The Next Day…
I am Balian of Ibelin… and I am frightened by what I have heard. Though I am still sceptical of the whole thing.
As soon as the man who claims to be Lancelot du Lac left the City, the King and the Hospitaller brought me to the royal chambers for a brief yet detailed explanation of the message sent by King Arthur Pendragon. Just like what the Knight said, the King of Knights is here to control the world in order to 'save it from the Beast'. How that is to be achieved is unknown even to King Baldwin and the Hospitaller. What is known currently is the identity of the beast.
I am inside my private quarters, holding a greek bible translated into french. It is given to me by the Hospitaller for my own personal reading. He even gave the passage to make it easier on my end. I don't need to read this for he and the King already told me what I needed to know…. Yet I cannot let go of the Bible. My mind is filled with questions that I dare not ask before my King lest I find myself overreaching. I suppose this was why the Hospitaller gave me this book.
I opened it. The pages filled the air with its ancient scent. The dust that springs from it is not doing much to hinder my search. The pages flutter about until my thumb stops the last one in its hold. I found it.
And I saw a beast rising out of the sea, with ten horns and seven heads, with ten diadems on its horns and blasphemous names on its heads. And the beast that I saw was like a leopard; its feet were like a bear's, and its mouth was like a lion's mouth. And to it the dragon gave his power and his throne and great authority. One of its heads seemed to have a mortal wound, but its mortal wound was healed, and the whole earth marvelled as they followed the beast. And they worshipped the dragon, for he had given his authority to the beast, and they worshipped the beast, saying, "Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?"
I found myself repulsed at what I read. The Beast is real. And it is the same one that the Apostle John prophesied. I did not understand when the King spoke of it, now I do. To think that this is what the King of Camelot spoke of… my previous shock is gone by now. And it is here that I continued to read.
And the beast was given a mouth uttering haughty and blasphemous words, and it was allowed to exercise authority for forty-two months. It opened its mouth to utter blasphemies against God, blaspheming his name and his dwelling, that is, those who dwell in heaven. Also it was allowed to make war on the saints and to conquer them. And authority was given it over every tribe and people and language and nation, and all who dwell on earth will worship it, everyone whose name has not been written before the foundation of the world in the book of life of the Lamb who was slain.
I know of war and what it can do. It defined this Kingdom of which I serve. It shall continue to be part of this Holy Land long after I am gone. Though I cannot begin to fathom what kind of war it will be should the time of the Beast come to pass. And I fear that I will soon find out. At the very least, I am comforted by the last verse. Even if it sounds obtuse to read with mine own understanding.
If anyone is to be taken captive,
to captivity he goes;
if anyone is to be slain with the sword,
with the sword must he be slain.
Here is a call for the endurance and faith of the saints
"Balian. The King calls for you."
I look up and see the man who has been with me ever since I've set foot in this land. The Hospitaller smiles down at me from my door frame, however it does not reach his eyes. He is troubled. Though I make sure to not speak of it for all of us have become weary from doubt and uncertainty. I left my bible on my bed and walked towards him with a quiet resolve. As soon as I stood before the man, I spoke.
"What does he seek?" I asked with concern.
"The King has arranged a war council with all the nobles who can offer men and arms for the march to come. He is planning the organisation and the logistics of such a venture" The Hospitaller briefly explained as he turned around and started walking towards the courtroom. I walked with him in silence this entire time.
"There is one thing that the King needs your attention for, young Balian." The Hospitaller informed the Baron as they walked through the halls of the palace. "Salah Ad-Din's messenger from yesterday's court session needs an escort to return safely back to Damascus."
"And he has found it in my power to ensure the messenger's safety?" I guessed. To which the Hospitaller nodded in affirmation.
"Indeed." The Hospitaller said as they went up the stairs to the court gardens. "The King has found your work in protecting the Pilgrim Road for both Christians and Muslims satisfactory to his desires and so decided that your reputation will ease the worries of the messenger."
I need not voice out the reason for the King's thinking. The tension between Salahuddin's Saracens and the Templar faction in the Kingdom has strained relations to the point of antipathy at best, and barely concealed aggression at worst. Should the wrong man be sent for this venture, King Baldwin would find himself with the repercussions of an offended messenger or a dead one. Either result would render the sands of the world to fall to the war path. With the King's newfound interest in the upstart faction of Camelot, a war against the Saracens at this point must not happen.
"Who shall come with me?" I asked curiously as we made our way to the doors of the royal court room.
"Why don't you ask the King yourself?" Smiled the Hospitaller as he opened the doors to the sight of nearly a hundred men surrounding the King with maps, charts, and scrolls.
From the left side of the room stood the Templar Order and their allies in Reynaud de Chatillon and Guy de Lusignan. All of whom sneered in loathing at my very presence. To the right side stood the blue Knights of Antioch and their liege lord, Tiberias, but to his people he is known as Prince Raymond III of Antioch. Who smiled at me gently in respect. And finally, dead centre in this gathering of the highest men in the Kingdom, sat in his simple throne was the white clothed King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV. His mask from before now gone and in exchange was a golden crown that sat upon his equally golden head. I was taken aback by not only the King's face, but also the youth within it. I had forgotten that despite his wizened self, he was 8 years younger than I am now. It is saddening, the revelation. For a man so young to suffer the accursed disease of leprosy. I shall not voice my thoughts on his decision to remove his mask. His Majesty knows what he is doing, and it is my duty to abide by it.
"Ah, Balian. Just in time." The King's riddled face smiled softly. His gloved hand gestured to a soldier near him to hand him a scroll. "Forgive me for my lack of prose, but time is of the essence. Here in my hands is my reply to Salah Ad-Din. Under your command is a hundred cavalrymen and with it you shall escort the messenger to Damascus."
"Your Majesty. I will do as you ask." I said as I bowed before the King and knelt on one knee. I lowered my head and raised my hand to receive the King's scroll. I felt the object touch my hand and with it was a tap to my shoulder. I raised my head to see the King smiling in satisfaction before turning his face into iron. I felt a shiver up my spine and boiling in my gut. What he will say next is of great import.
