Welcome to the Round Table of Bretonnia!

Sir Simon stepped forward to challenge the approaching Tomb King and the creature stopped, its piercing eyes locking on those of the questing knight. It spoke, but its voice seemed to echo in his head, instead of coming from the creature’s mouth. The voice was cold and hard, and dripped with malice.

“You need not die here mortal knight.” the voice echoed through Sir Simon’s head, “I only want she who is mine and mine alone. She did not deserve this. My hierophant tells me you did not enter the tomb.” Sir Simon looked at the dwarf next him, and could tell he was hearing the same words.

“You are clearly brave warriors and I would lose much for your deaths, but the results would be the same regardless. I the great King Anharasphut, give you my word that if you allow me to take my Queen back to our eternal rest, I will allow you to live.” Sir Simon kept his sword up and considered the undead lord’s words.

“How can I trust you, undead creature? What word is that of the dead?” Sir Simon’s voice was strong and firm, despite the fearful enemies arrayed before him.

“I was once a great King mortal! I knew of honor and nobility long before your ancestors even wore furs! You have my word that you can walk free. You also have my word that you will die if you stand against me.”

“I do not fear death Tomb King,” Sir Simon remained with his sword raised.

“Neither do I mortal knight,” the Tomb King smiled a lipless smile, a disconcerting sight, “I assure you it was quite conquerable, at least for me. Now I offer one last time, return my Queen to me, or die.”

Sir Simon looked at the dwarf next to him. Brynn’s eyes flickered between the skeletons and the knight. The dwarf nodded slowly. Sir Simon breathed deeply and turned to face the Tomb King. In the back of his mind, he felt the lightest touch, the softest words, and he knew what he must do.

The questing knight lowered his blade. “You may have your Queen back, Tomb King, and I will hold you to your word.”

He stepped aside, though his gut churned with consternation. The dwarf nodded to him again and stepped aside as well, lowering his axe. A hunched figure, who appeared to be a living, wizened old man, shuffled forward past the King, pausing only to whisper something to his lord. He then approached the casket and began muttering words as the knight and dwarf watched him intently. King Anharasphut turned back to Sir Simon.

“My hierophant tells me you protected my Queen in battle mortal knight. The mortal that led you would have done nothing but harm to her. For that I thank you. Take this.” sand blew away in front of Sir Simon, revealing a necklace hidden in the ground. “It belonged to one of your kind who passed this way long ago,” the King’s hollow voice continued to echo in Sir Simon’s head, “and I give it to you, with your life, as a reward for your protection. Pass through this land again though and your blood will decorate the sand.” The King turned as a great sandy wind blew up, obscuring everything in front of Sir Simon and Brynn. In seconds, the sands disappeared, and with them, the undead King and his warriors. The two were left standing in the silent ruins of their campsite.

Marcelles, somehow still alive after the battle, whinnied on the far side of the camp and trotted towards Sir Simon. The questing knight kneeled down and picked up the necklace, decorated with a simple silver fleur de lys, the sign of the Lady. He could feel the magical power emulating from the icon, and noticed that a small questing knight was engraved upon its pristine surface. The poison in his blood suddenly seemed to fade, and with great reverence he slipped it on around gus neck, and the warmth spread to his chest.
           

Brynn whistled. “Well laddie, that was the closest wee scrape I’ve ever been in and that’s the truth. I thought our bloody boots were cooked, so I did. I dunno what to make of all this, I tell ya.”

Sir Simon smiled wanly, “I do not know either. The Lady, I felt her right before I talked to that monstrous King. I knew I was doing the right thing, for she would not lead me astray.”

“Better you than me laddie,” the dwarf snorted, “I thought he was going to bloody well skin us after ye lowered ya blade.”

“Clearly he did not, master Brynn. Now, we have some riding to do, so I suggest we gather up what water we can, as well as Ferdonio’s map, and get moving. We don’t want that undead King to change his mind.” The magic of the amulet made him feel stronger already, and he swung himself up into the saddle on the back of Marcelles.

“Bloody water,” the dwarf grumbled at his side, “I’m damn near sick of bloody water. I need a drink. Some nice ale would do. Yes, I nice ale… Did I ever tell ya about this place called the Ten-Tailed Cat, twas this tavern in…”

Sir Simon chuckled, hefted his blade into his scabbard, and began trotting off towards the sinking moons, the dwarf following along behind, chattering all the while.