The wandering knight

Sand and wind exploded around me as I charged forward, Excalibur drawn low at my side. The two Chimeras split apart—one trying to flank me from the left, the other coming head-on with bloodlust in its snarling eyes.

I met the first with a swift upward slash.

Steel and fang collided. The force of the impact jolted through my arm, but I held steady. Sparks flew as I parried its claws, twisted my stance, and spun to the side—dodging a snap from its serpent tail by a hair's breadth.

The second Chimera lunged in that moment, its lion mouth wide open, flames glowing in its throat.

"Tch—!"

I ducked and rolled to the right just as a wave of fire burst past me, the heat searing even through my cloak. I came out of the roll on one knee, Excalibur raised again, and thrust upward into the stomach of the first Chimera that had pursued me.

The blade pierced cleanly through its hide.

But it wasn't enough.

With a furious howl, the beast kicked me back with one of its hind legs, knocking me off balance. I skidded in the sand, boots dragging furrows behind me.

Both creatures circled now, moving cautiously.

They were learning.

Their breath was heavy, eyes focused—not just driven by instinct, but watching, predicting.

I wiped a trickle of sweat from my cheek.

"Smart little monsters, aren't you…"

I couldn't afford to drag this out. The longer this went, the higher the chance more threats would arrive. Or worse—one of the Lion King's patrols might find me mid-battle.

I lowered my stance, mana surging through my body.

"False..."

But then I hesitated.

No—not yet.

Not here, not with this little information about the area. Revealing my position, even through the light and sound of a Noble Phantasm, would be too risky. I couldn't draw attention to myself this soon.

Instead, I rechanneled the mana—enhancing my strength, speed, and reflexes. My blade gleamed with renewed power, the air humming around it.

Time to finish this the old-fashioned way.

The Chimera on the right leapt.

I met it midair, striking upward.

Excalibur cleaved through its underbelly like a knife through paper, spilling corrupted blood into the sand. Before its corpse even hit the ground, I pivoted, twisting into a spinning slash that caught the second Chimera square across the chest.

It roared.

I didn't let up.

One, two, three rapid strikes—each blow driven by momentum, precision, and the full weight of a king's might. The final strike sent its massive body collapsing into the sand, twitching once before going still.

Silence returned to the desert.

I stood there, chest rising and falling, Excalibur pointed at the ground as blood dripped from its blade.

The golden light around it dimmed as the battle-lust slowly drained from my limbs.

"Two more down…"

I covered the sword with the Invisible Air, looking around warily.

This encounter proved one thing—I was getting closer. The beasts were more aggressive here, their presence thick in the air. The land itself felt more corrupted.

Camelot couldn't be far now.

But if Chimeras were roaming this close to the path… what else awaited me between here and the Holy City?

I adjusted my cloak, the wind tugging at its edges, and pressed forward.

Toward whatever came next.

The wind howled louder as I continued forward, each step more difficult than the last. The sandstorm had returned—stronger this time. The sky above was blotted out by swirling gold and gray, and the once-familiar path was now a blur beneath the shifting dunes.

I raised an arm to shield my face, squinting through the stinging grains that bit at my skin like tiny needles.

The cloak whipped violently around my body, flaring in the storm's rage. The hood had long since fallen, my hair and ahoge dancing wildly in the wind.

Every breath tasted of dust.

Every heartbeat was a struggle against the invisible weight of nature itself.

"Damn it… visibility's dropping fast," I muttered, trying to maintain my direction. "If I lose track of my bearings now, I'll be wandering in circles…"

I pulled the cloak tighter around me and kept moving.

My hand remained near Excalibur's hilt—just in case.

Despite the lack of sight, my senses stayed sharp. My footsteps were calculated, deliberate, each one echoing in the vast emptiness.

Then, a sound.

Faint, almost drowned in the storm—a distant rumble. Not thunder. Not wind.

It was the earth groaning.

I froze, listening.

Another tremor followed. A muffled thud. Then silence again.

Something was moving beneath the sand.

