Hendrickson considered the vampire princess. Liones’s foremost mage, Vivian, had been observing her from afar with a scrying spell. Until the woman that had come to fight the vampire had become a monster and the sheer power of her aura had destroyed Vivian’s spell.

Truthfully Hendrickson was surprised the vampire had come out alive. Her battle armor was gone, the undersuit she wore burned and tattered from the attack that had done it. Still the sheer magical power of the dragon had been felt all across Liones; it had been enough to cause the king - weak-hearted pacifist that he was - to call all the knights of Liones to arms beginning with the Great Holy Knights.

The flower of Liones’s knighthood was gathered here, ready not for battle but to begin to search the forest for any clue. The dragon’s power had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and only Hendrickson and Vivian knew what the power had truly been. Only they had been watching Minerva’s battle and the change that had shattered Vivian’s spying spell.

He had thought that Minerva’s power was terrifying. The vampire princess had defeated him with one touch, draining the strength from him entirely. He could have tried his Acid, but he doubted it would work on a vampire, at least not one of her strength and power. They were potent regenerators. With her substantially superior strength and speed, he had little doubt that even if he hadn’t been holding back she could have defeated him. And that was during the day. A vampire only grew stronger by night.

Hendrickson could see the king’s gaze falling on Minerva, and the great holy knight began to consider his options. The vampire’s existence was potentially dangerous. She was powerful; powerful enough to have easily defeated one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Even though Diane had lacked the Sacred Treasure King Barta had given her, that was an impressive feat. She hadn’t taken any injury in her battle against the Sin, even though she’d fought them unarmed. That didn’t truly change his estimation; Diane was far from the strongest member of the Seven Deadly Sins, but Hendrickson would have been forced to show his hand and use forbidden powers to do the same. The Vampire Princess was strong enough to be a dangerous card if she chose not to play the role he desired.

And any dealings between her and king Barta were dangerous. Still he couldn’t publicly object to her interaction with the king. It’d require actively moving to a coup, and he was not yet assured that his faction of holy knights held enough power for that, or that Dreyfus would support it.

He moved close enough to overhear the king talking to Minerva. Barta was visibly saddened when she said she was looking hunting the Sins. He had upheld their outlaw status, but he did not truly hold them malice. It was one reason King had been able to come back in a limited capacity.

Still he seemed to accept that she was a foreign holy knight who had a personal grievance against one of the Sins for their past actions which Hendrickson - in his role as one of the two Great Holy Knights - had accepted as a knight of Liones.

And then he stared out over the forest for several moments, before tears began to run down the king’s aged and wise face. “The Dragon of Calamity has spread its wings. The Lord of Distortion has risen, and the land of Britannia itself rebels against him, spawning destruction which will range far and wide. He has cut the skeins of fate and the weaving of future times lays in disarray. What would have been now will not be. By his will old seals will break, and darkness will rise to descend upon the land. By his word 3 horrible lights will spawn, and a darkness greater than all others. With his great searing gaze he has burned away all Visions I once had. Naught will be the same as it would have been. And as long as he lives danger will descend upon Britannia.”

Barta nearly fell then, leaning heavily on the princess Veronica for support. His magic power of Vision normally did not weaken him so much, or drain him so far, but he now seemed unsteady and weak. It left Hendrickson wondering just how expansive it had been as well. Besides, elements of it seemed to impact upon his own plans and designs. He would have to learn more about what the king had seen.

“Why do you have a giant?” Galerides barked as he looked at Weland and Selene. They had appeared in the city square in front of Arthur’s castle with a massive woman.

He swaggered towards them. Selene was flawless and beautiful as always. It made his heart ache to see the dismissive way that she rolled her eyes as he came close. And then there was Weland. The little cretin did not deserve such a woman. What use did a smith have for such a warrior maiden? And how did a smith tame the heart of a dragon? Galerides knew in his heart that he hated Weland because he had Selene’s love more than for any other reason.

Galerides’s hand moved to his sword, his hand shaking a bit. There was just a feeling of naked hostility in the air. Weland was little, more than a foot shorter than Galerides, but his magic power was immense, and Galerides had never been as aware of that as he was now when Weland suddenly gave him a death glare. In a way he preferred it to the barely hidden contempt that Weland usually looked at him with, but it left him shaking to his core.

“I rescued her from a less-than-holy knight who was going to drag her away to a hellhole dungeon and use her as bait for the other members of the Seven Deadly Sins,” Selene said, stepping between the two men.

