Book 2 Chapter 19

“This is not what it looks like!” Her voice rang out as she practically threw herself across the room scrambling for any form of cloth covering she might use to preserve some small speck of modesty.
“Ahre you,,Quite sure? ” The voice was strained, as if the speaker was attempting to suppress,,well something.
“W,,? What?” Only now did Dame Krim properly gaze upon the mechanical form standing before her, hands open and outward from his sides, posture jovial, form mostly mechanical, and rather tall. “You’re the Dragon! Oh my cog!” Instantly Sir Balin witnessed the demeanor shift from mortified to some form of excited admiration, and for once he did not need to gaze upon an armour to realize that the girl belonged to the order of the road. “STOP, return to your previous , searching.” He did however need her at least partially dressed. “Ahnd I prefer my own name,,,,” he said it as an afterthought more to himself than to the girl, and for a moment he thought she hadn’t even heard, and that would have been fine. “Which is?” She stared up at him covering herself once again with the rather unfortunate privacy curtain. Just glancing at her face he could see where the floor had left an impression, looking around the room it was evident where she had fell, then using the tools that were at his disposal he assessed  that Mordred was in fact asleep, and seeing the rows of pieces and parts (and knowing of Mordred’s hobbies) he understood the situation, or at least had a decent enough idea of what might have occurred. “I am Sir Balin, as far as I know at present the only member of the order of the Dragon, I am not the Dragon, thaht would be silly.” Once again his eye rested on her  face, bruising was starting to form in rather unfortunate places, and her right eye was starting to close due to the swelling, still amazement could be read in her expression. “Twice in one week, oh my cog I am so lucky!” The statement made no sense, aside from obviously being false, judging by her face. “Sit, and properly cover your,, meat, The Knight Commander is ,,,sleeping, so no need to throttle him with kindness. ” He had meant it as a joke but instead it caused the girl to start crying. It occurred to him that she seemed almost too young to be a Knight. “There,,,,There,,,Why don’t we sit down,,ahnd hyou can tell uncle Balin all ahbout it.” He was going to have a tough day, he just knew it.

“Fifty more, and you’ll be done leetle man.” There was no malice in the Knight’s voice, just a heavy accent, but somehow that made the encouraging words seem like a slap to his face. Turg pushed with al the determination of a frustrated teenager, determined to prove someone wrong. “Helga, leave  my squires alone,,, it is not their fault you do not get to pick one.” Sir Oleg spoke as he strode into the room. “Still it is awkward to have so many, how are they doing? ” The knight named Helga frowned before answering. “Sir, the Leetle man is doink good, he ees doink the full three hundred now, look, the others zey are tryink to catch up, but him, he wants to be ze best” Sir Oleg nodded as he sat himself down in front of the small group, noting only one of them was simply sitting in her spot, Findling, Turgs second he recalled from the initial,strained, conversations. “Why is she not training along?” Helga could only shrug non-committally. “Zat one doesn’t vant to.” Sir Oleg gave a deep throaty chuckle. “Helga, return to taking speech classes. They didn’t take.” The girl snorted, but disguised her amusement well, well enough that most of the Knights had not even taken notice of it, by pretending to sneeze. There was more to these children and Oleg liked it, they reminded him of the old days, of his friends on earth, of Georg and Joseph, that oddball. He nodded Helga of, making it clear that his comment was not a mere suggestion, he knew Helga hated those classes but she was the only one who still had such a deep accent, and although he liked hearing it he did not enjoy deciphering it across a crackling comm line, nor did any of the other Knightly orders they worked with. “Findling, speak your mind with me, why as Turgs second, do you not partake in his exercises and trials?” He almost expected a derisive answer like his childhood friend would have given him, why did these children both centuries and worlds apart remind him so much of his childhood friends?
“Because I am his second, I watch his back, also she told us to, not you.” At this she shrugged, and looked away.

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Book 2 Chapter 18

Trembling with what might have been anticipation, but likely was due to the current ambient temperature, Dame Krim considered stepping out from behind the privacy screen.
She hesitated, one hand outstretched to the screen’s edge, was she really ready to do this? Sure she had allready decided to do this, but that did not mean she had to, right? It should not be a given that any man who outranked her and showed some interest would get their way immediately, right? Dame Krim breathed deep before taking a decision, and a step, consequently followed by a trip and a fall, which consequently saw her landing on her face with her behind up in the air.

