Unknownfate
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Chapter 17
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 00:16:04 +0000 UTCThe room was silent. Tense.
Major Evelyn Grant stood at the front, posture stiff, gaze sharp as she swept her eyes across the gathered team. Behind her, a high-resolution image of Camelot illuminated the screen—the city's pristine white walls gleaming under the projector's glow.
She let the weight of the moment settle before speaking.
“Good morning.” Her voice was crisp, authoritative. “You’ve been selected for one of the most critical exploratory missions in modern history.”
She paused. “Everything discussed here is classified. If any details leak outside this room, you will face prosecution under the Official Secrets Act.”
A murmur of acknowledgment rippled through the room.
Grant gave a sharp nod. “Good. Let’s go over what we know.”
The screen shifted, displaying an aerial view of Camelot.
“Three days ago, this city appeared without warning. No construction. No signs of planning. Satellite data confirms it wasn’t built through any conventional means—it’s as if it simply… materialized.”
A few people exchanged uneasy glances.
Grant pressed forward. “Yesterday, a UK delegation made first contact. While the meeting wasn’t an outright disaster, it wasn’t promising either. A significant political divide exists between us and them—but that’s not our concern right now.”
She let that settle before continuing.
“Your mission is simple: Observe. Gather intelligence. Avoid complications.”
Her gaze hardened. “Understand that this is more than an archaeological marvel—this is a power we do not yet comprehend.”
The projection changed again, showing yesterday’s delegation entering the city. The image, taken from a distance, was grainy but clear.
“These,” she gestured to two armored figures, “were our guides. There’s a strong likelihood you’ll encounter them.”
The screen zoomed in, highlighting one of the knights.
“First, a name you should remember: Mordred.”
The impact was immediate.
Dr. Celeste Moran blinked, startled. “Mordred? As in, the traitor who rebelled against Arthur?”
Grant’s expression was unreadable. “Yes. That Mordred.”
A stunned silence followed.
Liam Hargrove let out a low whistle. “So, the guy who killed Arthur is now sitting at his table? That’s… something.”
Grant shot him a sharp look. “This isn’t a discussion. It’s a warning.”
Hargrove immediately straightened. “Got it.”
Grant’s tone turned even graver. “And one more thing: Do. Not. Lie.”
Her words cut through the air like a blade.
She let that settle before continuing. “The King made it very clear: ‘Before this throne, there are no secrets.’”
Jonah Reed, arms folded, leaned forward. “So they can just… see through us?” His expression darkened. “How are we supposed to handle that?”
Grant held his gaze. “You tell the truth.”
She scanned the room. “Omit details if necessary, but do not fabricate. If they catch you lying, it won’t just be your life on the line—it will jeopardize this entire mission.”
Silence.
Dr. Helena Cruz hesitated before raising her hand. “Major, you mentioned they’re sensitive to disrespect. Could you elaborate?”
Grant nodded, shifting the screen to an image of the Round Table.
“Camelot is built on strict hierarchy, honor, and tradition.” She leveled her gaze at the team. “A perceived slight—however minor—could be taken as an insult. Show them respect. Especially toward the King and the knights.”
Her expression hardened further. “Make no mistake—you are entering a court that considers itself the rightful rulers of this land. Whether you believe that or not, you must act as though you do.”
Dr. Moran crossed her arms. “So, what? We humor them? Play along with their medieval fantasy?”
Grant’s response was immediate. “This isn’t about humoring them. It’s about survival.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
After a long pause, Jonah Reed exhaled sharply. “Anything else we need to know?”
Grant’s expression softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “Yes. Assume you are under constant observation.”
She let her words linger. “Everything you say, everything you do—will be noted.”
She clicked to the final image on the screen.
Sir Agravain.
His black-and-silver armor reflected the torchlight of the throne room, his gaze sharp as a dagger’s edge.
“Mordred isn’t the only wildcard.”
The team stared at the image, unsettled by the sheer intensity of Agravain’s expression.