“I should have known, you were the one who went and fought, not him,” Galerides said. He knew it was something he shouldn’t say. Even if Weland had only defeated him by cheating with a magic tool, he didn’t have the justification to insult a man who had come to offer his service to the king and had given it. Galerides himself had been bestowed one of Weland’s swords. It looked like an apprentice’s work, but he had to admit he’d never touched a finer sword, and the light that it brought was impressive.

The sword had only made Galerides hate him more. He had trained and dedicated his entire life to becoming a Holy Knight. The sword would have let any man fight a Holy Knight and win. Oh, it might depend upon the quality of the knight, but Galerides had no doubt that it was enough to defeat him. It was a slap in the face, like Weland had been saying, “Here. This sword is worth more than your entire being.” And receiving it had felt like another. Galerides hated him. Galerides knew Weland knew. And yet he’d done nothing when Arthur had given him the sword. Galerides hated Weland. But Weland didn’t even see him as sufficient to hate.

It made that flare of hostility all the more valuable to the knight. It was recognition from his nemesis and love rival that he was worthy of being an adversary. Better to be hated than looked upon like the dung on one’s shoe.

“Out of the way, Galerides, I don’t want to have to wipe you off of my shoe,” Weland said, pushing him aside with a surprising force. Galerides was strong. Powerful enough to tear through stone walls, and to bring low a fort. Weland sent him tumbling backwards casually. “We need to deliver news of the giant, Diane, to the King.”

“Did you just shove me aside? I am a holy knight, you can’t just…”

“Treat you like you’re worth?” Weland asked.

Galerides froze. Weland turned away and began to walk towards the castle, and Galerides breathed deeply. “Those are fighting words,” He said. “And my honor will not be satisfied till we make good on them.”

“How about here and now,” Weland said with an aggravated sigh, pulling a small sword from his waist.

Galerides didn’t draw the blade he’d been given by Arthur. Weland had forged it. He drew his older sword instead. It didn’t grant its wielder strength and speed. It didn’t pour light from its blade to cut through armies. But it was all he’d need against the smith.

“Here and now is good,” He said and rushed. His sword was larger and longer, and his reach was much greater than Weland’s. It should be easy. That was the last thing he thought before Weland blurred and disappeared and he lost count of the number of blows from the flat of a sword all across his body which preceded his loss of consciousness.

Merlin was struck, once again, with how much it was a shame that Weland had killed that mutilator rabbit. She could understand why - if it had not been for Weland’s timely arrival her soul would be stuck in her sacred treasure, and Arthur would be dead - but there was so much knowledge lost from the act. And then more from the process of extracting its blood and bones so that Weland could use them to make a chain.

Still she believed the rabbit had somehow been touched by the power of Mother Chaos. Merlin sought to release Chaos from where she had been imprisoned by the Demon King and Supreme Goddess. Her previous attempt had seen the Demon and Goddess clans sealed away for 3000 years. She had learned that that had been counterproductive. To break the seal on Chaos the balance of the Demon King and Supreme Goddess needed to be broken forever. One of them needed to die. And for that the seal needed to be broken.

Or so she had thought. There had been no beast such as that rabbit at the hill of Caerbannog before. It was new. And it was touched by Chaos to make it into the monster that it had been.

Of course as much as the rabbit could tell her she really wanted to experiment on its slayer. He was an enigma. She had heard of Selene before. An immortal thief similar to Ban. Whispers and stories had existed for years about her. She wasn’t certain how the woman had become immortal, and her origin before it; still nothing talked about the vast power the dragon-woman had. She claimed to have been the princess of the moon realm, another world there was no return to now that she had left, but one she had left to ensure humanity - and especially Camelot - survived the oncoming Holy War. Merlin had no way of verifying this. She had learned to trust King Barta’s visions, and he had foreseen the 7 Deadly Sins being necessary to fight the Ten Commandments, so it wasn’t too outlandish. The Coffin of Eternal Darkness would break and a new Holy War would come - that was part of Merlin’s own plans - but that didn’t make the talk of some Lunar Realm that she had never heard of or found evidence for something she would accept uncritically. But Selene’s power was real, and so was Weland’s magic, so close to that of a sorcerer and yet so far away at the same time. She could be sure of that.

