Steel and Mana

The hall chosen for the banquet was unlike any Lancelot had seen before, which didn't really mean much, he realized, as he had barely left Avalon until now. Still, compared to back home, the ceiling was surprisingly high, supported by immense cedar beams. Around the high walls and the pillars themselves, banners made out of hide were stitched to them while different clans' crests hung from those rafters, displaying the multiple dozen tribes the Kahn ruled over. As he moved his eyes back towards the ground, he examined the lower walls, which were just as decorated, painted with murals of battles, some looking fresher than the rest, depicting a fight against a tall monster. It didn't take much to guess; it was the one that came through one of the harsh winters, reaching the Khulman borders.

Without trying to show that moving around still hurt, he walked slowly, keeping his face straight, following the same young envoy who let them into the inner city. The tables were not separated by rank here; instead, they were arranged in concentric circles around the fire pit at the center of the room, where whole lambs were being roasted on spits above an open flame. Sizzling fat hissed as it dripped onto coals, and the aroma of smoke and spice saturated the air... it felt wonderful, causing his stomach to rumble audibly.

"Nice, isn't it?" The boy smiled, looking back at Lancelot, who didn't feel ashamed at all.

"It does indeed. And to be honest, I do feel like I am starving."

"Good! We will feast tonight!" The Kahn's voice boomed, making Lancelot and the rest of the heads turn towards the grinning figure.

The Kahn sat on a raised platform built into the rear of the hall, not on a throne this time, but on a bench carved from ivory and bone. It seemed that he was flanked by his advisors and senior clan leaders in the middle of some kind of private meeting. This time around, his armor was off, replaced by a golden robe stitched with a blood-like, crimson thread.

Soon, Lancelot and his men were placed not far from him, near the innermost ring of the tables. It was, clearly, a gesture of respect—or maybe caution. It could have been both. The room filled up pretty quickly, and when every seat was taken, the Kahn clapped once, and scantly dressed women walked in, one for every seat, becoming their personal maid for the night, serving them plates of food whenever they finished one.

The meals came in multiple waves. First, there were thick flatbreads smeared with oils and herbs, roasted roots and tubers flavored with fermented cheese, and steaming bowls of blood-thick stew with cuts of meat. Lancelot didn't realize most of them, but their smell was fantastic, so he made sure that he tasted everything regardless of their looks. This was a moment of diplomacy, not comfort... and he didn't lie. He felt like he was starving after using up all his blood tattoos.

Once the first hour of eating had passed and the hall grew quieter due to full bellies and emptied cups, the Kahn finally spoke directly to him. As he did, he was still holding a massive lambchop, biting into it, and gazing into Lancelot's eyes.

“My boy,” he said, being suddenly especially close and without the decorum of a ruler. “Son of Avalon, eh? Tell me—what are you? Really. Man or beast? When we fought, I smelled the blood of beast on you, while your weapons are made of bones of the same creatures... and your armors are made of their hides.”

The hall hushed at once, not wanting to interfere with their talk and also curious about his answer.

"I assure you, all of us are men." Lancelot chuckled and then winced, his broken rib hurting. “But we are not wasting the creatures we kill. In Avalon, we look at them as a resource and not as the horrors of nightmares,” he began, meeting the Kahn’s gaze, his voice filled with pride. “Not anymore, that is. We may be few in number compared to armies you may amass, but our soldiers are more than capable of dealing with them.”

"Proud and confident words are those, Lancelot of Avalon." Rhanak chuckled. “But, after our exchange, I believe you. I may hurt you, I may kill your warriors... but even I can't fight against many.”

"Good thing, we don't need to fight," Lancelot smiled, raising his horn-shaped mug. "We are not enemies, and I know we are not friends yet, either. But Avalon is more willing to make friends than enemies... because what we fight are monsters and not people.”

After his words, a clear murmur of interest moved through the Khulman advisors close to the Kahn, but none dared interrupt their discussion.

"Friendship between the strong is a good goal." The Kahn nodded, taking another big bite, speaking while chewing on it, "Friendship between the strong and the weak, though, sometimes akin to having an enemy at your back, dragging you down."

"And who would be the weak you speak of?" He shot back at once, making the Kahn grin after a big gulp.

"Markoth."

"..."

"I hear that your Avalon pledged to protect them." Rhanak continued, "A chain can only be as strong as its weakest link... and they are rusted."

"Maybe, but we believe that we can restore them."

"That is your issue," Rhanak sighed, shaking his head, "I am just warning you ahead of time to be aware of the dangers."

"Thank you," Lancelot answered, but it was clear that he thought otherwise, and the Kahn didn't take offense at that. "I assume, then, that you have no issue with Avalon taking over Markoth's territory."

"Not really. As long as your shamans can fight with the beasts' magic." He grunted, glancing at Pion and the rest, thinking about the feeling he got in their fight.

“We are not a kingdom of shamans,” Lancelot continued. “Yes, we have people who are able to wield the power of magic. But our strength lies in the fact that we can bring down monsters without the need for a mage to be present.”

"I read the report–" The Kahn began, but Lancelot raised a hand.

“With all due respect, Tula-Kahn Rhanak,” Lancelot said calmly, "What you know of our strength is only what we let your scout, Bakhi, see."

"Hah!" The Kahn laughed at that, the sound booming through the chamber. “Good. Very good.” He raised a hand slowly, a wine-filled horn between his fingers. “We are a land of hardened people, forged by war, fortified by the monsters we held back when other lands burned. We bled to keep our people safe behind our backs. I recognize you as the same, Lancelot, Son of Avalon. You are right; our enemy is the same menace, the creatures from behind the wall. From the Prison of the Gods!" Then, he stopped, looking at his people as if telling them his declaration was to be taken seriously before he looked at Lancelot again. “So tell me this: Are you here to ask us to join you in this war... or?”

