Knights Apocalyptica

Chapter 184: Brutal Civility

“’Sire, you know not what guest you have sheltered here, nor do you know my estate and kin. I am the son of a rich and puissant king: my father's name is King Lac, and the Bretons call me Erec. I belong to King Arthur's court, and have been with him now three years. I know not if any report of my father or of me has ever reached this land. But I promise you and vow that if you will fit me out with arms, and will give me your daughter to-morrow when I strive for the hawk, I will take her to my country, if God grant me the victory, and I will give her a crown to wear, and she shall be queen of three cities.’

‘Ah, fair sir! Is it true that you are Erec, the son of Lac?’

‘That is who I am, indeed’ quoth he.

Then the host was greatly delighted and said: ‘We have indeed heard of you in this country. Now I think all the more of you, for you are very valiant and brave. Nothing now shall you be refused by me. At your request I give you my fair daughter.’ Then taking her by the hand, he says: ‘Here, I give her to you.’

Erec received her joyfully, and now has all he desired. Now they are all happy there: the father is greatly delighted, and the mother weeps for joy. The maiden sat quiet; but she was very happy and glad that she was betrothed to him, because he was valiant and courteous: and she knew that he would some day be king, and she should receive honour and be crowned rich queen.”

- Chrétien, de Troyes, Erec et Enide (1170, 2nd Era)

A week later, the caravan of Pendragon cars blew past a rusted green sign with the bold white letters saying, ‘WELCOME TO TEXAS,’ the last marker for the crew to pull over and rest, confirmed by a crackled radio order from Rochester, a minute after blazing past the sign. The convey of rusty and modified to hell and back cars pulled off the highway to the skeleton of an old-world gas station where they would camp for the night. All adventures and all road trips eventually came to an end.

Tomorrow would be it. Tonight, they would have their rest.

Erec jumped out of Yniol’s car, his axe heavy on his back, the remains of his Vallum Armor strapped to the trunk of Enide’s old man’s car. He’d done what repairs he could with VAL and scavenging in the evenings, but it was still far from serviceable or wearable, which was fine since he was under strict orders from Boldwick not to fight, not until he healed.

As he landed on the dirt ground near the gas station, he winced, his ribs screaming. Enide was next to him, wrapping an arm around his side and stopping him from bowling over. Once sure that he wasn’t about to topple over, she snorted.

“Still moving too quick, hero. Gotta learn to take it easy.”

“There isn’t time for that,” Erec shook his head, “We’ll be back at the Kingdom tomorrow, and it’ll only be more difficult—I’ll have a lot to do.”

“Don’t sweat it, not like you’re gonna be doing it alone,” she ran her hand through his hair, a smirk on her face, “Y’know, assuming that your Knights don’t just kick us on our asses when we try to go past that curtain with you. Guess if they did, you would still have those friends of yours. Shit, still can’t believe Rochester’s down for this, but I guess y’all went on long enough with us that he doesn’t wanna cut ties here. Not that I’m complaining, not if I wanna see more of you in the future. Can’t do that if you’re locked up behind that wall.”

“We’re of the Order of the Verdant Oak; there would never be a time when I’d be locked up completely in the Kingdom. That’s the whole point of our Order.”

She hummed in agreement and gave him an eye roll. While she’d listened to him about the Kingdom and his place in it, she’d never entirely pieced together how it all connected. Nor did he think she understood the scale of it. Vega was big—but the Caverns that the Kingdom called home vastly outsized that city. It was, after all, a Kingdom. Flush with people. Life there functioned in a way and scale that people who were used to wandering the wastes in their Packs would have a difficult time grasping. But she’d understand, granted that Boldwick and the Duke got their way, and the King followed through on the plans he’d set for their expedition.

Erec’s eyes roamed over the cars to a black beater with a cage and welded spikes over the top—the Duke got out of it, swaying slightly in his Armor. A massive hole was blasted through the side of it, but it was still wearable and patched enough to function for transportation, unlike his Vallum.

Boldwick was nearby, climbing out of his car. A small red cube followed him—VAL, though not VAL’s primary host, but a tiny portion of it. Since it'd unveiled itself, Boldwick had a lot of questions for the AI and its intentions towards his Initiate.

Conversely, VAL had plenty of questions for Boldwick, too. It wanted to probe the man’s experience with the wasteland. Apparently, with the access and position Boldwick had been in for so long, he was a prime target for data gathering to facilitate Vortex Industries’ revitalization and expansion.

VAL still insisted that although Erec was now on the Board—the only one left on the Board if the fragments of Erec’s memories of what happened in that Vault were accurate—that didn’t necessarily mean that he was the head of Vortex. VAL claimed they were more like a partnership as it had with Dan before his unfortunate passing. Erec let it hold whatever justification it wanted; he was happy enough for now that the secret was out.