The two had also been consistent with their story. Selene had been training with the knights, trying to extort them to greater power and skill through giving them a goal to chase - forcing her to fight them in her unsealed form - and Weland have been forging weapons for Camelot’s knights and she could find no hidden curse or venom in them. What she did find was interesting. It was so very similar to her own magical gift of Infinity. Unlike the so-called ‘Brontes Plate’ he had given Arthur, which required its wearer to fuel its power, each blade he had made was a source of magical power on its own, an eternal and unfailing source of power. Chrysaor sat in her laboratory even now, its blades of light firing continuously, albeit at a low setting. It’d taken some work to keep it active without a wielder’s will, but it was like a working of Infinity, able to maintain itself indefinitely.

And there was the battle against that rabbit. He had slowed time to a standstill. And he had kept it slowed till he had completed his tasks; including healing her and Arthur. He hadn’t shown the raw power of his wife, but he had shown more than enough to destroy Camelot and everyone in it. Truth was Melin wasn’t confident she could beat him if she tried, much less stop him from destroying Camelot and Arthur in the process.

It made her hesitant to share knowledge of magic with him. He hungered for it. And he had good use for it. He wanted to improve his enchantments, and make better weapons for the court. It was a sound justification. But if he was lying it might make him something that could not be stopped. Her last apprentice had been a mistake. And honestly teaching Weland might be a much bigger one. Especially as he showed a dangerous talent for learning magic. She suspected it had to do with one of the spells he kept active about himself. It was hard to get a feel for. It connected him to Selene, and to another further afield. It was a sort of mental magic. Merlin didn’t think he was controlling Selene, but she suspected they used it to communicate without words, and it buzzed around him. It was involved in blocking her ability to view him with her sacred treasure, Aldan.

She had already made the mistake of lending him some basic books. She’d thought that they were obviously too low level to actually be useful to him given what he’d already shown. But in observing his work on the chain whip he had called Rabbit Killer, she noticed that he had altered his workings based on the books. They had become more like magic she knew, and unlike the alien sorcery he had been working in it before. It was

The fact that he went to lengths to stop her observing him, was perhaps the reason she still couldn’t put down the idea that he had something to hide. If you didn’t have something to hide you didn’t go to lengths to prevent observation. She’d gotten - partially - around it by using birds as eyes. But he had magic not quite like she was used to, and it made her wonder if he had found a way around her own wards to prevent him from observing her laboratory.

He was a problematic enigma, and one which might prove to be far too dangerous. She’d considered stealing a portion of his power and memory, but she was uncomfortable attempting that. Even if she managed it, Selene would likely notice and her power was even more troublesomely vast. She had felt it again mere minutes ago. She’d tried to use her sacred treasure to observe; it had been in Liones which had raised many questions. But the sheer power involved had disrupted her Sacred Treasure’s ability to view what was happening. She might could overcome it with time and effort, but the time had not been there as whatever had caused her to reveal that form had ended too quickly. Were they working with the Great Holy Knights of Liones? It seemed unlikely; Weland and his lady were on a level closer to Escanor and Meliodas. She didn’t expect either of them to need to ally themselves with the likes of Hendrickson.

Merlin’s ponderings were shattered by a heavy rapping on her chamber door. “Lady Merlin! I hate to disturb you, but there’s a giant in the castle!”

Arthur had known that Merlin was a member of the Seven Deadly Sins and wanted in Liones. He had not expected one of her compatriots to be brought here out of the blue.

The giant looked to be a young maiden, except vastly larger than usual. He’d have estimated her as being between the height of 4 or 5 tall knights, from where she lay sprawled upon the city’s square. She’d obviously been beaten pretty badly, bruises and contusions showing across her body. It looked like the blows were from a mixture of hands, elbows, and legs, armored, and Arthur would guess a woman’s. Liones must have rather terrifying lady knights if one could bring down a giantess, all the more so a giantess whose power Lady Merlin respected.

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Knights were dispersing the crowds around them. There were going to be enough strangers about her when she woke without making it a public spectacle.

Merlin appeared in the square beside him and she looked at the giant. “Do you know who she is?” She didn’t make clear who she was asking, but the king chose to wait to answer.

“Diane, the Serpent’s Sin of Envy,” Weland said. “I thought she could use a friendly face when she woke up.”

“What happened to her?” Merlin was direct, calm, and cool. Even seeing her friend in this state she was unperturbed and cutting directly to the heart of the matter.

“A holy knight of Liones, but perhaps she can tell more details once she’s healed,” Weland responded.

“How did you find her?” Merlin asked, her eyes on Weland. King Arthur could feel the distrust she had for Weland.

