Although Tristan was a knight, he had no lord to serve and was not a noble, so he couldn't attend the feast held at Camelot's Royal Court.
However, he could attend a commoners' drinking party.
Princess Iseult stayed by his side, her bright eyes sparkling in the night.
In the end, he chose not to celebrate King Arthur's wedding with the people. Instead, he took Princess Iseult to a tall cliff outside Camelot.
He took the harp, shaped like a longbow, from his back and quietly began to play.
A gentle breeze stirred Tristan's red hair, and a faint smile touched his calm face.
Iseult simply smiled as she watched Tristan play alone beneath the moon. Neither of them spoke to break the silence.
But sometimes, music could draw certain things near.
A figure appeared not far from Tristan.
Tristan stopped playing, alert, and looked toward the newcomer.
Princess Iseult asked in confusion, "Sir Tristan, what is it?"
Tristan murmured, "Iseult, someone's coming."
At his words, Iseult glanced at the bright moon hanging in the sky. A chill ran through her, and she instinctively moved behind Tristan.
Tristan's hand rested on the slender sword at his waist as he watched the figure, his tone distinctly unfriendly.
A rustling sound came from nearby.
A tall figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.
Short, neat purple hair and bright silver plate armor gleamed under the moon.
Tristan knew this man. His name was Lancelot, the son of Anno of Britain's Chalk.
When Anno had destroyed the kingdom of Tristan's uncle, he had once crossed paths with these knights.
But in Tristan's impression, Lancelot was a serious, earnest man, brave and skilled in battle. The Lancelot before him, however, seemed somehow off.
At that moment, Lancelot reeked of alcohol. His