"It need not be said." The King said with a cold tone. "That the life of the messenger is now in your hands. I would wish for you to keep it that way until you return him to Salah Ad-Din."
The words unsaid rung deep in my head. I know what the King meant. And through understanding it, I cannot now let him down. Doom will spell for the Kingdom should I fail.
"I understand, Your Majesty." I quickly bowed my head. I pray to God above that his light shines before me. For I know nothing else that can help me in this mission.
"Good. Now go forth, Balian. The Lord is with you." The King said with a nod. He then gestured to the men in the room to open the doors.
I raised myself from the ground and bowed once more before leaving the courtroom. As soon as the doors closed before me, l was greeted by the Hospitaller once more. I was mildly surprised. I did not remember him being there when I turned around. He must have hid behind the crowd at the courtroom.
"I take it that the King has given your task as well?" I asked the Hospitaller. It was the only reason for him to walk with me to the courtroom, I thought.
"I have. And he has given me the honour of being your lieutenant and aide." The Hospitaller grinned as we walked down towards the stables. Where the cavalrymen are waiting.
"The only thing we need left is God's protection." I grinned in turn as the foul smell of manure and soiled water came before me. It was the sign I needed to know that we had arrived.
"You need not look far." The Hospitaller cryptically said as we made our way to the men.
"Hm?" I asked as I turned around. I did not quite hear what he said.
"Oh, pay no mind to it, young Balian. Now come. We have work to do." The Hospitaller said as he escorted the Baron to his men.
The Holy City of Camelot…
"Why did I do that…"
The Lion King was in her personal quarters. A room of irony, to some of her Knights. Why would a goddess need rest, of all things? But it seems that she is in great need of it after her quarrel with the bowman in red.
Due to her power, the Holy City was erected from the wastelands of the deserts near Damascus and the lands that would later be known as Beirut. Due to the arcane nature of her actions, a lot of people near and moderately far from the affected areas were displaced and forced into misfortune upon misfortune. The trade and supply routes to these people's villages and towns were cut off. And it was all because of the Lion King.
Not that she would ever deign to admit such a thing. For all she knew, she was in the right. So what if their dingy, squalor-like towns were destroyed? Had she not built a majestic, glorious city for them to fill with their numbers? Was that not the point of her endeavour? To give them a new life and protection from the Beast who will inevitably destroy humanity?
"...you are forcing a select few…A blessed few…"
Arturia blinked as the echoes of that man rang through her mind. To be honest with herself, she was not aware of how much he knew about her plans until then. She had told much to Agravain, as he was deeply entrenched in his belief that she was in the right. She told some to Lancelot and Gawain, as their competency needed information to work with to get them going. She dared not utter any other word to Tristan and Mordred. One due to the concern that he might not agree with what he has heard, and the other due to her utter disdain for the creature she allowed to serve her. At this point, she supposes that her clear distrust for the Knight of Treachery was the very reason why she had opposed her at that time.
The Throne Room… Earlier….
All the King's Men save for Lancelot were present for an unexpected summons by their liege. The Lion King erected a wooden round table for this very occasion to enhance the significance of this meeting. If the King was midnight, Gawain sat at the King's 10 o'clock, Agravain's at the 2 o'clock, Tristan and Mordred were at the 5 and 7 o'clock, and Archer's at the 6. Directly adjacent to the King herself. No one dared to sit beside her.
"We have gathered here to discuss the course of action for the people of the settlements around the Holy City." The Lion King began with cold directness.
Agravain then held out a hand to the round table. With a quick pulse of mana, the Black Knight summoned a spell that transformed the wooden table into a map of Camelot and every single area 4 miles away. It is very detailed. The highest of peeks and the lowest of depths, the cool waterways and the scorching deserts, great cities and humble towns can be seen here with great clarity. Despite her misgivings for its creator, the Lion King was amazed. She cannot begin to theorise what they would do without this map and that alone is a testimony to its brilliance. This was another updated version of the map they've been using for the past few months, and it only got better since its inception. She tried to carefully steal a glance at the principal maker of this craft, yet had to hide a grimace when the man grinned sardonically at her ploy. Her saving grace being that everyone else was too focused on Agravain discussing the names and the numbers of the towns and people.
"Between the villages affected, we would be speaking of three hundred thousand civilians. Most of them are under the Desert King and others part of the Golan Heights and the county of Tripoli. Both of which are under the Kingdom of Jerusalem." Agravain then pointed to the town up north of the City - Homs it was called.
"Unless the King wishes otherwise, we are to guide the people here for Judgement." He finished as if pleased with himself. He was satisfied with the idea. Those who are worthy are let in, while the rest are killed or left to die. Only the righteous will be left alive so that the Knights can save and protect them from the Beast to come. He cares not for the opinions of the other Knights. What the King wishes is their command. No one has the right to defy. And with a quick glance to his King, Agravain's sentiments were the same as his liege's.
"And what if they refuse?"
The Lion King need not find the owner of the voice. She already knew that he would be the voice of dissent. It's part of the reason why she never stopped looking at him, after all. This same argument never ceases to be brought up when it comes to this man.
"Then they shall not be treated any differently from the ones who chose." The Lion King replied as she stared down the man who dared raise his voice against her.
The man was clearly not content with the answer. His steely eyes like the thundering storm just seething and brewing with spite. She studied him for a moment. His defiance is annoying to deal with, but after knowing why he is like that, she cannot find any reason to be angry at him for it. It's… an odd feeling, being under his gaze like this. No words can be used to explain it. It's just… odd.
"There is no salvation for those who reject. The King's mercy is the only thing that can protect them from not only the Beast, but their foolishness as well." The Lion King heard Agravain say In her stead. She turned to his side and saw him gritting his teeth and clenching his fist underneath the table. Must be because he was frustrated by the bowman's questioning. She felt a bit weird at the gesture. More leaning on anger than sympathy. Why does she feel that?
