Knights Apocalyptica

Erec took in his brother standing there amidst the pile of rubble and destruction that made up this place.

Goddess, how long had he been here? How many days and weeks had been spent in this pit, grinding away for strength and power? Bedwyr looked pale, with dark brown and purple marks all over his skin. Bruised too, then. Even standing so far away, Erec could see the sheer exhaustion on his brother's body. And this, just weeks before the tournament, wouldn't amount to anything good if his brother competed.

Erec leapt into the pit with his brother. His superior endurance and strong feet cushioned the blow as he fell 15 feet to the bottom of the hole his brother was in, allowing him to get an even closer look at all the dust and grime covering him.

"Are you alright, Bedwyr?" Erec asked, looking him up and down. "You missed Yule. All of us were wondering about you.”

Bedwyr scoffed, “It's fine anyway. We haven't been a complete family for quite a while. I knew you and Father were doing fine. I just had work to do. There is no need to worry about me. Now go.”

Erec ignored the command, and with it he also tried to bury the prickle of fire welling up in his stomach at the casual dismissal. "So you chose to miss the holidays with us, for this? It is time to take it easy and come out of this hole. We’re on a hike, and I’m sure Gwen would love the company." Erec replied, letting his dissatisfaction with that answer radiate through his voice.

"As if you haven't been training hard either, Erec. I haven't heard rumors from the other students about what you three have been up to. By the way they tell of it, no one in your years stands a shot against you aside from maybe the Prince." Bedwyr replied.

"Yes, but I've been making an effort to take rest. I've been finding out lately from Sir Buldwick that going non-stop without it is a surefire way to lead to self-destruction.” Erec folded his arms and peered at his brother’s exhausted expression. Bedwyr wasn't even trying to hide it, which was unlike him. He was used to his brother pushing himself and going to lengths never to let it be seen. But now that wasn’t the case. From the way Bedwyr leaned a little too forward, to the way his muscles shook… His brother was not in a good place and would need to do some serious recuperation if he were to stand any shot in a battle.

"I'm fine. I promise you everything is fine with me. I've just made some new gains that need testing. Go, enjoy your hike with your friends. I will be just fine.”

"I will not be competing," Bedwyr said with a tired tone, his eyes trailing above them to stare at their audience. All of Erec’s friends had lined up at the pit above, watching them.

…Wait.

“What?” Erec asked, his voice breaking. This wasn’t like Bedwyr at all. And it didn’t match what should have been—all that time picturing the tourney and how it might play out, his brother had been among his chief concerns. Knowing that he’d be a fearsome competitor, and that knowledge had fueled his inner fire. The chance to face off on a grand stage in front of everyone and see if he stacked up to the man he felt in the shadow of for years…

And suddenly, for no reason, Bedwyr had taken that reality and shattered it.

“You wouldn’t understand, dear Erec. Don’t worry about me. There are other concerns I must deal with.”

For a minute, Erec didn’t know how to respond to that. He simply stared at his brother with a slack jaw; the scent of dirt and moss flooding his mind as he scrambled for how to reply. The sounds of his friends trying to clamber down and get involved broke him out of the stupor—he turned and saw them trying to navigate a path, aside from Enide, who lingered above and kept a careful distance.

She knew how he felt about his brother and their complicated relationship. More likely than not, she decided that her best place in this was to let them work it out. Something that Erec wished the rest of his friends had picked up on. More people getting into this situation would only harden Bedwyr's resolve. He was the type of stubborn person who would only double down when more people told him to do something.

He gestured for them to halt where they were, wanting the privacy of this conversation. He watched Garin catch the gesture and stop them. Thankfully, he could delay and keep this only between them.

"Bedwyr, you can't not compete in the tournament," he said. "In fact, I have been looking forward to fighting you in it.”

Bedwyr shook his head. "Little brother, fighting in a tournament on behalf of the crown and in front of others… There's no point to it. I'm training for what will come after the tournament. I'm preparing for the real dangers that we face in this world, and I recommend that others should be as well. Power is not to be wasted on such frivolous displays. I understand your goal is to hone your edge and become stronger in order to face the dangers outside the walls. Listen. I get that. But I have no need to test my skills against others. I know how to train myself to get the power I'm seeking. And that power is not gained through fights like these.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I don’t understand.” Erec frowned. Was he referring to his Talent? Though Bedwyr could raise all his Virtues with a single level, it did not mean he could get by without practicing his combat skills. This was a practical application, and if anything was more invaluable than simply grinding out Virtues in this way.

