28. Lancelot vs Justinus

Justinus POV:

He stood there fighting the man known as Lancelot. A knight said to have received the same blessing as of Arthur. A flurry of emotions flickering deep in his heart. This was however the first bout against an individual of an enemy nation. To him, a feeling of joy wrenched in his heart. But really can anyone blame me, for this seems quite fun of an event for oneself such as me to indulge in. After his so-called ascension, the king changed getting used to their verbose assaults, he shifted his own paradigm and ran their wavelength with ones his own.

'Ah let's see if the great me could recruit this lost cause of a knight' Knights were known to be headstrong talking with their fists and swords rather than words. If such held relevance to this french knight the be it so. Sully, his self to mud and rampage his dichotomy of trust. The world truly was against me. On one hand King Arthur with his merry band of knights and the other with a group of maharajas and the might of the Indus valley. If he had not cheated information from Morgan on when Arthur would be the most vulnerable, a king such as himself would never be able to bait her in his trap. But again after this battle, his reputation will take a deep dive anyways. Using cheap tricks like asking for a truce but just betraying them at the end will indeed cause the trust to go out from his name. That again only held true if he lost, that is...

Now he finds himself with a clash against a knight with a similar past to his own. Sorrow wretched his heart to pick the blade. A king he is but the emotions still his plight. Unconquerable it stood, Unrelenting it acted. Through no means even as a king could Justinus herald his own emotions. Not like him? Not like that wretched king of Camelot. I wonder what his family fed him that he shows nothing to his face. Now though the king fights once more, not in a pit of the gladiator those memories still haunted his nights but in a blade dance with a knight.

If his words were a dance of blades then he too as a ruler and once gladiators would succumb to his state. For a man sees revulsion towards those higher than them. In his mind, Justinus thought him as of the same, a comrade in arms reaching the impossible without a goal.

Pestilence was his worry but no matter, he, a great king would make an exception. If words held no merit and politics stood as a wanderer than his blade, Cochea Mors will talk in his stead.

A dance soon followed the two. A king and a knight exchanging their techniques and testing them in order to best the other in combat.

To others, the battle seemed too fast to comprehend. One was a light, a bright shining radiance urging all to follow from behind with promise of a new future while the other an aggressor watching them dance in his tunes in delight.

Justinus was prepared after all. The second coming of Julius Ceaser what a farce. A man like him could never turn out to be Julius for the boy since the cradle of birth existed as a bastard. A thrown piece or in a game of cards the joker. The joker in reality having no reason other than to squirm for existence but then their charades bring a smile to the queen's face.

Here the queen was Rome and him the stupid fool. But fool, as he may be, in the end, though jokers won hearts and that was what he need for justification.

Once more the knight and king clashed in their simple dance of blades raving of their experience and delegating wonder to its surrounding. Truly, magic was wonderous, oh how he wished for this to stay as an everyday commodity?

But alas it was a dream and dreams always stay unfulfilled. Like his dream to live a life of happiness and a loving family tending his children. Oh, how one could dream...

The sword of Lancelot, Arongdit sliced a little to his cheeks. A soft warm liquid dripped from his face and landed on the embrace of the soft ground. Showing how infinitesimally unimportant was their relationship in comparison to that filthy mud!! Justinus was furious for being used like that but then a ruler he was and forgiveness his vice.

"Our bout has gone quite long, knight of the round. Let us end our dance with a final sonata in cheers of our embrace." Lancelot eyed him in disgust.

"Despicable was our dance. Through our clash, the truth in our heart expressed. That is how I became a knight while understanding his plight. A character of one can only be indulged in their bouts. This was the only thing I had and will ever have. Even though in blood, I, remain french but a knight is my heart and Camelot its soul. So, no matter what proposition you hold I fail to say the only thing that will leave this ruined place of death's embrace will either be my king's victory or the carcass of the man named Justinus"

"Is that so, how unfortunate. I had high hopes, you know. A man of such calibre rotting away in a small vindictive place truly made my blood boil. You see, I too was like you without any hope for the future until one day someone tore me off my monotony and the hammer of responsibilities bashed on my head. Hearing your tales surely gave me an impression..."

