Welcome to the Round Table of Bretonnia!

The old knight disappeared in the tree line, headed for his home.  A couple of minutes passed and Josserand became once again aware of her slim and pale body, still wet from the eerie gateway lake, in all nature’s glory. She did seem to feel the cold however chose not to show it. Her eyes locked his yet her attitude seem to have changed towards him. Her eyes slowly made him drowsy and tired. The surroundings faded into oblivion, all what was, were those deep and cold eyes. Her voice seemed to be detached and floating in the void: “I do not know what path She has chosen you for. All I see now is that she destined you to a path most irregular. A male servant of the Lady, gifted by her divine wisdom, I would have laughed before this encounter. Know that you have ever walked her path from birth to this moment. The hunt is over, mortal, I pray to Her that She grants you success in the endeavour you will have to face some day. Your hand is the sacrifice you had to make to fully understand what it means to be the link of the Lady to this land. It lives now in Her realm and it partially shimmers here in the twilight world but your hand shall never appear in the real world again. It is your promise to Her to do Her biding and serve Her will as she expect of all of us. Your sisters might despise you yet they’ll aid you if need be. Train the talents she had granted you, mortal, you’ll need them sooner or later. Now to make sure you never ever forget this night and your destiny.”

Her soft hands slowly caressed his shoulders, exploring and venturing deeper and deeper. Her lips were cold to the touch but tasted sweet. Josserand closed his eyes and didn’t open them again until the next morning. 

His dreams were muddled and confusing: he couldn’t make sense of them. The one moment he’d been chasing a woman, the next he found himself facing  an evil so great he shrunk to nothingness. Hordes of horses flooded a field, scarring a lake of dreams. A woman’s voice spoke to him in a strange and ancient language but still Josserand understood her biding. He was instructed into the tasks of the left hand. He could see his hand in a mirror but as he looked at it, it changed form into a fleur-de-lys. An unknown, bearded man greeted him but his back was made of water lilies. Smoke on the water, fire in the heavens. Mountains burning against the night sky, reflected by a lake as a beautiful tapestry of a man and woman holding hands. There was more, so much more knowledge the Lady in all her divine wisdom passed unto him over his path and destiny.  

Josserand woke to find a midday sun greeting him, high in the heavens, warming his naked body. He felt drained but in a way that only honest hard work can tax the body. The lake and the world had returned to the normal world. The events of last night seemed like a nightmare and a dream all in one, so unreal he could not believe it happened in the first place. Was his flight finally over and turned into plight? Had the Lady really a higher destiny for him? The hermit and his hut had disappeared overnight, making it feel ever so more a dream. His gear still lay there travel-ready. The one thing he couldn’t find, was his trusty blade. Returning to the lake, he witnessed how the sun reflected on the water mirror, blinding his eyes. As a cloud passed by, Josserand found  the sword of the hermit lodged into the shore. Glad to know it hadn’t been a dream, he pulled it out the mud and sheathed it.