Shattered Chalk

"Commander Anno, you mean!" Lamorak's eyes lit up.

Anno nodded. "War is likely to restart. We must prepare as quickly as possible."

"Yes, understood." Halfway through, Lamorak's gaze dimmed slightly. "There aren't many knights left in Camelot now. More than half have left, and as for the rest..."

"Hmm?" Anno's brow furrowed. "Just say it directly. Don't hesitate."

"I understand. The ones who remain have basically all become sacrifices to the internal power struggles of Camelot." Lamorak's expression was dark, his voice choked with emotion.

Anno fell silent, the veins on his wrists bulging.

"Didn't I warn you all!" Anno suppressed his grief and anger. These young men with such potential, just becoming political sacrifices like this— "Do not get involved in the noble power struggles within Camelot!"

"On the battlefield, people use swords to kill, but this place called Camelot is even more cruel than the battlefield, and sharper than any blade!"

"I know!" Lamorak said, somewhat agitated. "But what about you, Commander Anno? Didn't you also leave us behind in Camelot because of these so-called struggles to go find that King Arthur!"

"We all understand the danger of Camelot, but with you gone, how could we possibly prevent the infiltration of those filthy nobles?"

Anno froze in place, his arms trembling slightly.

He thought of Arthur's stubborn yet youthful face, and then of these knights he had raised himself.

He let out a long sigh.

"So, of those who didn't leave and didn't die, how many are there, and who are they?" Anno asked with difficulty.

He didn't know if his decision to leave Camelot to find and nurture Arthur was right or wrong, but he knew in his heart that this had been arranged long ago, part of King Uther's plan, and he had been a willing participant—nothing more.

These young, valiant knights had not died on the battlefield, but because of noble infiltration and his own negligence, they had died in this prosperous Camelot.

"I am one, and there are Bedivere de Lion and Thomas Lair. There are eleven of us in total. That's all that's left."

Over seventy had left, more than twenty had died. The Britain Chalk Knights, once over a hundred strong, were now reduced to twelve, including Commander Anno.

Anno opened his mouth, looking at the Lamorak before him, remembering the Royal Court that no one dared to touch when he first returned to Camelot.

"You've worked hard, Lamorak."

"Letting them die in Camelot will be the greatest stain of my life. I bear an inescapable responsibility for their deaths."

"Commander Anno." Lamorak did not quite understand what Anno was trying to say.

"I will bear this sin with composure." Anno would not regret his choices, but he felt sorrow for these young men, and he felt guilty all the same.

"But the honor they lost in Camelot, I will take back as well." Anno did not shed tears; he simply steeled his resolve. Britain had no time for sorrow now.

"Vice Commander Lamorak!"

"Ah, present!"

"Assemble all remaining members of the Britain Chalk Knights. Prepare for departure!" Anno tilted his head back, his black hair obscuring his eyes.

"The King's wrath needs to be vented, and so does mine." Anno's teeth ground together. "Rotten Camelot, when I return in triumph, I will purge you myself."

Lamorak also pulled himself together. "By your command!"

Heh, the dirty tactics of adults.