The noise drew Mordred’s attention more than anything else, the tinkling sound, almost like a delicate chime, coming from the metal rings popping of the reinforced rail, immediately followed by the heavy thunk of a body slamming into the deck plating.
The image before him baffled the senses, he had seen her stripped before, but now there she lay, the screen draping across her back as her face attempted to leave a lasting impression in his floor. “Owwww. m’fce,,,,” her muffled protest was barely audible, but obviously she was made of sterner stuff than a certain nurse had been, she was after all still conscious. “Dame Krim,,,are you all right? ” He felt stupid for asking, but nothing else really came to mind. Carefully he set the assembled pieces of armour aside, neatly aligned to ensure they wouldn’t go missing. Dame Krim wrapped herself even more into the screen, as she coloured a deep crimson, her hair draping in front of most of her face.

Carefully Mordred moved over to the little pile of misery that was Dame Krim, cautious not to step on her, or her impromptu coverings. “Let me rephrase that, will you recover?”  With a hint of tact he carefully rearranged the fabric of the screen in the hope that would minimize her embarrassment.  “I am not ready!!” Her startled cry at even the barest hint of his touch finally clued Mordred in on the titanic misunderstanding he was currently in the middle of, albeit more due to her reaction and the way she uttered the words than the words themselves. Because in her current state he indeed did not deem her ready to aid him in the task of re-assembling and preserving her armour, let alone producing an entirely new suit. In truth if not for the sheer look of terror and the obvious cringing away from him, he would have assumed that her outcry would have meant just that. After all she was of the Order of the road, and they could get rather awkward about certain things. However as it stood now, he could tell that she was not in fact merely embarrassed at the state of her gear alone, but also deeply concerned about her own state of undress, presumably due to his own proximity. The reason behind this he did not yet fully grasp. (Possibly due to his lack of proper rest or in fact sleep, all in all at the core of it all a Knight is still a human being, and as such requires sleep after all, just notably less of it…) “Now Dame Krim, please calm down, there is no need to be embarrassed, please breathe, slower, that’s it very good, now then, if you could please explain what it is you believe you need to be ready for?” With as calm a voice as Mordred could muster he tried to soothe Dame Krim, and possibly prevent her from hyperventilating too much. Oddly enough it almost seemed to actually work.
“I know I am in your chambers, and I don’t want to offend you but I am not ready.”
Now if only her answers made sense to him. He looked to the piles of parts he had been sorting, somehow somewhere something was off about them, he knew they were worn down, so that couldn’t be it, could it be the light? he was certain he had set it bright enough, after all it was important to see what you were doing…..  And with that disjointed train of thought Mordred’s world faded to black as he finally collapsed. Sleep wrapping around his brain as a blanket.

Terror filled Dame Krim’s heart as she saw the Knight Commander fall, in a reflex she leapt at him, hoping to catch him, and find out what was going on, all previous embarrassment forgotten in that single moment, all caution foolishly thrown to the wind.
The dead weight of a near fully armoured knight crashed into her and kept going, her unaided, and rather unfortunately unarmoured form not strong enough to fully arrest the downward movement of the Knight Commander’s body, she instead opted to at least soften the blow, and somewhat guide it on its path to the deck. “Please don’t die, please don’t die, please don’t die.” with shivering fingers she checked his pulse, her own heart beating a mile a minute however (and the fact she was no medic) prevented her from knowing with any form of certainty whether or not all was well, so she knelt atop Mordred’s cuirass as she listened for his breathing, one hand still laying loosely on his throat, forgotten.
It was at that exact moment that the door to Sir Mordred’s private chambers opened and Sir Balin stepped in, only to find a bewildered mostly undressed woman, holding the Knight Commander by the throat squatting on said Knight Commander’s chest, looking more than a little guilty at being caught.

