Princess of Camelot

1. "Luckily, She Is a Sweetheart."

Although Sir Lancelot was tremendously grateful for his job and didn't have many problems with it, some days were harder than most.

What was once assumed to be a normal, sunny day presiding in the village and making sure everything was going accordingly soon transformed into an unexpected and overwhelming burglary of nearby merchant banks. Issues like these were completely out of the ordinary since Camelot was fairly tranquil. But once the knights heard the distressed screams of the villagers, they immediately sprung into action.

.

All the knights followed the speedy burglars through the village, attempting their best to run after them and spit their threats and insults, but they didn't turn once. Perhaps they were rats, or lemurs because their speed was even intolerable for the best knights in the kingdom.

Sir Lancelot had strained behind, being one of the first to be alerted but one of the last to start the chase. He was behind Sir Percival, one hand swaying in the air and the other steadily gripped onto his sword. His helmet rose up and down with every prance, affecting his vision heavily, mostly relying on Sir Perceval's orders for him to keep up. He thought he was making progress on keeping up, but once the village's gravel floor quickly turned into a grassy sound against his feet, he realized everything was going wrong.

"Percival!" He barked, lifting his helmet. He looked around, his ears filling with the sound of his heavy breathing. Trees, grass, bushes...they had entered the forested area. "We are in the forest!"

Percival turns her head with a glare. "Are you assuming I'm blind? Damn right, we are in the forest!" She calls back. "Sir Gawain! Where are they turning?" She hollers back to Sir Gawain, who was in front of the chase.

His response was inaudible, and Sir Lancelot grumbled with annoyance. This chase was idiotic, mostly because of the defeated feeling of not yet catching them. His legs began to grow numb from the excessive running, and sweat ran through his quills. He huffed and huffed, trying to stay alert and attentive to the knights in front of him. Sir Percival hollered another unintelligible yell, and he turned a sharp corner...and unfortunately...he lost them.

Grabbing onto his weak knees, he exhales sharply, his lungs nearly on fire from the chase - where on God's green Earth even was he in the forest? It was a wide terrain, with medium length, bright green glass, and thick brown trees sprouting tall. He could hear water rushing from some place near him, and animals chirping and cricketing around.

He sighs defeatedly, knowing the knights and the burglars are probably long gone by now. He takes off his helmet, throwing it on the grassy ground. He simply takes the moment to regain his composure, taking a few deep breaths and letting the soft, cool air brush through his sweaty quills.

He walks through the wide aisle, his heavy boots dragging through the soft grass. Still, he could hear that sound of water rushing, but now it was accompanied by a soft humming. His brows scrunch up as he begins to stop towards the sound. His instant assumption was that those bastardized burglars jumped behind the trees when they turned the corner

Lancelot grumbles, "God, if those burglars can even think of hiding from me then..." 

He approaches the leaf-covered nook of the area slowly, squinting his eyes to see what is behind the nature. He couldn't detect the dark attire or the color palette, but he didn't have time to inspect. He held onto the branches covering his view, and after a few seconds, he pulled them away.