"You call them fools…" Archer rebutted as he held a hand out to point at the map. "But I have seen them in their entirety on the way to Damascus. They are helpless, pitiful, people. All they've done was live their lives. They did not ask for this treatment. And here you are, rejecting their plight without any concern for them at all. I have seen this before, and I cannot allow this wickedness to befall us before we can do any good to justify our actions."
Everyone else who's not Agravain took a minute of silence to absorb the words they have heard. It placed doubt in where there was not supposed to be any. Suspicion to the goal of which their King placed them into. It's not like the Bowman only started speaking like this now. But with the sharp words he's uttered, the Knights are starting to think that they might be doing more harm than good. And the less enthused members who stuck around may not be wholehearted in their trust towards the mission at hand.
"We are here to protect them, Sir Archer." The Lion King's cold words cut through the silence. Her furious glare was as hot as the sun above. She saw through his words like a child reading a picture book. "And I will not overlook your hidden accusations of tyranny in this court. But know this." She stared at all of the knights with barely hidden anger. "I will do what I must. And what we will do is continue the escort of these civilians to the City."
"My concern lies not in whether or not we allow them in despite their rejection, your Grace." Sir Archer countered bitterly without respite. His loathing for the address to his King is not even hidden at all "But what I am bringing to attention is the chance that they are denied before they are given a choice."
"Then let them be judged." The King ruthlessly answered. A freezing chill coming over the Knights despite the desert heat. "The righteous shall remain. And they will be enough."
"Then how long would the trial be for each man, woman, and child?" Archer presses once more. His balled fist nearly dented the armchair rest below it. It was a question with many insinuations. The primary assumption being that the King still had enough mercy to let a trial exist at all. What will the King respond to this, Archer wonders.
"...Agravain will handle the proceedings." The King answered with a heavy breath. Her eyes glowered at the Bowman because he forced her to answer such an obtuse answer. Everyone had their varying opinions about the Black Knight. Some good, most bad. But they all had the same thought when they heard this answer.
"There will be no trial."
The Knights of the Round table watched this exchange and found themselves at odds with what they had heard. Justice without trial? Agravain was no Judge, he was merely the Executioner! Where was the chivalry they swore to uphold? Is this truly the only way for them to save humanity from the damnation to come? A culling of the lot and then a sheltering of a few? That is not what they lived and died for, now is it? Gawain and Percival have this sort of sentiment inside of their heads. But they knew that the King would not take kindly of their opinions should they voice it out. It's why they internally envy and applaud Archer for what he is doing. For only he dared speak up about his grievances before the King. They could only look down when they found no courage to voice their complaints.
"Do you want us to kill the rejects, my King?"
The whole of the King's court widened their eyes in alarm. Gawain and Tristan whipped their heads towards that voice that clearly did not belong to the red Bowman as he was also surprised with the question. The Lion King narrows her gaze upon the origin of the voice - a Mordred with her head hung low. She spoke so somberly just then. So unlike her boisterous nature. It's why the Lion King cannot help but think carefully before she answers the Knight. After she found the right words, the King opened her mouth to speak.
"..."
"..."
"..."
What? What is this? Why can't she speak? Is she truly lost for words at the Knight of Treachery's question? Her mind was already made up. So why can't her voice find the will to act on her behalf? Is it doubt? Has she finally become weak enough for it to affect her so much? Is it because of something else? Like the withering glare of a certain man who wishes (no, begs) for it to be something else?
Oh, now the King understands what he's doing. Archer wants her to slip! Like his words during their talk in the night! Curse his way with words and the discord that was brought with it. Look at what he's done. He's brought Mordred to his side to defy the salvation she has planned for humanity! And he will do so until all her Knights will rise up to oppose her. There is only one way to end this madness. Cowardly, sure. But she needs to dispose of him now.
But first…
"This meeting is adjourned." The King rose up from her seat. All the knights knew what would happen next, so they rose up as soon as she moved. A second later, the round table with its seats vanished into golden fragments of light. They knew that the question was left unanswered, but with the suddenness of the King's command, they had no chance to ask again. It appears that they will never be able to return to this subject ever again.
"All shall return to their duties." The King commanded with a booming voice that echoed the room. She dared not leave her sight at the very servant who has grown from a thorn in her side into a threat to her mission. She paralysed him on the spot with her own eyes. The rest of the Knights present just left while discreetly giving side looks to both her and Bowman. They know that look. That deathly, haunting look. Unless some miracle happens, this is the end for Archer in the eyes of Tristan and Gawain whilst Mordred will be devastated. All three silently pray for them to be proven wrong.
SHUT.
The doors of the throne room shut behind the Knights of the Round Table. Leaving in their lonesome the Lion King and the Bowman. They are silent, still. Neither dared to break the tension, yet are more than willing to increase it by the second. The Lion King is begrudgingly impressed by the lack of fear in the Bowman's eyes. Or is that simply because he has barely an inkling of self-preservation in him? Does he really not care about what she's going to do to him?
"Have you learned nothing, your Grace?"
The Lion King blinked as the Bowman crossed his arms. Clear disappointment in his every being. A small pit formed in her gut at the sight of it, but she forced it away from her mind. How dare he speak to her that way! Had he learned nothing himself? Why must he test her patience every single time they cross paths? Does he really want to die that badly?
"Be silent." The Lion King growled as she fought the instinctual action of grinding her teeth. It was unbefitting of her to succumb to her emotions right now. Especially against this man who knew how she ticked.
"And why is that? Is it because I'm the only one here who dares question you? That my insanity for doing so should render my opinion moot?" Archer asked again. He raised his eyebrow and deepened his frown at her which made it harder to stop the boiling in her stomach.
"When we spoke that night before, I allowed you your voice because it was private. That your counsel was for mine own ears to hear." The Lion King started as she took a step forward. Her silver armour appeared on her body in golden light before materialising. "But now you use it as a weapon to destroy the trust that my Knights hold for me. It cannot stand."