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Book 2 Chapter 17

(Note: The last few chapters have been rather challenging to write, and although I usually strive for some levity or even humor, it did not feel right to add such all too openly here, however this also made them more of a chore, they needed to be written, but I will be glad when they are behind me, thank you for your patience. Addendum: As one might conclude from earlier notes I tend to be somewhat unfortunate when it comes to technical appliances, this story is as such brought to you by Frankenlaptop MK8 following hard-disk failures, software failures and ultimately a suicidal OS “Looking at you windows” causing my hard-disk to now be completely replaced by a usb thumbdrive, and my laptop with its mismatched internal components running on an android based os. As such a word for the wise, REDUNDANCY SAVES WORK have at least 2 back ups of your work one of which online and write your passwords down. Thank you. )

After preparing for his mother’s rites of passing Knight Commander Mordred Damodred sat himself down in his backless armchair, it’s model had been copied off of a historical chair, that some scholars believed had been in wide use among rulers and warriors during campaigns as field furniture. And as such had been supplied to the Knightly orders in large amounts.
With a sigh he removed his helm, forgetting for a brief moment that he was not alone.

A loud clattering reminded him of the other “living” person in the room.”Oh spanners!” Mordred frowned at the exclamation it seamed childish to him” excuse me sir. i seemed to have dropped my .. they are , that is to say… “She trailed of near the end. So Mordred looked up, and in the general direction of the privacy screen, only to see parts of a armour rolling across the floor. A sharp edge catching his attention. ” Dame, you seem to have lost your,,,pants.”  He looked closer at the sharp edge, his mind conjuring schematics as he did, allowing him to see where it belonged, and determine what it was, a locking pin, or more to the point, half a locking pin. ” I,,Indeed Sir, could you, or rather would you be as kind as to pass them to me? Please?”

Mordred stooped and picked up one of the components that now liberally littered the floor, noting that the pin’s failure had only been a matter of time, as even this piece had been worn down, well maintained and cared for, but worn well past what was commonly seen as serviceable. Frankly it was a miracle it had held out this long. ” No, I can not.” His voice was deep, and clear. Only to be followed by a silence as deep as his voice had been, a silence however of the awkward persuasion. ” In fact Dame Krim, I need you to remove all of your armour.” He spoke, as he carefully studied the wear and tear on the piece in his hand.

” S,,,S,,,Sir? All of it? Even the cuirass?” The doubt that tainted her voice, the hesitance brought on by her nervousness, were utterly lost on the otherwise perceptive Knight Commander. Perhaps because he was currently in his private chambers, or maybe it was because he was so engrossed in his current studies of the broken armour, or just due to plain exhaustion. The fact was he did not notice, and thus simply replied: ” Yes, all of it.”

Behind the privacy screen Dame Krim actually squeaked in sheer shock. When and how had it come to this? It all seemed wrong, and too fast, after all they had only just started to get to know one another, and now he, well, refused to return her pants, and furthermore wanted her to undress. Not that she was opposed to the idea per say, after all she had been in her underclothes in front of him before, but that was in the line of duty, it had certainly not been her intention to woo him, in fact she hadn’t even thought of it. And now the timing just seemed horrible! Then again she had heard that men who had just lost a loved one sometimes would seek solace in the arms of a woman…..Should she refuse? Could she even? He was a superior officer, and not just any superior at that, but literally the highest ranking officer she knew off, entire worlds could burn at his command, and here she was, just a simple mechanic, not even an important one, like Sir Ingles, or even Dame Spriggot. She almost felt honoured a man had even shown interest in her, it certainly hadn’t happened before, everyone had found her to be boyish. She paused, perhaps that was why she hadn’t thought twice when it came to undressing in front of the Knight Commander, because she had believed herself to be decidedly not attractive, then again, what if her boyish features were exactly what the Knight Commander had found attractive, what if he actually liked….Dame Krim shook her head to clear it, and drew a deep breath to gather her courage. With trembling fingers she removed her gauntlets, as they were the easiest to remove and still unclasped from before. Silently she muttered to herself, ” Only one way to find out,,right? ” .

