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poker-face-william · 5 years

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Lucan was twelve years old when he met his elder brother

Lucan was making his way down the stone halls of Castle Bedrydant, wiping the sweat off his brow after a long day of sword training in the yard. The master at arms had sent him away, telling him that he couldn’t teach him anything, and hopefully his father would have better luck showing him how to rule than he did showing him to fight.

He was just around the corner from his father’s study when he saw him walking out, wearing black velvet instead of his usual gold and red finary. Lucan ran up to the man, bowing deeply before speaking.

“Hello father, Ser Macaain is done with me for the day,” Lucan said, the older man looking down at him. “He said that I was to come to you for my other lessons.”

“I’m sorry?” He asked, furrowing his brow down at Lucan.

It was then that Lucan looked up at the older man, and saw pale purple eyes staring down at him instead of his fathers almost gray eyes.

“I apologise ser, I thought that you were my father,” Lucan said hurriedly, bowing deeply again. “You do look quite similar to him, are you a cousin?”

“Something to that effect,” the man answered, a sly smile coming across his face. “My name is Ser Bedivere, you must be Lord Bedrydant’s heir.”

“Yes Ser, my name is Lucan Draco of house Bedrydant, fifth of my name,” Lucan stood up straight from his bow, putting his hand to his chest.

“I am glad that Lord Bedrydant taught you proper manners, that will take you far.”

“Thank you Ser.”

“So, what lessons were you going to have with your father,” Ser Bedivere asked, kneeling down so he was closer to eye level with the younger man.

“I’m not sure Ser, something involving my duties as the next lord.”

“I’d suggest waiting a moment, he tends fume a little after my visits.”

“Why is that Ser?”

“Well… Lord Bedrydant and I have a complicated history, and he doesn’t like that the king uses me as his voice,” Bedivere answered, kneeling down in front of the young man. “So, why don’t you tell me what your father has taught you while you wait?”

“I suppose that should be alright,”

And the two of them sat for almost an hour, Bedivere helping his unknowing brother to review his lessons before finally sending him in to their fathers study. And as Bedivere left, he began devising a plan.

Lucan was fifteen when he became his brothers squire

The young squire fell on his rear as his dueling instructor disarmed him, and kicked him in the gut. “Come on lad, get up!” the instructor spat, dropping Lucan’s shortsword at the boys feet. Lucan slowly reached for his weapon, but just as he was about to wrap his fingers around it’s hilt, the instructor kicked it away, hitting Lucan’s fingers at the same time. “You’ll have to be quicker than that, if I were a Albian you’d be dead right now!” Lucan stood up, stumbling over to his sword under the weight of his armor when the door from the entrance courtyard swung open, ending the training session then and there. Ser Bedivere, Lord Bedrydant, three guards, and a gaunt man not much older than Lucan wearing black velvet with silver embroidery, and the three ravens of the king emblazoned on his chest stormed through the now open doors, shouting at one another.

“If you think I’ll let this happen Raven, you’re sorely mistaken!” Lord Bedrydant shouted, grabbing Bedivere’s shoulder and whipping the younger man around.

“Well unfortunately for you, it’s out of your hands my Lord!” Bedivere retorted.

“The hell it isn’t!” Lucan’s father spat, glaring down at Bedivere. “This is my castle, and I have the final say in what goes on here!”

“Do not forget whose presence you are in Bedrawd!” The young black clad man said, stepping between the other two men. “I am your king, and what I command will be done.”

“And you should remember who made you king,” Lord Bedrydant snapped, glaring down the black clad teen when Ser Bedivere put his hand on his chest, pushing him back. The lord looked as if he were about to snap again, but he seemed to think better of it, bowing to the teen. “My apologies sire, It is just, he is my only son.”

This broken Lucan out of his shocked awe, and he slowly walked over to the small group, bowing deeply to the three older men. “I am sorry for listening in on your conversation, but, I could not help but overhear that is in some regards about me.” Lucan said inquisitively, not looking up from his bow. Lord Bedrydant looked down at his son for his moment, his jaw tight and his brow furrowed as he mulled over the situation.

