Book 2 Chapter 6

Author’s note: Apologies for the lack of updates lately, I had a chapter prepared, neatly written out by hand, only to have left my notebook.
However the notebook has found its way back to me and as such I can post the chapter that should be rather than one of the countless worthless drafts that kept feeling sub par.
Thank you for your patience.

Heavy footfalls shook the flooring, causing the rag-tag group of survivors to cast wary looks towards the Tower gates, as they huddled closer to their sputtering fires. Oddly enough none of the giants seemed to notice the thundering steps as they approached, except maybe, the thought caused old aunt Farthis to cast her glance towards Sir Bron, their giant. He who cares for the people, and saw his helm move towards the gate. Carefully she nudged her niece. “He watches over us, see? Our mighty Lord he is.” causing the other members of their group to nod and mumble in agreement.

Sir Bron turned his head towards the Tower gate, only to see a Tower Icon approaching surrounded by several crows, his old fashioned display settings presenting him with  stylised symbols rather than titles and names, a holdover from a older system he had insisted on keeping, much like the wrist overlay setting, all meant to reduce clutter in his field of view, when asked for his reasons he had simply replied that he was an old dog, the younger engineers had stared at him without understanding, but the grand mechanic had laughed and indulged him. He responded by opening his general field frequency. “Attention Wall Knights and medical staff! Clear the main walkway! Tower is inbound! I repeat; Clear the main walkway, Tower is inbound!” Instinctively he made the hand gestures while he spoke, using signs to divide the tasks. His brethren of the Wall responded immediately, keen not to fail again they ushered the able, and carried the weak to the relative cover of the balconies.

The medical staff meekly followed, some carrying the braziers between them. As such it took Sir Bron mere minutes to clear the Grand Hall of the Camelot. Soon age old weathered banners became back-lit once more, by fires from the braziers, or just on the floor, the banners to the people seeming like curtains flowing from the balconies above, seemingly forming tents sheltering the people within.

Sir Ton wanted to scream, to yell at someone, something, to snarl and growl. But he could not afford to, not now, not anymore. He had already lost his temper once, with the Knight who had sought to ignore rank, the event had reminded him of the catacombs, of mad Arthur, the former king. No he had to control himself, and his temper, after all this train of thought led to failure, and failure was not an option, not  after Mordred, his friend, his Commander, his brother in arms, had entrusted him with the burden of command, and he would not fail him. It was bad enough as it was, his actions so far feeling like failure to him. Nonetheless he would give this his all.

So he drew in a deep breath, preparing himself to manually disengage the door’s locking mechanism, and possibly override Morgana’s control, maybe even needing to actively fight her for control. He lifted his hand towards the round wheel controlling the door’s locking bolts, only to see it revolve before he could even touch it. The door opening before him, as if the Camelot itself welcomed him.

Before them lay the Grand Hall, it’s banners seeming to billow in ethereal winds. Braziers were alight, their flames casting playful shadows, and a warm orange glow across the hall. A path cleared for them down the middle giving the impression of grandeur that the hall once had new life.
And right there stood Sir Bron, awaiting their arrival, his older suit of armour gleaming in the fire light seeming to give him an air of nobility, his stance however suggested subservience, it was subtle, but present.
“Hail to the Tower, well met again Sir Ton, how may the wall assist you today?”
Somewhat perplexed Sir Ton strode forward. “Well met Sir Bron, Perhaps you are unaware, yet I must ask, did you order the Camelot into motion?” He hated that he had to ask, he was certain the veteran had done no such thing, but he needed to know for certain, he had to ask, even if just to eliminate the possibility. “We of the wall were as surprised as you were Sir, in fact I lost some, men, because of the sudden motion, and have been running damage control since.” Sir Bron had paused ever so briefly at the mention of the losses, yet did not seem to be overly sad, rather he had seemed uncertain whether or not to mention it at all, Sir Ton made a mental note to ask about it later. For now he removed his hand from his Hammer.

This entry was posted in Geen categorie, Last Order of Knights, Verhalen van de koude grond and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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