The Knights of the Round Table

A chalk-white city stood upon the arid earth.

Its walls were grand and vast, sacred and pure white, standing in stark contrast to the lifeless landscape around them.

Yet at the foot of those walls sprawled rows of dilapidated tents, forming an exceedingly crude camp.

People in ragged clothes moved in and out among them, the air heavy with a mixture of relief and tension.

They were refugees who had fled from the surrounding regions. Hearing that a miracle had appeared here, they had left behind their doomed homelands and come with their families and children.

Every one of them was gaunt and sallow-faced. Now and then, they raised their heads to look at the white city walls before them...