“Yes my son, but you need not be involved in the discussion,” Lucan’s father answered finally, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder before turning his attention back to the man in black. “Ser Macaain, if you wouldn’t mind continuing my son’s much needed training?” he continued, calling out to the instructor who began to make his way over to the group as well. “My liege, if you would not mind, we could continue this discussion in my study, away from any more distractions.”

“If I may suggest Lord Bedrydant, I think it would be better if your son had a say in the decision we come to,” Ser Bedivere replied before the man in black was able, grabbing the hilt of his sword as he hissed out the word. “Afterall, it is his fate we are deciding.”

Lucan froze, expecting his father to lash out in fury at what looked like a poorly veiled threat to him, but his father seemed come as he considered Bedivere’s words. “Yes, that does make sense. Macaain, belay that order, insure that the guards are on appropriate shifts for the king’s visit instead, Lucan, come back here.”

Bewildered and in awe at the knight’s persuasive talents, Lucan returned to his father’s side, bowing once more to the three gentlemen. “I am honored to be in your presence True King Urien.”

“Rise Lucan of house Bedrydant,” the man in black responded, a crooked grin on his face as he watched Lucan obey his command. “I see your father has done well in teaching you proper courtesy, which he seems to have forgotten.”

“My father is an excellent instructor,” Lucan replied, making sure that he was standing up straight, and looking into the cole black eyes of his sovereign. “I have learned much about being a lord from him, and am most grateful for the time and energy he has put into my tutelage.”

“Good, very good,” the king said, stroking the thin wisps of hair around his chin. “And how has he done in teaching you knighthood?”

Lucan bowed his head again, in shame more than respect. “I am afraid that despite my father’s best efforts, I am a poor warrior…”

“Is that all you think a knight is?” Bedivere interjected, his eyebrow cocked as he looked at the Lucan sadly.

“Am I incorrect Ser?” Lucan asked, looking up at his role model.

“Don’t be foolish boy!” Lord Bedrawd snapped, raising his hand to hit Lucan, but something prevented him as he instead placed his hand on the boys shoulder. “I have told you that a knight is a protector of the realm and it’s peace, have I not?”

“You have, but, that is also how you described the men at arms that we deploy to our borders and cities,”

Lord Bedrydant’s jaw tightened again, as he gave a strained smile to his son, digging his nails into his shoulders.

“I was told that your teachings were less than adequate Bedrawd, but I could not have imagined they were this bad after you delivered my finest knight to me,” the king said, his voice sounding close to laughter. “Bedivere, I am granting you your request starting immediately. I would prefer if one of my most powerful lords had an heir befitting his station.”

“My lord, please reconsider, I will admit my teachings are not as they used to, but any other knight besides him,” Lucan’s father pleaded as the king began to walk across the courtyard to the main keep before turning on his heel and quickly approaching Bedrawed, forcing him to back away.

“Your LIEGE, not your Lord, I am a King, not a lowly lord, do not assume to be my equal!” The king shouted, beginning to pull out his blade when he seemed to stiffen up. He stood there, glaring at Lucan’s father who standing nearly as still as the king, his eyes wide as saucers. “Ser Bedivere will be taking over your duties as your son’s mentor, and that is final, now I shall be retiring to the kings quarters.”

The king looked over Bedrawd’s shoulder, and Lucan followed his gaze to Bedivere, who was holding the hilt of his sword again, a faint purple glow emanating from it that vanished when the knight loosened his gauntlets grip. In the same moment the king seemed to unfreeze from his position, putting his half drawn sword back in it’s sheath, turning around once more and entering the keep proper followed by the guards that had followed the trio into training yard.

“I am not letting you take my son from me,” Lucan’s father said quietly turning around to look at Bedivere who was simply standing by the door, looking as stoic as ever.

“I have no intention of doing so,” Bedivere responded, finally walking out into the courtyard as well, standing next to Lucan. “Unless Lucan thinks it is necessary?”