Weland didn’t immediately answer, but his lady stepped forward. “I felt the battle,” she said.

“From so far?” Merlin asked.

“Didn’t you?” Selene smiled back.

For Arthur it was like watching two predatory animals, both uncertain who was truly the apex predator. Like a mountain lion and a dire wolf glaring at each other as they argued over territory. Still it dawned on Arthur that he had. Or at least he had felt a surge of power from far to the north.

“Not until you became a dragon, I assume that was to deal with the knight who was attacking her?”

“Can we talk after I heal Diane?” Weland snapped. “Merlin, you’re her friend, right? Be ready to give her a friendly face and some words so she doesn’t think she’s been captured by the people who attacked her. I’d prefer not to have a giant rampage in the city.”

Diane ached all over. She’d been in a fight in the forest. And it had not been an easy fight. It’d felt like dealing with Ban stealing her strength again, her body had gotten so heavy she could barely move. And then there’d been the blows. They’d hurt her through her heavy metal. Ban had never hit like that. Even the Troll Queen hadn’t.

She saw a man crouching over her, his hands on her body. He was tiny by comparison - a human - but she knew better than to dismiss the threat humans could present; she remembered what happened to Matrona and the power that her captain had displayed in the past.

Before she could decide how to react to her captor, she saw a face she recognized.

“Diane, it’s alright. We rescued you,” the black haired sorceress said. Merlin. Another member of the Seven Deadly Sins in the past, and once Liones’s greatest mage.

“You what? What’s he doing?” But she had a feeling of it already, there was light flowing around the man’s hands and as it washed over her she could feel her exhaustion and pain fading. “A druid?”

“He calls himself a smith,” Merlin said with an enigmatic shrug. “But let me welcome you to Camelot.”

“Camelot?” Diane asked as she sat up. She was looking about, her eyes taking in the place she found herself. She didn’t recognize anyone here but Merlin, nor did she recognize the place. But Merlin would begin introducing her to it, and its inhabitants.

Galerides dismounted from his horse. There’d been reports of a dark rider attacking the edges of Camelot’s kingdom. He, Bedivere, and Eric had volunteered to ride out.

What they found was far worse than the reports. The reports had just been that a strange, black knight had been seen in the evenings near the farming village. What they found instead was a thick, greenish fog that had fallen over the town.

Galerides had nearly walked into it when Bedivere grabbed his shoulder and pointed into the fog. A horse lay on the ground, a man beside him, neither moving. The very grass around them was yellow and dead.

“It’s probably poison,” Bedivere said. “Let me go first with my magic.”

Purifier; Galerides knew it well enough. It was a magic that cleansed curses and poisons; at least those weak enough. He huffed. He was strong, strong enough that he’d venture that a poison that killed a town of normal men wouldn’t kill him. Still, he let Bedivere walk forward, his white light shining out from him. The fog dissipated where it touched the light, creating a small area, barely large enough for the three knights, where the poison fog did not reach.

Galerides’s stomach sank as they walked into the town. Trees were bare of their leaves, the plants sickened and dead, and livestock and people lay unmoving on the ground. The green mist gave the entire village a haunted appearance, making Galerides feel a touch of an unfamiliar emotion.

He was scared, and he didn’t like that.

“What could have made this fog?” Erec asked, his head turning side to side. “Do you think it’s the black knight we’re seeking?”

“It could be,” Bedivere said.

Galerides shook his head. It felt unlikely. He stayed quiet, but he wondered… if the black knight had had such power why did it wait to use it? Why show yourself first and not just strike?

“But what worries me is that they were seen. If all they wanted to do was destroy the village and they had this power they could have. Do you wonder if they were trying to bait forth Camelot’s knights? Or worse our king?” Bedivere asked, his glow shining through the fog like a lantern.

“Maybe I was just looking for a head,” A woman’s voice came from one side and Galerides turned to face the sound like his fellows.

She was plain of face and feature, the rest of her body hidden under her black armor. She rode a black horse. The green fog made it hard to guess accurately the color of her hair as it tinted things with its green hue, but he’d guess at red.

“A head?” Erec said. “Tell me, lady knight, whose head did you seek?”

“Mine,” She said. “Or one that could be mine. This one is too plain… too weak… yours might do better.”

Galerides moved then. He drew his sword - not the one the King had bestowed him, but the sword he had trusted for years - and he was barely in time to interpose it between Erec and the blade coming for him.