“Hey, Erec,” Enide said softly, watching the people in the Pack and the rest of the Knights make their preparations. Though they didn’t intend to part, things would be different upon their return. The Pendragons wouldn’t be able to ‘hang around’ in the Kingdom very long, and the logistics of their relationship to the Kingdom still had to be decided between Rochester and the King.

And in the midst of that all, there would be resistance.

One form of it, without a doubt, would be from those priests. The victims of a parasite. When Erec told Boldwick what his mother said… The man had been very pissed. But he didn’t let Erec into his thoughts except for his obvious anger and forcing Erec to promise to keep that a secret, even among the Knights.

Those priests would do whatever they could to influence and expel the Pendragons and any outside force to retain their control. Yet it wasn’t just them that they had to worry about. The people of the Kingdom had scant idea of the wide variety of life outside their walls. They didn’t know places like Vega existed, that bastards like Seven-Snakes scurried around in the wasteland, or that noble Packs with their rigged-up cars roamed the coast. The most natural reaction to change was fear.

One way or another, change was coming. After tomorrow, the existence of others outside their wall would be undeniable.

“Do you think you could love me?” she asked.

Erec stopped at that. All of his focus now was on her, on those dark brown eyes as she stared at him. His heart ran, and all thoughts of the next day went out of his head.

Did it matter how it all worked out? Without thinking, since thoughts would only get in the way, he pulled her into an embrace, his lips against hers. When they parted again, she drew close to his ear and whispered. “Because I think I might’ve fallen for you, but I’m afraid of what that means.”

“…I… Might have fallen for you. Even if we don’t know what that’ll mean, we’ll find a way,” Erec whispered back .

She was the wind to his fire, and no matter what this shit-wreck of a world brought to them, together, they could burn it all down.

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Outside of the steel curtain sat a whole host of forbidden technology. Cars, guns, and even outsiders that weren’t supposed to exist, at least to the public’s knowledge. They’d been sitting there all day, mingled with Knights from his own Order.

Grandmaster Oak chuckled softly to himself, hands on his hips as he stared down at all of the fabulous chaos. If he turned around, he could see an equal amount of frantic scrambling inside—Knights running around, the army trying to direct and contain itself. At the edges of it all, those red-cloaked priests were stirring up a fuss and screaming about blasphemy and sin.

“The children are awfully upset over nothing all that special when taken into consideration. A couple of Master Knights could deal with these outsiders on their own unless there’s something non-obvious at play,” Grandmaster Lotus muttered, shaking his head. Up here, the old man kept shivering, but Oak knew that the cold couldn’t have bothered him that much. The wizened old bastard loved to put up a show about his age.

“This is something special, and they have cause to be.” Grandmaster Flames said darkly, “To invite outsiders into our home undermines the policy the Kingdom has maintained for over a hundred years. It spits in the face of tradition and unnecessarily threatens the status quo that we seek to provide for our people to live undisturbed and fulfilling lives.” Yeah. That fit her, a stickler for tradition the old bat was, and as ardent to the Church that the woman was devoted. Though she had silver-like eyes, they weren’t the result of that ritual the priests underwent but rather from her age and blindness.

The point was, she had the church staff so far up her ass, she might as well have been a priestess herself.

“I don’t know…” Grandmaster Towers muttered and shook her head, looking at her wall with a frown. “Lotus is right. They don’t seem all that dangerous.”

Good for her. She was still getting adjusted to her role, she took the vows of the Azure Tower seriously. Defending these people was her primary objective; well. Almost her primary objective. Their real primary objective was incoming.

“It’s not how they seem but what they represent,” Flames replied.

Far on the road, a smaller procession of the Army was parting the priests like a red sea; nobles flocked inside of the ball of Army like birds to a feeder, orbiting the central power of the Kingdom. Trailing, the nobles followed their retainers and other peoples of title and their servants and guards—in the King’s wake, a trail of rich blood and civilian administrators tried to vie for his attention, gather information on their enemies, and fangle their way into the grace of the man who led the procession. Oak's eyes weren’t as good as Towers or Lotus’, but Oak didn’t need great eyes to know the King had arrived.

He could feel him from here. The power of the royal mantle that weighed on the man’s shoulders. Of course, he’d arrived personally to deal with this situation at their gates—a situation that Oak was privileged to know was of his own making—Oak couldn’t help but chuckle again at the tought.

“The people do love a show, don’t they? Good for them; they’re getting one today. Nothing livens up life like a little bit of drama and intrigue.” Oak said.