“No Ser, if it is possible for me to be your squire without having to leave my home, I would very much like that.”

“How exactly do you plan on accomplishing that?” Bedrawd said, the confidence returning to his voice as he approached the pair. “If Lucan is your squire, you will need him to help you dawn your armor and weapons, to care for your horse, to take care of any repairs your equipment requires. Those aren’t things he can be expected to do when you are living in two seperate castles.”

“I never said we would be living in separate castles,” Bedivere said, a subtle smile gracing his too often somber expression. “I was thinking that I could stay here when the king does not require me. He has need of me less often these days, which is why I decided to make this request now.”

“You cannot possibly believe this will work,” Bedrawd scoffed, his face betraying his faith in his own words.

“I will stay out of your way, don’t worry Lord Bedrydant,” Bedivere said, that small joy he had already fading away into his normal melancholy. “Lucan, please go fetch my things from the stables and return them here so that you can show me to my new room.”

Lucan looked to his father who scowled for a moment before nodding, and Lucan began to withdraw, staying by the doors just long enough to hear what the two older men were discussing.

“What do you expect to gain from this boy?” Lucan’s father asked, his voice sharp, but it had a different quality than his usually fierce anger.

“I just want to see my mother again,”

Lucan was nineteen when he first asked his brother about his magic.

The two men were in castle Bedrydant’s large library, looking over a large map that outlined the positions and movements of two armies during a castle siege. They had been looking over the various mistakes that the sieged castle made that led to the ease with which they were taken. Things such as not having any portcullises at their four separate gates, only drawbridges that went over a shallow moat, and having windows barely over five feet off the ground.

“Now why do you think their defenses were so lackluster?” Bedivere asked, having finished reading another paragraph.

Lucan starred at the map for a few moments, looking around the battlefield. There didn’t appear to be any natural defenses in the way of mountains as their were gates on all four sides, but the map didn’t show elevation, so it was possible that the castle itself was higher than the surrounding landscape, but that would usually mean that there would be some form of path up to the castle.

“They had blockades set up around their border, but the enemy forces either payed off the men working them, or simply fought their way through,” Lucan finally answered, receiving an impressed smile from Bedivere in return.

“You’re wrong, but you have the right idea,” Bedivere replied, turning the book upside down and handing it across the table to his squire. On the left page was an illustration of a woman with a long robe like dress, flames burning in her hands and eyes. “The would be king who had this castle made had a sorcerous at his beck and call, and knowing that she was able to set up defenses that no mortal weapon could break, they built their defenses around that, daring anyone to challenge them. Of course no one could beat them, until another lord offered to make the sorcerous his queen if she simply let down the castles defenses.”

“How is that anything like what I said?” Lucan asked, bewildered. “Are you trying to be nice, or did you just not pay attention to what I said?”

“Neither,” Bedivere answered, sitting back into his chair. “Though the physical mechanics are very different, the core issue is the same. They were too reliant on a single method of defense, and without that method, they were completely helpless.”

“Is that why you don’t use your magic very much?” Lucan asked innocently.

Bedivere just stared at his squire for a few seconds, his expression the usual stoic stone carving that it almost always was until he finally responded. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, like when you stopped the king from attacking my father when I first became your squire, or the way you shattered that shield a few months ago during the siege of Listeneise before your sword even tou...,” Lucan continued before Bedivere shushed him, looking around the library quickly before turning back to his squire.

“Listen, Lucan, magic is, very complicated,” Bedivere began, still looking about the room carefully. “Not only to do, because it really isn’t for me, but the way that people view it. Most people think the only way to get magic is from the gods, or demons.”

“So yours is from the gods then?”

“In a way, yes,” Bedivere said, his face squishing in awkwardly as he spoke. “I was born with this power.”

“My mother mentioned something like that!” Lucan said excitedly, prompting Bedivere to shush him once again. “Sorry, but, my grandfather was like that. He was able to cast spells and things of that sort, and so could his mother because…”

“She was a Pendragon,” Bedivere interrupted, his face returning to it’s stony likeness, his eyes wetter than Lucan had ever seen them.

