The Knights of Avalon Kingdom

One day, you will be faced with a trial. A trial that will cost the lives of thousands. There will be those who will cry, weep, and beg for mercy, but you shall offer none. It is your duty, your purpose, to smite evil. No matter the cost. Uphold the law, uphold the truth, uphold justice. Be the light that guides humanity to a better tomorrow and never lose your way. If you ever find yourself lost, and can no longer follow your purpose, it shall mark the death of your mind, body, and soul. Remember, Frederick, the Finest Knight of Avalon.

“That is my role. Yes. My responsibility… My duty.

That’s why, no matter the burden, no matter the cost… no matter where I end.

I will never change.”

*******

There, a lone man of honor and virtue stood on a hilltop amidst the sea of grass and corpses.

He had long since lost the sensation in his fingertips. How long has he been fighting? When did it start? Only now, nearing the end of this battle, did the fog in his mind clear. The skies were bathed in red, with the chirps of birds replaced by the cries of crows. They had gathered around, waiting for the next body to drop. The man knew as much, and readied his blade.

Creatures of dried charred skin and blood briskly bolted through the once emerald plains, defiling the rice patches with their stench, sneakily encircling the man. This was how they fought, hiding, sneaking, and ambushing their prey. There wasn’t a hint of grace or beauty, it was all war. They fought like hunters with no will to devour, but simply massacre.

In turn, the six feet tall man clad in thick and heavy silver armour stood quietly, awaiting their charge. He knew this was how they fought, but rather than running somewhere else, he chose to face them head on. He did not care in the slightest whether they intended to fight fairly or not. He would strike them down all the same.

The creatures saw his vulnerability, the relaxed stance, and charged, jumping out of the green fields with their blades and daggers in hand. Three leaped at once, but six landed on the ground. More black blood stained the hilltop where the man stood.

Before they could reach him, all had been sliced in half with one clean arc of the man’s glowing blade.

Graceful, quick, and effortless, he watched as more and more of the creatures of grotesque shapes and sizes charged at him, dodging, blocking and parrying their blows. Not a single one managed to land a strike, and even if they could, they quickly realized nothing would stop the man, and their impending doom.

The enemy numbers dwindled, and as the last humanoid creature remained, the man lifted his blade, drenched his red, and slammed down with full force.

With a roar, the creature was cut cleanly in half.

He let out a deep breath. His body was fine. Despite battling day in and day out, his body had not yet surrendered to the god of depletion. The reason came from his heart.

The landscape had become barren and red from the war. Not just the skies, but the land that was stained with red and black blood. The creatures he slaughtered still bled out onto the once fertile land, killing the pure soil where he once played on.

If he could only save one thing, it would have been the once vibrant and well kept flowers. But when approached, it was all the same. The fragrant and enchanting smell was gone, replaced by the putrid stench of blood and rotting flesh.

He waited. If there were any other to appear, he would need to remain vigilant.

“Frederick,” a fellow knight called out.

He was shorter by about two inches, and more slender with an androgynous appearance. He did not carry the weight or the appearance of what people would define as a warrior’s look, but he walked completely unfazed by the massacre around him. His eyes firmly locked onto the larger knight who stood alone.

“Tristan…” the other knight replied.

“It’s over,” Tristan said. “All the demons in this region have been slain.”

There, it had become clear, the battle had reached its conclusion.

“I see…”

The man, Frederick, stood still, gazing at the sky. He wasn’t ready yet to leave.

“Was she…” Frederick’s voice trailed off.

He stopped himself from asking the question he already knew the answer to. Even if it was his heart asking for solace, there was no point in asking.

Tristan did not reply. He didn’t even nod his head. He just walked up the hill, and placed his hand on Frederick’s shoulder and they watched the sunrise end the nightmare that had plagued the lands for days. Now, only one person would be there to experience the nightmare. The only man left from the village.

The sun had started rising past the horizon, putting a spotlight on him and his deeds. He raised his hand to cover his face. The last thing he wanted in that moment was for the light to shine on him. He was not someone to be praised, nor respected.

*******

Later that day, Frederick woke up on the wagon with a sharp headache piercing his skull. The skies were still clouded red: he had not reached the outskirts of the village yet.

“Get some more sleep,” Tristan said, sharpening his blade. “You’re about four days too early. Wake up when we’ve reached the capital.”

“I can’t while I’m here,” Frederick replied.

Even after closing his eyes, he couldn’t sleep for more than two hours. The roads were rocky, making it a terrible place to get some shut eye, but that was not the reason.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Tristan asked.

