''Not long ago, Aggravain the Traitor was a High Knight of the Round Table of Camelot. He was one of the most trusted advisors and friends of King Arthur. He fought in and led numerous battles, slaughtering the foes of the Round Table to forge the kingdom.


    ''However, Aggravain grew greedy. He longed for more. So, he put a plan in place. With two loyal lesser knights and a few hundred soldiers, he planned to take the throne from Arthur. He moved to assassinate the King.


    ''His plan was foiled, however, by his once friend Sir Kay the Courageous. Aggravain slew Kay, and fled once he realised his plan had failed. With the kingdom hunting for him, he took the one option left to him. He retreated to the Borgone Isles, his two knights covering his retreat.


    ''By the time his traitorous allies had been dealt with, Aggravain had solidified his hold on the Isles. He claimed the title of lord and a home at Cragfall. The kingdom of Camelot returned to normal. Dame Rayda and Sir Edmund took the empty seats at the Round Table. Aggravain faded away, becoming just another part of the long history of Wardom…''


    - The Betrayal of Aggravain the Arrogant by Denkel Foliar, the Scholar of Camelot, written in the fourth year of the reign of Arthur Pendragon.


    ***


    Richard rode into the city of Camelot behind Sir Lancelot. He was weary, and was ready for a rest. Richard and Grace had wanted to part ways with Lancelot, feeling they had earned their freedom, but the High Knight had insisted that they had to return to Camelot with him. The body of Victor had been left behind.


    It took them a week to reach Camelot City. They travelled the entire breadth of the country, from one coast to the other. They returned the farm horses to their owner, and gained new mounts at a castle a few days after. Lancelot had ridden them hard since then.


    The streets of Camelot bustled with people. Although the island itself was suffering hard times, here in the capital things were still good. Ships filled the sprawling port in the east of the city, many of them army ships waiting for war. In the centre of the city, Arthur’s palace towered. It was a beautiful structure, sprawling and elegant. A dozen high towers commanded a view over the entire city.


    The gate to the palace grounds opened as Lancelot approached, the soldiers saluting the knight. In the courtyard, stablehands took the reins of their horses and led them away. Lancelot spoke with the stablemaster, asking for him to organise the return of the horses to their castle far away.


    As Lancelot turned away, a lesser knight hurried into the courtyard, coming from the palace. He strode up to Lancelot. “Sir Lancelot, we’re glad you''re back. Sir Harris returned with the other soldiers a few days ago. King Arthur requests your presence at the Round Table.”


    “Requests, or demands?” Lancelot said. “Thank you, Rufus. I’ll go right there. Can you take these two to the library?” Lancelot turned to Richard and Grace. “Wait there for me. I will talk with you once I am finished with the meeting.”


    Lancelot turned on his heels and marched away without waiting for a response. Sir Rufus led the way into the palace. Richard stared about as he walked. The corridors of the palace were magnificent. Elegant murals were painted onto the walls, depicting knights doing many deeds of great valour. There were statues scattered about the place, each in exquisite detail. The corridors of the palace were not particularly busy, only a few people striding purposefully through them.


    Richard turned back to the knight they were following. Rufus was a short man, walking quickly to stay ahead of them. He had a weasel-like face, and he was constantly glancing back to make sure Richard and Grace were still following. His armour was slightly rusted, like he hadn’t cared for it in a long time.


    Rufus eventually entered a huge chamber. Shelves of books and scrolls lined the room from one end to the other, tables scattered amongst the shelves. A giant stained glass window was at one end of the room, depicting a collection of smaller images of knights. Other lesser knights were spread throughout the room, poring over different texts. A few scholars were interspersed amongst them.


    “Wait here for Sir Lancelot,” Rufus said. Richard slumped into a chair at a nearby table, glad to finally rest. Grace strolled over to one of the shelves, and began browsing through different parchments she found there. Sir Rufus disappeared deeper into the library, leaving them alone. Richard leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. He felt himself drift away, approaching sleep.


    “Remember this?” Grace said. Richard opened his eyes, unsure of how much time had passed. Grace had placed a piece of parchment on the table, a detailed picture painted onto it. Richard reached forwards and picked it up.


    “How could I forget?” he said.


    Richard studied the picture as Grace turned back to the shelves. There was a castle in the distance, the moon shining behind it. The castle lay in ruins, the gate torn off, the walls crumbling. At the forefront of the picture, a battlefield lay. Hundreds of corpses were scattered throughout the image, and yet fighting still continued. Richard was mesmerised by the detail in the painting, the way the moon and torch light reflected off of the fighting armies.


    Richard knew without having to look at the writing at the top what the picture was of: the Battle of Formir. It was the last major battle in Arthur’s campaign to become king. The surviving lords not under Arthur’s control had gathered at Formir Castle, ready to stand against the king and the knights to keep their land. Arthur laid siege to the castle, a siege that lasted for days. Eventually, the walls were broken. Arthur’s soldiers had stormed inside, but the defenders were waiting. They forced the invaders out, taking the fight to the fields before the castle. The ensuing battle raged for a day and most of the night, until King Arthur himself slew the last lord. After that, Camelot was his.


