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Lancelot trudged along, further removing himself from the burning buildings in the distance. He limped slightly as he trudged along. His young body was covered in the multitude of wounds he had obtained from just moments before, but they were nothing fatal; he was glowing with victory over the ruins anyhow. He couldn’t help it, after everything they had done, everything they had taken from him. It was practically in his nature to destroy the carefully put together civilization anyways.
They all deserved to burn, burn, burn in the hellfire climbing out of the forgotten well of their past. They had to pay, pay, pay!
The screams of the dying, their twisted voices slowly morphed into nothing but whimpers and cries as their flesh melted from their bodies, turning them into a throbbing puddle of roasted organs and charred bones. Lancelot felt a strange bubbling feeling in his chest as he took a glance back as the Holy village of Weston was turned into ashes. The feelings simmered in his belly and then crawled up through his whole being before slipping past his lips. It was small at first, just the sound of a puff of air, then it turned to a whispered giggle, but it was growing louder, and louder. It wasn’t too long till it was a thunderous laughter insanely bouncing off of the stone ruins and into the sky.
It had felt so good to do what he did to the formerly bustling settlement, it had felt right. Lancelot couldn’t even be concerned by the consequences of his actions. His anger still simmered below the surface, but this bout with civilization that had condemned him had certainly satisfied the more dangerous edge of it all. The newly anointed teen then finally turned from the place that had been his home for the past thirteen years or so, and slowly crept into the darkness ahead of him.
——8 years later——
Lancelot had made his way back up the large hill in which Camelot castle had sat upon with a grunt. There was sweat dripping down his brow, but otherwise he showed no signs of exhaustion. There was hay sticking out of his quills from where he had been hauling a bale of the stuff on each of his shoulders.
It had been years since he arrived at Camelot and he had done various odd jobs around the city since arriving. When he had left his hometown on his 13th birthday, he had gone from village to village, and learned various trades to get money and work to survive, but his anger always caused him to lash out in unexpected ways and it wasn’t long until he would soon be on the road again.
Finally he had made his way to the capital city of the neighboring kingdom. There was no one here who knew his name or had heard much about the things he had done. Surprisingly, he was safe. He had still tried to stay low, but it was becoming increasingly problematic. He could feel the fire burning within him, calling him to once again unleash all of his pent up anger. Lancelot let out a small growl of frustration, the man who had been carrying hay barrels to the royal stables with him jumped at little at the sudden harsh noise, but Lancelot otherwise ignored him.
After he was done with his task he wiped off the sweat and looked around the castle grounds. He was technically a messenger for the palace, putting his speed to good use, but because of his strength he often got settled with other servant’s duties as well. It was not a job he particularly cared for, but it paid the bills well enough. He wanted to do something that fit in more with his skill set, something that might allow the angry inferno that burned behind his eyes some sort of release, yet being a servant was the best he could obtain.
Suddenly there was a flash of light in the corner of his eye, the bright sun glittering off a silver helmet along with a flash of movement. Lancelot turned to see two young knights, one a black dog and the other an orange rabbit, practicing under the dutiful gaze of one of the older knights; a purple cat with a sharp pose and a disciplined glare fixated on the youngsters. There was a slight tilt to her head, like she was unable to fully comprehend what she was seeing properly but it was so subtle that it could also be a tilt of the head to keep the sun out of her eyes.
As Lancelot watched on, his coworker leaving him behind - obviously afraid to bother him from the earlier unprompted aggression - he couldn’t help but laugh at the students. There was a knighting tournament to be held soon to decide on new knights, but it was obvious that these two were never going to be able to finish such a task. He let out a snort at their sloppy footwork and wide swings full of openings. It was no wonder the knight tasked with watching them seemed mildly perplexed; how had they made it this far in their training without gaining some sort of skills?