“Yeah, how did you know?” Lucan said, calming his voice down from his excited tone.

“As one of our king’s advisors, it is my duty to know noble family lineages,” Bedivere answered, returning the map to its case. “I think that is enough battle strategie for today, please return these to where they belong Lucan, I will see you at the sup.”

Lucan tried to reply, but before he could his mentor was gone, out the door and likely make his way quickly down the long hall to his chamber. Lucan began gathering up the scrolls and books, wondering what he had done to upset Bedivere so badly.

Lucan was twenty one when he learned that his brother was his brother.

It had only been a few months since Lucan and Bedivere had joined Arthur Pendragon in his crusade for the throne. Because of this, neither of them were fully trusted by the other men at arms, and were never allowed to do any missions on their own. On this particular occasion, Lucan was assigned to a scouting mission alongside Ser Lanval.

They had spent the last three days riding and walking ahead of the rest of the horde on their way to Dolorous Gard. The two of them were currently on foot, making their way through the waterway into the castle. Luckily, neither of the two men wore particularly bulky armor and were able to squeeze through the bars with particular ease.

“I thought this place was supposed to be difficult to enter,” Lanval whispered as he pulled himself onto a stone platform at the maintenance entrance to the waterway. “The last man who tried to scout it out said the moment he got past the bars he was attacked by twenty knights the moment he got into the keep.”

Lanval turned back to Lucan with a grin, but then clammed up, seeming to remember who he was talking to.

“Perhaps the Lord who lives here thought that would be enough to scare off anyone trying to siege his castle,” Lucan suggested, climbing up after Lanval who was working on breaking the lock on the gate between them and the actual keep.

“Perhaps,” Lanval responded, the gate swinging open, Lanval barely managing to stop it from slamming against the stonewall of the stairwell it lead to. “We can think about that after we figure out how many people are defending this place, and if it has any weak points.”

“Right, mission first,” Lucan said solemnly, following closely behind Lanval as they made their way up the stairs into the castle proper. They silently made their way through the castle, keeping a careful eye out for guard patrols, or servants working in the early hours of the morning. Surprisingly however, not only did they not come across any servants, but they didn’t find any guards either. The two men had found a small room with only one entrance in the middle of the wall.

“Okay, so are we in the wrong castle or something?” Lanval asked as he closed the door behind him. “Even if the last scout exaggerated how hard it was to get in, I doubt they were completely lying.”

“I agree, but this is definitely Dolorous Gard,” Lucan said, pulling out the map that he had in his travel bag, laying it out on the dusty ground. “And it’s only been about a week since the last scout, so, any ideas?”

“Two, maybe three if we want to get a little crazy” Lanval responded curtly, drawing his bow and knocking an arrow as he watched the door. “Lord Brandon might have decided to move his entire household to an allies keep after trying to kill the king. Option two is that a group of raiders could have wiped out all of the soldiers, taken the servants, and buried the bodies after cleaning up the blood. Yes, before you say it, I know that’s far fetched.”

“What’s option three?” Lucan asked, cocking his eyebrow at the older knight.

“Well, it’s possible that the faeries of the Lake to the north came down and whisked the people away to their home,” Lanval answered, shrugging his shoulders after he was done.

“That, is even more far fetched than the second option,” Lucan chuckled, though he did see the sacred fae lake marked on the map a little to the north of their location.

“Aren’t you the one who’s brother is a sorcerer?” Lanval asked humorously, looking over his shoulder at Lucan who was looking at him with shock and utter confusion.

“I-I don’t have a brother,” Lucan said, trying to keep his attention from the map. “Why would you think I did, especially one who was a sorcerer?”

“You really don’t know?” Lanval asked, lowering his bow and fully turning to face the squire. “I mean, you look exactly like he did when he was your age.”

“Wait, are you talking about Bedivere?He’s my cousin, not my brother.” Lucan said, laughing everything off, but when Lanval didn’t follow suit, he began getting nervous. “Why do you look like you know something that I don’t Ser Lanval?”

