own reserved interest.
The harbor was heavily guarded. Towering figures clad in black and gold armor patrolled every corner, their mechanical joints whirring with each precise movement. These were the Templars— guards dressed in armor so thick and advanced, it felt more like moving fortresses than men. The plates of their power armor gleamed in the sun— intricate mechanisms whirring beneath the surface.
The teen was more than familiar with them, from when he had escorted him to the Inquisitor's office— their rifles menacing and weighty, resembling the heavy-duty rivet rifles he now saw strapped to every Templar on the dock. A cold shudder ran down his spine as he watched squads of Royal Guards march past in perfect formation, nine to a group— their presence overwhelming.
They weren't just ordinary guards; they were a force— armed, disciplined, and always watching.
His gaze flicked to the massive stone walls lining the sides of the towering mesa— where even more artillery was mounted: massive cannons and rotating gatling guns, their bronze and copper surfaces gleaming under the sun, primed and ready.
The engineering and power behind them were unmistakable, yet there was an elegance to their design. The air smelled faintly of steam and oil, mixed with the saltiness of the sea— a world that thrived on the balance between the magical and the mechanical.
And as they climbed the winding steps of the harbor, the crowd surged forward— funneling them toward the train station built into the mesa itself. The station clung to the cliffside, overlooking the sparkling waters below. They could see the distant horizon where the sea met the sky— the sunlight dancing across the waves in brilliant golds and blues.
High Elf Archer didn't slow down, even as they reached the platform. She beckoned them forward, practically vibrating with excitement.
They joined the line of residents and visitors alike— all waiting to board the majestic train that sat waiting at the station. It was a sight to behold, with its polished bronze exterior catching the light, and the train's steam engine puffing quietly as if readying itself for the journey ahead. The train itself seemed both ancient and advanced— its design intricate and full of details that spoke of craftsmanship and power.
Goblin Slayer said nothing, though his eyes traced the train's contours— noting the wheels and pistons, the elegant design of the passenger cars.
After a few moments of waiting, they finally boarded the train together, and were eventually settling into a single cushioned bench that faced forward. The gray-haired teen sat near the window— the view of the shoreline beyond catching his attention. From where he was seated, the mainland seemed so far, yet the harbor below remained alive with movement.
A chime rang through the speakers as the Train Conductor's voice crackled to life, cheerful and full of energy. "Welcome aboard the Canterlot Express, travelers! We are thrilled to have you with us on this beautiful day. Please keep your hands and belongings inside the vehicle at all times, and remain seated until the ride has come to a complete stop. We thank you for choosing Crossbell as your destination, and we hope you enjoy the views as we ascend to the city atop the mesa that Supreme God Himself blessed!"
As the conductor's speech ended, a gentle hum filled the train. Soft classical music began playing through the speakers, setting a serene, almost whimsical tone.
With a loud whistle, the train jolted slightly before it began to chug along the track— pulling forward with a rhythmic clanking of its wheels. Goblin Slayer's breath caught as he looked down. The front wheels of the steam engine appeared to glide perilously close to the edge of the platform, but then— suddenly— they lit up.
Glowing trails of ember-like light formed beneath the wheels, as if magic itself was creating the tracks for them. The fiery trails spread out in a brilliant cascade— stretching outward as the train moved forward, and carving a path into the air itself.
The wheels, now encased in this magical light, carried the train effortlessly into the sky, and were slowly ascending in a wide spiral around the circumference of the mesa. Goblin Slayer's heart pounded as he stared out at the spectacle.
Below, the mainland and the sea became smaller and smaller, the expanse of land shrinking as the train climbed higher. The view was phantasmic, otherworldly— the deep blue of the ocean meeting the horizon, the mainland's coastline curving in and out of sight. The shimmering water now appeared like a vast tapestry of light, stretching as far as the eye could see.
He was awestruck, the sheer scale of the world below suddenly feeling both infinite and fragile.
"This… Is incredible," He muttered, with his voice low but filled with an awe that he rarely allowed himself to express.
High Elf Archer leaned over, her grin wide. "Told you'd see some cool crap! You don't see this kind of magic every day."
Lizard Priest, sitting calmly beside them, added, "A magnificent blend of the arcane and the mechanical. Such wonders remind us of the endless possibilities the world holds."
Dwarf Shaman snorted but smiled, with his eyes also glued to the window. "Aye, I'll give it to 'em— this is somethin' else. But I'm more concerned about what kind o' booze they've got waitin' at the top."
Goblin Slayer only half-listened. His attention was focused on the glowing tracks beneath the train and the breathtaking world outside.
