Everything was swallowed by darkness. Not even a speck of light could be seen.
When Lancel came to and opened his eyes, he froze.
"Cheers to Arthur!"
"Cheers!"
Lancel glanced around. Moments ago, he had been lying on the ground, nearly on death's door.
Now, he was suddenly thrown into some sort of lavish party, seated at a wide round table with food filling every corner.
"Why don't we get a few words from our commander for the successful siege?"
At that moment, faces Lancel didn't recognize all turned toward him. From the way they were dressed, it was clear they were all knights.
But knights were a specific term. Even these days, adventurers wore full-plated armor. The term knights was reserved for those who had taken up chivalry, most notably in the Empire of Brinte.
"Sir Lancelot? Any words for the Round Table?"
Lancel looked around, confusion clear on his face, before pointing at himself.
"Me?"
"Who else?"
Lancelot.