He had never been trained to be a knight himself, but he had been in plenty of scrapes with them to know how to fight back effectively, although his skill with the sword was somewhat lacking. He watched on a bit longer until the students broke out in a squabble like the noble brats they probably were and then he couldn’t hold back the loud snicker or the look of pure disdain that crossed his face.
The two students had heard the noise and looked over, when they saw the look that Lancelot had fixed them with, their faces began to grow red with fury. A lanky orange fox finally decided to speak out after it seemed their teacher was going to do nothing about the voyeur. “You there, you think that you have any right to judge us? We are training to become knights for a tourney in just two days time!”
The strong and posh accent of the nobility annoyed Lancelot and he wanted nothing more than to crush the throat of the intolerable creature. He coughed, trying to mask the sound of his growing growl of displeasure. He could feel the familiar heat starting to bubble up inside of him, begging to be out and unleashed on these pathetic excuses for ‘knights’. He let out a low huff. “Yes, I do. And who are you to judge my observations?”
“Why you!” The other one, a short black dog, screeched as he started to raise his sword. Lancelot had to take a deep breath; in the long run he didn’t actually want to fight these two children. They might have been around the same age as him but it did not make him think of them as any more mature than if they had been ten years younger. He tried to tamp down the fire, but it was rising to the threat of a weapon pointed at him. So instead he raised up his hands trying to show that he wasn’t looking for a fight.
The dog just smiled with all his teeth bare, an ugly condescending expression. “Ah getting scared I see, so you do recognize what you're dealing with! Maybe next time think before you open that dumb big mouth of yours, ey?”
The fire started to bubble up more. How dare these bumbling fools insult him? Sure they were training to be knights but there was no way they would amount to anything if this was their attitude. Before he could think twice about it his mouth opened and he spat out his words, “Scared, no. Unable to put up with your stupidity is all. If you wish for a fight to prove your worthlessness, then so be it.”
All three dressed up in armor seemed surprised and shocked by this answer and they turned to look at one another. Finally the orange rabbit turned to the knight that had been waiting almost like a statue and asked nervously, “C-can he do that? Surely it would be in the crown's best interest to stop such silly notions. No commoner should try and challenge a night after all.”
The other knight just stood there, not moving a muscle more, but Lancelot suddenly felt a weight on him. It was the scrutinizing gaze underneath the visor. They seemed to be studying him, trying to see if it was really worth the battle. Lancelot adjusted his posture and held his ground. Maybe a fight against someone under layers of protection would take off the itch that he so badly needed to scratch.
The purple cat finally nodded slowly before replying, “As long as you do not kill them, I believe this would be a good opportunity.”
It was vague and cryptic; she never once stated what it would be an opportunity for, leaving up to interpretation for the listener. The two students would probably think that it was to put him in his place. Whereas Lancelot hoped the cat had been able to tell that he had some skill and that it would be a good row to show them just how inept they actually were.
Either way Lancelot walked over to the two knights before grumbling, “So be it.”
The dog smirked and the rabbit took a step back giving them space to start the spar. The dark hedgehog quirked up an eye ridge when he noticed that no one made a move to give him a sword. Was he really expected to fight an armed, trained, soldier with his bare hands? He could easily do it of course, but the last thing he needed to do was to kill these kids with the force surging in his veins. So instead in a low growl he asked, “A sword?”
The purple cat knight looked over at the other trainee for a moment and after the other looked at her with a level of surprise and a roll of their eyes, they handed over their own blade with a withering look. Of course Lancelot was not in the least intimidated by the glare and took the weapon with a swipe of his bare paw. He weighed it in his hand for a moment, it wasn’t perfectly balanced and was slightly top heavy: it would be good for downwards attacks but it would be harder to lift and slow to swing. He could work with that.
Lancelot had never had any formal sword training, but he was confident in his other combat abilities and had observed enough of knights swinging their swords that he was confident that he could handle the weapon well enough to defeat the two bumbling fools.
He gave it a few swings before nodding and the dog who just smirked back as he settled into his stance. The purple cat looked at both of them for a second before curtly nodding. “Begin.”