“Was it obvious?”

“You were squirming around… you looked like you were in pain.”

“You saw me in pain and didn’t want to wake me up?”

“I believe the nightmares were a fine price to pay if you could rest as much as possible.”

Frederick just gave a soft sigh at Tristan’s remarks.

“So?”

Tristan did not turn to face Frederick, still preoccupied polishing his sword, Frederick could feel where his attention was.

“It was the same one,” Frederick replied.

For a while now, he kept having the same dream. Repeating every night. Him standing before evil alone with his sword with all his comrades dead, and fighting till his last breath to strike it down. The only thing watching him in his final moments being another demon. A grizzly fate.

“What a terrible dream,” Tristan said. “You even killed me off.”

“It's not like I wanted it,” Frederick groaned.

If the man could stop having dreams all together, that would have been much preferable.

Whether it was Tristan’s intent or not, the conversation kept Frederick’s attention, even just a slight bit, away from the destruction of his small village.

As the crows continued their cries of mockery toward the dead, Tristan observed the village Frederick grew up in. The once thriving landscape had been burned to the ground. No houses were safe from the attack that had started three days before the knights had even arrived. And even after, it took them two more days to vanquish all the demons. By the time everything had subsided, no one remained.

Frederick grabbed the pendant around his neck and held it close, and lowered his head.

Across the plains, the bodies of the people massacred by the demons were being wrapped up in cloth and thrown to the wagons to be transported somewhere else and be buried. All the faces were familiar to Frederick, young and old, man and woman. They were killed in such a brutal manner that even the people entrusted with burying them couldn’t hold back their horror and disgust. As the world around Frederick darkened, finally Tristan spoke.

“I told you, you shouldn’t have come.”

The earlier playfulness in his voice had completely vanished. What remained in front of him was “the Gifted Knight,” Tristan. He continued sharpening his blade, every swipe ringing louder and louder in Frederick’s ears.

Tristan immediately noticed the discomfort and stopped, but even without sharpening his blade, the words that came out of his mouth were far, far more excruciating to listen to.

“No one could’ve saved this village, Frederick… Having you come was unne–”

“I know,” Frederick cut him off. His voice was shaking, yet he managed to calm himself. He didn’t turn to face Tristan, only continued to feel the pendant in his hand. “I still had to try.”

“I’m sorry, about Trisha.”

“Stop it.”

“But she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

“Stop it.”

“Frederick–”

“I said stop it!”

Frederick shouted as the horses ran through a rock and rattled the wagon.

His final shout wasn’t just that of anger, but a plea in desperation. Even Tristan knew better than to say any more. The silence turned deafening as the two no longer spoke a word through the duration of their trip back to the capital. Leaving the village in ruins.

*******

It took them another four days to arrive back in the Capital. If Frederick had a choice, he would have wanted to stay in his village, but they were all ordered to return. And as soon as they arrived, they were called to the King’s Great Hall.

Frederick, alongside the rest of the knights, was exhausted with bags visible under their eyes. Some collapsed in the corridor leading to the Hall, while others collapsed as soon as they arrived at the castle’s front gates. Regardless of where they fell, they were all dragged into the Hall. And right after they arrived–

“His Majesty has arrived!” the King’s herald declared.

The Great Hall boomed, all the remaining knights who had some semblance of strength left in their bodies promptly kneeled, while the others remained passed out on the floor. Their boots and armour had not yet been cleaned, staining the pristine floor. The other nobles and king’s attendants looked at them disgusted, but for the ones who had been battling nonstop, they couldn’t care less about the opinions of the people who stayed behind.

The large doors opened slowly accompanied by a loud creak. They were heavy. Each one too heavy for ten knights to lift. But even that was but a grain of rice compared to the weight in their hearts the moment King Thorian walked into the room. Each slow step echoing where no soul dared to speak a word, or let their breath be heard.

He sat down on the throne, tapping his thin bony finger on the throne’s arm, waiting. The room quickly grew tense as the king had yet to say a word, but soon, the excruciating wait came to an end when a squire ran into the halls, panting and gasping for air while holding a strange pouch firmly by his chest. His actions now were nothing short of uncouth, but as the guards tried stopping him, the King simply raised his hand, and stopped them in their tracks.

“I brought what you asked for, your Majesty,” he said, with a proper bow befitting a noble.

After properly assessing the contents of the pouch, the King just nodded his head and raised his hand just high enough for the boy to kiss before sending him off. Then, wasting no time, he stood, and with his bare hand scooped the contents inside. A glistening powder that had an ethereal glow.

