Knights Apocalyptica
Chapter 90: Knight Triumphant

Sir Boldwick has shown himself as a brave and integral part of our efforts in the field on countless expeditions. I cannot help but admire his dedication to fighting, though, at times, I wonder if he takes too much risk on himself to minimize it for those around him.

Regardless, this compassion and sense of responsibility make me highly confident in my suggestion that he be promoted.

I see no more a fitting transition to such a promising youth than an opportunity to show his capabilities with more leadership as a Knight Lieutenant.

- Dame Nova, Recommendation (3rd Era, 292)

Gregory hadn’t lied about things shifting quickly once they did.

The following days went from a dull lull of Erec ignoring and brushing off the paranoid priests to suddenly getting shoved out of the temple. In less than a minute, he was in Boldwick's welcoming arms. The man pulled him into a firm bear hug, then withdrew. With a nod at the door, he started walking.

Boldwick guided and pushed him along—it was odd seeing the Master Knight out of his Armor after so long in the field together. Not that Erec had seen his Armor since waking up, but VAL assured him it was being taken care of. It was hard to worry about its safety when it housed a machine smarter than any Engineer fixing it.

“Move quick, don’t look back,” Boldwick said out of the corner of his mouth, and Erec did just that.

They rushed past the pillars of the church, even past the Cardinal, who tried to stop them for a brief chat. Boldwick ignored the man and led Erec away after shooting him a glare that would make a monster shiver. Which Erec had no problem with, his tolerance for the church was at an all-time low, and the prodding into what was wrong with him only made him more paranoid.

He figured that Boldwick would take him back to the Academy, and he’d have some time to get his bearings and figure out what came next.

It became apparent very rapidly that they weren’t heading in the right direction to go to the Academy.

“You did well keeping your composure,” Boldwick said casually, even as they tore through the city. Few people gave them looks, despite being Knights. Were they to wear their Armor, they would’ve gotten attention—but out here in their casual clothes, they looked just the same as anyone.

Therefore not worth the attention, which was a welcome relief after being constantly watched by priests for so long.

“It wasn’t easy,” Erec admitted, but given his last exposure to Fury, straying too close to that line was an unpleasant sensation. Anytime those flickers of a fire stirred in him, he tried to kill them. It was a terrifying reminder of the penalties of how far he could push himself. Erec felt scared of slipping down the path of not caring again for what would likely be the last time.

What he feared the most was that some part of him kept giving complete control to Fury. There was a part of him willing to dismiss the risk to his life for that all-consuming rush of power that came with it. He had to change or die.

“No, I don’t think it would be. The bastards kept you squirreled away and lied through their teeth to try to figure out whatever it was that they wanted. To be treated like that after slaying the Stag? Absurd. But, in the long run, it’ll work to our benefit; they cost themselves capital contesting our expedition and the fallout afterward,” Boldwick paused, pulling Erec to a stop. He gave him a sloppy grin. “By the way, excellent work. Didn’t think I’d ever pull someone under my wing capable of a feat like that, but I have to say, you really fucked yourself now. How do you ever plan to outdo that?”

Erec let out a bit of nervous laughter, feeling uncomfortable with the genuine amazement in Boldwick’s tone. Sure, it was undercut by the joke—but he hadn’t set out for fame.

“I’ll just have to try my best.”

“I couldn’t ask more from you, and I know you will. But do you remember what I first said?” Boldwick broke the smile, his face clouding over.

“Not exactly. I think you called out Colin for being a jerk?”

“That was part of it, but not the important bit. Don’t be a hero, Erec. What you did was risky—and you probably know more than anyone how close you came to being a corpse. You pulled through this time, but the next time—it’ll be harder to resist. People will call you a hero, give you a title, and start putting their expectations on you. Never let that influence you and make you make the same boneheaded mistake you made to take on the Stag on your own. Do you understand me?”

He didn’t. Not really. The tone shift was unnerving, as if something sprang up deep inside Boldwick. There was a heavy frown on his face, and his eyes seemed to look far into the past. Did he see ghosts there?

