“I knew we shouldn’t have let that bastard help him transcend into knighthood.” Sir Kay of Mercias said. He gripped his wide-brim hat with a vice grip. “He’s become a frickin berserker! Gah, all that potential wasted.” He threw the hat onto the ground and stomped on it.

He turned to walk away from the scene, but only bumped into one of his fellow knight masters. Before him stood the most massive man he had ever witnessed. Betrard the Giant was a gentle creature with the most viscous claymore skills known. Many would overlook him with that dopey smile and droopy eyes, but Kay had seen the man wreck a small army in his lonesome without being touched once.

“It...is not that bad.” Betrard stretched each syllable. His low and baritone voice made it only more pronounced. “He could still...fix this before he...dies a premature death.” The massive man towered over Kay, literally covering him with his shadow.

Kay huffed as he turned back to watch as a few squires hurried to carry the boy with a stretcher. They were rough and left a foot dangling down, but they still got the job done and carried the kid toward his room. His Head Maid would take care of him. The masters weren't too worried about his health, yet.

Just as the squires disappeared. Brunor looked towards them. It made his smile grow larger. He walked towards them with a light skip in his step and hands clasped behind his back. The madman made a show to whoever stood near him.

Kay sneered, but a giant hand held him back. He could only imagine that palm squeezing tightly on his skull, slowly but surely crushing it by sheer strength alone. It took a lot to stop him from making distance and bare his sheathed weapon on his long-time friend.

Glory they said.

Honor they promised.

It sure fooled him to join in the war effort years ago. They just so convienently forgot to mention the nightmares and heightened senses that never die down. It made the knights jumpy around normal citizens of the kingdom. Every noise made them flinch, their bodies trying to stay alive as though they were in a battlefield with mages showering them with fire and stone.

You could see the odd knight diving under a stall when a runaway horse passed by. Or another with tremors up his entire arm every time he had to cross next to the smithy to get groceries.

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Some would even tear up as they gripped their weapons, lost in thought as they started deeply into a campfire.

Those were only the most mild versions. Some would be far more detrimental, such as significant acts of violence.

“Calm.” Betrard’s deep voice helped bring him back to reality. “Calm, small friend. We are home...we are no longer standing...shoulder to shoulder in front of those monsters.”

“G-get your hand off me.” Kay brushed away the giant's sentiment. But, he couldn’t lie to himself, his words settled Kay’s heart. Even Betrard knew that. “I ain’t no g-greenhorn no more. I’m a master just like you and that devil there.” He said as he threw a thumb in Brunor’s direction as he got closer.

“Ya theen it? It wath a beauty.” Brunor chirped.

But before he could continue, a man appeared next to him. It made all three of them jump, weapons ready to sing. Only to relax when they recognized the face and that prominent scar across his entire face.

El Cid. Second only to the great legend himself, Lord Dragant. The man stood in full black armor with a sharp chin raised high enough to touch the clouds. “Your hands. They tremble.”

“W-whath?” Brunor said, not willing to look the man in the eyes. That was a testament to how frightening El Cid was. Of the three, only the Cruel had the misery of seeing the Black Blade dancing across the battlefield. It left an impression he would not soon forget.

“Enough of the fake act. Speak clearly.” El Cid narrowed his eyes.

All three of them backed up.

“Act?” Kay said with more than an ounce of confusion.

“May the Gods damn you.” Brunor spoke with more venom than Kay had ever heard.

El Cid stepped forward as he rose to full height and looked Brunor down. “They’ve damned me decades ago, boy.” That was all he said. Instead, he stood there in complete silence without once wavering from the stare down.

Eventually, Brunor looked away and tsked. “It reminded me of someone that’s all.”

“Who?”

“It's probably a wrong guess, the kid is the bastard son of the Iron Count.”

“Who?” El Cid would broker no argument.

“The Red eyed. Remember them? One of them gave ya that ugly scar.” Brunor chuckled, his accomplishment at hitting a nerve was obvious.

El Cid quickly turned away. His gauntleted hand traced down the scar on his face. “I thought we killed all of them?”

“You did. Not me, I don’t kill innocent children, women, and the elderly. Cruel and mad I might be, but a monster? I will never allow myself to fall so low.” Brunor this time dared to look El Cid in the eyes. His hands balled up into tight fists.

“We did what had to be done. Those mountain savages were becoming too powerful. Nevermind that, I’ll look into it alone.” Just like that, the man disappeared just as fast as he’d come.

“Hold up!” Kay yelled. He stepped in front of Brunor with a dark face.

Betrard already knew what was coming. He chuckled slowly.

“Y-your lisp?! It was all an act?!”