A Knight's Woe

Agravain knelt to the Lion King, his internal conflict over the undeniable fact that his 'king' was a woman hidden by his near perfect poker face, and continued his report, "The false Crusaders will be destroyed for their folly within the day, my King." Speaking reverently and plainly, Agravain went back to staring at the barren rock below him, not raising his gaze.

"I see."

The Iron Hand wanted to grit his teeth at that ever so distant and emotionless voice but stopped himself and stared at her back in silence as she peered off into the distance, her armies marching off to do her bidding below her.

This, was a King that had left behind her very humanity for her people, given up the desire and emotions that made men men, all for their sake, so that they may see a better tomorrow, prosper and live in peace.

Yet why?!

Why did they not understand that?!

Why where they so blind?!

Why had they betrayed someone who gave up so much... for them?

Not even the common man, her own sworn knights and protectors and gone off one after the other. They had repaid her trust with a dagger to the back.

It was numbingly infuriating.

Yet now, he was to work with these traitors, work with Lancelot who had killed sweet Gareth and broken the sacred pact between knight and king. The man who had driven one of the greatest among them, a man he himself had called brother once, to the brink of madness, to the point where all he could do was crack jokes and feign lackadaisical disregard to hide what was underneath.

The traitor who ended Agravain's own life.

And Tristan, the fool who DARED claim their King did not understand the hearts of men! How foolish did one have to be to make such a claim?!

Agravain grit his teeth and pushed aside the frustration that welled up in his heart every time he saw them or their king, it didn't matter. He too had failed her, but now, with this chance, he would be damned if it happened again.

He would rip out their throats with his own bare hands.

For all the hate and loathing Sir Aston harboured for Lancelot, he could not bring himself to kill the man.

Well, Agravain could.

The knight was brought out of his musings by his King suddenly twisting her head in a certain direction and looking closely, he could make out a faint sea of dark spilling from the sky, only to disappear moments later... Just what had happened?

And then, his King uttered a word that brought true dread to the heart of Agravain of the Iron Hand.

"...Sister?"

For a mere moment, the Lion King was ready to enter combat herself.

Agravain paled as much as his sickly skin could allow.

His mother?

Morgan le Fay?

The craven witch that had plotted to bring about the downfall of Camelot? The damnable woman who had put him up to killing his King? The cruel woman responsible for his siblings' suffering?

"No... But." The Lion King turned to face him, her green boring holes into the knight's orderly countenance, "Sir Aston has perished, as has Richard the Lionheart."

The sheer lack of emotion with which she delivered the news made even Agravain doubt for a second that it was their King who was talking to him, he remembered how her lips had quivered upon news of Lancelot's betrayal. There was no way she could have no reaction to the death of one of her oldest companions.

"If I may be so bold... How?" Agravain asked out of disbelief, the Knight of Atrocity had undeniable power.

Artoria seemed to pause for a moment, "I do not know."

Richard the Lionheart had been powerful enough to take Aston with him, that was the only conclusion that made sense, but that would mean the former had been powerful enough to do so. Something Agravain didn't wish to believe.

"My condolences, it is... a regrettable occurrence."

"...It is." The Lion King walked away and Agravain refused to raise his head, for fear that his image of the perfect King of Knights would be ruined, "I shall see to the making of Camelot soon. Recall Sir Tristan and Sir Gawain. Handle Sir Gareth."

"Your will be done, my King."

For his ideal kingdom, Agravain refused to lose to the sadness in his heart.

It was a pity that she had to see this again, from what he recalled in his talk with Sir Aston, he had taken his last breath, standing before her.

-

Within the great pyramid erected at the centre of Meryamen's summoned Egypt, the King of Kings, Sun King Ozymandias was disturbed from his rest by a familiar presence. His sun-like eyes wandered across the throne room and eventually settled the clearing that both served as a doorway and stairway leading down to his great city.

Ozymandias lifted his head from his hand, focusing for a moment before returning to his original position, "So you've come as well." His attention was drawn to a presence among the vast, endless sands he'd found himself in, "As foolish as ever I see."

His memories wandered to a war fought in another time, to a certain fool that had declared his presence to all forces as soon as he had arrived, a fool who had broken the pact the war was fought under by levelling a part of the human city they were in on the first day of his arrival.

The damnable idiot who had thought he, the King of Kings, would submit to the will of a fool.

"What bothers you, Great Pharaoh?"

Ozymandias' eyes settled on the girl standing below him, looking at him in curious worry, "Nothing bothers me. Another fool has wandered into this brewing conflict." Nitocris, a pharaoh of Egypt, of his line, but not as great as the incarnation of the Sun God that was he, Ozymandias. A purple haired woman of dark complexion whose body held a fragility many would be drawn to.

"Aside, Saracens and the knights we've encountered?"

His silence was answer enough.

"How shall we proceed? Shall I depart myself?"

An individual of boundless confidence and pride, who refused tact, Ozymandias answered plainly, "You would die the moment you declared defiance. A fool, but one with power." An amused smile formed on his lips when Nitocris physically recoiled at his words, surprised, "I suppose this will be interesting if nothing else."

He would never admit or accept that even he didn't currently possess the power needed to instantly quell the new threat.

"M... May I ask the name?" Nitocris looked worried, afraid that she might upset or offend Ozymandias.

A faint chuckle escaped his lips, "Tyron. A tyrant."

A being who was in direct opposition to the King of Kings.

"A fool that was never meant to exist in this world."

"...I see." Even Nitocris seemed to understand the class of heroic spirit that had appeared, "Then I shall prepare and notify our forces of a new kingdom." Bowing deeply, she walked away.

Ozymandias didn't respond, the foolish people of this age would surely go to him. For he was a ruler that demanded nothing but obedience in exchange for his protection and aid, they would foolishly believe that being reduced to sheep was a good way to live.

For the King of Tyrants had no use for manpower or effort.