The moment my boots stepped through the portal, the moment the cold, slightly damp air of Camelot's basement hit me, so too did countless sensations and a wealth of information.
Camelot wasn't just a city; it was an extension of my Lance, of Rhongomyniad, one of the consoles of the world itself.
Therefore, I shared a deep connection with my city, my home.
And through that connection, I learned much, even without speaking to a single person or seeing anyone.
Because the city above me felt... different.
Not the city itself; it stood as always, as unchanging and perfect as when I had manifested it from my dreams.
No, what had changed was the atmosphere itself, the people.
The joy, the liveliness of yesteryear was gone.
Replaced instead with a heavy grimness.
Like a dark, gloomy cloud hovering over the normally cloudless capital of a rainy kingdom.
When I left in secret, I knew it was possible that dark forces would take full advantage of it, of my absence, and that of my knights and army.
Yet I hadn't left my kingdom undefended; I still had knights here, and many loyal followers who swore to me that they would do their best.
In fact, the plan was to never let people know I was gone at all, to deceive them all.
It wasn't righteous to lie to my people, but it was meant to ensure they wouldn't panic.
Because that would only give dark forces more room to maneuver.
So... for me to feel this much negativity... what had gone wrong?
"Ahhh, finally home. Damn, I can't wait to check my socials. I bet everyone must be going crazy without my updates," Mordred said excitedly as she stepped through the portal.
"Surely you haven't forgotten that Vivian was left in charge of managing them before we left. If all went well, no one even noticed you were gone," Sir Bedivere helpfully reminded Mordred, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.
One by one, the Knights of the Round Table stepped through the portal.
All relieved to be back home once more, relieved that the war was over and that it had been won so decisively.
"Tell me, Wong, what has happened while we were away?" I asked the sorcerer who had kindly opened the portal for us.
The mortal sorcerer instantly became nervous, and why wouldn't he? Everyone was curious about what had happened while they were gone, so now he suddenly had all of us looking at him.
And none of us here were normal people, and the more you knew, the less normal we were.
As an elite sorcerer, someone who could potentially become Sorcerer Supreme in the future, he understood full well just how ridiculous this war had been.
"I'm afraid I don't know. I, along with everyone else, have been constantly busy putting out one fire after another. With the Sorcerer Supreme busy, many problems appeared that demanded our attention," he explained.
"But we handled most of them, so there shouldn't be any major problems," he continued, trying to reassure us that they hadn't allowed demons and dark forces to cause chaos while we were away.
"That makes sense. As for the details, we will have to speak with Sir Agravain for a detailed report, but with him in charge of things while we were absent, I doubt anything went wrong," Gawain said with great trust in Agravain's abilities.
He wasn't wrong either; if anyone could keep the peace when so many knights were gone, it would be him.
Yet my own senses told me something was wrong.
"I will meet with Agravain, but I will also need a summary of the major events that have occurred during our absence," I said to Wong, who quickly agreed, seeing that I was not someone who liked to be kept in the dark.
As we left the large room, the knights parted ways, all of them eager to see their homes and rest after the long and tiring war.
Well, long was truly relative here; for the world, it had been seven weeks. For us? Maybe a few days, but those had been filled with constant fighting, without many breaks. Honestly, the whole thing had been a total disaster.
Even now, I was shocked by the conclusion of it all.
It just felt... too easy.
But I could ponder that later; first, I wanted to figure out what had happened while I was away, what had caused this gloom to befall my beautiful capital, and likely my entire kingdom.
-----
The trip through the castle itself offered little insight into the state of things; it was, as always, empty. Well, never fully empty, but for a castle this size, it was practically deserted.
But my knights and I simply didn't need that many attendants around us, so going through the halls without meeting anyone was entirely possible.
Yet even the Enforcement Knights were missing, which was surprising. Even though they mostly served a ceremonial role here, I doubted Agravain would remove them for no reason.
Sir Agravain was in the Royal Office, a place I had fully expected to find him, as he was currently in charge of the realm, and knowing him, he wouldn't dishonor such a responsibility.
Yet the state he was in was surprising.
He was a Heroic Spirit; even given a living body, he shouldn't look like this—like he hadn't rested for weeks. Even my knights who had just returned from Hell didn't look this exhausted.
Even more shocking was the state of my office.
All manner of high-tech machines had been dragged into the room, transforming the once-classic office into a high-tech command center.
There stood Agravain, one of the biggest supporters of my ban on bringing technology into Camelot... using it in my very office.
Which spoke volumes about how dire the situation must be for him to go this far.
"My King!"
"Your Majesty!"
"King!"
Instantly, everyone in the room turned around and knelt, a sight that filled me with a strange yet familiar sense of satisfaction.
"At ease," I said with a wave, my eyes scanning the room, quickly assessing the situation.
Agravain, my loyal knight, my right-hand man, looked... defeated. His shoulders were slumped, his face etched with a weariness that went beyond mere exhaustion. It was the look of a man who had carried a burden too heavy for too long.