"It's not a hard thing to do. Their faith in you was already shattered the day you summoned them." Archer said with slightly widening eyes before steeling himself with Kanshou and Bakuya. "Fear of you was the only thing keeping them in line."
"Then let them fear." the Lion King hissed as she summoned Rhongomyniad. "If that is what it takes to save humanity. You, however, clearly do not. And while applaudable, it is the reason that I will do what I must."
Archer took stock of his situation right now. So he's finally made her snap. He was wondering when she'd finally follow through with his constant nagging these past months. Internally, he wished he had done more to save her from her stupidity. He kept pushing and pushing her to see sense this whole time and the result is a duel to his death. Is it worth it? Probably? Probably Not? But at least he tried. And because of principle, he damn well won't stop trying now.
"You were supposed to be the best of us. The greatest example of knighthood mankind has ever seen." Archer said as he was forced to take a step back from the Lion King. A cold sweat started to form on his temples. "Did I not mention that already? Or did you forget what it meant to be great in the first place."
"Quiet." The Lion King muttered as she tightened her grip on her Sacred Lance.
"I told you that last night. You were meant to symbolise Compassion, Your Grace. The people of your Kingdom love you as much as you care for their wellbeing. Why are you turning back on that compassion now?" Archer asked as he was forced to block a thrust aimed at his midsection.
"Enough talking." the Lion King said as she chased after him. The size of the throne room was enough for Archer to swiftly make an escape every time she tried to impale him. He's a slippery foe, she had to tell him that. He circled around her, with his back to the throne itself. She used a large amount of mana into her body and charged towards the bowman. He dodged but was grazed on the chest. She could not catch herself before crashing into her own throne. Naturally, she was unscathed. But her throne was shattered to pieces.
"How symbolic." Archer goaded as the Lion King dusted herself off. "That you would be the one that causes your throne's undoing. And if you keep being so stubborn, you will also be destroyed."
"Shut up!" the Lion King shouted for the first time. She had had enough of him! Yet for some reason, he is still breathing. Why couldn't she just end his life then and there? Why is she still entertaining his infuriating self? Why is she still speaking to him?
"You keep talking as if you are my equal. As if you think your word holds weight. But you are nothing but a nameless servant." The Lion King stepped forward towards the Bowman. She held his red cuff and forced him to look at her dead in the eye.
"Why are you like this? Do you know me? You don't even know what I've seen. You don't know what I've been through. You are just one of many who I've summoned. Yet here you are, still persisting with your lecturing on how I plan to defeat that thing who threatens to destroy all that we know." The King said as the volume of her voice weakened with every word. Again, it's very hard to intimidate a man who's a head above her. She looked up and saw those same grey clouds conflicted once more. Her heart ached at the sight.
"Who are you, Archer? Who are you to speak to me like this?" Arturia begged. She cannot understand what's going on with herself. First she wanted to kill him, now she's had him in her grasp still alive. And suddenly she wants to figure out who this man really is to her? What has this man done to her to turn her into such a wreck?
"I… am merely a bowman who once knew you." Archer said with that same cryptic tone he uses when he's trying to hide something. It infuriates her that she can't get through his deception. As always, she always goes blank whenever she tries to figure out the enigma that is the bowman.
"Lies. There is more to it than that." Arturia persisted. She hoped, no, pleaded, that she was right. A voice inside her is telling her to acknowledge that fact. But what does it mean? And why does it matter to her?
"...I was once a boy who believed in the same things you did." Archer explained as he shook his confusion at the sudden topic change off. "I was a boy… who believed that helping people at the cost of my own life is enough for me. So as long as I save them, I am content. It did not matter who I saved, so long as I did. And I got that from you."
Arturia found herself gaping at what she had heard before being overcome by anger. If that was true - that he had her own ideals - then he should have sided with her in the beginning! Was that not what she was doing right now? Sacrificing her humanity to become a Goddess powerful enough to protect the souls of the would be damned? Why is he saying this when all he's doing is opposing her mission?
"Because you have strayed from that path you swore long ago." Archer countered the shocked girl who didn't realise she was speaking her thoughts aloud. "You are about to commit atrocities that cannot be forgiven. And let's not forget that Your 'salvation' is incomplete. What good is it when you can't save them all?"
"So are you proposing that we include the criminal, the wicked and the evildoer?" Arturia asked as she regained herself from her haywired emotions. "They will only tarnish the peaceful eternity that I have in store for them inside this City which Rhongomyniad has forged."
Archer just looked at her as if shaming her for what she had said. Arturia cannot help the sinking feeling as dread came upon her. What does that face mean? Why is he judging her rationale? Surely he understood this point already? That only evil will come from saving evil. Or is there something she missed?
"We repeat ourselves." Archer noticed with a grimace. "This is the same thing we discussed last night. Well then. If there is no way of convincing you of your foolishness, then I will make you see it yourself."
Arturia was dumbfounded when a familiar knife found its way into the bowman's swordless hands. She knows this knife. She had used it herself ages ago.
"Carnwennan…" Arturia whispered as she took the blade into her hands. It was a copy, yes. Yet It is as if she held the genuine thing. No mark or blemish that symbolises its falsehood. From tip to hilt, it was perfect. Where did he find this? Just how many times will she let herself be surprised by this man?!
"Oh, so you know what I'm about to do then…" Archer nodded as Arturia looked up to see his emotionless face. "Well… let's not waste time."
Archer then bent one knee and bowed his head towards the woman before him. Uncaring of the perplexedness that he had caused upon her. With his head hung low, he said.
"Kill me."
Arturia widened her eyes at the order and found herself lost with no words. What is he trying to do? What is the meaning of this?!
"You started this. You wanted to kill me for my insubordination, and now you have a free shot at it." Archer explained simply without any hint of a tremor to his voice. "I only wanted the best for you, and your intransigence won over anything I tried. You might as well just end my life here and now."
"Wh-what?" Arturia could not believe what he was saying. He would throw his life so easily, it was completely offensive to her. Why is he really doing this?