I narrowed my golden eyes, scanning the horizon—or what little of it I could still see. The sand swirled like a living beast, shapes twisting in and out of view.

No enemies yet.

But something was definitely out there.

My body tensed. My instincts screamed for caution.

Still, I pressed onward.

I didn't have the luxury of turning back now.

"Camelot…" I whispered to myself, "if you really lie beyond this storm, then I'll reach you. No matter what."

The storm raged on.

But so did I.

I don't know how long I'd been walking.

Minutes?

Hours?

Time had lost meaning inside that raging chaos. The only thing that mattered was moving forward—one foot in front of the other, over and over again, against the crushing gale.

But then… the wind began to ease.

The howling lessened, and the sting of sand no longer clawed at my skin.

The storm… was ending.

I stepped forward once more—and the resistance broke.

Suddenly, silence.

The world beyond the wall of sand opened up before me like a curtain being drawn. I stumbled a little, momentarily disoriented by the sudden stillness. The sky above was visible again—pale blue streaked with hints of golden sun. The ground beneath my boots, while still dry and cracked, was no longer shifting wildly.

I had made it through.

"…Finally."

I exhaled sharply, dragging in a breath that wasn't filled with dust. My cloak was battered, my hair a wild mess of wind-tangled strands, and every inch of me was covered in a thin layer of sand.

But I was out.

I turned slightly, glancing back over my shoulder. Behind me, the sandstorm still roared like a beast locked in fury, a churning wall of gold and grey swallowing the desert.

It was almost hard to believe I'd come through it in one piece.

"…That wasn't just a natural storm," I muttered to myself. "Something in this land… it's alive. Watching."

I looked ahead, scanning the horizon.

But…

There was no sign of Camelot.

No walls, no towers, no flags.

Only an endless sea of desert stretching out beneath the pale sunlight. Quiet. Deceptive. Empty.

"…Damn. I thought I'd be close."

A sigh escaped me, half frustration, half exhaustion. I reached up to brush some sand from my face, then pulled my cloak tighter once more.

"Looks like I'm not there yet. But I'll find it."

I rested my hand on the invisible blade at my side. Its warmth was still there—subtle, steady. A reminder that I wasn't walking alone.

With one last glance toward the horizon, I set off again.

The Holy City was still out there.

And I was getting closer.

Step by step.

After several more steps across the quiet sands, I finally allowed myself to relax. The tension in my shoulders eased as the adrenaline slowly drained from my veins.

I took a breath and glanced down at my side.

"…That should be enough."

With a quiet thought, I released my grip on Excalibur. The air shimmered subtly, and the invisible blade—still cloaked in Invisible Air—began to break apart into particles of golden mana. Like falling petals of light, they scattered with the breeze before vanishing completely into the desert air.

Now that the sword was gone, a strange silence followed. It felt lighter. But at the same time… more vulnerable.

Still, I needed to conserve my strength.

"I can't afford to carry that weight around carelessly," I muttered.

I reached up and brushed back my hair, fingers combing through the tangled strands one by one. The wind had made a mess of it—sand clung to the ends, and the once-neat fringe now poked out at odd angles, including the persistent ahoge swaying gently at the top of my head.

"Heh. Stubborn little thing," I said softly, tapping the ahoge with my finger.

Then I moved on to my cloak, tugging it straight over my shoulders and brushing off some of the sand that clung to the fabric. Bits of dust puffed away, disappearing into the wind.

My armor, while light and practical in this form, still bore scratches from the earlier clash. I wiped at it the best I could, just enough to regain some sense of dignity.

When I was done, I took one last deep breath and rolled my shoulders.

Clean, calm, composed.

Or at least… close enough.

"All right," I whispered. "Let's keep moving."

With my cloak trailing behind me and the horizon stretched wide before my eyes, I stepped back into the shifting sands.

Even if Camelot remained hidden, I would keep walking.

One step closer to the truth.

As I continued through the arid expanse, my footsteps slow and steady across the shifting sand, a strange sensation suddenly crept up my spine.