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Book 2 Chapter 16

Preparing for the ceremony was in a way almost like therapy, allowing Mordred the time to collect his thoughts. In fact it may well have been the most relaxing thing he had been able to do in a long time. It was a sobering thought, and given his tendencies to introspection a fairly damning one. “So, about your armour, the formal one I mean,,,,” Dame Krim let herself trail off, only now aware that she was probably being inappropriate, again. “Yes, what about it?” Mordred welcomed the distraction, lest he allow his mind to wander across darker paths. “Aah! Y yes sorry Sir, it’s just, I know it’s rude but, is it true that it has a fully integrated medical protocol?” Mordred coughed, but only to hide an unwanted chuckle, the odd tendencies of the order of the road, and their sensibilities never failed to lighten his mood. ” It did come with a medical protocol, yes, however I have my own prefered software suite, and installed that instead.” Dame Krim shuddered, terrified by the casual tone in which Knight Commander Damodred had just spoken, the idea of someone battling a protocol, and not only winning, but also supplanting it with an entirely different program. “I should still have its original programing on a drive here somewhere, if you’re interested.” He had meant it as a placating gesture, thinking she found the removal of the orriginal code to be rude or cruel. Instead the figurative olive branch seemed to slap her in the face. ” You did not, delete it?” Her eyes were wide in terror. “Sir, to clarify, you put on the suit, removed the medical protocol, without deleting it, and then you installed your own suite of programming?” The tone of her voice caused Mordred to pause, and look up at her. “No, not exactly, I installed my prefered A.I. after transferring all the orriginal protocols to memory boxes, like the hackbox we used back on the Camelot.” He paused, and took a sip of his now long cold drink. “And yes I needed to wear the suit to do so, as all the controls are on the inside, or code driven, it wasn’t easy, but currently Gwenn34 is running the core functions, much like with my older armours.” A twitch made its way across the female Knight’s face, and it dawned on Mordred that nothing he could say or do would improve the situation, or even save it.
So instead he returned to his ritual preparations, carefully placing the small burlap satchel within his mother’s hands before slowly sealing the coffin. “Either way, that was in the past, now is our present, all went well back then,  and that is the end of it.”  Silence, awkward silence was all that answered his statement. “Dame Krim, you are still in my quarters, perhaps a different subject would make that less awkward.” He carefully sealed the coffin’s airtight edges before engaging its stasis function. “Sir? why are you sealing your dead mother into a stasis tomb? She is rather,,,dead Sir, so it won’t do her any good anymore?” For a while he remained silent, letting his fingers stroke the keys as he set the parameters. “The stasis is not for her specifically, although I do understand your confusion. The custom of the Knightly burial rites does not allow a dead Knight to be placed in stasis as it is considered abuse of the technology, this is a fact. ” Mordred paused briefly as he drew a deep breath, Dame Krim seemed oblivious of his reasoning, and also rather disconnected from common society or its norms. “My mother, Morgana, was however decidedly NOT a Knight, she was, to a degree, a civilian. But more importantly, aside from being my mother, she was a Queen.” He allowed himself to look at the female Knight, his ire made his choler rise, and he knew that he would fail to hide his mood if he did not at least look at the person he spoke with. To his surprise he found her nodding, in an expectant fashion. It reminded him of a scene he had once witnessed, though he could not recall where or when exactly, of a young child looking at a teacher as he explained tirelessly how the world worked. “So, in lieu of that, I am preparing my mothers casket for a voyage to a nearby proto-planet or a planet that has not yet formed its own ecosystem.” Dame Krim scrunched her nose a little, then rubbed it. “Where it will commit a series of manoeuvres, and ultimately land.” Dame Krim blinked and looked a little puzzled.”But Sir, why would you do that?” For a moment Mordred felt like he understood the teacher with the tired yet ever so patient smile from his memory, like across the centuries the man was now smiling at him and told him, now you know, as if all had come full circle.”Partly because that is the proper Burial rite for a space faring Queen. However I think you want to know why, not as in why perform it, as much as why is that the rite, correct?” She nodded fiercely, and oddly appeared uncomfortable. “The casket carries more than just the body and its wrappings, it also contains a set of three apple seeds, one for every aspect of my mother, once the casket has landed it will await the most opportune time to release the stasis, and initiate the germination cycle. Once that has been done the seeds, or at least one of the seeds will grow into an apple tree, using my mothers body as its initial food source, and hence from her death new life shall blossom, the tree, or trees will become the first life on the new otherwise plain planet, as the casket will have waited for the proper conditions, eventually there may grow a forest of apple trees descending from those three seeds. Thus the planet will become a new Avalon.” A thought occurred to him then. ” There is a toilet just over there the privacy curtain is recessed in the wall, use it if you must.”  The words Dame Krim spoke at that, as she darted towards the utility corner he had indicated, were mostly a riddle to him, but he was fairly certain he made out a sorry, and a thank you.