“Lucan, haven’t you ever noticed that Bedivere’s last name is The Raven, a title?” Lanval asked, putting his arrow away and placing his hand on Lucan’s shoulder. “He was disowned by your father after he chose King Urien over your father and his reputation.”

“That, that doesn’t make sense,” Lucan said, brushing Lanval’s hand off of his shoulder. “If he was my brother, he would have told me. We’ve lived in the same castle since I was sixteen.”

“Bedivere’s a man of honor and tradition Lucan,” Lanval continued, feeling worse and worse for the young man. “He cared for you, and everyone in his family. I remember before he moved back to Castle Bedrydant that he would write to your mother every week. I honestly assumed he would never tell you he was your brother, but, I thought it would be obvious to you.”

“Look Ser Lanval, I know you don’t like us, and I don’t blame you, this war is partially our fault!” Lucan said, walking over to the window at the back of the room, looking out over the courtyard. “But that’s no reason to make up lies about our father, I mean, my father, I mean, SHUT UP ALRIGHT!”

As Lucan turned around, the door to the room swun open, and a man with black hair clad in blue armor put the point of a spear to Lanval’s back. Lucan began panicking, barely able to properly see either of the two men. Luckily Lucan didn’t need to react, as Lanval still had his bow out, and managed to spin around, locking the spear in his bow and pulling the other man forward before kicking him in the chest. Unfortunately for Lanval, the other man had a good grip on his spear, and pulled Lanval down with him, flinging the blonde knight over him so that he landed hard on his back. The metal clad man swiftly moved to his hands and knees, but Lucan, having recovered from his shock at both discovering his role model was actually his brother, and his companion suddenly being attacked in what they thought was an empty castle, manages to kick the spear out of the man’s grasp.

This doesn’t seem to phase the blue knight, as he simple stands up, and strikes up a fist fighting stance, a smirk spreading across his face even as Lucan unsheathed his rapier. Lucan jabbed ineffectively at the blue knight, who, despite being in heavy metal armor, was surprisingly nimble and managed to dodge Lucan’s attacks. Lucan almost managed to stab the knights unarmored neck, but he dodged out of the way, and hooked his gauntlets around the blade and wrenched it from Lucan’s grasp. It was at this moment the Lanval, his shortsword in hand instead of his bow, rejoined the fight, whipping the blue knight around and attempting to stab him, but the knight turned slightly, deflecting the jab. The blue knight pushed Lanval back into a wall, picking up his spear as he dropped Lucan’s rapier and back against another wall, making sure he was equal distance away from Lanval and Lucan.

“So I’m afraid that I didn’t have time to introduce myself,” the knight said in a thick Alsatian accent, smiling at the two men, bowing deeply. “My name is da… Lancelot DuLac.”

“You paused, I feel like that isn’t your real name,” Lanal said, before looking at Lucan and then to his bow. “What do you think Lucan?”

“I agree Ser, most men don’t have to restart when introducing themselves,” Lucan said, nodding to his companion. “So why don’t you tell us your real name.”

“That is my real name, I promise,” the knight said, lowering his spear so that it was pointed toward the ground. “I just only learnt about it yesterday.”

“How do you learn your name a day ago?” Lucan asked, simultaneously actually confused, and trying to keep the blue knights attention as Lanval made his way over to his bow. “You definitely don’t look as if you were born yesterday.”

“Well, it’s rather complicated,” the blue knight began, flipping his spear so that it’s blunt in was on the ground so he could lean against it. “You see, I was raised by an Undyne, and thought I was Fae as well. My foster mother named me Darian DuLac, but according to a family tree I just found in my future coffin, my actual name is Lancelot.”

“Do you realize how crazy that sounds Ser?” Lucan asked, legitimately bewildered at how casually he explains all of that. “Even if you did find a coffin with a family tree in it, why would you believe that it was for your family?”

“Because a faerie told me of course!” the blue knight responded at the same moment that Lanval arrived at his bow, lifting it off the ground with his foot as he drew an arrow, immediately firing at the blue knight. Despite most certainly being surprised, the blue knight quickly moved his spear, knocking the arrow out of the air returning to a combative posture. “My apologise, I forgot we were fighting. But please, before we continue, what are your names and who you serve?”