"Well? Where is your justice now? Haven't I done enough to render an execution? Whatever I did, it must be on the same level of wickedness as those people you are willing to leave to die to the Beast." Archer goaded even further.
"I-I…" Arturia failed to complete. But it doesn't matter to the bowman since he kept on pushing her to her limits.
"You always were one for honour. But now that's all gone to hell, it seems. Your Divine Self has lost so much of what makes you you that you have no idea what to do. Your decision to kill me should have been one that didn't need to be thought about." Archer said as he dared one more glare at the stupefied woman. Her brilliant, fiery eyes are now glass-like in nature.
"Well? Do it. Kill me." Archer commanded once more. "And let it be known that you are capable of cruelty the likes that no man has ever seen."
Archer watched as the trembling hands of the King he once swore an oath to rise up high in the air. Arturia's face was covered by the golden bangs and the noon sun shining above the crystal dome. He accepted his fate then and there as well as the fact that he had failed to save her once more. He had done all he could. He wished he had done more. But alas, the inhumanity that comes with her divinity overruled whatever was left of Arturia. With this failure, she can never be stopped. At least he had the chance to be with her, albeit not on good terms.
CLANG!
At the apex before Arturia forced the blade down his neck, Archer put his head down to make things easier for the woman. So he didn't see the inner war raging inside Arturia. A large chunk of her brain is saying that she must act on the execution. He is a threat to her plans. She had sacrificed far too much - lost too much - to allow a man like him get in the way of her salvation. But for some reason, a small voice inside her was telling her… screaming at her… that no matter the cost, no matter what is at stake. This man and him alone…
Must never be lost.
And for some reason, she agreed with that voice. Her hands finally gave out and lost its grip on Carnwennan. She did not want to see the look on Archer's face and just let him watch her leaving the throne room unexpectedly. She did not want him to see her face as well as the glass in her eyes shattered into a thousand pieces and broke down into fragments that fell to the floor. For some reason, she knew that the bowman could see her tears falling like snowflakes. But she didn't care.
And so ended the battle of wills in favour of the red bowman who expected to die.
Now…
"You have been sitting there for an hour, unmoving. Are you truly that deep in your own thoughts to ignore me for this long?"
The Lion King's hollow eyes burned with fury at the trespass of her musings. Though, she should have expected the newcomer. She had not seen her in a while. Standing before her shrouded in black mist and covered in her face with a veil of the same colour stood the one who assisted her in the construction of not only the City, but the sentinels of which to guard it.
"Customarily, you would address your King before speaking." The Lion King uttered with unconcealed annoyance towards the smiling woman.
"Yet you have not punished the other one who dared to speak to you in this way." the woman cooed as she practically floated into the comforts of the Lion King's bed - where she was sitting at the side of.
"I do not know who you speak of." the Lion King gritted her teeth. So, she did watch. But from where?
"Please, your Grace." the woman in black mocked as she rolled towards the Lion King's side. "You are not fooling anyone. As a matter of fact, you made a fool of yourself not too long ago."
The Lion King frowned at her. Why was she bringing this up now? What does she want? Her frown grew even more as the woman's smile reached to her hidden eyes. The Lion King's suspicion grew into slight alarm.
"Where have you been this entire time?" the Lion King asked as she turned around to glare at the woman.
"Watching where his eyes can't see." the woman explained with bemusement. "He is not too pleased with me either after what you made me do. This City of yours did not come free of any consequences, after all." She then looked away and chuckled. "He once threatened a spear to my throat because of my 'comments' in regards to the people you set your eyes upon."
"Despite all that, I have to say…" the woman said as she relaxed into the Lion King's pillows. "That bowman of yours is very interesting. He did more to rile you up in just two days than any of my attempts in the past few months. There is something special about that man, and it appears that you have had a suspicion or two about him as well."
"Why are you interested in him?" the Lion King asked carefully. Her caution oozed out in droves.
"Are you seriously that daft?" the woman asked in false incredulity.
"Do not speak in riddles." the Lion King threatened to raise a gauntlet to pin the woman down into the bed. Her anger got the better of her. Now she found herself in a compromising situation with her pinning the woman down on the bed. All of that is forgotten when the woman laughed at her actions.
"To think that just bringing him up would turn you into this… my goodness, Arturia. You have lost yourself in him." the woman said with that same irritating smile.
"And what does that mean, Morgan?" the Lion King demanded with a tight squeeze. The Witch Queen stifled a groan as the blood in her arms stopped flowing into her hands. But her haughty attitude did not diminish at all.
"Look deep in your memories, Arturia." the Witch Queen suggested as her icy breath stung the Lion King's face. "Do try to understand what he's done to you."
"What are you trying to insinuate?" Arturia growled at the infuriating witch. Her anger grew even more as the witch turned into black smoke. Releasing herself from the leonine grip she was subjected to. Arturia caught herself before the pillow hit her face and frantically searched the room for any sign of the woman in black.
"I always knew you would be the type to be ignorant, somehow I underestimated how much so." Arturia whipped her head towards the balcony and found Morgan just standing there gleefully. As if she is playing a game only she knew about.
"Figure it out on your own, Arturia." Morgan said as she started to vanish once more. "Otherwise, I'd take matters to my own hands…"
Arturia couldn't stop the witch from disappearing. She was left with her own thoughts. She would not leave the room until she had them sorted.
No one would see or hear word from her until the next day.
Somewhere…
Archer left the throne room hours ago. After fixing the throne that was broken because of their fight. He ran into the Knights of the Round table as he opened the door to the palace itself and was greeted with so many questions that even he had no answer to. The main question all kept repeating.
"How the hell are you still alive?!"
That was the single, most unanswerable question Archer has ever heard. Obviously he told them he had no idea and just left it at that. Gawain asked him if he was banished, to which he said no. Tristan asked if he would go back and do his job and all that, to which he said 'why not?'. Mordred and Agravain asked about the King and her wellbeing.
No need to tell you that he has no damn clue either.