He smiled around this time," ...An impression of a hero shadowed by others. A gem lying on the ground without anyone even showing their appreciation. How horrid must be for you, to be treated like such and that was maybe the reason for why my hand never reached others but to you"

"..."

"So I ask once again as an equal to you Lancelot, not the knight or even the hero, just you. Join me" The words spoken not in a bit of jest but in true modesty. That was it after all against equals there truly was no need of any lies. Just the bare-faced truth was enough.

This time the pure and honourable knight of the round smiled. But this smile was not in hatred but in acknowledgement of this individual who calls himself a king.

"Your words are heartfelt. There was sincerity in every aspect while It makes me delighted to know, how wanted I am. In the end, I still have to refuse for that is my conviction as a man and as a knight"

Words lost in their mouths as both men approached the other. One to fulfil his duty while others in sorrow for his actions. 'You can never save everyone, Justinus' nagging were such words. Prickling as those seemed made his heart lurch in despair.

The man never wished to kill. Hearing his stories from Aria gave confidence to the gait of this self-important man. An urge to follow behind and adoration to his ways. Justinus never liked Arthur for in his mind, the man was perfect. Nothing fazed his ways standing, always ready to protect his beloved Kingdom. Standing in a field of corpses without a shift in his stone-cold face. He truly hated him and maybe that was his reason for such farce.

"Huh..." Heaving a sigh, the king of Rome albeit in name charged forth but this time none of his playfulness or even the banter was exchanged. With each strike of their swords, they mowed the other.

Clash of their blades went on for quite a bit bringing Lancelot in the bowels of desperation, For his knights lay dead in waste. The realization that only, he alone had existed on this demure plains seeping their blood was quite the revelation, making his knees weaken in fright. The king however capitalized on his error and tried to slice him through the knight's armour but in a miracle, the armour glowed dimly showing its act done giving a second wind for the bout.

Once more blood would shed for a conqueror can never stop, never show mercy but only in death. With his sword, he went through all the knight's protections and was about to stab him on his neck. Lancelot stopped in acceptance to his end. But just before the king could land his strike and snuff the life of this knight, A huge amount of light blinded him.

Not just him but everyone in their vicinity. The source of such power confused him and threw a frenzy to his will of reason. He looked on Lancelot to see what became of the man. But the man disregarded a king such as him, an opponent in a duel of blood and looked at the sunless skies.

"What is that?" Peaked in curiosity the king narrowed his eyes to make sense of the visage laying over the plains.

King Arthur stood in the centre with wings shrouding his back. But the more shocking fact was a black spot in the skies which snuffed out the light of the sun.

'What sorcery is this?' Fear drenched Justinus in sweat. Everything was out of the place. Wings sprouting from his back and the black spot proved something to him which he refused to acknowledge from the very beginning, that the king of Rome was not dealing with the realm of humans anymore but on an aspect of the supernatural. The stories of witches and trolls oddly made sense in his mind.

The more changes that the plains accustomed itself to, the more it inscribed fear deep within him.

Finally like a hatched egg, the darkness subsided but what lay in its wake succumbed all enemy or not in hollow despair.

A large dragon with silver scales filling it entirely if not the obsidian tint in its underbelly flapped it wings towards his enemy king. Justinus cowered for even he as a human felt compassion towards Arthur for facing that beast.

Many thoughts went through the mind, of his instant death, his despair or even the emotionless king facing the dragon in his insanity. But the one thing which actually happened broke him entirely. After a brief bout of words that Justinus could not make out of, Arthur rode in its back and took to the skies.

He knew what he should do now, "Run. Everyone. Leave this place if not your wish to be a charred carcass!!!" But in the end, it was too late, it was always too late...

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This is the first chapter I wrote which I deem acceptable even to me as a reader. Praise me, Mongrels for you king has bestowed upon you a new chapter.:)

I sound so cringy. But anyways, peace.