The Pendragon
"It's time," Merlin said from where he stood at the round table they'd gathered around, a digital display of the city and surrounding countryside in the middle.
"We have awakened enough of us that we have sufficient strength to wake Arthur.
With him, we can more easily wake the others and deal with this problem once and for all. "
"That means everything will just get harder from here on," Lancelot said, standing exactly opposite him on the other side of the table. "We've been lucky so far. Maleagant knows this is coming, now or very soon. It will be more intense a race than ever to get to Arthur first."
"At least we'll be back in the game," Morgan said, shifting the map with a flick of her wrist, bringing up the Edge of Knight map. "That gives us advantages we definitely don't have out here, even if there are greater risks as well."
"I've had crawlers searching for Arthur, narrowed down to gamers who live in this city. We can't begin to guess what his name will be, as he'll be more buried than the rest of us."
"He's probably named Steve or Bobby," Dred said.
Gawain snickered. "Or Walter."
"Richard," Lancelot added. "Bet everyone calls him Dick and he hates it."
"I don't think that diminutive has been used for a few decades," Merlin said thoughtfully, "but I concede the possibility."
Morgan and Guinevere rolled their eyes, and Guinevere added, "I cannot wait to get Elaine and Iseult back, leave all you boys to your nonsense."
"You just want your beloved back, same as the rest of us," Dred retorted.
Lancelot couldn't bring himself to join in the laughter. The idea of living without Galehaut was unbearable, but he could not begin to fathom how they'd save him. If they couldn't…
Well, that was a problem to face later.
"So where do we start?" he asked, ignoring the shamefaced looks of the others as they refocused on the matter at hand.
"Tonight is our best chance at finding him. There's going to be a special event offering all sorts of rares as prizes. Just about everyone will be online. I've flagged the most likely players. We'll have to divide and conquer to examine them all."
Lancelot looked over the assembled group. "We'll work in pairs, but never stray too far, so that if one group needs help, the others are close enough to provide it. Me and Gwen; Gawain and Morgan; Dred and Merlin."
"Yes, Captain," they chorused, provoking a roll of the eyes. He might have been captain of the royal knights once, but that was a long time ago and irrelevant now. "Food and rest while we can, then. We start at…"
"Event begins at eighteen hundred," Morgan said.
"We enter the game no later than quarter till.
" Everyone acknowledged the words, and Lancelot left them, heading up and up until he reached the sunroom built out from the attic space that had been converted to additional rooms long ago.
The sunroom flowed out from one side, a patio encased in glass with delicate fairy lights that could be turned on if preferred, seats and tables and sofas, the perfect place to relax or host a quiet, private get together.
An intimate date, maybe. Lancelot stretched out on the long sofa nearest the bay of windows opposite the door and stared up at the stars, sighing heavily.
Galehaut would love the spot; like Gwen, he had always enjoyed the beauty of a forest or garden, the fall of rain or swirling fog. He'd often lounged on the bank of whatever river or lake Lancelot swam in, nibbling on the rest of their meal as a half-giant required far more sustenance than humans.
Would they ever get such moments again?
Would he be facing off against Galehaut tonight? What was he supposed to do if he did? How many times would he have to fight his lover off and hope to return for him another day?
Soft footsteps drew his attention, and he turned his head to see Merlin approaching. "Need something?"
"I'm sorry for earlier."
"I don't want anyone to not be happy just because I'm in the room. My suffering does not negate your joy. I'm happy for everyone, and fervently hoping we get everyone back."
"We have not forgotten about him, not any one of us, not for a single moment. We jest and play because we take it as given that one day Galehaut will be back at your side, just like we will get Arthur, and Elaine, and Galahad, and all the rest."
"I am grateful for your faith, but he is already enslaved, which is nearly the same as being lost wholly."
"Nearly, not exactly. You and I are the reason we got this second chance, my friend. Do not underestimate us."
Lancelot had to smile faintly at that. "Fair enough."