So after a lot of asking, probing, and a small celebration for the man who somehow kept his head (in which Agravain joined in because he felt that the King had a reason to keep the Bowman alive so might as well be cordial with him), Archer returned to the walls. Where he fought the King with words alone and ended up in a draw.
He sat down right at the edge of the wall where the sunset is. He basked under its glow. Inside, however, is a calculating mind that tried everything it could to process what happened with Arturia back there in the throne. He was expecting to die, but came out of it alive. But why? Did she finally crack? A sliver of her old self regaining control to fight against the goddess that she became? That was the most plausible reason in his head. Crazy thought, yes. Though it can't be discounted. There is one thing that needs to be wondered though…
"What caused it?" Archer asked aloud.
Currently, Archer has no idea what the catalyst was. It had to be something special. But what the hell is it? Argh, he can't think of anything.
"How's the second chance in living?"
Archer stifled a groan as he turned around to see the black mist form once more into a woman whose face is hidden behind a veil. A nuisance ever since he discovered her presence. It's stupid that only he and Mordred are aware that she's been summoned by Arturia. But, that is the case. He only found out about her because she kept a constant eye on him for so long that a slip up in her part was about to happen. Hence, the beginning of their 'private talks'.
"Not as enthused as I had hoped." Archer drily replied as he turned around to face the woman in black. "Especially so after having to deal with you once more."
"My, my, Archer." Morgan chuckled as she completely corporealised. "Your humour hasn't gotten any better."
"I try my best." Archer deadpanned before turning serious. "What do you want?"
"Well, to be frank." Morgan asked as she took a step forward. "I wanted to know more about you."
"..." Archer need not speak as his raised eyebrow of suspicion was all he needed to answer.
"Why do you tread this path? Why do you seek to save my Arturia from the damnation she's set upon?" Morgan asked with a chilling voice. "Do you have any idea of the consequences of what you are doing?"
"I do what I do because it is right." Archer said with a tone of no debate as he took a step away from the woman. "Despite her claims of divinity, she is just a human forced into power that she cannot control."
"A bold claim." Morgan said as she took another step forward. "You cannot even begin to comprehend the power she bears. A glimpse will turn you into dust. A speck of which none will remember."
"I know enough." Archer said not moving one bit with a piercing glare to boot. "It has taken away the things that made her who she truly is and transformed her into something so callous and cold that she puts even you to shame."
"But why?" Morgan asked with an eerie curiosity. "Who is she that you would go so far - even to the point of near death by her own hands - just to save her from herself? A better question yet: who is she to you?"
"She is the one who I've looked up to." Archer answered simply whilst carefully choosing his words. "My ideals matched with hers… a long time ago. And it is not in my nature to allow the one who I have dedicated my life to fall so far that even I cannot follow."
Morgan just stared at him in amazement. So simple of a reason, yet so full with hidden meanings that she cannot fathom. The single greatest puzzle, this man was in her eyes. She now understood what Arturia saw in him. Well, not really. But a bit was enough.
"I am impressed by your simple nature, bowman." Morgan complimented as she summoned a hundred knives with a flick of her hand. "But your actions have forced me to do this."
"Let me guess." Archer said as he braced himself for the attack with Kanshou and Bakuya. "You've been using the King's need for you to bring her down the path of no return."
"Ah, you're clever too." Morgan sadistically smiled as she added blue flames to her knives. "I never understood why she summoned me in the first place, but I am not one to deny a wonderful gift. I watched with unbridled joy when she killed her own men without so much as a blink. I watched as she turned her back on her pitiful code of honour. It's quite a wonderful thing, her newfound divinity. I would have never thought she could be so fun to be around had it not been for that."
"But now I see that you are a problem to that fun." Morgan frowned as she raised her hand in the air. "It has been an interesting conversation, Archer. Though I'm afraid that you are going to have to die."
"Goodbye." Morgan said as she brought down her raised hand. And with that, the hundred or so knives flew directly towards the bowman with unmatched speed.
Archer fared well in the first wave. He only suffered three flesh wounds when he struck down the last knife. Sapphire fireballs came next, forcing him to jump back away from the Witch. Morgan only laughed at the pitiful display and created stone and iron golem using the walkway underneath the Bowman. Archer barely escaped the stone arm that almost tore his leg out from under him before he fired an arrow straight into the heart of the witch. Morgan smiled as she summoned a crystal shield. Thereby rendering Archer's attack useless.
"I'm not too sure the King would be pleased with this attack against me." Archer remembered as he decapitated two golems in front of him.
"Oh, she wouldn't think much of it." Morgan said as she watched the Bowman struggle with her creations. "At this point, you'd garner as much sympathy as Bedivere. Though, you already know that Arturia has no memory of him."
"A fitting comparison." Archer grunted as he forced Bakuya into a golem's chest and watched it explode into bits. "Though that doesn't explain how you'll get away with this."
"All I have to say is I'm doing Arturia a favour, and that's it!" Morgan exclaimed as she created the largest golem with an axe and a sword for hands. "You overestimate your importance when it comes to my half-sister."
"Someone's projecting, and it's not me." Archer said as he spun around to dodge the crater inducing crash of the axe-hand. He had no shot in beating this golem without a bigger sword. So, with a quick chant, he summoned Durrandal. A hefty sword with a hefty cleave. But as he was about to swing the mighty sword, a flash of crimson lightning came from out of nowhere and destroyed the golem in its entirety. A sliver armoured knight came out of the dust cloud that she caused. And as the helmet retracted, out came a blond girl with a glare that almost put Morgan's own to shame.
Almost.
"Mordred." The Witch greeted cooly with a distinguishable tone of disappointment.
"Mother." Morgan gritted her teeth as she walked towards the woman to speak with her. "What is the meaning of this attack? You have no reason to do this to Archer."
"I am dealing with a threat to our King's ambitions, dear." Morgan calmly explained as she crossed her arms. "That man has gone too far and has made a mess out of your poor father. And that can't stand, after all. What I'm doing is more or less a favour."