The train continued to rumble gently as it ascended— the rhythmic chugging of its wheels now muted by the ethereal hum of the magical tracks glowing beneath. He could feel the subtle vibrations through the cushioned seat— a steady pulse that matched the train's steady climb up the mesa.
The soft classical music playing through the speakers melded perfectly with the ambiance— a serene symphony of strings that complemented the majestic view unfolding outside.
The train wound its way upward along the edge of the Supreme Mesa— spiraling higher and higher, and giving the teenager and his companions an ever-changing view of the world below. The sea shimmered in the sunlight, vast and seemingly endless, its surface painted with streaks of gold and silver.
The mainland stretched out like a living map, its rivers and forests mere streaks of color from this height. Tiny specks, which he knew were ships, dotted the waters, ferrying passengers and goods back and forth from the bustling harbors. It was a world in motion, a world that, for a brief moment, felt so far beneath him.
High Elf Archer had her face nearly pressed to the glass as she leaned over the teenager's lap— her excitement evident in her bright eyes. "Look at that! You can see the entirety of Central County from here!" She exclaimed, pointing downward. "We were just there!"
Goblin Slayer then followed her gesture, with his own gaze tracing the harbor's busy piers. From this height, the Eastern Crossbell Harbor appeared as an intricate puzzle of stonework, docks, and winding staircases, bustling with travelers but still orderly. The Templars, with their towering frames and gleaming armor, looked like tiny sentinels patrolling the bustling crowds. The large artillery cannons and gatling guns lining the walls, once imposing, now appeared as mere details in the grand tapestry of the port.
He inhaled deeply. The air was fresh here, carrying the crisp scent of saltwater mixed with a faint hint of the magical energy emanating from the tracks. It was a strange, metallic tang that lingered in the back of his throat but wasn't unpleasant— more like the hum of something ancient and powerful. The wind brushed past him, cool and clean, stirring his cloak as he gazed out at the shrinking world below.
Lizard Priest, sitting beside him, was composed as always, his reptilian eyes scanning the scenery with quiet reverence. "Such innovations must have taken to transform this dream into a reality," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Though, it is important to remember that not all of that ingenuity was taken from the well of human knowledge."
Dwarf Shaman leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed, a wry grin tugging at his lips. "Aye, Scales! I could name about forty dwarven-made designs, just from what I saw in the harbor alone!."
Goblin Slayer's focus still remained outside— his gaze following the train's glowing tracks as they continued to form ahead of the engine. The light seemed to stretch endlessly— a radiant path of embers that curved and twisted as they climbed higher around the mesa's edge.
Occasionally, the train would dip slightly, as if it were testing the boundaries of gravity itself, only for the magical tracks to surge into existence beneath it— steadying their ascent.
The train conductor's voice chimed in over the intercom again, a chipper reminder to "sit back and enjoy the ride, and don't forget to admire the scenery!" The classical music swelled; violins and woodwinds creating a calming, almost hypnotic atmosphere that contrasted with the mechanical magic propelling them forward.
As they climbed higher, the city of Crossbell slowly began to reveal itself above them. The towering white walls encircling the mesa's peak came into view first, their immense height dwarfing the cliffs they rested on.
The walls themselves were pristine, shining in the sunlight, adorned with intricate designs that reflected both elegance and strength. Above them, the towering skyscrapers reached toward the heavens, their metallic spires glinting like spears aimed at the sky. Some even appeared to pierce the clouds— as if trying to touch the very stars themselves.
"It's like something out of a dream, isn't it?" High Elf Archer whispered, her voice softer now as the grandeur of the city began to sink in. "As much as I don't like the Pendragon Empire, there's… Nothing else like this out there, Orcbolg."
Goblin Slayer nodded, his mind unable to form words. It was a city that seemed to defy the laws of the world he knew— a fusion of the natural and the fantastical. The shimmering glass of the skyscrapers, the ornate bridges connecting them, and the ethereal glow that seemed to emanate from the city itself— it all felt otherworldly, as if they were approaching the gates of some mythical kingdom.
As they neared the top of the mesa, the train slowed slightly, giving them more time to absorb the breathtaking view. Goblin Slayer, usually so grounded and focused, found himself momentarily lost in the sheer wonder of it all. He could see the entire Avalon Sea stretching out to the horizon now, the blue expanse meeting the sky in a seamless, shimmering line. The mainland had become a distant memory, a speck on the horizon.
For the first time in a long while, Goblin Slayer allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. He gripped the safety rail beside him, watching the last stretch of the journey as they neared the gates of Crossbell. The train curved gently one final time, and then, with a low whistle and a hiss of steam, it began to glide into the station atop the mesa.