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Book 2 Chapter 15

“Auto doc, is such a crude term, don’t you process? I jest, be at ease patients, you are in capable manipulators.” The men and women of the order of the road cringed in abject horror, more than once had their order been called upon to decomission such a protocol, each time because of the same reason. Outdated equipment running obsolete analytics, with poor self diagnostics. Causing auto docs to operate without anesthetics, or worse. ” I refuse treatment! I repeat; I refuse treatment!” Dame Spriggott nearly screached her protest, ignoring her injuries just so the protocol might be tricked into thinking she was fine, it should work, it had worked before on medical protocols of the more recent Framework series. “Please patient 5461, cease your overly strenuous activities! You will merely agitate your injuries. Also if you feel the need to prove my thesis please do so in a more creative manner.” Terror gripped her mind, this protocol was more advanced than the newer and more widely used protocols, as she tried to find a way around that she realised it had ignored her refusal, hence it must be running on broken coding, grasping at straws she asked the first thing that came to mind. ” What thesis?” A syringe came into view as medical protocol Holm answered. “Everybody lies, especially when their health or well being is concerned. It is why I never consult records or databases, each diagnosis stands fresh, with no bias towards presumed prior mallfunctions, every examination is a full one.” The sting of the needle was followed by a dull ache. “Worry not 5461, I have learned much about alternative healing, and we have the parts, we can rebuild you.” With those words her world went dark .

Her world was pain, hot and cold alike, a deep tearing pain. Her world was also stench, ozone, burnt flesh, and sewage were it’s smells. In contrast her world was dark, yet filled with distant muted sounds, pleasantly rounded tones as if someone spoke with a deep and heavy voice, rounded off by decades of speaking. From far away she could hear her father’s voice, a wicked sneer as he yelled at her to get up, the enemy something or another, the deep voice was nicer to listen to, less demanding too. Cripa therefore ignored her father’s voice, and drifted at the edge of life, or death depending on how one looks at it, untill her world became dull, and of a more consistent temperature. After that she fell asleep, a real sleep with dreams rather than being unconscious.

It had taken him literal hours, but at long last he had finished finding and reading the most adequate manual for his current predicament. And so it was with a smile that Sir Tor pocketed his copy of: “distressed damsels, and how to deal with them.” Before carefully picking his damsel up in his arms and properly bringing her to the nearest medical facility known to him, the only hitch in that brilliant plan was that he only really knew of one such place, and that was back on the Sword of Damocles.

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Book 2 Chapter 14

Thirteen games, as many defeats, Sir Harding shook his head as he came to terms with his recent streak of ill fortune. “So you are not an illusion, and have in fact been practicing.” He had muttered mostly to himself, not really considering the other might have heard him. “Indeed I am quite real, and have been phracticing, excuse me.” A rasping cough wracked the Knight’s frame before he continued. “Now on to the questions I had, why are you in the stocks, what did hyou do? ” Sir harding had to look up to meet his old (apparently not dead) friend’s eyes. “I broke the chain of command, I was a fool, and right in front of the tower.” At the last part he saw the eyes of his friend harden, steel sneaking it’s way into the otherwise understanding and patient gaze. “Hyou mean ahcting cohmander Ton, formally of the tower. One of the proud few, adviser to the Knight commander himself?! ” The static was back in his voice, and the table groaned under the pressure Sir Balin’s gauntlets were subjecting it to. “Have hyou lost hyour mind? Hyour lucky he did not execute you on the spot!” The statement made no direct sense, not until Sir Tiberos Harding thought back to the moment, he had done as he always had, he had attempted to take point, claiming veterancy, Sir Idver had pushed him to the wall, because he had denied him his rank, then the tower had raised a weapon at his face, but tat wasn’t entirely right, not if he saw him as Acting Knight Commander Ton of the tower, because in that case his act could be seen as mutiny. as the thoughts finally started to make sense to him Sir Harding’s face turned pale. “Lucky bastard aren’t you? ” The malice was now gone from his friend’s voice, but something bothered Harding still. ” Balin, what did the tower mean when he said, Or I shall consider thee as I have once Arthur? ” The monstrous form of his friend shrugged. “I know it not, but I can probably find out, people talk, I hear things, hyou know how it goes, for now, one more? ” Sir Balin reset the board, his motions stiffer than before.

