"The King has prepared a grand tournament to commemorate your visit and your country's return to the crusade against the Endless Abyss," Morgan explained as she guided us to the throne room. Lydia and the others looked completely ignorant about Morgan's identity.

"Morgan Le Faye is one of the most dangerous people I've ever read about."

Lydia's eyes slid to me then to Morgan. I couldn't see Idyia or Anna's reactions because they marched behind us and I didn’t want to turn my attention away from Morgan for a single instant.

"She directly led to the fall of Camelot on Earth by stealing Arthur's sheath of immortality-"

"Ranger Levin, perhaps you should refrain from idle gossip. It is unbecoming of a future King."

I froze mid-step. Everyone did. The guards around us looked confused, but Lydia, Idyia, Anna, and I glared daggers into Morgan's back. Even after interrupting our telepathic conversation, she refused to face us.

"As knowledgeable as you claim to be, you've neglected mention of my arcane prowess. Other than Merlin, none rivaled my skill and power."

I reached for Laevatein.

"Draw not, your holy sword."

Our guards shifted from confused to cautious. There was a palpable tension in the air.

Slowly, Morgan turned.

"Shall we continue?"

"Levin, stand down. Let it be for now," Lydia said to us all. "Of course, please continue, Lady Morgan." Lydia's royal composure was restored after a few steps but I was still tense.

Meeting a 31st Level Hero was bad enough. Now I had to maneuver around whatever magical and political scheme revolved around these two legendary adversaries. Was Morgan the reason why King Arthur didn't destroy the Rift? Did she hold him in check somehow?

"Announcing Her Royal Majesty, Queen Lydumillia of Renalis, and her betrothed, Ranger Levin!"

Morgan's voice echoed. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't notice we'd arrived in front of the throne room. She waved one dainty hand before the immense double doors and they slid slowly open.

A regal, red carpet lined with gold trim led up to a five-step elevated platform where a man with a neatly trimmed, gray beard sat. Between his legs was a golden sword stabbed deeply into a stone slab. His hands rested lightly on the pommel. His lips were pulled back into grim lines and his overall expression exuded a sense of disappointment with everything he laid eyes on.

Along the carpet stood over two dozen knights, spears held high and over to form an arch that we passed under. As we stepped forward, the knights brought down their spears and pivoted to kneel in the direction of the throne.

To my utter and complete surprise, Morgan ascended to the throne and sat in the vacant seat to the king's left, one reserved for the Queen.

I wracked my brain. Which Arthurian Legend was the most accurate? Or are they all wrong? Was Morgan Le Faye the terrifying villainess she was written to be or was the answer far more nuanced?

Anna, Idyia, and the rest of the servants knelt. Lydia's royal guardsmen bowed. She and I remained standing.

"Welcome to Camelot, Queen Lydumillia of Renalis," spoke Arthur. He stood and kept one hand rested on the sword in the stone. "I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Avalon. Your country's return to the frontlines is much anticipated. I look forward to fighting alongside my kin once again."

So King Arthur was descended from dragons. Which version of the legend had that tidbit?

"I as well," Lydia knowingly replied. She either sensed or already knew King Arthur was dragonkin. I couldn't ask her to confirm. We refrained from using Telepathy with Morgan watching us like a hawk from her throne.

"And Ranger Levin, I presume you will lead the Renalians into battle? You have the eyes of a veteran."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I tore my gaze away from Morgan. I just realized I never stopped locking eyes with her.

"With a Hero at the helm, I expect great results." He turned his attention toward me.

"You wish to claim Sir Tristain's Legendary bow, Failnaught. I do not part with my treasures so easily. Pray tell, why should I allow you to take it?"

I frowned. King Arthur Pendragon was a legendary figure of chivalry and paternity. He was a king that united Britain under his banner, golden sword in hand. No half-assed answer would do. Lydia was about to speak, but I beat her to the punch.

"Because letting it rot in a tomb is a waste of valuable combat power."

King Arthur raised one brow ever so slightly. Even Morgan's inscrutable mask twisted in surprise. Lydia looked aghast and tried to interject but I stepped forward, one foot on the first stair leading to Arthur's throne. The rasp of steel being drawn echoed through the throne room but everyone ignored it.

"I won't let any opportunity to keep my troops alive pass me by without even trying. Adding Failnaught to my arsenal will do that." I stared him straight in the eye.

"It has been many years since any have spoken to me with such candor. You care that much for your men?"

“Rangers lead the way,” I whispered.

“Speak up, Ranger Levin,” Arthur demanded, but I didn’t see him.

Victor. Martha. Finlay. Dauf. Rhodes. And everyone else filled my mind.

"I will lead them to war. Then I will lead them home. I stake my life on it."

King Arthur was silent as he held my gaze. Neither of us broke the stare. We didn't move. We didn't even breathe. Arthur's lips curled viciously.

"Prove your worth."

King Arthur drew his golden blade from the stone pedestal with a resounding chime. It was far too lyrical to be steel grinding against stone. Just like in the legends, Excalibur, the Sword of the King that could cut through all, glowed with the light of a thousand suns. Even my transcendent Constitution could not bear to look upon it. Lydia and Anna shrieked in pain.