The music in the speakers faded softly, replaced by the quiet rumble of the train coming to a halt. The teen exhaled, the sensation of awe still lingering in his chest as the doors hissed open.
"Welcome to Crossbell," the conductor's voice echoed warmly. "We hope you enjoy your stay."
Goblin Slayer and his companions stepped into their new hotel suite, with the air inside cool and serene. The sliding paper doors behind them whispered shut— muffling the sounds of the bustling city outside. The room was bathed in soft light, filtered through the delicate shoji screens that lined the walls— casting a peaceful glow on the polished wooden floors. Tatami mats were carefully arranged throughout the living area, and a low table, surrounded by cushiony floor seats, invited them to sit and relax.
Dwarf Shaman breathed in deeply, with his shoulders sagging in contentment as his eyes roamed the room. The craftsmanship of the hotel was impeccable—the intricate carvings in the wooden beams, the clean lines of the minimalist furniture, and the way everything seemed to be in harmony with nature. The traditional Tekkadanese style brought an instant smile to his face.
"Ahh, this takes me back," he said with a chuckle, running a hand through his thick beard. "Reminds me of home. My old man would've loved this place. Every year, he'd drag us to the "Moonlight Festival" for our holidays, saying it was "good for the soul". Strict, the both of them were, mind you— Mother would tan my hide if I didn't take my shoes off at the door."
As if on cue, Dwarf Shaman shrugged off his kimono and set it on a nearby coat rack, before bending down to remove his sandals and place them neatly by the entrance. His laugh boomed warmly. "She'd be wringing both ye' necks, if she saw you two prancing around the living room with them dirty boots on."
High Elf Archer, still standing in the center of the room, gave the decor a wide-eyed, mystified look. "You don't say," she murmured, her voice tinged with curiosity. She moved cautiously, as if afraid to disturb the quiet harmony of the space.
Behind her, Lizard Priest chuckled softly. "Ah, you'll be glad to know I'm already one step ahead." He gestured to his bare feet, before then glanced down at the trail of dirt he'd unwittingly dragged in from outside.
He paused, his reptilian eyes widening slightly. "Ah... Apologies to your mother, friend," he muttered, and with surprising grace, made his way to the bathroom. The sound of water splashing into the basin soon followed, along with the awkward sight of him lifting one leg to wash his foot, muttering more apologies under his breath.
High Elf Archer shrugged, watching him with mild amusement before turning her attention back to the sliding paper door of the bedroom where Goblin Slayer had disappeared. "Whatever. There's no point in taking off our boots— we're only going to be here for a minute," she said nonchalantly, while unfastening her bow and quiver before leaning them by the door. Her brown cloak followed suit, as she carefully laid it over the back of a nearby chair.
Dwarf Shaman chuckled and waved a hand. "Fair enough, lass. Just don't tell me mother, aye?" He joked, before beginning to undo the knots behind his black leather cuirass— switching it out for his simple white kimono. As he adjusted the folds of the robe, his expression grew more thoughtful, and his tone softened. "You… You gonna be alright, lass?"
High Elf Archer froze, her back still turned to him. Her shoulders tensed as if bracing for something. "… What do you mean?" She asked, with her voice a little too casual, and her fingers plucking at the fabric of the couch as she sat down.
Dwarf Shaman let out a dry chuckle. "Come now, Long Ears! Don't bullshit a bullshitter! What I meant…" He hesitated, his smile faltering as the weight of his words settled in. "What I meant was if you want to stay behind, I don't think Beard-Cutter would be crossed."
Her posture stiffened as a mix of anger and unease flashed across her face. She tried to regulate herself, shaking her head with a half-hearted scoff. "I'm not scared of Xavniik," She snapped— the irritation in her voice was unmistakable, but the undercurrent of anxiety was just as clear.
Dwarf Shaman raised his hands, palms out, a peace offering. "I didn't mean it that way, lass. I know you're not scared." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Just didn't want you puttin' yourself through unnecessary stress, that's all. No sense puttin' your pretty head through that."
High Elf Archer's lip twitched— her pride warring with the more understanding part of her. She glanced at him, lips pursed tightly together. "If I don't go, then who's gonna convince Orcbolg to hit the fashion district?" She retorted— deflecting with humor as she averted her eyes toward the sliding door of the bedroom.
