A New Front

Agravain put both hands on the war table, studying a map of the new 'world' they'd found themselves in, "We face a new threat."

The Knights of the Round Table, the ones that had chosen to swear fealty to the Lion King, stood around him. 

With the exception of Mordred, who had run off after being harshly rebuked by their King for her outburst... they couldn't afford to chase her down at the moment.

The other knights, namely, Lancelot, Gawain, Tristan and Gareth, stood with grim countenances, the lantern on the table casting long shadows in the dim tent.

"I find this troubling... and difficult to accept." Lancelot broke the silence with a sigh, leaning onto the table, "I apologise but, there is no way Sir Aston could possibly rebel."

Gawain looked at his fellow knight strangely, "Will you disregard what we've relayed? Our enemy is not Sir Aston, it is some vile mockery of a great knight made by false deities." The Knight of the Sun slammed his fist on the table, "We must avenge him! And put an end to what has taken his place!"

A certain gloom hung about the 'Round Table' without a certain someone cracking cheap jokes and taking jabs at the expense of his comrades.

"B-But Lord Aston wouldn't give in." Gareth offered meekly, fists clenched so tightly that her own nails dug deep enough to draw blood.

Tristan put a hand on her shoulder, "Ours is borrowed time. With his ideals... I fear your teacher may not have resisted as much as he once would."

Agravain grit his teeth, offset by the effects losing Aston had on their collective morale.

What did it matter?

One of theirs was gone, and it was their duty to see his will done.

Clearing his throat, he moved his hand along the map, circling a significant region on the piece of parchment, "This area was dunes of sand, as reported by Sir Tristan and Gawain. But, recent reports from forward scouts indicate that it has morphed into dense forestry."

He paused, letting the information sink in, "Any incursion has been met with swift neutralisation... The one report we did get would have us believe automata descended on them."

"Some kind of noble phantasm?" Lancelot asked calmly, his face oddly devoid of emotion...

That was strange, the knight was stoic certainly but never made an effort to hide what he felt.

Ignoring his thoughts, Agravain nodded, "I believe so."

He then traced his finger from the confirmed location they had of the Egyptian Empire to the newly formed forests, "A great degree of combatants have engaged these automata... The altercations have been sparse but brutal."

"How mortifying... It seems we must toil and wage war over the most minor of issues in all ages." Tristan sighed.

Agravain glanced at him before returning to his explanation, "This works to our advantage. We can let the enemy forces exhaust each other before moving for a swift takeover."

Leaving those words, he walked over to one of the side tables and picked up a rolled up piece of paper. He then laid it out on the main table, "These are the plans for Camelot our King has seen fit to share... We will focus our efforts on this for now."

"But... what about the refugees?" Gareth asked in a small voice, trying to make herself appear as small as possible.

"I was getting to that." Agravain nodded and tapped a finger on the new region, "While he has labelled himself the King of Tyrants, most of the refugees have started migrating to his territories... Scouts report mass movement. I do not know why he is accommodating them but I doubt it is for a good reason. It also goes against our King's plans for humanity."

Lancelot clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction at his last words but otherwise stayed put.

"Moving on," Agravain cleared his throat again, "This 'Tyron' boasts power we can not hope to counter, individually at least."

He looked to Gawain who nodded and explained further, "I am loath to admit it but he physically restrained Excalibur Galatine at it's strongest... He tossed me and Sir Tristan aside."

Tristan nodded in affirmation, not even slightly ashamed of admitting their loss.

This information was critical, withholding it could possibly lessen their numbers further.

It was a regrettable occurrence but they had been too ignorant in their approach to this campaign, evident in the critical loss they had incurred within less than a week of deployment.

"He sought to summon his 'treasure'. I theorise it is a weapon of some calibre, for him to let go of enemy combatants for it." Agravain spoke without pause, trying to relay as much information as simply as possible, "Furthermore, the automata he commands seem to be divided into separate groups, led by his 'children'."

"Children?" Lancelot repeated in slight confusion, "He has... children?"

"I've concluded that these are high-class servants not weaker than us." Agravain nodded at his fellow knight, "But since no scout has escaped with knowledge of their number or appearance, we are in the dark in this regard."

There were three empires vying for supremacy in this dead land, and his job was to make sure they came out on top.

"Sir Lancelot and Gareth will ride out to intercept a large convoy of refugees." Agravain relayed the orders of their King in a stern tone, "...Failure will not be tolerated."

""Understood.""

Both knights nodded at him.

"If you are to encounter 'Tyron' or one of his so-called 'children'. You are to retreat. His Majesty will move to neutralise them."

-

Tyron stood on a mountain, peering down at a vast expanse of forest as the darkness in his form coiled and shifted with the air, "I will not fail a second time."

His golem legions had started cutting down the trees and terraforming the land to set up the most decadent and indulgent of accommodation, housing and all.

The architecture and plans for the 'city' that would serve his foothold were overseen by a deathly pale fae with flowing pink hair, dressed in a Victorian attire complimented by ribbons and frills. A three pronged obsidian crown rested atop her head, in contrast to his six pronged one.

She 'stood' in the sky, relaying commands to the golem workforce.

"You did not fail the first." Morgan offered coolly, embracing him from the back and resting her head on his shoulder, "It was the... will of humanity that denied us our time... It can not do so again."

Their 'time' had been culled for bringing humanity's walk forward to a complete halt.

"Hm." Tyron didn't discuss the topic further, "...She is late."

The Witch Queen giggled into the metal that formed his neck, "And they say you don't worry. It will do them good to interact with their people. I don't believe anything here could trouble that little dragon."

"That... little dragon... can destroy the world."

"All the less reason to worry. Do you think she's upset with you for stopping her last time?"

They couldn't have children, their natures made it impossible but... that didn't stop him from taking in certain 'children' he believed deserved better... Ah that was a lie, he had taken them because they were too volatile to be left alone but... any who denied their kinship now were his foes.

"..." Tyron paused, "I... I do not know."

He hadn't subjugated the world of man to have it destroyed, he was not the enemy of man it's subconscious believed he was.

The fae overseeing the city jolted, raising her head, and looked back at her parents with a curious glint in her grey eyes, "I'll... make them proud."

-

Hope you enjoyed the chapter.