"Agravain," I said, my voice a low, steady murmur. "Report."
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice a hoarse, strained whisper. He took a deep breath, as if gathering the strength to speak, and then began to recount the events of the past seven weeks.
He spoke of the Sentinels, of the global crisis, of the world's desperate cry for help.
He spoke of the initial shock, the devastating losses, the realization that this was not a battle that could be won with conventional tactics.
He spoke of the defense of Albion, of the heroic stand of the Enforcement Knights, of the courage of the mutants who had fought to protect their homes.
He spoke of the Illuminati, of their desperate struggle, of the sacrifices they had made, and of the hard choices they had been forced to make.
But he also spoke of hope.
The first weeks had been disastrous. The Sentinels had appeared in numbers no one had expected, striking across the world before most nations even understood what was happening.
They had been designed for war against mutants, yet they had proven equally effective against conventional militaries. They adapted quickly, learned from every engagement, and shared whatever they learned with the rest of their kind.
A tactic that destroyed ten one day might fail against the eleventh.
A mutant who could effortlessly tear one apart might find the next Sentinel equipped specifically to neutralize their power.
Yet, for all their horrifying capabilities, the machines were not invincible.
The Illuminati had learned as well.
They had identified weaknesses in the Sentinel communication systems, isolated several of their command networks, and destroyed many of the facilities responsible for producing reinforcements.
The armies of the world had finally stopped fighting as isolated forces and begun coordinating their efforts.
Wakanda had shared weapons.
Latveria had shared technology.
Stark Industries had begun producing specialized countermeasures, while scientists and engineers across the world worked without rest to uncover new weaknesses.
Though as the tides turned and terrible weapons were used against them, the Sentinels unleashed their final tactic, a truly horrific one.
They targeted Albion.
Whether they had been able to figure out the situation, with the King and her knights missing, or not, one thing had been certain.
They came.
As for why they targeted Albion, Agravain didn't even need to say.
I understood it, or could at least guess.
For one, Albion had the single largest mutant population in the entire world, and secondly, this was my home.
It was humanity who had unleashed these weapons upon themselves, knowing full well they would target my realm, my people.
And I would naturally not let something like this go unanswered.
So once the Sentinels realized they themselves couldn't bring about humanity's end, once their own end was in sight, they decided to cause as much damage as possible and let me, this strange, inhuman goddess, finish their work by exacting my terrible revenge upon humanity.
"Your Grace," Sir Agravain said, "I failed your trust. You entrusted the realm to me, your people into my hands, and I allowed war to reach your lands, your people to be slaughtered, and their homes to be burned."
He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping, the full weight of his perceived failure pressing down on him.
I listened in silence, my face an impassive mask, betraying none of the storm raging within me. But my soul burned. My fingers, clasped behind my back, tightened into white-knuckled fists.
Was I really destined to always return to a realm broken by war whenever I went on an expedition elsewhere?
Could my beloved homeland truly never know peace?
I forced the thought down, unclenched my hand, and raised it.
"Sir Agravain."
He slowly raised his lowered head, guilt and exhaustion marring his features in equal measure.
He expected a reprimand; no, he expected to be stripped of his position, perhaps even banished, such was the severity of the crime in his own mind.
But there would be none of that.
"Raise your head, my loyal knight."
He looked up into my eyes.
"I left you in charge because I trusted you, because I knew that you alone possessed the necessary skills and abilities to hold my kingdom together in my absence, because in some aspects, you are better at being a king than even I."
"My King!"
"No," I interrupted his interruption.
"You are humble, but your abilities aren't; they are without equal when it comes to administration, to strategy, to logistics, to making the hard choices a king must make. I do not blame you for the actions of my enemies; I commend you for the service you rendered in my absence."
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"War came to my lands," I continued, my gaze sweeping over him, then over the other knights in the room, who had listened with rapt attention. "War that I did not foresee, a threat that I did not anticipate. And you, Sir Agravain, stood against the tide. You held the line. You saved my people. You did not fail. You succeeded."
I placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of trust, of reassurance, of unwavering faith.
"I am proud of you. You see only your own failures, but I know that, had it been anyone else, they would have done far worse. You did your best, and that is enough. Thank you, Sir Agravain," I said sincerely.
For a stoic man like him, this kind of praise from me was enough to bring him to the verge of tears. But he was a Knight of the Round Table, and so he held them back, but only just.
Instead, he merely nodded and said, "I don't deserve your praise, Your Majesty."
He then looked at me with renewed determination; it seemed my words had worked better than any command.
"My King," he began his report with renewed vigor, only to be interrupted as the door behind me was blasted open.
"Father! Big trouble!" Mordred shouted at the top of her lungs as she ran in, looking at me as if the world was about to end again.
She was not the only one; right behind her were Gawain and Bedivere, neither of them looking any better.
"Mordred, calm down and speak clearly," I commanded with a sigh. Clearly, the rest of my knights had also learned of the trouble that had befallen my people and our home.
(End of chapter)
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