“Don’t worry; I don’t intend to listen to any of those stuck-up—“

“Good, good.” Boldwick clapped him on the back, quickly pivoting away from the heavy topic. Too abrupt to be natural. “Damn, good work, Erec. Damn good. Better than most, lucky its grip didn’t affect you with your blessing—like you were made to slaughter the damn thing.”

“The Goddess works in strange ways,” Erec said with a bitter taste on his tongue. “Where are we heading anyway?”

“About that, we’re going right to the palace. Sorry kid, no time to rest. Your courtly admirers are calling.”

“Ah, fuck.”

— -☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

The palace was, in short, breathtaking. Over centuries, the various parts of the palace evolved to represent the generations of rulers humanity shifted through—rumors were that the lowest levels of the house of the royal included pieces leftover from the original vault humanity found and used to survive.

But the vast levels ranged deep. He didn’t have the chance to dive deep within its gilded and historic walls this time. Most visitors were limited to the surface. There was plenty to look at, even though it was all modern.

That didn’t say the royal family neglected the past on the surface level—they still had sculptures of heroes that put those within the Academy to shame. Even enshrined weapons from those very same heroes were designated historical artifacts. There wasn’t much time to stand around and admire the beauty. Boldwick and the palace escort rushed him through—only to bring him to an honest-to-goddess guestroom.

The first thing he noticed was a full outfit, entirely in style for current court trends, splayed out on the bed.

Erec hated that he knew that and despised even more what it meant.

Boldwick gave the place a slow look. “Get changed; they’ll send a servant to escort you to the feast—your next two days will look like this, with plenty of royal houses prying into you and seeing whether or not you’ll make a good ally to them. Love it or hate it, this is part of being a Knight too. Though, not often… this elaborate. After they’re done with you and have their little show for everyone else to see, we’ll drag you back to Academy and start preparing for the future.”

“I see, so this is… Mandatory? Not just a single event? Days?”

“Well yeah, they can’t exactly let you go and kill a cataclysm-level monster they sent a whole hunt for and ignore it. Got to pay proper honors to the occasion. Imagine the look on the nobility’s face if they didn’t. Accept whatever they give you, and bumble your way through it with whatever grace you can muster.”

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“What, feeling shy?”

“Just… tired, already. Two days of this? Really?”

“Uhuh. Liven yourself up. It might not feel like it, but this sort of thing should be easier than throwing your life on the line against monsters. You'll find that with time, it’s better to find whatever enjoyment you can since you don’t get a choice. I did do you a favor, though. It might make it a little easier on you.” Boldwick shot him a grin.

“What?” Erec couldn’t picture any way it might get a bit better.

“Got an invitation to your friend. Garin should be by shortly. I imagine he might make it a little more tolerable for you. That, and due to your low courtly manners scores, our Order was a tad bit concerned about how you might represent us in the highest court in the land. We don’t wanna take that big of a risk.”

“Oh, thank the Goddess,” Erec muttered, not particularly feeling like thanking her, yet the gratitude slipped out. An annoying habit.

She wasn’t someone worth thanking.

“That’s the spirit. I’ll see you down in the festivities. Keep your head a little longer. Then you’ll be back in a place where you can concentrate on preparing for our expedition.” With that, Boldwick left him to his own devices.

Erec took a long look at the jacket and pants on the bed and shook his head. There was an open window to the balcony, so he went there instead of getting ready. He was a couple of stories up. The view showed off the royal garden and gave a nice cutaway of the Kingdom’s surface. Smoke drifted from hundreds of chimneys, and in the far distance was the giant steel curtain that surrounded this bastion of humanity.

Somewhere out there, he knew now, were more humans. It was hard to picture what their life might be like. Whether or not they were better off than them, or those people were hidden away in the depths of the earth, afraid to reach the surface. Like they had for generations.

The Church proclaimed them as sinners, people cast away by the Goddess, and not worth redemption. It was primarily what they labeled their exiles as too, but now…

Erec had difficulty believing the Goddess cared if people showed her worship or if they lived within the Kingdom. He doubted she cared much at all what humans did until they showed themselves as having enough power to catch her interest.

After a long moment of gazing at the tiny people going about their day, he returned to his room and the outfit left for him. Time to dine in hell, he supposed.

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