I stopped.

The wind whispered differently now. It wasn't just sand or air brushing against my cloak—there was something else.

Presence.

Faint, distant, but unmistakable. Someone was here. Watching? Following? I couldn't tell for sure, but I knew better than to ignore an instinct like this.

My heartbeat quickened, but my body stayed still. Every sense sharpened. I could feel the dry air grazing my skin, the heat of the sun above, and… yes, the faint trace of mana. Someone was definitely close by.

"…Tch."

Without wasting another second, I moved.

In a swift, fluid motion, I pulled the edges of my dark cloak tighter, drawing it over my shoulders and wrapping it around myself completely. The fabric shifted and flowed like liquid shadow, concealing the golden accents of my armor and the glimmer of my eyes.

Then I lifted the hood over my head.

With a brief flick of mana, I altered the cloak's form, making sure it fully obscured my figure—head to toe. Not a strand of hair, not a flash of steel, not even the curve of a jaw would be visible.

Just a faceless traveler cloaked in darkness, shrouded from sight beneath the veil of sand and silence.

I let my breathing grow slower, quieter. My steps became more deliberate, blending into the wind.

Whoever was nearby wouldn't get a good look at me—not now.

And if they tried to approach…

Well, I'd be ready.

The wind howled softly through the dunes, carrying with it the dry rustle of sand... and then—something else.

Crunch.

A sound.

A footstep.

Close. Too close.

My body froze beneath the cloak, breath caught in my throat as the rhythm of the world shifted again. Slowly, carefully, I turned my head toward the source of the sound, my golden eyes hidden beneath the shadows of my hood.

From the corner of my vision, I saw him.

A figure walking slowly through the veil of drifting sand. His white hair fell like silk over his shoulders, flowing gently behind him in the breeze. He wore a set of polished knightly armor, modest in design yet worn with dignity, and a long silver cape draped over his back, shimmering faintly beneath the desert sun.

My eyes widened.

That face… calm, resolute… with a quiet pain behind those eyes.

There was no mistaking it.

Bedivere.

For a moment, time seemed to still. The wind quieted. Even the warmth of the sun felt distant.

He hadn't spoken a word. But he had stopped walking.

And now, he was looking at me.

Our eyes met.

Even though mine were hidden, I felt it—that connection, that fragile thread of tension between us. His expression didn't shift, not yet, but his gaze lingered. Measured. Studying.

My heart thudded violently against my ribs.

I quickly lowered my head, bowing it slightly under the shadow of my hood. My hands gripped the fabric of the cloak tightly, trying to still their trembling.

Please… don't recognize me.

Right now, I wasn't myself. I was in the image of someone he knew better than anyone—Artoria Pendragon. His king. His liege.

If he saw through the disguise… if he realized…

But—

Nothing.

No movement. No gasp of realization.

He simply turned his gaze away.

Whether he thought I was just a traveler… or perhaps refused to believe what he saw… I didn't know. But he didn't call out to me. He didn't draw his blade.

Relief washed over me like a quiet wave, though I dared not show it outwardly.

Still… he was close. And my presence had clearly caught his attention.

I couldn't let my guard down—not now.

Bedivere didn't walk away.

Instead, he began to approach.

Each step he took was calm and steady, his silver cape shifting behind him, catching the desert wind like the wings of some noble bird. The clang of his armored boots against the sand was oddly soft—respectful, as though he knew the silence that surrounded us wasn't meant to be broken too harshly.

I tensed beneath my cloak, keeping my head lowered, trying to steady my breathing. I could feel his presence now—closer, more distinct. And then—

"…You there."

His voice was firm, but not threatening. It carried the weight of authority, yes—but also of compassion. A knight's voice. A voice that had called out to countless allies before battle.

I swallowed and slowly lifted my head, just enough to acknowledge him—careful not to expose too much beneath the hood's shadow.

"May I ask…" Bedivere continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined my cloaked form, "Who are you?"

A simple question. But loaded with danger.

