The great hall was silent, Sir Bron had stopped holding the false conversation for a while now, as it had become painfully obvious his fellow would not be answering. Still the others mostly seemed to respect protocol and ignore the unconscious Commander. Until the great door swung open, a mechanism that should have been sealed and locked as it had been an hour earlier when they had tried and failed to open it themselves. From beyond strode Knight Commander Mordred Damodred, bearing a suit of armour that was beneath his station, carrying aloft a small fragile body wrapped in a ragged and tattered red cloak, a red cloak that would be recognized as his by those who had been privileged enough to enter the Knight Commander’s private quarters.
The Knights immediately stood at attention, bearing their blades and guns aloft in salute, yet they were ignored, instead he walked on, towards Sir Ton, trailing closely behind him was a Knight of the Order of the Road, her uniform in a state of disarray, mostly dragging a bag with her armour behind her, but what was probably worse was that she too ignored the other Knights, instead blurting out a seemingly endless stream of gibberish, seemingly to herself.
Needless to say that the assembled Knights were quite displeased.
“Rouse the acting commander if you please” The voice that rang from the Knight Commander’s helm was deep and solemn, but somehow soft. So Sir Bron moved with a sort of hesitance, before stopping just short of Sir Ton’s shoulder. “Sir, respectfully, I don’t believe that to be a good idea, or in fact the right course of action. ” Carefully Mordred lay down his package on the table, before gently, yet relentlessly pushing the other Knight aside. “Sir Ton, it is not your time to pass just yet, on your feet.” The words were spoken with a certain undertone that the Knights couldn’t place, granting them a quality that almost forced compliance, and Sir Ton did. “Sir Ton and I will return to the Sword, Dame Krim shall accompany us there ahead of the rest of the Order of the Road, we have to make preparations, Sir Bron You shall assume command of the Camelot for now, have her follow the Sword, that will be all.” as he spoke he picked up his package, and turned to the exit, Sir Ton following two steps behind him, somewhat stiffly, and the disheveled looking Dame closed the awkward procession, leaving Sir Bron and his men with more questions than answers.
Meanwhile Sir Tor took the time to carefully replace a broken fuse for one of the security system sub grids, all the while holding one eye on his unconscious guest. Not that he expected her to get up and run, or even attack mind you, just that he wanted to greet her appropriately, and it would be easier to do so when he saw her wake, as a simple, oh good you’re waking up, would be sufficient, as opposed to, oh hey hello there you stranger I saw braining herself with the floor, how are you doing on this fine day? Or at least it seemed like the safe route to take. Off course that was assuming she spoke the same language as him, or he as her, he wasn’t particularly picky really. And So he ended up having to drag her along as he explored and repaired the Camelot, careful not to drag her face across the flooring, but also careful not to miss her waking.
It wasn’t until he came by one of the residence decks he realized his mistake in dragging her along as he did, and as such went looking for a carpet to appropriate.