“Idyia! Shield Anna!” I shouted. I grabbed Lydia by the shoulders and jammed her head into my breast, with my back facing Excalibur’s horrific light. In my own blindness, I could only assume Idyia did likewise. I saw their dots on my Map huddled together.

“You reacted quickly. It seems your maidservant is of decent caliber as well.” Excalibur’s light faded like a setting sun, assuming its previous, modest glow.

“You fucking bastard!” I wiped away the black dots from my vision and inspected Lydia’s eyes. She was weeping, but I forced her eyelids open and rage filled my mind. Her retinas were completely burned out.

All my lovers had similar Constitution values, so they were all likely permanently blinded.

Laevatain exploded into life within my death grip just as Renala’s dragonfire melted the top of the grand hall, sending molten stone and slag raining down upon the Knights.

I charged the throne.

“You are brave to challenge me in melee combat.” He swung Excalibur once, with a single hand to meet my double-handed blow. In a show of physical impossibility, the mythical sword of English Legend shattered Laevatain’s blade of golden dragonfire like a sledgehammer to glass.

“Brave, but foolish.”

I poured all of my MP into the broken hilt and unleashed a blast of demigod-level dragonfire point-blank into King Arthur’s face. The pillar of hungry flames consumed everything up to his ankles and blasted through the wall behind him.

“Oh? To reduce my Health by so much with a single strike.” All the blood drained from my face as Arthur’s voice echoed over the eruption of dragonfire.

With another swing, I was sent hurtling to the opposite side of the throne room. Then I felt and heard the sonic barrier break. The immense shift in air pressure shattered the great hall’s windows, cratered the ground, doused Goldfire Renala’s flames, and cleared a 30-foot radius around the King. I felt my HP drop down to 70% from the impact of my back against the stone wall. I bounced off it but landed on my feet and reassessed the situation.

Laevatain's blade reformed, but it didn't matter. I wouldn't catch him off-guard with the same tactic twice. King Arthur could literally block bullets; his sword swings were super sonic. His reaction speed was beyond superhuman. I prepared myself to meet my second death. Even in the face of overwhelming odds and inevitable defeat, I would not surrender. It went against everything I trained for and fought for up until now.

Morgan stood in front of Lydia and the rest of the Renalian procession, one hand held out. A glass-like hemisphere shielded them from harm, although I could see countless cracks radiating from the section facing King Arthur. To my amazement, the Knights of Avalon were relatively unharmed. Renala unleashed her breath weapon at Arthur but in a show of physics-defying, supernatural power, he cut her flames in half with another super-sonic strike. A crescent shockwave of pure air visibly rippled through the fire and struck Renala in the face, sending her recoiling out of the massive hole in the roof she just blasted through.

The attack’s residual physical force cracked Morgan’s shield again.

“Your Majesty, drawing steel against an allied power is unbecoming.” Morgan calmly said despite the rampant destruction of the throne room.

Arthur glanced at Morgan then lowered his sword. “A simple retort for Ranger Levin’s rudeness. Be grateful. Normally, I would have taken your heads.”

A-simple-fucking-retort?! You maimed my wife! This man is fucking insane!

“You may heal them, Morgan.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Ranger Levin,” she turned to me as I cautiously approached, sword held at the ready. “Call your dragon to heel and withdraw your sword, Ranger.” Without waiting for my reply, she banished her shield and waved her hands while muttering a Spell in a language I instinctively understood to be Fey.

Time reversed. Somehow, the immense damage inflicted on the throne room repaired itself. I watched in real-time as gigantic, flaming stones doused themselves and flew up to the roof to plug the hole. The throne, which was less than slag at this point, remade itself from the bottom up. In less than ten seconds, the throne room was pristine.

Even our HP was restored. I sprinted over to my lovers and inspected them for wounds, paying careful attention to their eyes.

“It’s all right, Levin, I can see again,” Lydia held me tightly. Her whole body was trembling. I’d never seen her so scared, not even when we first met and her father was slain.

“Renala, don’t fight,” I ordered. There was a fierce amount of resistance from the other end of our telepathic link, but she eventually settled for seething on the rooftop. She craned her neck into one of the great hall’s massive windows to watch with one giant eye.

“I say again, Ranger Levin: prove your worth.”

I guided Lydia to Anna and Idyia. The Renalian royal guardsmen recovered thanks to Morgan’s Spell, formed a protective circle around them while I strode up to the throne. Morgan regarded me with an unreadable, side-long stare as I walked past her.

This time, I did not step onto the first stair.

“What would you have me do?”

“Good. Now, you finally understand your place.”

I kept my face impassive. I was used to this - being told I was a worthless shitbag by my superiors was standard practice in the US Army.

“You and I shall duel, in public, after the tournament. I will use nothing but a wooden training sword. You may wield whatever you wish. If you can land even a glancing blow upon me, I will give you Failnaught and my blessing.”

This wasn’t a request. There was only one thing left to say:

“Understood.”