Grant’s voice dropped slightly. “Sir Agravain—one of Arthur’s most loyal knights. He is calculating, strategic, and unwavering in his devotion. Do not mistake his politeness for weakness.”
She turned to the team. “He will be watching you closely.”
A final pause.
Then, Major Evelyn Grant straightened, clasping her hands behind her back. “Your mission begins at dawn. Dismissed.”
The team slowly stood, exchanging wary glances as they filed out of the room.
The weight of what lay ahead pressed upon them all.
-------
The team stood just past the barricades put in place to manage the growing crowd outside Camelot. The city’s gleaming white walls towered above them—both awe-inspiring and intimidating.
Major Evelyn Grant, dressed in her field uniform, accompanied the team but would not join them inside. She stood at the group's edge, giving them a final look.
“This is it,” she said, her voice low yet resolute. “You’ve all been briefed and understand the stakes.
"Once you pass through those gates, you’re representing more than yourselves. You represent the government, the nation’s people, and, whether you accept it or not, all of modern humanity.”
Dr. Celeste Moran adjusted her bag, her face showing a mix of apprehension and determination.
“No pressure, then,” she muttered quietly.
Grant’s keen gaze turned to her. “Pressure sharpens you, Dr. Moran. Remember our discussion.
"Respect their customs, speak honestly, and stay focused on the mission.”
Liam Hargrove, carrying a small camera rig over his shoulder, shifted on his feet.
“And if Mordred starts acting... Mordred-y?”
Grant’s jaw clenched. “Do not provoke him. Treat him with the respect you'd show any knight of Camelot. Avoid mentioning the rebellion, and keep your personal views to yourself. He’s already unpredictable—don’t provoke him further.”
Dr. Jonah Reed, holding a case of diagnostic equipment, glanced nervously at the gates.
“Do we have any idea what technology they're using to monitor us? Are we walking into some kind of medieval surveillance?”
Grant shook her head. “We're unaware of their full capabilities. Assume they are listening and watching.
"Everything you say and do is being recorded as far as they’re concerned. Stay alert.”
Dr. Helena Cruz adjusted her gloves, her voice deliberate.
“And about the King? If we encounter them directly, how should we address their sovereignty?”
“You don’t,” Grant replied firmly. “Recognize their authority within Camelot, but don’t validate or contest their claim to the throne.
"Remain neutral and respectful. The aim is to gather information, not to instigate a conflict.”
The team's resolve strengthened as the weight of the mission sank in.
Grant stepped aside, indicating the gates. “Let’s hope for the best.”
They advanced toward the gates, the crowd's noise fading as they crossed the barricades.
Unbeknownst to them, the government itself was uncertain whether they would even be permitted entry.
Everything was unclear. But as they approached, the massive gates began to open slowly.
Inside, two armored figures awaited them, their silver and blue armor glinting in the sunlight.
Their formidable presence was matched by the unnerving stillness with which they observed the team’s approach.
One of the knights stepped forward, voice echoing from within the helm.
“Halt! By the command of the White Lion King, you are not permitted to wander the city without an escort. Wait here until one arrives.”
The team froze instantly. The knight’s authoritative tone sliced through the air, leaving no space for dissent.
They exchanged uneasy glances, the tension evident.
Dr. Celeste Moran fiddled with her satchel anxiously. “Well, that certainly makes an impression,” she muttered quietly.
Liam Hargrove looked at her, an amused expression on his face. “Still think this is just a medieval reenactment?” he whispered.
Dr. Cruz stepped forward and addressed the knights directly. “We appreciate your hospitality and will follow your instructions.”
The knights remained silent, their immobile arms resembling statues.
Dr. Cruz shifted awkwardly and stepped back, embarrassed. The hand she had extended for a handshake slowly dropped again.
She cursed herself for not considering whether handshakes were customary in that era.
As the team waited by the gates, they heard footsteps approaching from within the city.
This sound was lighter, almost cheerful, a sharp contrast to the heavy, measured steps of the knights who had welcomed them.
