A Part of History

I could hear Sight's breathing as he carried me on his back, treading back towards the camp. I had passed out at some point. Sight and I decided to leave the garden as it is. We didn't think it'd be found anyway.

I felt light-headed and hungry. And as Sight was lugging me at his back, the ground seemed so far away, like I was floating in the sky. Sight was quite tall, after all. When I woke up, I wanted to drift back to sleep. But we both knew we'd have to answer some people. And I didn't want to leave Sight alone to do it. So I just waited motionlessly, even though Sight had realized I was awake.

Nothing seemed fair to me. Did Grey really have to kill Lancelot and the other knights? Where was Yngvi now? Knowing what Silver was, did Grey really have to die for her? Actually, I think he intended to die even before we set out to find the sword. He had decided on this course of action. So if there was one person who succeeded in achieving their goal, it was Grey.

And Arthur. Was it really over? Just like that?

"Boy", Sight spoke in a grave voice, "do you want to head home instead? We have the sword."

I pondered for a while. I think Sight already knew the answer.

"No. We should tell them."

Sight sighed, and before long, we were in the barracks. He sat me down in a chair. And a medic came along to treat my wounds. Sight stopped her from operating on me.

"Just wrap it up", he said.

She was confused but obliged, as neither of us looked like we wanted to be messed with.

"You came alone?", Tristan joined us shortly.

Sight and I looked at him but remained silent for a while.

He kept standing there.

"I'm sorry, Sir Tristan. We couldn't save Lancelot and the others", I said in a low voice.

Tristan sighed, sitting down with us.

"I thought it might happen. That Lancelot...he was always too soft. Don't hold any grudge against him", he was drinking and offered Sight a mug too.

"We don't hold grudges, knight. Not against the dead ones", Sight accepted the mug.

"That poor Lancelot. He loved King Arthur more than any of us. It is cruel how fate can be sometimes...", Tristan did seem heartbroken.

"Why'd he betray the King?", I asked.

"He never betrayed him. How could he?", Tristan gulped down on the ale, "He was seduced by that witch...Queen Guinevere. She lied to him. Told him Arthur couldn't have children and the lineage was going to die. She said Arthur would never know whose child it was, and his pride wouldn't get hurt. It was a lie from the beginning. And poor Lancelot fell for it—and fell for her too. But his guilt wouldn't let him be. Especially because Arthur forgave him."

"Why did he forgive him?"

"Eh? Why? Oh, you must be one of the ones who thought he was a tyrant too", Tristan didn't seem to think there was any point in hiding it, "Arthur never ordered the slaughter of those mercenaries. Before the previous king fell at the hands of Arthur, he had given out the order. It was quite simple. If I can't have them, then no one can—is what he thought. Arthur didn't realize what was happening before it was already too late."

"Is that so?", I was weirdly skeptical.

"You don't have to believe me", Tristan said, downing another mug of ale, "Arthur knew he would die in that battle. And he didn't think there was any stopping the unrest in the kingdom. When he overthrew his predecessor—Mordred's father—I'm sure he could already see that nothing but a cruel demise would be waiting for him too. And Mordred avenged his father. Arthur allowed him to do it, but he didn't expect Mordred to die that day. Even though Arthur himself killed him. He asked Bedivere to discard the royal sword because he knew the lineage was done for. And no one else could keep Excalibur in check. He saved this country even as he was dying."

Despite the fact that Tristan claimed to have an objective view of the past, he very clearly revered Arthur. And I didn't blame him for it. Even though I didn't say or show it, I did believe what he told me. I didn't think Arthur was a tyrant, perhaps because I could say I had met him.

"Do you blame us?", that curse had said to me the first time Excalibur impaled me.

And I wanted to say that I didn't. There was justification for their anger. But regardless, for us, the living, there was justification in fighting against it and stopping them.

"We'll be taking the sword with us, knight", Sight said.

"Go ahead and do me that favor. The only one obsessed with that legacy is dead."

"Tristan...how is Bedivere doing?", I asked, suddenly remembering that we'd left him on his death bed this morning.

Tristan chugged down a big gulp of ale.

"Lancelot didn't leave his side till the end", he said, "Regardless of what it came to be, Bedivere was with friends at the last moment."

I wonder if Lancelot came after us out of anger. Or did he pursue the same fate that had befallen his friend?

"We should leave now, boy", Sight proposed, finishing his drink, "I'll carry you."

I remained silent.

"What'll you do now, Tristan?", I asked after a pause.

Tristan smiled weakly, "For the honor of the country...for the king...for glory...All that is lost now, isn't it? What the Knights of the Round Table stood for is lost, and so are the Knights themselves. We believed that if Merlin had stayed, we wouldn't have strayed so far. But Merlin made the right decision—he was the wisest after all. The Knights needed to disintegrate—to become history. We're over. The new world has no need for us. There is no place where we belong. We are no different than those stray mercenaries. I think...for now, I'll just be drinking."

Tristan rested his head on the table, and I thought he was going to fall asleep. I looked at Sight, who was ready to leave. I nodded slightly, and Sight helped me up, loading me on his back and securing Excalibur on my back before patting Tristan's shoulder. We left that ruined city behind that afternoon and headed home.