Book 2 Extra 5: Knights of the Square Table (1/2)
The island of Critias had, for the longest time, been a literal goldmine. For decades, the land has been explored and exploited for valuable metals, rare earth minerals, and the occasional diamonds here and there. However, nothing lasts forever (no, not even diamond deposits), and while the central areas around the caldera still saw continued mining efforts, over time the island's businesses began to focus more on the blossoming tourism industry. Some of the old mining settlements managed to move on with the times, and became the hosts of wellness resorts, some even exploiting the local geothermal spring waters to create honest-to-goodness hot springs, bringing wealth to few and continued middle-class existence to others.
However, not all of the small settlements peppering the land were suitable for these endeavors, and once the local ore veins ran dry, the mineworkers and their families either moved to other, as of yet not fully tapped sites, or to one of the few larger cities on the island, leaving slowly decaying, abandoned houses behind. Well, at least they would have if everything didn't look brand new and completely spotless anyway, but that's beside the point.
In one of these small hamlets a couple of kilometers southwest of Timaeus, consisting of maybe a couple dozen mostly vacant houses, a group of stern people were seated around a standard-sized family dining table. It was already dark outside, though it was impossible to tell due to all of the roller shutters on the windows being completely down. The inside wasn't much brighter either, as the house where the men took shelter apparently didn't have electricity, and thus they had to rely on a couple of old copper kerosene lamps for illumination. They gave the otherwise simple, if somewhat bare, living room a decidedly spooky atmosphere.
Currently, there were six people inside the room. Around the table in the center sat three of them on robust wooden chairs, all wearing plate armor from head to toe, and for some unfathomable reason, they were still wearing their helmets as well even inside their impromptu safe-house like it was completely natural. Aside from the men in the middle, there was one squire, also still fully dressed in metal, keeping a lookout by peering through a gap in the blinders, while two others were stationed at the two exits of the room. The rest of the squires were also in the building, either dressing their wounds in the bedrooms or consuming the canned food stockpiled in the kitchen. Needless to say, they were all wearing their helmets too. Yes, even the ones eating. The Knights were apparently very fastidious about their headgear.
”So, in conclusion,” one of the men by the table broke the silence, his unfamiliar pointed helmet contrasting his familiar deep, gravely voice, and he simultaneously placed his hands clad in red gauntlets onto the table. In fact, his entire armor was a deep shade of red, with copious amounts of silver filigree in the shape of feathers. Since the spot of the Griffon Knight was already taken by the man sitting by the other end of the table, it meant he was either the Eagle Knight or the Raven Knight, not counting any as of yet unrevealed avian-themed chevaliers. Anyhow, after a long beat, he continued with, ”Today's attack on the abominable wyrmbloods was an abject failure.”
”More or less,” Mr. Griffon noted with a nod that made his armor clank quite audibly, though nobody seemed to mind.
”A' leest we didnae lose a'body,” the burliest of the three steel-clad men noted while crossing his arms, and Mr. Red and feathery immediately sent him a skeptical glance visible through the visor of his helmet.
”True, everyone survived, but I would hardly say you didn't lose anything. Such as your sword,” he stated while using a finger to point at the conspicuously empty scabbard hanging from Mr. Minotaur's waist.
”Och shut yer gob! Ah coudnae dae anythin' aboot it! If ainlie ah hud mah axe...”
”Then it would have been your axe that the mysterious mister Bel took instead,” Mr. Griffon interjected in a flat tone, immediately arousing the ire of his companion.
”Big gab frae someain fa git 'is pooch pick'd in th' open!”
”Sir Duncan is right,” the third Knight agreed with a solemn voice. ”Don’t cast the first stone when you yourself lost the Talisman of Purity to the enemy.”
”Yea, at leest Ah only tint mah ain sword! Ye tint Penny-gurl's a'tifact! She's gonnae be pished!” Mr. Minotaur piled on with a triumphant nod, only to reel back when Mr. Red smacked his hand against the table.
”It might have been just your side-arm, but you still lost an heirloom of our order, brother! You have no reason to sound so full of yourself.”
”Ah ken, ah juist...” the big guy mumbled in response, but he didn't manage to give a proper answer.
There was a long moment of silence, which lasted until the Knight in the red armor raised his hand to his helm in a gesture that might have looked like a face-palm if not for the, well, helmet. So… helmet-palm? Either way, after taking a deep breath, he finally let his hand down and spoke again.
”I should have gone with you two after all.”
”I fail to see how it would have improved the situation,” Mr. Griffon spoke up with a voice that said he was already tired of this conversation. ”You are still recovering. Getting out without any casualties was already a small miracle; the last thing we needed was you on the field.”
”Roland!” Mr. Minotaur exclaimed in outrage, but quickly fell silent after receiving a glare from the man with the winged helmet.
”You know that I'm right. There is a reason why we left Sir Arnwald behind; until he can properly walk again, let alone run, he would be a liability on the battlefield.”
There was another long moment of tense silence hanging in the air, once again broken by the man in red.
”You are right. Bringing the entire operation ahead without waiting for sister Penelope to arrive was already a mistake. Whether I was with you or not wouldn't have made things any better.” As if he just recalled something, Mr. Red clicked his tongue and added, ”Brother Leonard might have helped though, but I couldn't reach him.”
”Aye, wasn't he suppose tae be oan th' island awready?”
”He is, but I couldn't contact him in time.” The red knight let out a regretful sigh at this point and continued with, ”He is deep undercover, and the one time we talked, the reception was so bad we could barely hear each other. I should have asked him about the situation back then; even if he couldn't join us, he might have learned about the miraculous recovery of the wyrmblood in the mansion.”
”Speaking of him, are we sure his cover is still intact?” the Griffon Knight inquired out of the blue, apparently surprising his comrades quite a bit. ”No matter how I think about it, the wyrmbloods reacted too quickly. Our invasion of their territory was only finalized the day before to capitalize on the absence of their eldest, yet even if they were informed the moment we broke down the gates, they arrived back too soon.”
”Whit urr ye getting' at?”
”I think there is a chance that he was discovered,” Mr. Griffon responded ponderously before scratching the chin of his helmet in a thoughtful (and also kind of comical) fashion. ”If they knew he was on the island, they might have deduced that we would attack them soon. It's not implausible that they have purposefully baited us into revealing ourselves, only to strike us in the back.”
”Juist th' craven schemes ye wid expect fae thair kind,” Mr. I'm-a-kettle-calling-the-plot-black noted with a sagely nod, and he was summarily ignored by the other two senior Knights.
”That would explain how they could arrive at the scene so fast, but there is still one very important element of today's disaster that is left unanswered?”
”Th' mask'd arsepiece.”
”Precisely,” the Knight in red nodded without batting an eye at the big man's choice of words. He was apparently already used to it.
”He called himself 'Bel of the Abyss',” Mr. Griffon commented with an audible frown. ”I've never heard of anyone by that name. What about you?”
”Neither have I. Based on the name alone, I would think he was from the netherworld, but that sounds too obvious.”
”Agreed. He managed to outwit us, so I doubt he would announce his affiliations so openly. Not to mention, the way he could move through space as he willed was truly peculiar.”
”Aye. Ah tried tae keep track o' him wi' mah territory, bit ah it pure wis as if he telepo'ted. A dinnae ken whit kind o' witchery that wis, bit 'twas truly wyrd. ”