Lucan and Lanval looked between each other, both resisting a smile as they thought about their king. They nodded to each other, and Lanval went first.

“My name is Ser Lucan, sworn knight to the lady Morgana and servant of the King of Knights Arthur Quei,” Lanval said, bowing deeply, drawing another arrow and knocking it as he stood back up straight.

“And I am Lucan Bedrydant, squire to Ser Bedivere the Raven and servant to the King of Knights Arthur Quei,” Lucan mimicked, bowing deeply as well before pointing his sword at the blue knight.

The blue knight’s eyes were wide as a circular shield now, and a massive smile had spread across his face. “You’re knight’s of Arthur Queis?” he exclaimed, tapping the blunt end of his pear to the ground, causing it to collapse into what looked like just the head of a spear with strange runes carved into it. “I was looking to join King Arthur, but I became lost along my way, and upon discovering this cursed castle decided that I should remove the curse and offer it to him if he ever came this way. I can’t believe it took so little time!”

Once again, the two men looked between each other, unsure what to make of him.

“May I ask, are you from the sacred fae lake?” Lucan asked, remembering the location that was at most a days walk from them.

“I am, have you been there?” he asked excitedly, looking between both of them. “You look like a man who would appreciate it Ser Lanval, the old gods are powerful there.”

“That does sound pleasant,” Lanval said, lowering his bow, glancing over at Lucan. “You do know that the sacred fae lake is only a days walk, and a few hours ride from here, do you not?”

“I did not,” the blue knight said, furrowing his brow. “I am admittedly quite bad with directions. I am a fair rider, and a decent fighter, but I do not know how to travel outside of the forest that made up my home.”

“You are far more than a decent fighter ser,” Lanval said, putting his bow back into his quiver. “If you truly want to serve our king, I am sure he would be more than happy to accept you, especially if you were able to empty an entire keep on your own.”

“Oh it wasn’t hard, I only had to beat twenty men before breaking the magical artifact that was manifesting the curse, causing Lord Brandon to flee into the wilderness.” The blue knight said, in the same matter of fact voice in which he had said everything thus far.

“Are you thinking the same thing as me Lucan?” Ser Lanval asked, looking over to the squire.

“I believe I am Ser,” Lucan responded, looking up at the blue knight before extending his hand forward for a handshake. “Do you have a horse Ser Lancelot?”

“Of course!” Lancelot replied, shaking Lucan’s hand excitedly. “I cannot wait to serve the once and future king, thank you so much for this opportunity!”

Lucan smiled as the blue knight shook his hand excitedly. The three men made their way down to the stables were, and mounted onto Lancelot’s white horse. They moved at walking pace, as only two of them could be mounted until they made it back to the village where Lucan and Lanval had left their horses, allowing the three of them to travel at full pace back to the horde as it marched towards what Lancelot called Joyous Gard.

Upon arrival back at camp, Lanval made sure that the three steeds were properly taken care of before heading into the center of camp where they met Ser Kay, Ser Bedivere, and King Arthur in front of Arthur’s tent.

“Hail Ser Lanval, how did the scouting mission go?” Arthur called, looking at the three gentleman, lingering on Lancelot.

“It went well, it seems that this man cleared out the entire keep,” Lanval replied, gesturing to Lancelot.

“Well now that’s impressive,” Arthur laughed, looking at the blue knight, extending his hand to his. “I am Arthur Queis, and your name?”

“I am Lancelot DuLac, it is an honor to be at your service,” he responded, shaking the kings hand vigorously.

“Well, why don’t we talk a minute in the tent brother,” Kay said, placing his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Agreed, I would quite enjoy to hear how one man took an entire keep on his own,” Bedivere continued, gesturing to the king’s tent. “After you.”

