[color=0054a6][i][u]The courtyard of the Great Keep, Camelot. Ten days following the summons.[/u][/i][/color]

The blossoms of the climbing vines, the meandering buzz of honeybees, the song of the circling swallows, and the vibrant green of the grass, belied the dire gray storm that gathered in the back of Sir Lancelot’s mind. In the courtyard outside of the great keep, the regent of Arthur paced ceaselessly as his thoughts continued to gather. With his eyes downcast upon his booted feet, the man was lost to the world around him.

Even now anxiety crept up his back, tingling at the roots of his brown hair. The knights he had summoned in the service to their king were gathering in Camelot; each having responded to the call with the loyal alacrity only a king like Arthur could garner. These men and women were knights and nobles of the highest order, chivalric and true to their king and cause. These facts alone would make the news Lancelot would have to impart upon these faithful subjects a gut-wrenching prospect. 

[i]What a time I must prevail upon?[/i] He thought, his eyes almost welling with tears. [i]Am I destined to preside in the twilight of Arthur’s reign?[/i]

Something from beyond Lancelot’s immediate view drew his notice. Whether it be a sound or draw of movement, he could not say. Yet, it called his attention upward from his dark musings, and brought him back into the more pleasant setting which surrounded him. 

Looking up, Lancelot saw the approaching figure of Sir Ignatius Dantus. In spite of himself, Lancelot gave the man a smile of greeting, and a nod of pleasant notice.

“Sir Ignatius,” he said, crossing the distance to the other man, “it is a fine thing to see you here, my friend.”

[color=a36209] “The first of many I’m sure, Knight-Regent.”[/color] Ignatius stated with a nod as he retrieved a piece of parchment from his inventory before placing it down on the table before the two men. 

Lancelot’s eyes followed the knight’s hand as Ignatius withdrew a roll of stout parchment from the midst of his cloak. There seemed to be weight to the roll of paper; not a physical weight, but an intangible one, born of ill-tidings and grim fortunes. Lancelot closed his eyes, and exhaled a slow breath.

[color=a36209] “I’ve returned from the quest I was committed to in the eastern stretches. Tis as Arthur feared before he left— the anglo-saxon’s are gaining in strength; they've united under a king. My full report is in writing.”[/color]

“The fulfillment of your mission is most valuable to the crown, Sir Ignatius, and the timing of your report could be no better…” Lancelot’s jaw clenched, and he stared hard at the Roman. “…And no worse.”

Turning away from the garden table and into the full light of the climbing sun, the pleasant sounds of the courtyard yet played in antithesis to the mounting somber reality. Lancelot’s fingers played across the pommel of his sword, drumming lightly upon the bejeweled device of death. 

Sir Ignatius was a trusted member of Arthur’s court, so trusted in fact that the king had given the man a quest of high value to the realm. The threat of a Saxon resurgence was a real one, and something that Arthur feared almost above all others. Sir Ignatius had been dispatched to ascertain the threat of such a return, and the mission had produced vile fruit. 

The temptation of displacing some of the weight that had settled in the last month upon his shoulders, and sharing it with another soul, was a tempting prospect to Lancelot. Especially with this latest stress added to the heap. 

Lancelot lapsed into silence for a time, his back to Ignatius, lost in thought. When at last he turned back to the knight, Lancelot’s face was thin lipped.

“I am sure you are keen to learn the meaning of this summons, Sir Ignatius. Yet, I shall not dishonor the rest of our king’s subjects by speaking of the matter early.”

Stepping forward, Lancelot clapped a hand upon the shoulder of Ignatius. He gave it a friendly squeeze. 

“Your hard work is held in high esteem, Sir. Please forgive my abruptness, but I must prepare for the coming meeting.”

Reaching forward, Lancelot took the parchment from the garden table, and placed it carefully within the folds of his tunic. 

“I shall review your report in detail. For now, however, I shall bid you farewell.” 

With that, Lancelot gave Ignatius a polite nod before turning to make his way into the halls of the Great Keep. The calls of the swallows, and the buzz of the bees wafting unperturbed in his wake.