Archer tilted his head backwards in understanding. Ah, so it seems that she's practising what she's preaching. He didn't expect that she'd use that excuse so soon after declaring it. From the looks of it, Morgan was thinking the same thing. If he based it on her frown, at least.
"You haven't been given just cause!" Mordred exclaimed as she waved her hand towards the bowman. "The King did not brand him a traitor, mother. So there is no need for this."
"You dare question me?" Morgan accused heatedly. Her raised eyebrows visible at the upper edge of her veil. "I knew you were dumb to some degree, but not like this. We will have a talk about this later, now step aside." Morgan pushed Mordred aside before summoning a blue flame to her hands. "I have a man to kill."
"No, mother. You will not." Mordred grabbed her mother's arm. Forcing the Witch to look dead into the Knight's fury-filled eye. "I cannot allow you to murder Archer. He has committed no crime against the King."
Morgan was about to push her daughter off when she took stock of her current situation. She had seen this same fire before. It was… eerily similar to the same fire that Arturia had when she pinned her down on her bed. When the thought of the bowman came forth, both Arturia and Mordred had the same reactions. But different somehow. Arturia is more confused to the point that she has no idea why she's the way she is in response to the bowman. Mordred here feels like she is aware of what Archer means to her: that he is her friend. Morgan can clearly see that in Mordred (a mother's intuition, if you will). And now she is forced to accept that her daughter holds Archer in the same level as Arturia when it comes to loyalty. She would rather die fighting than let her mother do what she wanted.
And in response to this, Morgan vanished the blue flames on her hands. She even went so far as to repair the damages she caused to the walls they fought upon. All whilst looking straight at her daughter and almost forgetting about the bowman. Truth be told, Morgan could not hold a candle against her greatest creation. Be it because of the blood connection between them or some irrational feeling inside her, Morgan found it hard to ignore Mordred whenever her daughter wanted something. It may also be because she wanted to humour the Knight of Treachery. Who knows?
What is known is that Archer is spared due to Mordred's plea. And Mordred does not let these things go lightly. Morgan understood that from now on, any attacks like this Against Archer from her will be met with fierce retaliation from the Knight. Mother or no. A gut feeling inside Morgan did not want things to go that way. She does not want to make an enemy out of her own daughter, after all. So, she is forced to begrudgingly accept that this Struggle will be the first.
And the last.
"Alright, dear. I'll end this." Morgan sighed in dismay as she turned her head towards the Bowman. "You always were a stubborn one." She then took Mordred's cheek into her hands and started walking away from Archer. Who just watched them with slightly furrowed eyebrows.
"Mother…" Mordred whined as the tension disappeared altogether.
"You ought to know better than raising your tone with me in that manner, young girl." Morgan scolded as she let go of her daughter who started massaging her cheek. "I am starving now. Let's go order the sentinels to make something for us."
And so the mother-daughter pair vanished. Leaving the bowman in his lonesome. He sighed heavily before sitting down at the edge of the wall to keep watching the setting sun. It's been a hell of a day for him.
The outskirts of Damascus… Evening…
I am Balian of Ibelin. Commander of the escort to Damascus. We have been travelling by horse since dawn, and found ourselves looking afar towards the horizon as we drew nearer to its walls. The messenger who I was tasked in protecting was pleased with my services and found no want or ill speech of which to call the journey with. I showed him the best of what we men of God and Jerusalem can offer, and was satisfied.
We conversed during times of rest, the messenger and I. The hospitaller who served as my right hand man was with me during these times. He helped me translate some of the finer words of Arabic that I had not the time to study. In our conversations, he spoke of his testimony when two men of foreign armour and speech beseeched Salahuddin with their odd ways. They spoke of a city so grand and so powerful and they spoke with such authority that they attempted to cow the Desert King into submitting to this 'metalman' - their name for Arthur Pendragon it seems.
The messenger had little to say about the 'sandhead'. Who bore a smile that seldom reached his eyes and a weapon as pristine and well crafted as the Prophet's own sword. He had spoken much, yet said little. For while his voice indeed was of the Saracen's own tongue, he lacked its earned complexity and knowledge in how to best wield it.
The other man was another story. He was a young, yet aged man. His silver hair and his eyes bore signs of a warrior who had seen plenty, yet is always covered by his snarkiness and sheer arrogance. Were it not for the humour of Salahuddin, the man would have been executed for his poor attitude. Though, even the messenger found this 'steeleye' amiable to his own sights. He noticed how the red-clad man spoke in a rugged, softer tone. He spoke Arabic as well, yet it appears that there is a familiarity there that the Desert King's court found interesting. It is as if that man could be counted to be one among them due to his apparent mastery with the language. He had spoken Salahuddin about his own King's demands and somehow found a way to make it appealing even to the messenger's own ears. Though that all came to an end when Salahuddin dismissed them like the afternoon winds.
"We are approaching the city, young Balian."
The Hospitaller brought me out of my musings. We now approached the gates of the city. It was a sight to behold. Forty feet high and forty feet wide enforced with a thousand men strong per quadrant of the city's circumference. All armed to the teeth. The messenger spoke in our stead and after some time, the doors of the city were opened to us. My men and I followed the messenger to Salahuddin's palace. On the way, we were met by a force of 500 footmen led by a commander on horseback. I think I've seen this man before.
He spoke with the messenger first and spoke in hastened Arabic. I could not catch what he spoke, but what I did notice was his face as he recognized me. He rode towards me after speaking with the messenger on top of his black horse. He bore a look of wariness hidden behind aloofness.
"Your quality will be known by your enemies before you ever meet them, my friend." The man before declared as he stopped his horse in front of mine.
"You were not that man's servant." I spoke with realisation.
"No," the man before me replied with a knowing smile. "He was my servant."
I nodded in turn. To think that I would be given this moment by God… I know not if this is a blessing or a curse. I cannot let myself be caught off guard. Not when my men are vulnerable to any attack.
