The Twin Swords of Camelot

Chapter 2: Knighthood

Some hours later, the first light of dawn begins to illuminate the room. This light falls upon a crystal hanging from Lanceles' ear cuff, causing it to softly vibrate.

He inhales sharply, brows furrowing in protest. Hands move on autopilot. Raising from under the comforter to touch the crystal. Ceasing the jewelry's pulse.

Reluctantly, his eyes open. Vision blurry, he groans softly and rubs them. Till the sight of Artorias resting beside him comes into focus. He sighs, silently watching his twin sleep. A small smile forms as he reaches over to brush his brother's bangs clear from his face. He'd give anything just to stay here, in this moment. Especially in this warmth

He looks over his shoulder, out the window to the trees in the distance. All of them smothered in white. He knows that leaving this bed will be a smack across the face. The chill that awaits him will remove any sense of grogginess.

Not something he looks forward to on mornings like this. But Gareth will chew him out if he shows up tardy.

So, pressing a kiss to Atorias' forehead, he sits up and quietly slides out of bed.

The frigid air forces a hiss from him. But he's not the only one mourning the loss of heat.

He hears the linens shuffle and a displeased groan emanate from his brother.

"I know." He chuckles, rubbing his arms.

***

Sitting in the barracks, Lanceles laces his boots, tightens his gauntlets, and ensures all of his metal plating is fastened. His ensemble is mostly form fitting leather armor with a few bits of metal strewn here and there. Not quite the chromed knight like Gareth is, but he cuts a gallant figure nonetheless.

Standing, he makes a few final checks to his attire as he enters the armory to fetch a sword.

"Alright, butt!" Someone calls as they enter.

The young blonde turns to peer over his shoulder. Finding an old friend approaching.

It's the same squire he trained with when he was little, but he's a squire no more.

"Ywain!" Lanceles laughs. Crossing the room, he clasps hands with the man.

Now into his early twenties, Ywain is a man with familial ties to Ancestra, the great continent to the south and birthplace of the human race. He has dark brown skin and darker hair tied back into braids. He wears something very similar to Lance, although with more armor plating and a half cape.

"Surprised to see me, are you?" Ywain asks.

"I should think so. Last I heard, you were sent on the venture to improve relations with Cauldron." Gesturing towards the door, Lanceles heads outside with Ywain behind him.

"A wasted effort, wasn't it. Cauldron already has an infestation of heretics." His friend shakes his head. "Those bastards built another one of their obnoxious towers there."

"Oh never! Another one?"

"Aye, just as tall and ugly as the rest that dot Myria." Ywain chuckles. "But enough of that. It's your birthday, cont! I've a gift for you."

They pause just before the stairs that lead into the castle as Ywain reaches into his side satchel. He withdraws a tiny, sleek booklet.

"May I introduce you to how the rest of the world lives." Ywain places it in Lance's hands.

Opening it, inside are two glass screens that begin glowing with arcane light.

"What the Hell is this thing?" Lanceles inspects it from various angles. Squinting at it in confusion.