Dwarf Shaman let out a concerned chuckle, his brow furrowing as he stroked his beard. "Aye, fair point," he said, his voice a bit softer now. "But still-"
Before he could finish, High Elf Archer threw her head back slightly and shouted toward the bedroom, "-Hear that, Orcbolg?! You're taking me out on a date tonight!"
The response was immediate. The sliding door whispered open, and Goblin Slayer stepped out, but not in his usual battle-worn armor. Instead, he wore a crisp white dress shirt, a black tie perfectly knotted at his collar, and a neatly buttoned vest over his slim frame. His slacks were clean, his leather boots polished. Around his wrist, the faint orange glow of the mana-suppressing bracelet flickered softly.
High Elf Archer blinked, her bravado slipping into surprise. She let out a soft chuckle, half amused, half taken aback. "Hey, haha…! I-I was only kidding about the date, you know…!"
The gray-haired teen smiled, but just barely. "I figured," he replied— his voice quiet but steady.
Dwarf Shaman, standing back with his hands folded across his stomach, squinted at Goblin Slayer in confusion. "What's with the church getup, lad? You've only ever worn those when we're eatin' somewhere fancy."
The teen's smile faltered, replaced by something softer, almost wistful. "Just for today," he said, his tone barely above a whisper, "I'm not going to be "Goblin Slayer"."
High Elf Archer's mouth parted in silent shock, while Dwarf Shaman's expression shifted from playful to bewildered.
"Aye? Bit hard to play pretend, when you have to have your ID on ye, innit?" He mused, trying to lighten the moment.
Goblin Slayer's eyes softened— his expression bittersweet. "I know, and that won't be an issue... Because today, I want to be Ren Ashta. Just for one last time."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. High Elf Archer's breath hitched as something twisted deep inside her— panic, guilt, and a thousand unspoken emotions flooding her chest.
Dwarf Shaman's jovial demeanor slipped further into concern, his brows knitting together as he murmured, "So that's your real name, eh? "Ren Ashta"…"
Goblin Slayer turned away— walking toward the sliding door, and revealing the familiar shape of his leather backpack strapped across his shoulders.
Dwarf Shaman watched him intently, his voice growing more cautious. "The way you said "for one last time" makes it sound like you're planning on dying, lad."
'DIE.'
Goblin Slayer paused, offering him a sad, knowing smile. "It does sound that way, doesn't it?" He agreed quietly, before exhaling a long breath, as though expelling something far deeper than mere air. "… Is everyone ready to go?"
Lizard Priest reappeared from the bathroom, hopping on one foot as he dried the last of his toes with a towel. "Ready," he announced proudly, his voice carrying a subtle wisdom. "Shall we, Mr. Ashta?"
The sound of his real name, spoken so casually by Lizard Priest, twisted the metaphorical dagger deeper into High Elf Archer's chest. Dwarf Shaman let out a low sigh, sharing an unreadable look with the others as Goblin Slayer, still feigning a bright smile, clapped his hands together.
"Good," Goblin Slayer said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Coffee's on me."
He took a deep breath, his gaze distant for a moment as flashes of pain and memory flickered behind his eyes. He held it all in, a lifetime of trauma, loss, and regret locked behind a facade of composure, before finally exhaling and making his way toward the door. "Let's have a word with Xavniik."
High Elf Archer stood from the sofa, while biting the inside of her cheek to keep the rising turmoil at bay. Lizard Priest finished drying his feet and tossed the towel back into the bathroom. One by one, they followed Goblin Slayer toward the suite's front door— stepping into the dimly lit hallway beyond.
As Goblin Slayer walked ahead, Dwarf Shaman closed the door behind them before hurrying forward to catch up— draping a heavy arm around his shoulders in a gesture of brotherly affection. "You'll be alright, lad," he muttered softly, giving him a firm, reassuring pat before reluctantly letting him go.
Goblin Slayer, or Ren, glanced at him with that same sad, haunted smile— offering no more words.
Author's Note: Final stretch before the final climax of this story! This is easily one of the most emotional stories I've written, hands down lol. I was thinking about having this story go on-and-on, but I really wanted it to have a start, and an ending, and by the time this story comes to a closure it'll be around forty or so chapters. On a brighter note, there'll still be plenty of stories to write once Goblin Slayer finally builds his guild— if nothing else, this story in particular is a good foundation to expand from. My plan is to write a sequel, and have it be less of an epic like this one, and more so quest-based episodic series, that has an encompassing plot involving the Pendragon Empire and Blackwatch— with the latter being the main antagonists of that story. Thank you to those who've shown feedback and support thus far! Writing this has been the most fun I've ever had tbh— I don't even play videogames anymore because of this fic— nothing else really compares to writing this for me.