"No, I am not here for that," Lancelot answered without flinching. “I came to simply prevent war between our nations. As for what the future may bring, we can't know that. My Father wants merely to make sure that his back is not endangered by blades and machinations.

One of the Kahn’s older generals scoffed, but the Kahn raised a hand and silenced him with a glance.

“We do not stab anybody in the back. That is the way of the weak and spineless,” he stated with complete seriousness. “Your father, the Sovereign of your Avalon, can rest that I, 99th Son of the God of War, will not stab him in his back.”

"I thank you for that," Lancelot bowed his head in response. “To ease the others," he continued, glancing at the leading figures around the tables, "we do not conquer land or subjugate people. We came to Markoth to explore the lands where other entrances are, leading into the Beastlands. We found Markoth as is, and they asked us to help... and we accepted.”

"And now you protect the ruined lands of Markoth."

"As I said," Lancelot smiled, correcting him, "We help them rebuild. Sasha, the mother of my older siblings, is here personally, and we are building a fortress in the Pass."

"In the Pass?!" One of the warriors finally spoke up, only to shrink back as the Kahn looked at him with furious eyes, acting like some common nobody and interrupting his guest.

"Yes," Lancelot answered, unbothered by the exclamation. "It should be finished before winter comes."

"..."

That declaration suddenly silenced everybody in the room before their breathing resumed, making some audible noise. That felt like a bald-faced lie... But...

"You don't need to believe me, but it is the truth." Lancelot sighed, reading their expression. "As I said, you only know what we let you comprehend. Believe me when I say we can and will do it. When the immediate danger is dealt with, we will restore the land, too."

"You can't." The Kahn sighed, shaking his head, "And not because I don't believe you. But because there is a third Pass, one that still remains open."

"For now." Lancelot nodded, his confidence making the Kahn lean back, playing with his beard for a minute.

"I am interested in your Avalon." He finally spoke again, a smile on the edge of his lips. "I say this: I will send one of my own to see your Avalon. To speak with your people, to see with your eyes. To see if your words here are indeed a truth or an illusion that even my eyes couldn't see through... because some of your words are too bright for me to believe.”

"I understand," Lancelot bowed his head. “And we welcome whoever you send.”

“I will send Bakhi,” the Kahn said plainly. “He has seen your soldiers. He has crossed the same roads you walked. He will carry my will and be my Envoy.”

A buzz of conversation erupted around the chamber, but no one objected because the Kahn's decision was always final.

“Then I will receive him as such and invite him to Avalon itself,” Lancelot answered in kind.

"Mhm." The Kahn nodded, watching Lancelot for a moment more before moving his eyes away from him towards his own people. "Send word for Bakhi! Let him know that he will be visiting our new friends... Avalon."

...

....

.....

Back in Avalon, in the palace's garden, the four siblings had gathered at sunset, right before dinner, as Galahad and Morgan wanted to hear their older siblings 'adventure' once again, with more details than the first time.

"Were they really that big?" Morgan asked, her eyes twinkling, legs folded up under her as she perched on the curved bench beside Leyla. Her voice barely contained her excitement. "Bigger than what attacks us in the winter? Or was it the same kind?"

"I think they were similar." Leyla mumbled, glancing at Arthur, “Four of them. Each different. Each... terrifying, to be honest.”

“I can’t believe Father let you go and not us,” Morgan pouted, then looked at Arthur. “And you didn’t even try to sneak me along...”

“It was not something either of you should risk,” Arthur replied dryly, sitting cross-legged on the ground, leaning against the bench. “Sorry for not committing treason for your sake, but I agreed with Mother Mikan. It was already dangerous enough to bring Leyla and me along... as it turns out, she was super right.”

"Nah, nothing happened; you are both safe!" Morgan stuck out her tongue in answer.

“Which I am glad about.” Galahad chimed in, looking at his siblings. He was seated a little apart from the rest, his usual posture more straightened than before. “I’ve been thinking,” he continued. “Since you came back and told it first.”

"Yeah?" Arthur nodded slowly. “About the monsters?”

“Not exactly,” he answered, eyes moving between the twins. “About the people riding them.”

"I know," Leyla leaned over, rubbing his head. “You’re thinking what we’re all thinking.”

“I’m thinking,” Galahad continued, “that Avalon isn’t ready for them. Not if they’re powerful people who can tame the monsters. Not if they can speak through magic directly into your mind. Not if they’re organizing or if able to use spells like you two.”

Arthur shifted, feeling a bit uncomfortable, thinking along the lines Galahad was laying out.

“They didn’t attack,” he said after a brief pause. “They just watched. They let us go... maybe they are friendly.”

"Yeah!" Morgan exclaimed, "And maybe they can teach us how to make pets out of the beasts!"

“Yeah, I doubt that,” Galahad grunted. “This time, they let go, but... Why? That is the question, and we can't answer it.”

"You worry too much." Morgan sighed, holding Galahad's hand and patting it, but the youngest son of Leon kept looking at Arthur.

“You’ve been hearing them before,” Galahad said without pause. “Like it or not, you’re connected to... them, Arthur. Somehow... That forest—those riders—they knew you. They called out to you. I fear they want you.”

"Heh, good luck!" Leyla scoffed, hugging his twin brother, "No way I will let Arthur be taken away by some beast!"

"Not to mention Father," Morgan agreed, "And Mom Sasha... Oh boy, there would be a hell of a firestorm if someone tried that!"

"True..." Galahad nodded, letting himself smile a little, "But that doesn't mean they won't try..."

"Well," Arthur chuckled, looking at the others. "I am not alone, am I? We can make sure it doesn't happen, and I am not that stupid to try and go over by myself."