The knight in training shot forward immediately, but he was slow and clumsy. Lancelot let him get closer looking for his opening, only moving his sword upwards in a defensive position in case the other got in a lucky swing. The dog raised up his sword in a wide arch but it was a lot of wasted movement; sure it might have looked cool, but it was slow and the sword wasn't built with the weight needed to make a good quick downward cut. Lancelot dodge the swing and at the same time flung out his blade in a swift motion to hit the other across the side of their armor. It wasn’t a hard hit, but he put enough force behind it to make the other realize that he would have been dead if the armor wasn’t there.
The black dog stumbled for a moment, a look of shock crossing past his face before it darkened and he turned and once again charged the servant. This time he kept his blade a little closer, obviously finally taking in some of those lessons he should have been taking for years to heart. He approached with a little more caution but it seemed as though he was still fueled by arrogance as the next swing was another large arch.
Lancelot sidestepped it then smacked his blade down onto the other’s adding an unexpected weight causing the dog to drop the blade and his neck being pulled down dangerously close to the blade. The dog cursed as he stood up to address the hedgehog. “You urchin, what kind of unholy tricks are you playing?!”
Lancelot just scoffed and held down his blade, starting to hand it over to the other trainee who seemed to be standing there in slight shock that a servant bested someone who was supposed to be a knight in only 2 strokes. “Tricks? Pft. And what kind of training are you using? Fantasy novels?” He shot back, turning his back on the down knight.
He heard a clattering behind him and turned quickly to see the dog was running up to him still holding onto the blade, Lancelot was now unarmed, if he wanted to be able to walk away from the heavy swing he would have to dodge, so he danced around the dog for a short while. After only several swings though the sword was suddenly knocked out of the youth’s hand once again, this time it was accompanied by an authoritative shout, “Enough! What kind of knight attacks an unarmed civilian? You should be ashamed, and you are banned from ever becoming a knight.”
For a second everyone stood there stunned, looking to where the sword was, he noticed that the handle was pierced by a thinner sword buried in the hilt. The hedgehog blinked several times, registering what had happened. That was…actually impressive. He could feel a slight shiver go down his back as his brain could not even comprehend how someone could be so accurate while throwing a sword. His respect was definitely earned. Lancelot bowed to the knight, showing proper respect and thanking her for stepping in but otherwise stood there with a disapproving look as the youths complained for a short while before figuring out that the point was moot, finally sulking off into the castle with grumbles.
The knight watched the students walk away little before clearing her throat and pulling Lancelot out of his thoughts of how pathetic the next generation of knights were looking as she addressed him.
“I see you have some skill. More than any peasant should.” She gave him a skeptical look, but otherwise held her tongue on any other further thoughts, simply looking him over with a slightly critical eye before continuing in a blank voice. “If you think you are up for it, come to the Tourney. You might not survive, but if you want to move beyond a servant that gets tossed around the castle, it’s the best I can offer. If anyone asks who your sponsor is, tell them it is Lady Percival.”
With that, she turned on her armored heel and started to walk back to the castle after the trainees with purposeful steps, and not a single glance back. Lancelot couldn’t help to look at her with a curious look and a spike of anxiety.
How did she know that Lancelot had been sick of the position of being a servant? He almost wanted to call out after her, but by the time he got his mouth working she was too far away for him to call after the knight. An educated guess on her part, maybe, but he would just have to keep his questions to himself for now. He gritted his teeth, hoping she did not know anything else about him.
He turned to look at the discarded blade on the dirt, picking it up. Well, being in the fight allowed him to blow off his steam, and he was surprised by how exciting it was to be in a battle that was not caused by fear of his death. He enjoyed it, despite it not being much of a challenge.
Maybe he would go to the tourney after all, there was no way he would die to the pathetic knights there, at the very least it would allow him to work out enough of his anger to let him cool down for a lot longer. Who knows, in the best case scenario, maybe he could get a job doing just that.