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“Fff, that Moorington, says I gotta learn chivalry?” Lance said to himself, charging through some poor squirebot’s farm, nearly trampling him and causing a stampede of cows, “Tch, why, I'm the most chival- eh, ry knight, ever!”
It was just a comment in passing, Lance was playing up his status as the greatest knight to ever grace the realm, magnificent and powerful as the stallion he truly was. Clay had snorted and said he wasn’t exactly a beacon of chivalry, and something else Lance didn’t remember that well. Even hours later, miles away on his mecha-steed the fluttery warmth from Clay’s half-hidden grin still burned in his gut. It was probably just annoyance, nothing more than that. Moorington. Probably laughing at him, yeah, definitely laughing at him.
What did Clay know? As if he was some pillar of the community, looking down on him. Made tempered and flawless by the knight’s code, like he was a ray of light and justice to all and just that much better.
Maybe if he looked past his stupid knight’s code he’d see how great Lance was.
“Generosity, check.” He was just as giving as Clay was. Probably more, Clay just gave away his time to anybody, Lance was the one giving food and, uh, other such material things to people. Anyone who needed help with the most menial task would go and steal Clay away when they were supposed to hang out together; at least Lance had limits. Besides, the one person Clay gave everything to ended up stabbing him in the back. Lances way was better.
“Courtesy, check.” Maybe Clay beat him out that one, anyone who’d spend as much time as Clay did with Jestro had to be doing it out of politeness. Lance put up with him for Clay’s sake, maybe he’d eventually see why he liked him so much, but it was far past that opportunity now. Besides, Lance was better company than Jestro. Maybe with him gone Clay could spend his time with someone who was clearly more deserving of it.
Lance was snapped out his Clay-based reverie by a woman screaming, a random globlin attack. The four of them weren’t close to a challenge, a quick dispatch and he’d be on his way.
“Valor, check.” For all Clay’s kindness and virtues, there was shine to him only in battle. Formations and strategy easily recalled in between swings of a sword at least twice his size; adrenaline and reason in complete harmony. Ripping apart hoardes, decapitating monsters and crushing everything in his way to keep them safe. The kingdom, the people, his knights, Lance.
“Valor and dexterity at arms; I have this whole chivalry thing down pat.” Lance said to himself, winking and driving away from the woman coughing from the dust trail behind him. Flawless, just like Clay’s dream-knight.