"Don't be so stiff, Ibelin." The man said as he waved his men to march alongside my cavalrymen. "My master has deemed it that you shall be in good hands. You are fortunate that I volunteered. Should the man sent to guide you be more… zealous in nature… you would not be so cheerily welcomed."
"How quaint." I told him. And that was the end of our conversation.
We reached the largest structure in all the city: the Umayyad Mosque. It is a sight worthy of being called a marvel of the eastern world. Not far from it was an equally large building. It was newer in appearance and could be said to be more filled than the Mosque itself. We got off our horses and gave them to the servants present before climbing up the main entrance. The cavalrymen were guided to the stables while the Hospitaller and I followed the man I spoke with prior. As soon as the large wooden doors were opened to us, I realised that this is Salahuddin's palace. It is not that grand, but shows enough of the splendour and riches of his reign. An impressive sight.
Deeper into its halls we went. It lacked the twists and turns that I had grown accustomed to back in Jerusalem. Another door that was larger in size than the entrance stood before us after a few minutes of walking. The guards who protected the entrance looked towards the man who spoke with me and greeted him with great respect.
"Marhaba Imad al-din." The men bowed. "We welcome you."
"I greet you in turn," the man known as Imad said as he stood a bit straighter. "Is my lord, Salah-Al Din ready?"
"He is, my lord." the guard replied.
"Good." Imad said with a quick nod. He then breathed a heavy breath before he exclaimed. "Tell my Lord, Salah Al-Din, that Jerusalem has come!"
The Guards opened the large doors and inside the room were a large gathering of Muslim lords, knights, courtiers and emissaries from across the Desert King's empire. They were loud, contentious in nature, and stern faced all around. It was not unlike what I had seen and taken part of in Jerusalem. However there is a tension in the air that feels suffocating. I could not understand what they were talking about, though I think I could understand a part of it. Judging by their heated stares once they acknowledge the presence of my men and I.
In the middle of this meeting of men sat a black clothed man. He had only a simple wooden throne to sit on whilst everyone around him were standing. It is evident who this man is judging by how quickly he silenced the men in this room with merely a raised hand. Imad bumped me and the Hospitaller beside me as a signal to move forward alongside him. There the two of us walked towards the presence of the Desert King. The men around us encircled us like a pack of wolves, though I feared them not. Imad stopped, and so did we. We then knelt alongside him as a sign of royal courtesy.
"Marhaba, my Lord." Imad spoke with his head down low. Salahuddin replied with a wave of his hand to tell us to get up from the ground. As soon as stood straight, the Desert King spoke for the first time.
"I have heard from my messenger of the good treatment that the Baron of Ibelin has given to him. King Baldwin has chosen wisely when he gave you this mission." Salahuddin said as he fixed upon me his cold stare whilst waving his hand towards the direction of the man I protected.
"You have done well by your God to take care of him as mandated by your knightly code." Salahuddin said with a mixed tone of praise and apathy.
He then frowned as he turned to the messenger with his hand still up as if waiting for him to give him something. Soon enough, the messenger hurried to his King's side and gave him the very scroll of which my King wrote a reply. He then held it in his grasp without so much as looking at it afterwards.
"What do you know about your King Baldwin's…opinion concerning this new 'holy city of Camelot'?" Salahuddin asked with curiosity and a hint of dismay. I was surprised by his sudden question. I did not think that he would wish to know more about them.
"I cannot say." I spoke with honesty. "I am bound by my oath to my King to withhold such information. What I can say, however, is that this new 'kingdom' wishes to control Jerusalem as much as they desire Damascus."
"So you say," Salahuddin nodded in acknowledgement before grimacing. "But there is one thing you missed: you lack the information that they seek my own people for their own needs. What their needs are is unknown. However, I have seen the damage they have caused and it is enough for me to become concerned."
I simply nodded at the words of the Desert King. I am in no position to ask a question about what he meant by that. So, I stayed silent. We then watched Salahuddin open the scroll and waited as he read its contents. And for the first time since entering Salahuddin's palace,
I saw him smile.
"It appears that he has a plan that is in line with mine own." Salahuddin remarked as he handed me the scroll after standing up to address the royal court. "The King of Jerusalem is inviting us to march alongside him to this 'holy city in camelot'. He seeks to understand the intentions of this foreign power. Should we accept, a truce that shall last 20 years with payments of tribute alongside it will be rewarded to us."
I read the letter, and sure enough, it was as Salahuddin said. Why would the King ask for something so little in exchange for this hefty price? What is his plan? I looked towards the Hospitaller to see if he knew something about it, and all I got was a knowing smile. Did the two of them want to do this? But why?
"The gold that the bastard king will give to us in full is too little compared to the bloodshed they have caused upon our people!" A noble at the far left exclaimed with a voice of anger. "King Baldwin is seeking to lure you into a trap! He will use you for his own gain and Allah knows what. If you have a modicum of insight, you must see this, Salah, my King."
"And yet I fear that this 'camelot' will shed more than Jerusalem should we let this small city grow in power." Salahuddin bellowed. Overpowering the noble's voice. "The 'metalhead' bears power only the demons of the dunes could match. We only have strength of arm and bow, yet they can wield the lightning up above. Should we let this slide, they will destroy us all. Besides, we can use the promise of gold to bolster our God-blessed armies for another 7 years. We are not people who reject such bounteous gifts, after all. "
The nobles who wished to oppose Salahuddin found their words lost as the eyes of the man wandered upon their visage. It appears that the Desert King has made up his mind. The promise of peace and wealth was enough to convince him, it seems.
"Imad, tell my servants that the men of Jerusalem are welcomed guests. They shall be treated as such." Salahuddin commanded as he dismissed the nobles away.
"As you command, my Lord." Imad said as he ushered us away from the court and into the halls.
There is not much to say after this point. For what is more pressing to take note of shall be revealed tomorrow. Because only then will Jerusalem finally have the time to arrive here. And after that, the Three Kings will meet under a flag of truce. Hopefully, nothing terrible will occur.
I can only pray to God that my desire becomes true.