Down below, in every tavern, this event would be the talk of the entire Kingdom. Drunkards would mumble together and come up with the most deranged theories on the people who would—inevitably—enter their Kingdom. Especially since the people throwing the doors wide open to these strangers, whom they didn’t believe existed before today, were none other than the Kingdom’s most prominent two heroes. As soon as this stuffy guard duty was over, Oak intended to be right down there with them. He would drink and toast the power of the Crown. Then, once he was a few cups deep, along with the rest of the tavern, he’d toast the formidably of humankind to survive outside of the wall for this long.

For as long as Grandmaster Oak had been up there, watching the hullabaloo, after the King arrived, things moved swiftly. People parted, and the royal family was escorted quickly to the entry of the steel curtain. The Royal Guards flanked the doors, then the Knights, and lastly the military. Onlooking at the edges were the nobility and the priests and, at the very outskirts, the people who made their home on the surface. Farmers, porters, and anyone who caught sight of the chaos of this event and decided they wanted a peek at what was happening.

Only ten minutes after first spotting the King, the order came up at the wall to open the gate.

Then it was open.

Oak watched them talk down below, ignoring the tittering and hemming and hawing of the other Grandmasters, a smile plastered to his face. Down there were his Knights. They’d been sent out on this expedition and came back with something they’d never been able to bring back from the wasteland before.

For the first time in the history of the Kingdom, the Order of the Verdant Oak hadn’t just officially been the eyes of the Kingdom outside of their walls. They’d been the voice.

The King spoke to the people driving the cars, a long conversation no doubt filled with formalities and a feigned distance. He couldn’t present himself as too eager for this despite the whole thing being the culmination of his will. In response to something, his Knights got to their knees in a gesture of respect towards the King—as did those wild folks that rode in here with them.

Oak shook his head. He had to admire these people; hell, he’d see if he could get a drink with them in a couple of days. The rough-and-tumble lifestyle they appeared to live based on their cars and attire called to something deep in him, that couldn’t be found in their Kingdom.

With a command from the King, the people rose, the crowd behind him parted… and a couple of the people got in their cars to follow…

Like that, like magic, outsiders followed the King into the walls of the Kingdom for the first time.

“Concerning,” Towers whispered.

“Tragic,” Flames disdained.

“Historic,” Lotus muttered.

“Inevitable,” Oak laughed.

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Erec leaned back in his chair, a far too soft chair for what he was used to. His body liked it, though, even if his mind screamed that it was too comfortable. Nobles danced and chattered as they scattered about the Royal Hall—the Pendragons were mingled about, thrown to the winds of the court, and they looked about as lost as he’d felt his first time in this place when he was a small child.

In front of him, at the table, were several forks, two spoons, and two glasses, one filled with water and another wine. To this day, he still didn’t know which one was proper to use and when. So he neglected trying to care. Instead, he used one of the forks for all of his food and a single spoon for all of the soups—and he didn’t bother with the glass of water and instead stuck with only the glass of wine. Garin leaned next to him, a smirk on his face as he watched the Pendragons mingle. And Olivia sat beside his friend, her hands folded up politely as she watched the proceedings with a steady gaze.

“I’ll let them have a taste of the courts before I swoop in to save some of them,” Garin shook his head. “Don’t have to worry about you too, do I?”

“No, I’ll be fine tonight.”

Enide was somewhere lost among them, as well as Yniol. Imaging the two of them getting on with the rest of the spoiled nobility would’ve been a show in itself. Were he not waiting for his invites to arrive at this prestigious gathering, then he would’ve no doubt tailed the two; if nothing else, then to show them a little bit of support in this place, which he hated to be himself.

But that wasn’t the case.

A fat squirrel ran up to the leg of the table, beneath the notice of the nobility around them. Munchy clambered on up and stole food from Garin’s plate. Afterward, he looked right into the boy’s eyes, and his whiskers twitched.

“Oh, they’re finally here. Munchy says they’re in the garden. You sure you don’t want me to come? You’re still looking a bit rough.”

“No, this one is mine.” Eric groaned, forcing himself out of the too-comfortable chair, cursing it for the blessing of a soft seat. But this couldn’t wait. “Keep an eye on Enide, will you? Give her an out if she runs into anyone too annoying. I’m afraid she might slug someone. Goddess knows I would, in her shoes.” To say that the nobility mixed well with the Pendragons was like saying oil mixed with water. Their lives had very little in common, but still, both sides were at least making an effort to bridge the gap, mainly because the King demanded it.

“Sure thing, man,” Garin shrugged. “Don’t spill too much blood, alright?”

“Take care, Sir Audax,” Olivia bid him a nod.