Carefully Sir Tor rounded the corner as he read his etiquette guide, “Humm apparently wrapping you in a rug is not the best way to treat you? Who would’ve guessed. Oh still unconscious I see, well good thing I checked the book now.” Oddly enough she seemed more, charred, than before. “Let us just set you down here, and mayhaps I can…” He stopped and stared at the grimy face, red skin showing amidst the scorch marks. “Clean you up, I guess.” Carefully, or at least as carefully as a huge overly trained clumsy power assist armoured Knight with no clear idea of being careful could manage, Sir Tor started unwrapping his most unfortunate cargo. And in doing so he conveniently forgot to remind himself to check how severe her charring was, or what the proper way of unwrapping an unwillingly wrapped victim was.

The room seemed unusually dark, and smelled of dirt and iron. She knew that it was a dream, that she was sleeping, yet still Dame Miriam Spriggot turned her head, and looked at where she knew Sir Ingles would be, sitting in a comfortable chair smoking cog knew what, just for the sake of looking decadent. Slowly her gaze focused on his face, the cocky smile as he removed the tube from his mouth. “Well, that’s another fine mess you got us out of eh?” The words made no sense, but in dreams they did not need to, they only needed to afford the minimal level of comfort.”No thanks to you I might say,,” her own voice sounded weak, like she was the one who was supposed to have died. Funny really she remembered this conversation, he had gotten stuck doing a field repair to a mobile command, and she had risked everything to get him evacuated, nearly getting herself killed in the process. “How was I supposed to help?” She finished for him, she liked doing that in this particular dream, “After all I had my hands quite full with being saved.” A frown slid over his face, a frown that seemed almost pained, “Actually I was going to say I was too busy kicking the bucket, like say two thirds of our order, rough guestimate that.” Reality had deemed her unfit to have nice things even as illusions, still this was her dream she would deny reality as much as she could. “Sir you are in far better shape than I am, now please no black humor, the day is bleak enough as it is no?” She tried to get up, only to find herself restrained. “Well you see Miriam, I died, and you’re having a horribly one sided conversation, I mean no offence I am very flattered you chose me as your imaginary friend and all that but really you should stop talking your scaring the survivors. Well what goes for survivors these days, slim pickings and all that.” Dame Spriggot did not answer him, instead she stared at the manacle which held her to the bed, the myriad tubes leading into her wrist, some clear, others a deep crimson, seeming to connect her to the very wall of the med bay, as behind her a cold voice spoke through a slight static haze. “Welcome patient designated 5461, it is good to register you as conscious, I am medical protocol Holm, and I shall be your fully automated emergency physician this day.” For a moment there was silence, for a moment it seemed no one member of the order of the road was even breathing, until quiet sobs broke the oppressive silence. it was Dunnhain who cracked. ” We are at the mercy of an auto-doc ! “

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Book 2 Chapter 13

The journey back to The Sword of Damocles was brief, or so it seemed to Mordred, the corpse in his arms was light, he had said his goodbyes long ago, long before he had a chance to meet with her again. Long before he became a commander, even long before he ever became an officer. To see her again was wonderful, confusing, and somehow painful. To lose her again so shortly after had been a strange experience, it made him feel somewhat numb, like the whole thing had been just  sort of dream, yet the fragile thing in his hands told him otherwise, forced him to acknowledge that up until recently  his mother had been alive. and now in one week he had been reunited with both his parents, only to witness them both die. The irony of it all left a rotten taste in his mouth, the absurdity made him question his sanity. The airlock sealed behind his group as they boarded The Sword of Damocles, no more need for charades then. “Gwenn34, take Sir Ton back to the medical bay, use the most efficient clearance free route.” With a steady pace Sir Ton walked towards the nearest elevator, leaving Dame Krim to stare after him. “Sir,,might not be the right time but, how?” For a brief moment he considered how to answer her before Knight Commander Mordred breathed deeply, letting the moment slide away from him, the situation was simple a knight had witnessed the retrieval system moving another Knight on it’s own. So all he needed to do was answer truthfully. “I activated his suit’s retrieval functions earlier, and put the suit A.I. in control, so now she is taking him to receive medical care.” That should sate her curiosity somewhat. “Do all armours have that? Does mine have that? Does yours?” Or of course he could have remembered that Dame Krim was one of those inquisitive types who wished to know everything they could about anything there was. “No, not all armours have the retrieval system, and if I look at yours I think you may have broken it, as for my own, no this one does not have it, it is after all an outdated suit of plate, that has not seen proper maintenance in oh three or four centuries I guess, with what has been going on there is no telling how much or little time has passed between maintenance checks.” She took her time to consider those words, and he could see her mind running circles around itself, good that would buy some time, at least until he had a suitable casket for his mother.