The armored figure that stepped out was noticeably different—not by his shining armor, which resembled that of the others, but by his demeanor.
His helmet was cradled under one arm, revealing a youthful face surrounded by golden hair that sparkled in the sunlight.
He wore a bright, open expression, a warm smile spreading across his face as he walked toward the group.
“Greetings!” he called, his voice filled with childlike exuberance. “I am Sir Gareth, and I am honored to guide you through Camelot today!”
The team blinked in surprise at the stark difference between this knight and the imposing figures they’d encountered earlier.
Dr. Moran leaned closer to Dr. Cruz, whispering, “Did we step into a Disney movie?”
Gareth paused at a respectful distance and bowed deeply. The gesture was so heartfelt that it almost looked choreographed.
“You are most welcome here,” he said, straightening with a twinkle in his eyes.
“I have been tasked by His Majesty, King Arthur, to attend to your needs during your visit. It is a rare pleasure to meet those from beyond our walls.”
Jonah Reed, ever the skeptic, exchanged a look with Liam Hargrove. “Is this guy for real?” he muttered under his breath.
Gareth noticed the exchange and tilted his head slightly.
“Is something troubling you, good sir?” he asked. His tone held no suspicion, only genuine concern. “Also, I’m a girl.”
Reed blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Uh, no, eh, sorry, it's just… didn’t expect that, and I’m good, thanks.,” he said awkwardly, scratching his neck.
Reed wasn’t the only one shocked by that. As they looked closer, they could indeed see that Gareth appeared to be a woman, but that did little to soften the blow; no one had expected a female knight of the Round Table.
“Splendid!” Gareth exclaimed, his smile broadening.
“Come, then! There’s much to see, and I’m sure you have questions. I’ll answer what I can—truthfully, of course. Honesty is the foundation of trust, isn’t it?”
Dr. Cruz stepped forward, her tone both cautious and friendly. “Sir Gareth, we appreciate your guidance. May I ask if we will have the chance to speak with the King or the other knights during our visit?”
“Ah, that’s an excellent question!” Gareth replied, nodding enthusiastically.
“The King’s time is precious, but I will pass on your request to His Majesty. As for the others, you might see some during our tour. Sir Gawain usually trains in the courtyard at this hour, and Sir Bedivere is often absorbed in city matters. But come! Let’s not waste the sunlight. Camelot is waiting!”
With a grand gesture, he turned and led the way, stepping lively.
The team followed, their initial apprehension giving way to a blend of curiosity and unease.
Sir Gareth appeared innocent and noble, but the stakes of their mission felt higher than ever.
Further back, people from around the world were watching.
Though too far to overhear anything, their equipment allowed them to see the unfolding scene.
Sir Gareth's arrival sparked excitement and chatter among them, including the government, which promptly noted another potential Round Table knight.
------
As the team followed Sir Gareth through the grand gates, the transition from the outside world to Camelot’s interior was breathtaking.
The walls, pristine and imposing from afar, were even more striking up close. Intricate carvings and timeless banners adorned their surfaces, whispering tales of a city where myth and reality seamlessly intertwined.
The city buzzed with a palpable sense of history.
Sir Gareth led them with childlike enthusiasm, gesturing widely at various landmarks.
“This, my friends, is the Artisan’s Quarter,” she said, pointing toward a row of elaborately decorated buildings. “Here, our finest craftsmen tirelessly create beautiful and functional goods.”
Dr. Moran’s eyes widened at the architecture. “Incredible,” she whispered, quickly jotting down notes. “These designs are far too advanced for what we usually associate with the medieval era.”
“Is that so?” Gareth replied, turning to her with a bright smile. “Perhaps our artisans simply strive harder to honor their craft.”
Dr. Moran adjusted her glasses, marveling at the details around her. “The craftsmanship is extraordinary,” she noted, scribbling continuously. “It’s almost too perfect.”
Gareth laughed lightly, her voice almost musical. “Our artisans take great pride in their work. Perfection is not merely a goal; it’s their way of honoring the city and the King.”