"Come eat, and then it will be time to retrieve our favorite rapscallion."
"As you wish."
Downstairs, the others were surprisingly quiet as they sat down to a meal that Merlin called Spaghetti Bolognese, another old-fashioned dish that had once been popular but fallen away as the price of things like tomatoes, spices, and especially meat went entirely beyond what the overwhelming majority of the world could afford.
When they were finished, they separated to get a couple of hours of rest, howsoever they chose to do that, before reconvening.
Lancelot wasn't surprised when he stepped into what had been dubbed the 'war room' at seventeen thirty to find everyone else was already there. "Shall we, then?" He stepped into his rig and got settled, waited as Merlin ran a final diagnostic on all of them before activating them as one.
Barely two seconds later, they were in the game.
Everything was gloomy and gray, the clouds heavy, and in the distance, thunder rumbled, lightning following close behind.
"Storm will be here in minutes. Is that part of the special event?
" Funny how he'd been so excited for this game.
It had been the only real bright spot in his life.
Now it was a battlefield for the fate of the whole damn world.
Though it also, strangely, felt like home in a way his actual home never had. Maybe because he was Lancelot here, surrounded by the things he'd known in the only other life he remembered.
Merlin cleared his throat, and they all turned to him.
"The event starts in exactly twenty-three minutes now.
I hacked into the targets and friended all of them for each of us.
Eighteen total, I've flagged six per pair to investigate.
I've also equipped flares to your packs.
If you find Arthur, shoot up a green flare.
If you're in danger, shoot up a red flare.
Anything else of importance that you think requires the attention of the whole team, purple. "
"Arthur green, danger red, other purple," Lancelot repeated. "Split up and spread out."
He skimmed through what had been provided about the event, which like most tried to keep everything a mystery.
'A great storm has come upon the land, like naught ever seen before, and in its depths something fierce and terrible lurked.
All the warriors of the kingdom will be needed to unite against this mysterious force and drive it back into the dark. '
"This sounds like something Maleagant could easily bend to his will," Guinevere said, sighing as she dismissed the message from her own screen, scrolling through settings and more to tweak and adjust. Like Morgan, like many women in their lines of work, she had worn breeches and a tunic.
Scandalous in noble circles, nothing she would ever wear in court, but she'd spent hours upon hours in the forest collecting the ingredients and tools of her craft, going places where a gown would be not just impractical, but deadly.
She was dressed the same now, in dark brown breeches and a dark green tunic with a linen undershirt, her hair plaited and wound around the back of her head.
She also wore a dark brown cloak, the hood currently down around her shoulders, and carried a staff made from rowan wood and carved with all manner of runes.
The crown of points at the top, from branches cut and trimmed down, cradled a crystal ball that swirled with stored magic. "That is your exact staff."
"Strange, right? It's not like you boys and your magic swords. There was no reason for it to carry forward like us. Which reminds me: why is—"
"Arondight a katana? A quirk of magic and the game."
"I see," Guinevere said, poorly smothering a grin. "Poor Lancelot, wielding a katana instead of his proper broadsword."
"It's growing on me, even if I'm not using it at all the way a katana is meant to be used."
Guinevere laughed, but before she could speak, her attempt was drowned out by a crack of thunder so loud it thrummed right through him, making his chest vibrate and his teeth ache.
Lightning cracked through the sky, but the lightning was all sorts of colors, like a rainbow of crackling death.
Then came another sound of crashing doom.
Not thunder, though, but something far more ominous, like a hundred dragons roaring and growling all at once.
The clouds parted in patches, and various dragons' heads were just visible, some poking through, others moving about just above.
If he was counting right, there were twenty-seven heads in total, and he'd wager there were three greater heads or something just out of sight, making an even thirty—the exact number of days now that the game had been available.
One month precisely since he'd woken and this whole war had begun again.
On his screen, he got pings that six of his 'friends' were online. Two of them were mutuals, so they'd start there. He signaled as much to Gwen, and they headed into the fray.