    Richard remembered that day, even though it was almost seven years ago. He and Grace were paid well to join Arthur’s army, and they fought hard for their money. That was the last real battle Richard had been in, peace reigning in Camelot since then. Richard had seen the Ruins of Formir a few years ago. The castle and the field around it were desolate, no one building anything near it.


    He looked up from the painting as Lancelot entered the library. Richard passed the parchment back to Grace to return to the shelf. Lancelot strode over to their table, a frown etched onto his face. He paced up and down beside the table, a hand stroking his beard. He didn’t say a word to either of them.


    “Sir Lancelot?” Grace asked. “You wanted us here?”


    “Yes, indeed I did,” Lancelot said. He continued pacing for a moment before stopping to face them. “You both were of great service to me, and I want to thank you for that. You are free to go now, if you wish. But before you do, I wanted to talk to you. I feel you two, as mercenaries, may have seen more or know more than our own soldiers.”


    “What did you want to discuss?” Grace asked.


    “Since we learned of Cyclops’s involvement, I have been trying to figure out why Lord Sebastian and Scriosana Castle were targeted. I wanted to see if you two know anything I don’t. But it seems he was not alone. Four other lords of different castles were assassinated: Gorkin Castle, Larhal Castle, Ionart Castle, and Hesren Castle.”


    “Were all the assassinations launched by Cyclops?” Richard asked, astonished by the extent of the attacks.


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    “So I believe. All four occurred on the same night as Sebastian’s death, and I think that is too much to be called coincidence. King Arthur has sent word to Sir Bedivere, who was in the west already. He will gather troops and prepare against an invasion.” Lancelot walked over to one of the shelves, scanning it before selecting a long piece of parchment. “Now, the question is, why these five castles? What is so special about them that Cyclops would assassinate the lord of each?”


    Lancelot unfurled the parchment, spreading it out on the table. Richard stood up and moved closer to get a better look. It was a large map of the full island of Camelot, the dozens of castles and major cities marked across it. Lancelot fished in his pocket and produced five small coins. He placed them onto the map, on top of each of the five castles.


    “There has to be something that connects each of these castles together and to Cyclops and Aggravain,” Lancelot said, staring down at the map. “Cyclops is a brutal man, but he always has his reasons. Have you heard the story of how Cyclops lost his eye?” Richard shook his head. “Well, the rumours are that he tore out his own eye, a couple of years after he arrived here. He knew that such a disfigurement to his face would scare all of his enemies immediately. And he was right. The scar combined with his methods have made him the most feared man in all of our part of Wardom.”


    Richard shook his head, horrified by the story. He knew Cyclops was brutal, but he had not thought that he would go so far as to tear out his own eye. Richard put the story out of his mind and turned his attention to the map. He examined the coins carefully, looking for any patterns or important points.


    “Their positions don’t seem to relate to each other,” Richard said, speaking his thoughts out loud. “They mostly seem to be in the south and west, but these are not even the most prominent castles in those areas. It’s not like they are in important positions relating to Camelot City itself. I don’t see how these ones in particular would be important in an invasion.” Richard looked away from the map and up to Lancelot. “What does the death of the lords mean for their castles?”


    “Not much,” Lancelot said, not looking up from the map. “There will be a new lord for each castle, the most prominent lesser knight becoming that lord. I already mentioned to you about Sir Lawrence taking over Scriosana Castle. Other than that, things will go on much as before.”


    “What good does that do for Cyclops and Aggravain?”


    Lancelot shrugged. “Causes some confusion and chaos, that’s all. Throws things out of place, maybe they just want to strike fear.”


    Richard glanced towards the door of the library. He thought of trying to just leave, but he knew Lancelot would stop him before he could. He wouldn’t be able to leave until after they solved this. “Were the attempts made on any other castles?”


    “Not that we are aware of, no. Everywhere else seems to be quiet.”


    Richard turned away from the table, and began pacing up and down. There had to be some reason. He knew there was something he was missing. But what was it? Why couldn’t he figure it out?


    “What if we are looking at this the wrong way?” Grace asked. She had stayed quiet up until then, looking at the map carefully.


    “What do you mean?” Lancelot asked.


    “You already said Sir Lawrence has Scriosana Castle. Who are the other new lords?”


    “Let me think. There is Sir Oslan, Sir Hubert, Dame Frederika and …. Sir Conil, I think. Yes, I think those are right. They are the new lords.”


    “Hmm.” Grace walked back to the shelf she had been standing at, carefully pulling out a scroll she had already looked at. She read through it carefully. “Yes, as I thought.” She laid the scroll out on the table, her finger tapping one paragraph. “Read that.”


    Richard leaned over the scroll as did Lancelot. ‘The Siege of Larhal, by Denkel Foliar,’ the title read. Richard had heard tales of that battle. He had not been there himself, but Aggravain had put the castle under siege for months, until finally the defenders surrendered. It had been a great victory for Arthur, and had allowed him to move on and attack Formir, ending the war.