The lady-knight had spurred her horse, a great black scythe forming in her hands. His sword caught its blade and for a moment he could see how the scythe seemed to be composed of moving darkness as it cut through his sword, and slashed through Erec’s helmet and his armor. And then Erec fell.

“Erec!” Bedivere shouted, his sword flying from his sheath. Galerides could see the fear on his face, even as the shining energy of Weland’s sword in Bedivere’s hand cut out and forced the lady-knight back. It cut through her scythe, and cut her head from her body in a single smooth blow.

Damn his pride. If he’d just used the sword the king had given him, he could have saved Erec. But because it was made by a man he hated he had not.

“Bedivere, take Erec back to the horses. Ride out of here with him. I’ll hold her back,” Galerides said, drawing the sword forged by the man who had thrice dishonored him.

“The poison!” Bedivere said, even as he lifted Erec to his shoulders.

“I’m strong enough. I can hold it off long enough to escape,” Galerides said, his immense strength had always been his best quality. “Erec is wounded badly. He can’t survive the poison without your Purifier.” He cut with the sword, the light cutting through the neck of the woman’s horse, only failing to sever her legs because she leapt. “Don’t hesitate, or we all die!” He shouted to Bedivere, the other knight finally beginning to run.

“Don’t wait too long to follow, Galerides!”

Galerides huffed. “I’ll kill her quickly enough,” He said. “Normally I’d go easy on you, you being a lady and all,” he said to the headless woman. “If you are a lady. But… there’s this poison in the air.” He could already feel it eating away at him. It was sapping the life from his body, eating away at his strength. He could probably last longer than most people. But it would kill him. He had to make this quick.

He cut with his sword, and the shining blade of energy that shot from the sword created a short lived void in the fog. The woman’s darkness gathered into a shield, both her arms crossing over her chest. It was enough to block the blade of light, but barely. Her left arm was left bare, and it was an arm fit for a princess, skin smooth as silk to look at it, and with a woman’s fingers.

They clashed again and again and again, each time the sword given him by the king sent out its blade of light, and each time the black knight was the worse for the exchange. But Galerides could feel the poison eating away at him, as his body weakened.

His blow cracked her armor, the light barely cutting into her flesh. Red blood flowed from her neck down to her crotch, her breasts and body bared by his blow. Galerides hesitated to follow up. She was beautiful. Even without a head she was shaped like an almost ideal woman.

Had there not been another who occupied his heart, Galerides might not have had the strength to make himself cut her down. But next to Lady Selene she was plain. Even if her heart belonged to the smith, Galerides would not be unfaithful to his love for her. The sword flashed with light as he brought it down in what would be a final finishing blow…

Only for her horse to crash into him, knocking him through the wall of a building. Its head had either reattached or regrown, the horse fine as ever before. The woman was rising to her feet as well, darkness forming around her into a long chain of black, a sickle head on one side.

Galerides’s body ached. The poison was still eating away at his life force. He could feel it. Still his light cut through her chain sickle, and it sliced again and again, forcing her and her horse apart. He’d pursue the latter when he’d dealt with her, his sword sweeping only for her to fall to the ground and beneath the light. His vision was blurring and with it his aim was faltering. It wasn’t a good situation.

And then the corpse of a farmer grabbed his leg. The farmer’s child grabbed his other foot. Galerides looked down into the eyes of the dead, watching them pull themselves to their feet on his body. He cut down the farmer in a single, quick motion, but he hesitated to cut down a child, even one that his head told him was already dead.

And then an arrow of shadow shot through his chest. The woman had shaped her darkness into a bow, and she was shooting it at him. The dead child grasped him with more than human strength, and she was firing. He cut the air, crescent blades of light cutting as many of her arrows as he could from the air, and he threw the child from his body, but he only took one more step before he sank to his knee.

Punctured thrice by bolts of darkness, it was the poison that was killing him. He threw all he had left into a final thrust, the light exploding from the sword in a beam towards the woman. He only hoped his aim was true as his head swam with growing darkness. If he’d just drawn the damn sword in the first place, he and Erec could have defeated her with ease from within Bedivere’s Purifier.

And then he felt the cool edge of her darkness against his neck.

Bedivere’s horse tumbled beneath him. He did his best to shield Erec from the fall - the wounded knight held against his chest - but he knew immediately what it had to mean.

He rose to his feet, leaving Erec on the ground, and he faced the black knight. Her armor was gone, her naked body bared to the sunlight, and her head missing. She held Galerides’s head under one arm, a bow made of darkness in the other.