Arthur, Kay, Lanval, and Lancelot all went into the large tent, Bedivere quickly following behind when Lucan grabbed his arm. The older man looked down at Lucan, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Once you’re done, I think we need to talk,” Lucan said, looking up at the man he had once mistaken for his father upon their first meeting.

Bedivere, in his usual stoic manner nodded in response before entering the tent and closing the flap. Lucan went back to his tent, waiting for his mentor to arrive, spending the several hours that it took making sure that his equipment was properly kept, sharpening his rapier in the places that it had grazed Lancelot’s armor. Finally, long after he had run out of things to do maintenance on, Ser Bedivere arrived, looking tired and haggard.

“I am sorry that it took so long,” Bedivere said, sitting next to Lucan on his cot. “What was it that you wished to speak with me about?”

“It’s, something that Lanval said to me while we were out on our mission,” Lucan said, looking at his hands as he spoke. “At first I thought he was just trying to rile me up, but the more I think about it, the more I thought about how much sense it made. And, I just need to know. Bedivere, are you my brother?

Bedivere just looked at Lanval for a while, his stonelike face not flinching at all, but his eyes slowly became wetter and wetter until tears began to stream down his face, and Lucan no longer needed his answer.

Bedivere was fifty two when he died for his brother.

The two knights were standing in the halls of the dungeon as Lancelot was having his last meeting with his lover before the execution. Neither Lucan nor his brother were entirely comfortable with the situation, but they also knew why it needed to be done. After a long discussion, Bedivere lead the condemned up to the courtyard, leaving his brother with the other prisoner to keep them company.

After a few minutes of attempting to strike up any level of conversation, Lucan heard a shuffling sound around the corner before Ser Hector De Mares walked around the corner, stumbling slightly, almost as if he were drunk.

“Ser Hector, I thought that you’d be at the execution,” Lucan said, standing up straight and placing his hand on the hilt of his mostly ceremonial sword. “Though, I guess it makes sense that you would want to miss it, seeing as Lancelot and you are brothers.”

“Yeah, ‘at’s why I’m ‘ere,” the ginger said, grinning at Lucan. “See, a few of us aint too happy with the king’s decision.”

“Most of us aren’t happy with what’s happening Hector,” Lucan responded, walking up to his fellow night, placing his hand on his shoulder. “But, Lancelot and Guinevere’s actions directly caused the death of two other knights.”

“Those knights ‘ad it comin’,” Hector said, pulling the morning star out of his belt, haphazardly swinging it by his legs. “‘Ey got into things ‘at wasn’t any of ‘eir business.”

“They still didn’t deserve to die,” Lucan said, pulling his rapier from his sheath as Tom Lincoln rounded the corner, his bastard sword in hand.

Hector turned to Lucan, drawing the attention away from Lucan for a moment. As Hector raised his morning star to strike Tom in the head, Lucan slashed across his armored back.

“Tom, run!” Lucan shouted, backing up a few steps, taking up a fighting stance as hector turned back to the other knight, his attention temporarily away from young Tom. “There are others involved, warn Bedivere, hurry!”

As Lucan finished his warning Hector knocked the rapier out of his hand, slowly backing the smaller man back towards the end of the hall. It had been over a decade since Lucan had been in any sort of battle, and he knew that he had no chance in beating this battle hardened knight, but he also knew that he didn’t need to. All he had to do was keep him busy long enough for Tom to make it to the courtyard directly above them. Lucan managed this by dodging around the larger man’s slow yet powerful swings as his morningstar bent the bars of various cages, and broke off the stone bricks of the walls. Once they reached the end of the hall, and Lucan’s back was truly against the wall, he simply smiled up at Hector.

“What are ye smilin’ about?” Hector demanded, pointing one of the spikes of his morning star against the older man’s nose. “Ye know yer about te die, right?”

“I do, but I also know that the rest of your plot is going to fail,” Lucan replied, the smile spreading across his face even further. “And you and the other traitors, well, you’re all going to end up down here anyway.”

Enraged, Hector raised his morningstar above his head, swinging downward towards Lucan’s head, and the older knight waited, at peace thinking that he had stopped a full scale battle from taking place.

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