Old Scars

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As Camelot prepared for the victory banquet of King Ector following the battle, Lady Qwynevere made arrangements to return to her former home of Camelot. The trees scattered the light from the sun as they rays hit the monastery. Gwynevere finished gathering the rest of her affects for the return as the mother superior walked to her.

“How are you feeling my child?” the mother asked.

Gwynevere tried to hide her apprehension. “Well, thank you. I’ll be sure to visit here whenever I can. It isn’t far from the castle, so services shouldn’t be…”

“I know my child. I think the king picked this site so you can find solace from the castle’s gossips.”

Gwynevere shuddered at the thought. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“If you ever feel the desire to return here. We will always have a room for you.”

“Thank you, mother superior.”

“By the way, do you know who will be escorting you to Camelot.”

“I know not. But…well we shall see when they finally arrive.”

“Yes, they seem to be running behind are they not?”

“It does appear to be the case.”

“Appears to be what?” said a knight in armor.

Both women were stunned to find two men in armor next to them. One was wearing a full suit of armor as the other wore chainmail and plate on random parts of his body. Gwynevere could tell the boy was a squire, while the knight’s heraldry gave away his identity. “Hello Sir Kay. It’s been a long time.”

Sir Kay spoke coldly, not even looking the queen in the eye. “We saw each when King Ector was wounded rescuing Lady Rosalie. That wasn’t a long time ago.”

“But it wasn’t a….When did you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible. I’ll feel better when we’re back to Camelot. Reports recently haven’t been very encouraging.”

“Of course. I’m prepared to leave now.”

“Fantastic,” the knight growled under his breath. Ulrich looked back and forth confused and concerned for the lady’s safety. As they group journeyed towards Camelot no one spoke. Tension between the knight and the queen was apparent and the squire was concerned for his own safety since he was positioned between the two.

“Young Ulrich, I heard you were at the battle with King Ector?”

Ulrich turned to Sir Kay, who acted as if nothing was said, before speaking. “Why yes, my lady. I was close to the king for most of the fight.”

“And was it also true that you slew five on the enemy’s generals?”

“Aye, it was around high noon I believe. They were trying to direct and counter attack and I simply did what I had to do.”

“Spoken like a true knight,” said Sir Kay. “But remember lad, you’re not a knight just yet.” The knight said the words not with a harsh tone, but one of reverence for finer qualities of knighthood, humility.

“I take it that’ll happen when you finally decide to make me one eh?” replied the squire.

“Maybe, but then I’d have to work in the kitchen then.”

“You yourself said that kitchen breeds good knights. You could do well from spending some time there.”

The knight turned to the squire, who returned look back. Both men laughed and Sir Kay patted Ulrich on the shoulder. “Aye lad, you’ll be a great knight if I don’t kill you then.”

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