Sir Tor smiled as he dragged the carpet with on it the strange unconscious woman behind him into yet another defunct hallway. Things were definitely looking up for him, not only had he found a decent carpet to drag her with, he even had managed to find one that did not clash  with her current clothes, colour wise. Calmly he trotted along, the sparking wires overhead illuminating the hallway as he went, faintly he noticed the magnetic locks of his boots engaging, but thought little of it, today was going to be great!

Round another corner she led her group, and for a moment Dame Miriam Spriggot feared what she would find, or rather what she wouldn’t find. She stopped and turned her head, looking to her fellows. “Right if it isn’t around the corner, I’m going to off myself, who’s with me? ” Right after the words left her mouth she wished they hadn’t, and cursed herself for lacking the sense of humor that Sir Ingles had. The men however, started laughing.
And that was how they marched into the medical bay of The Camelot, laughing like lunatics as they half carried, half dragged each other and their fallen comrades, led by Dame Spriggot who was holding her pistol loosely by her side.

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, Sir Tiberos Harding counted the rivets in the ceiling, it was his only entertainment so far, unless he would wish to further disgrace himself, he had acted like a pig headed boor, who hadn’t known when to nod, or worse, he acted like a man who didn’t know who to obey, he had in a word been stupid. Sure he had given Sir Idver many a beating on the training grounds, and yes he had the most experience, but to cross the Tower?  What had he been thinking? Actually he knew what he had thought, he had thought that there would be no repercussions, that he would be fine due to his seniority, he had forgotten his place and above all his rank. “Hyou look , Bored, is there a reason you look bored old bird?” The voice was metallic in nature, and filled with a sort of underlying menace he felt hard to place and describe. “WELL?” static filled the word as if to sand down the harsh sharp tone. “I look bored, because I am bored.” He didn’t look towards the voice, a deep rooted dread kept him from doing so. “Perhaps a game would help, alleviate your, boredom, a game between, old friends.” There was no question, though it felt like it was intended as one. “Of course you would have to look at me to play,,,” The sentence died off as if the speaker had meant to add more or was suddenly lost in thought. “I, can’t , I can’t look at you.” Harding felt sick to his stomach, his past had come to haunt him, maybe he was truly mad? “Why not?” The question was brief, curt, as if the spectre of his past knew the answer. “Because you aren’t there, not really, you’re dead, I saw you die.” There he said it, and now the moment would be dispelled, the voice would leave and he would wake up. And for a moment there was indeed silence. “LOOK, AT, ME!! YOU CUR!!” Static filled the voice like a audio transmitter pushed to it’s limits. Slowly Harding turned his head sweat starting to run along his neck as he did, before him stood Sir Balin, of the order of the dragon, his battle plate well maintained, his face mostly obscured, but his eyes, were those of a friend once lost, the sight itself nearly enough to break Sir Harding. “You,,,you live?” a near breathless whisper drawn from his suddenly dry throat, a million accusing thoughts jumbling through his mind, none making sense. “I visited you many times, now you will stop acting the fool, old hothead.” A sharp intake of breath caused the armour to rattle in a near purr. “And play checkers with me, as you explain yourself.” Only then did he notice the game his old dead friend was holding, as far as hallucinations went he did not mind this one. “Fine, let’s play then.”

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