Galerides was a far better swordsman than he was. Galerides’s fighting power greatly surpassed his. And she had beaten Galerides. That only made it more important that he won here.

She couldn’t be allowed to kill more of his friends.

And she placed Galerides’s head on her own shoulders. Darkness reached up from her shoulders and touched round the stump of his throat, and then Galerides’s eyes closed and opened again, looking at Bedivere.

“A man’s head. Disgusting,” Galerides’s lips shaped the words, and they were in his voice, but they were not Galerides’s words. No. His would have been a crude joke about how he truly was the Goddess’s gift to women or the like. “Still against those swords of distortion, I need a stronger head than some farmer’s.”

“Swords of distortion?” Bedivere asked.

“They’re swords gifted by the King of Distortion,” she said with Galerides’s voice. The disconnect between a body fit for a lady chosen by a court for her beauty, and Galerides’s head was disconcerting.

“Who is the King of Distortion?”

“The one who gave you that sword,” the knight said, Galerides’s lips twisting into a cruel smile.

“His existence has brought disarray and distortion to the world. And if it should continue the amount of imbalance and disorder that he will bring is untold. There will be chaos from one side of Britannia to the other.”

“And you want to prevent this?”

“Some chaos is good. But to cast the entire world into distortion is too much. Surrender the king of distortion and no one else in Camelot will need to die. The Horned King will turn his forces north, and they shall face his conquest while your realm remains safe.”

“And you would turn your fog of death away and to these other lands?”

“Just so.”

Bedivere’s sword cut, the light blasting out, but the woman leapt over it, spinning through the air, to land behind him, one foot lashing out to send him flying.

“I do hate men’s heads, but there was at least some power in this one. So much better than that farmer’s slut.”

“That’s how you talk about the innocents you have slain? Can’t you at least show some respect for the dead?” Bedivere asked while rising to his feet. This was bad. Galerides was the better warrior between them. And she was faster and stronger now than Galerides.

“They deserve no better,” She said with a sneer, her bow of darkness reshaping into a sword.

Bedivere did his best, his sword’s light shooting and flashing out again and again, but she was faster and better. The sword’s light could shatter her darkness, but it was a close thing, and she was closing the distance bit by bit. He did his best, staying agile and mobile, moving from place to place in the battle. But she was closing in against him, and he knew he could only hold her off for so long.

When she’d neared she caught his sword arm with her hand, and brought her blade down. His free hand rose and it caught her blade. It was the hand that Weland had given him, the hand of black metal, he had called the demon king’s claw.

And when the darkness touched it the hand hissed out and the darkness flowed into it. And Bedivere could feel its power being fed to him. So much magical power flowing into him. He’d never held that much magical power inside of himself before. His body felt rejuvenated and restored, his arms light as a feather, his exhaustion from the battle washed away as if it had never been. And then his Purifier was pushing out. Its power had changed though. It was a light that washed away curses and poison, but now it was eating away at her dark blade, and as the sphere of light expanded past her she screamed out, her flesh beginning to bubble and burn like wax in a fire.

His body burned with the great excess of magical power that was filling him. It made him feel powerful beyond any level he had been before. But he was still facing someone who was faster and stronger than he was. But he couldn’t run. He had to fight. So he fought.

But she was on the run. His Purifier pushed out further and further, and it burned her when it touched her.

He was winning. The magical power inside of him still burned. But he couldn’t sustain it. The woman’s hand rose. “They’ll tear apart your friend,” She said.

Bedivere looked. The corpses of the village had risen and were marching towards Erec. Bedivere had to make a choice. Fight her, block her escape, and hopefully finish her or save Erec.

The choice was easy.

Erec was shame faced as he and Bedivere delivered their report to the king. Arthur’s own face was dark. Galerides had been proud and a braggart. He’d been a fool in many ways. But he had been loyal and he had been strong. His death hurt the young king.

Merlin, Arthur could tell, was taking it better and more analytically. “What did this head-stealing knight say about the king of distortion exactly?”

“I don’t remember her exact words, Lady Merlin,” Bedivere said. “Just that he was the one who gave me this sword, and would cast the world into chaos.”

The sword. Arthur had given it to Bedivere. But Weland had forged it specifically for Arthur’s knights. Either one could be said to have given the sword. Arthur was the king, though. And they had killed his village.

“We must deal with this woman and her Horned King,” Arthur said solemnly. He had come to a decision, even if Merlin’s face was dark as she considered the events around them.