“Here lies the blessing of Lathia,” he said, before tossing it into the air.

All the knights responded in unison, raising their heads and placing a fist on their chest, accepting the powder that turned into sparkles in the air, purifying it as well as everyone’s bodies. The filth that had stained their armour had disappeared and so did their wounds, and the knights that were passed out stood up, completely rejuvenated.

King Thorian looked up onto the ceiling beholding the tapestry of their ancestors. Ancestors both to the knights and the King before them, battling the army of demons that once almost destroyed their kingdom. A time when the gods and men were much closer than today, when their blessings were much easier felt, and even without divine intervention, gave them the courage to move forward and push back the invaders.

But that was a thousand years ago, an age now left behind. Ever since two or three hundred years ago, the demons have slowly grown in power and dominance over the lands. They grew smarter, stronger, more unpredictable. All the while humanity lost their connection with the gods, fertile soil lost its life, the weather grew erratic and unforgiving, and the seas they once traversed through had turned into waves of chaos, locking their continent from the world. In the end, the only path where they could maybe find another human civilization would be going down the south or west, both now infested with demons.

The Demon’s Domain.

What’s more, without having seen a single soul beyond these lands for hundreds of years, plenty have given up hope. This Kingdom could very well be the last bastion of humanity left in the world. Now, humanity as they know it were on their last legs, forcing them to fight against impending doom.

It was because of that that the King did not hesitate to provide them with the healing powder that took ten years to harvest.

“First, I must commend you for eradicating the demons that ravaged Fae Plains. Our hearts go out to the victims and their families that have been taken. Know that their sacrifices will not be in vain. That we shall continue fighting for the future of humanity, keeping their memory in our hearts.”

King Thorian started his speech, breathing an air of relief as everyone’s fatigue in the room had been blown away as if it were never there. The King himself had not felt a moment of rest the past few days and it showed in his sluggishness, despite his demeanor. After recapping what had happened during the attack, the facts of which every knight already knew, he continued with their compensation.

“Everyone who participated in the extermination of the Demons in Fae plains will be granted one gold. And all the surviving families will receive fifty silver, and a new home in a village closer to the capital.”

Everyone thanked the king in unison, but deep down, no one found this rewarding. A gold coin may last them a month at most if used carefully, but at the same time it was no secret that the taxation for the commoners would make it almost worthless. Fifty silver is nothing for the victims who needed to find new occupations now their farmlands were gone. When demon blood enters the fertile soil, the land grows inhospitable for at least a hundred years. So even if they defeat the demons after an attack, it would be considered their loss.

Plenty bit their lips in frustration. Anyone could see the King was trying everything he could to manage what little resource they had, but at the end of the day, the world just kept losing color. Forget beating the demons, soon the plants and plains will wither and die. And when that day comes, so will humanity itself.

Yet, the King remained standing, ready to deliver one more piece of news.

“As you know, about two and a half years ago, we sent adventurers out on an expedition to find something that may help humanity overcome the demons, to understand where their sudden surge in power comes from, and to vanquish them for good,” he said.

That single line hooked the attention of everyone in the halls. The feelings of anger, frustration, sadness and despair a moment prior completely disappear even if for just this one moment.

Adventurers were not the sort of people anyone found pleasing. They were despicable, vile lowlifes who when not risking their lives going beyond the walls to move around the now small world, caused nothing but trouble in the Kingdom. Many-a-times before, they have come into conflict with nobles and knights alike, trying to swindle money or bend the law to their advantage.

They were seen as the outcasts of the kingdom, but that was not why they reacted the way they did.

“For two years. For two years we waited without a single one returning. At this point, most of us had all but believed they had perished, searching for a world beyond the Domain of Demons.”

Everyone held their breaths. Everyone already knew this piece of information. That means there was more to know. As anticipation built up, the King bowed his head and touched his forehead, thanking the gods.

“Today, I hereby announce, the adventurers have returned.”

That single bit of news made everyone in the hall look up into the tapestry, holding their breaths. To the gods who bestowed on them this gift, to return the vile adventurers, what could this mean for their Kingdom? What news would the King share? If there was a way out of this hell, they would want to know what it is.

“Of the one hundred adventures that were set on this quest, merely five were able to return. Two far too injured to speak, and one died from their wounds. The remaining two were able to provide their testimonies. And if what they said is to be believed, we have uncovered where the Demons have been hiding,” the King held his breath for a moment, and everyone else waited in anticipation.

“The base camp of the demons, and their creation of a weapon with the potential to eradicate the remaining remnants of humanity forever.”