Liam Hargrove squinted toward a blacksmith’s forge, noticing the lack of smoke or activity.
“Doesn’t look like much is happening.”
“Ah,” Gareth responded cheerfully, though a hint of bashfulness crept in. “Well, there aren’t many people around right now... but I’m sure more will come from afar to live here soon enough—it's Camelot!
"Who wouldn’t want to live here?” Sir Gareth’s optimism was infectious, yet it left the team with more questions.
Dr. Cruz tilted her head, observing the pristine but eerily empty streets. “Does this mean the city will accept new residents?”
Gareth’s expression brightened, seemingly unconcerned by the implication. “Indeed! Camelot is open to everyone!... or will be soon enough, as we’re still preparing everything.”
Jonah Reed, analyzing a nearby stone archway, interjected, “That’s fine, but… built by whom, exactly? There’s no evidence of construction—no scaffolding or tools left behind.”
Gareth turned to face him, his golden hair catching the sunlight almost intentionally.
“Camelot was raised by the will of the King; his power manifested this city! Though the original Camelot was made overnight by the fae under Merlin’s request,” she stated plainly, as if it were the most obvious answer.
Reed opened his mouth to argue but stopped, glancing at Dr. Moran, who subtly shook her head in caution.
Dr. Moran cleared her throat, stepping in to diffuse the moment. “A remarkable accomplishment,” she said with a measured voice. “Creating something so grand truly reflects the King’s vision.”
Gareth’s face lit up, her enthusiasm rekindled. “It does, doesn’t it? His Majesty’s will is unwavering, and his vision is unmatched. Camelot stands as proof of his greatness and the unity he inspires.”
Dr. Cruz tilted her head, selecting her words carefully. “And the people who will come here—will they be chosen, or is it open to all?”
Gareth’s smile softened, a moment of reflection crossing her features.
“The gates of Camelot will welcome all who seek to honor its ideals: loyalty, courage, and truth. However, those who come must be ready to embrace a way of life rooted in justice and order. Living under the King’s light is no small thing.”
Hargrove, unable to restrain himself, muttered, “Sounds like an impressive recruitment pitch.”
Gareth caught the comment but responded with a good-natured chuckle. “You jest, but it’s no less true. Camelot isn’t just a city; it’s a dream made real. Being part of it means being part of something greater than oneself.”
Dr. Moran moved closer to Gareth, her notebook ready. “Sir Gareth, you mentioned the King’s power manifested the city. Would you say that’s… magical?”
Gareth’s eyes sparkled with genuine amusement.
“Ah, magic… I’m not sure the King learned much from Merlin… so I guess no one in the city can really do magic? The King is the King, though; they can do everything!”
Dr. Moran flipped to a fresh page in her notebook, intrigued. “Sir Gareth, you mentioned Merlin. Is he... here in Camelot?”
Gareth shook her head. “No, he’s still in Avalon, watching the world from his tower, or at least that’s what I heard.”
The team paused for a moment, reflecting on Gareth’s words.
The absence of Merlin—a central figure in the legends—added to the mystery surrounding Camelot’s sudden reappearance.
Jonah broke the silence, his tone gruff yet inquisitive. “What about the other knights? You mentioned Sir Gawain earlier. How many are here?”
Gareth’s smile returned, brighter than before.
“Ah, Sir Gawain, my noble brother, is indeed here, along with Sir Bedivere, Sir Agravain, and others. Each of us serves His Majesty in our own way, upholding the ideals of the Round Table.”
Dr. Cruz leaned in, curiosity shining in her eyes. “And Mordred? Is he truly part of this court?”
Gareth hesitated, clearly caught off guard by the question. Her smile softened into a more thoughtful expression.
“Yes, Sir Mordred is among us. He is the King’s heir, and even if… well, the King’s mercy is infinite.”
“Well!” Gareth exclaimed, clapping his hands together, fully reclaiming his cheerfulness. “Enough talk of the past. There’s so much more of Camelot to explore. Shall we continue?”