For a moment, silence stretched between us again. I forced myself to answer—my voice low, calm, altered just enough to sound different from Artoria's true tone.

"…Just a wandering knight," I said. "A nameless traveler."

It was a lie I had prepared—one I hoped sounded believable enough, even as my heart beat faster beneath the weight of his gaze.

Bedivere studied me for a moment longer, but his expression remained unreadable.

Then, softly, he asked, "Are you… a Servant?"

The question struck like a thrown dagger, direct and impossible to evade. I hesitated for a breath—but only a breath.

"…Yes." I gave a small nod.

There was no use denying that much. Even if my appearance was hidden, the very aura I gave off would betray me as something more than human. A knight, yes—but one not bound by time. One summoned into this world for a purpose.

Bedivere's eyes flickered, and for a moment I feared he would press the issue—ask for my name, question my intent. But instead, he simply nodded.

"I see," he said quietly, almost as if to himself.

And then, he looked away toward the horizon, where the sands still shifted and shimmered beneath the weight of the sun.

The tension between us did not vanish… but it softened.

For now, the lie held.

Bedivere remained silent for a few seconds more, then finally turned his gaze back to me.

"If you don't mind my asking," he said gently, though there was a knight's sharpness in his tone, "what brings you to this desert? And… where do you intend to go?"

Another test. Another edge I had to walk carefully.

I tightened my grip around the folds of my cloak, ensuring that none of my features slipped into view. Then, I gave a quiet exhale—one that I hoped sounded natural.

"…I was summoned here," I answered, voice low and neutral. "In the middle of this vast desert. There was no call, no Master, no command spell. Just… existence."

Bedivere's eyes narrowed slightly. Not with suspicion—but curiosity.

"I've wandered ever since," I continued, weaving my lie carefully, avoiding any trace of hesitation. "With no destination at first. But I thought perhaps, if I could find a city—any city—I might gather information. Learn why I'm here. Learn what I'm meant to do."

I paused for a moment, then added in a softer tone, "A Servant shouldn't be idle forever, after all."

Bedivere gave a small nod, seeming to accept the explanation. He looked past me, toward the windswept dunes that rolled endlessly beneath the desert sun.

"I understand," he said at last. "This land is not kind to those without purpose. But even for a wanderer, the path always reveals itself, eventually."

His voice was calm, reassuring—and in a way, kind. It made the guilt of lying to him sting sharper than I expected. But I held my expression, eyes still shadowed beneath the hood.

Letting the silence stretch again, I waited, uncertain if he would question me further.

Bedivere stood in thoughtful silence for a moment longer. Then, he tilted his head slightly and spoke, almost to himself.

"Your voice…" he murmured, his silver eyes narrowing faintly, "for some reason, it sounds familiar."

My breath caught for a split second. That single sentence struck deeper than any blade. I forced a faint, awkward chuckle and replied, keeping my voice calm but different enough to sound unlike the one he might remember.

"Ah… I get that a lot. Maybe I just have one of those voices."

Bedivere's eyes lingered on me a moment longer, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders rise.

"You resemble someone I once knew," he said slowly, as if still trying to pull a memory from the fog. "But… perhaps I'm simply imagining things. The desert heat can play tricks on the mind."

"That might be it," I replied quickly, nodding once. "Wandering alone in this heat does strange things. I've nearly mistaken mirages for people before."

He gave a soft hum of agreement, but I could still sense a faint flicker of doubt in his gaze. My hood remained low, and I kept my posture still—neutral, cautious.

After a pause, Bedivere took a small step back, then gave a courteous nod.

"Be careful out here," he said gently. "There are worse things than sandstorms and beasts roaming these lands."

"…I will," I answered, voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, Bedivere turned and began to walk past me, his silver cloak fluttering gently in the wind. I didn't move. I didn't dare. I simply stood there, watching his armored back slowly grow smaller and smaller, until the figure of the loyal knight faded into the sands beyond.

Only then did I allow myself to exhale fully—my heartbeat finally slowing from its frantic rhythm...