Erec made a noncommittal grunt, then left the table with Olivia and Garin, making his way past the dancing; within it, he paused as he noticed Colin. His friend’s arms were around a girl with a shock of red hair and a no-nonsense attitude on her face as she guided his awkward friend on the dance floor.

Colin did not look happy. Though his friend had changed and grown on the journey… It seemed not everything about him changed. He had yet to accept the fact that his life was now betrothed to this woman. He wasn’t sure whether to feel bad for Colin or to hope for things to work out. Truth be told, he couldn’t really imagine Colin with anyone at all. Colin was much too interested in himself, and now magic, than anyone else. Maybe Garin might have more insight into that particular issue, but Erec was almost afraid to bring up the topic.

Colin, unfortunately, caught Erec’s eyes and then mouthed the words, ‘save me, rust bucket.’

Erec shook his head with a smirk and walked away before Colin could find yet another escape from the woman. He really did have better things to do than to get tangled in that mess. He cut through the crowd, then through the hall, and finally left the palace to arrive outside.

[There they are.]

Sure enough. Erec saw them, and Fury immediately flared to life. His guests. The ones he’d exercised authority and his connection to the King in order to get invites to: Oswald, Hershel, and the four other merchants that he’d last seen when fleeing the Seventh Cavern. The bastards who tricked him into signing an agreement about his Cavern then tried to get him expelled from the Kingdom through the priests. They saw him, paled, and then gathered up to support one another the way a squad of Knights might before facing down a monster.

Oswald was their front, placing himself between Erec and the rest of the merchants. He plastered a smile on and dipped his head down low. A greeting one might show to very close friends, though both of them knew they were nothing anywhere close to that.

“Ah, young Count Audax, we’ve heard you returned from the wasteland with a host of new companions. It is a welcome sight to see you—I admit, we were all quite surprised to receive an invitation to such a historic high-court event, doubly so by our most gracious Count, who was expected to be in the wasteland for Goddess knows how much longer.” Oswald said, his jowls quivering like they were already tired from holding that fake smile on his face.

“Save it,” Erec said, getting in close. He didn’t bother playing pretend—he let Fury stoke his aching body into action, went up, grabbed Oswald by the collar, and lifted the fat man into the air. It was easy, surprisingly so. He watched the man’s pudgy legs kick out under him for a couple of seconds and then slammed a fist right into the overgrown gut, sending the guy flying into another of the merchants, bowling the woman over right with Oswald.

There was a scream from one of them—nobles were looking their way and already starting to gossip, but Erec couldn’t care less. None of them would get involved. This sort of brutality was far outside of their norms for events like these, so they didn’t know how to engage, if they’d even want to.

Hershel took the center, the richest, and truly the one with the most influence in their group. A scowl was on his face as he stared at Erec. “That is not legal, and you shall pay dearly for this violence.“

“Look at where we are,” Erec gestured behind him, right towards the castle. “Ask yourself. Ask who allowed you to come here. Ask why you came. It wasn’t for me; we both know I’m the last person here you wanted to speak to, but you rats came out of the cracks because you smelled food. You saw the invitation and, in your greed, imagined only the potential contacts you could make with nobility to wheel and deal. And I gave you that. That is your carrot. And now, I’m showing you the stick.”

Erec strode forward in a single bound, standing above the rich old man; he saw the merchant shake there, knowing he must be looking up into Erec’s eyes, seeing the red glow of them. Thinking how he, too, could be thrown around like nothing. Because before Erec’s eyes, he might as well have been nothing.

These people weren’t monsters. They weren’t anything close to it, but if they wanted to act like pests, then he’d treat them like it. Civility had its place. But so did power and the respect that power should command, lest the wielder of it give up on the pretense of caring about civility.

[Oh, he soiled himself.]

“Our previous contract is null and void; any further advantaging of the Seventh Cavern will be punished severely. Trust me: you don’t want to know what the details of that entail. I am not afraid of the Church, and the Crown will back my call on this. You will bow down to me and serve me as your Count. If you do, you may rejoice in the glory and opportunity I bring. Otherwise, you can be like Oswald there. Beaten and crying on the ground.” Erec glared at Hershel, and the man stepped back.

Erec followed him, then shoved him, knocking Hershel flat on his ass.

“Do you understand?” Erec asked, wanting confirmation.

“I—yes, Lord Audax!” Hershel choked out, staring up at him; he slid backward on the ground, trying to crawl away but scared to fully commit.

“Good. Now go find a maid and ask them politely to help clean yourself up. You have a party to attend, you fucking rat.” Erec said, rolling his shoulders as he let Fury pass through his system, turning away to take a walk in the gardens.

He’d dwell here for a long moment, and then he’d return to the party. Civilized, at least on an outward appearance, even if inside, he’d decided that he needed to be nothing close to it.

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