    Richard’s eyes moved to the paragraph Grace pointed at. ‘....Aggravain went with Dame Columba, Sir Lawrence and Sir Conil to the meeting,’ Richard read. ‘Lord Srain offered his surrender and the surrender of his castle with the one condition that his soldiers were treated fairly. Aggravain readily agreed, though once his soldiers had occupied the castle he executed Srain, demonstrating once again the brutal methods he is so well known for…’


    Richard looked up from the parchment. He had heard of all that before. He knew Dame Columba had been one of the two traitorous lesser knights who had joined Aggravain in his attempt to assassinate Arthur, but other than that the other two knights were some of the new lords, he didn’t see how this related to what they were discussing.


    “So?” he asked Grace.


    It was Lancelot who answered him. “Your friend is trying to say that our new lords are traitors,” he said, his voice low.


    Richard looked at Grace. “That’s absurd!”


    “Is it?” she asked. “Columba was a traitor.”


    “Columba died years ago,” Lancelot said, looking at Grace coldly. “I killed her myself, when she tried to prevent us from chasing Aggravain. Lawrence and Conil have been good soldiers.”


    “Aggravain was a good soldier right up until he tried to kill King Arthur. I know any High Knight can create a lesser knight. So isn’t it possible that Aggravain knighted all five of these knights and has spent years planning to get them into positions so that they would all become lords?”


    “This is all just speculation! I’m not even sure who knighted them!”


    “Shouldn’t we find out? We have no other ideas. Are there not some records that would help us learn more?”


    Lancelot looked down at the scroll again. “Follow me,” he said.


    The High Knight turned and led them from the library. Richard saw Sir Rufus leave after them, heading swiftly in the opposite direction. Richard walked through the halls once again, heading deeper into the maze that was the palace. He paid little attention to his surroundings, instead considering what Grace had suggested. He wasn’t happy that five castles could be in the hands of Aggravain, but he couldn’t help but consider the opportunities it could bring. If it was true, it would certainly lead to war, and war always led to work and rewards for people like him.


    Lancelot strode up a winding staircase, Richard and Grace on his heels. The tower went up and up, high above the rest of the palace. Richard knew it was just one of the many tall towers he had seen as they had approached the palace. At the top, they reached a small oak door. Lancelot rapped sharply on the door with his knuckles.


    The door was opened by a wizened old man. A long grey beard stretched down to his waist. A pair of half moon spectacles rested on his nose, and his eyes peered up through them at Lancelot.


    “Lancelot, my boy, do come in,” the old man said, turning and entering the room without waiting for a response. The room was full of different tables, scrolls and half-made machines covering every surface. Paintings hung on the back wall, one of a warrior, another of a fortress, the next of a snake with a head on each end. Richard’s eyes were drawn to an old painting across the room. It depicted a small battalion of soldiers in gleaming armour, a phoenix on the banner they carried. The colours had faded, and only the letters ‘tals’ were still legible at the end of the inscription scrawled across the bottom. Two small windows looked out on opposite sides of the circular room, the city of Camelot through one and another palace tower seen through the other. The old man hobbled over to the only chair without anything on it.


    “Now, Lancelot, how may I be of service?” the old man asked once seated.


    “I have a question for you, Foliar,” Lancelot said. Only as Lancelot said the name did it click with Richard that this was Denkel Foliar, the famed Scholar of Camelot. He had been with Arthur for many years, his past before that obscure. Richard had heard that he knew more about Wardom and its workings than anyone else, and seemed to be able to remember everything. It was said he had been invaluable to Arthur in the early years of Arthur’s war, but had since faded into the background. Richard had not heard mention of him in many years.


    “Ask away, my boy,” Foliar said, taking a sip from a small cup at his side. “But I don''t know how much help I can be. I don’t get out of my tower much anymore. These old legs aren’t what they once were, and my warrior days are long past.”


    “You still know more details about our knights than anyone else. Now, I want to know who knighted Sir Lawrence, Sir Oslan, Sir Hubert, Dame Frederika and Sir Conil?”


    “Hmm. If I recall correctly, they were all knighted by Sir Aggravain.”


    Lancelot cast a glance back at Grace. “You are sure, Foliar?”


    “Oh yes, I am almost certain. You see, in the few years Aggravain was with us, he only knighted nine people. They were all handpicked by him, and all thought rather highly of him, until he turned traitor. Let’s see, there were those five, there were the two who died fighting for him, but you of course know that, Lancelot, since you were there. Then, of course, there was Sir Trayl, who died out hunting a few years back. Hmm. Ah, and the last is Sir Rufus.”


    Richard watched Lancelot’s face pale, and the same realisation dawned on him. “You mean, the Sir Rufus who led us through the castle?” Richard asked.


    “Yes, he is a personal guard to King Arthur,” Foliar said. “I never liked him much. A rather unpleasant man, as I recall. No respect for scholars like myself.” But Lancelot was already reaching for the door, yanking it open and running down the stairs.