Bedwyr shook his head and gestured to the boulders around him. “I don’t expect you to. I’ve changed. And now I know that competing in the tournament won't do much for me. I’ve seen my calling. I know my path. And the only thing left to achieve it is to follow it to its end."

With each word, an odd feeling began to root in the air. The hollowness in Bedwyr’s eyes only grew deeper as Erec stared. It wasn't depression or simple sadness—it was as if Bedwyr were staring out at reality with an entirely new understanding. He’d seen something that had changed him on a fundamental level. And as Erec got that sensation, he felt a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Warning him about… Something.

"What's changed?" Erec asked, still fishing for an answer. He took in the scenery once more. Looking at the barren gray and tan rocks strewn all about. The broken boulders and stone.

Now that he thought of it. How had Bedwyr caused such destruction? His brother's sword wasn’t even present—no, oddly, there was a spear in the ground not that far away, its point stabbed into the earth itself amid a pile of rubble as if it hadn't been touched in days. He knew Bedwyr was powerful, but something on this scale? Even with time, it would be something that would take Erec's Fury unleashing completely to manage this level of devastation.

Just what had his brother been up to? What has changed over the last few days? These last months, he hadn't seen him? Had he neglected his brother for far too long?

Bedwyr didn’t answer.

"Bedwyr," Erec trailed off, looking at him. "Come home and rest."

"I've told you twice now that there's no need for that. Now, if you would please respect what I've said and go on your own way. I don't bother you and your friends or you and your girlfriend. I just wish for peace to train and hone myself for the coming war."

"War against who?" Erec asked, wondering if he meant the Church. Was all of this because he sensed how things were going? He felt like he was grasping at straws here.

Bedwyr simply tilted his head at Erec. His eyes flared with a deep brown hue that Erec had never seen before. It wasn't part of his talent. No, it was... Erec wasn't sure.

As he stared at those deep brown eyes, as if looking at the earth itself moving, he felt a resonance in his soul. Those silver fires that were his Fury, that were him, seemed to ignite in response. Flaring and lighting up as the power saw, and acknowledged one of its own.

"What?" Erec said, feeling a tightening in his chest. What was he seeing here? Why was he... His mind was taken back to that room with the round table.

In an instant, transported away... The round table dominated his vision, and all the thrones arranged around it, reeking with nobility. Most were empty, he knew. Their Knights were gone for now. The mantles are lacking.

But now? When he focused and thought about it... He could see those brown eyes staring back at him from one of those seats. In it was his brother, back straight and his hands on the table, a regal-looking spear laid out in all of its regal nobility in front of him.

That vision flashed away, and they were both back in the pit.

Now, Bedwyr’s eyes changed. That hollowness gone as he looked Erec up and down; it seemed that he too had been taken to the table. The implications of it left Erec reeling.

"Erec," he said, calling his brother's name. "You... You too? I suppose that explains something. You've been called there too… I don’t see why I shouldn’t have expected that, given your growth. You too then are walking this path in the same steps as another.”

Erec felt a sense of awe. Unsure what it meant as they looked at each other. Feeling attention rising in the air. And also... deep within, he felt that silver fire flare brighter. What he was looking at here wasn't just his brother. It wasn't even just another Initiate in the order. No. This was a fellow Knight. A Knight of an ancient and sacred brotherhood. That he'd only just begun to understand the implications of.

In response to his own silver flames that ancient rocky might roared into life in front of him, as Bedwyr grimaced and reposition himself.

“I see,” Bedwyr responded, eyes narrowing. “So we must do this then?”

Erec swung the silver axe off his back, its edge catching fire with his silver flames as they came unbidden, surging to the surface as he felt compelled into this. There was no denying it. It had been long since these two had seen each other; Bedwyr had always been the sort to put on airs and get obsessed with himself.

Not my Bedwyr. Erec reminded himself. It was difficult to remember as the two sets of memories overlapped. It was hopeless, though, to try so hard to separate them out. He saw in his fellow Knight’s eyes as the mantles flared into full being. This close, after so long…

They were called, of course, to participate in a centuries-long tradition.

“Thou dost know 'tis of polite attitude; show me how far you’ve tread, dearest Bedwyr,” Erec spoke, his tongue twisting in the way that it did when confronted with this ancient past. All of him screamed to fight the man in front of him, to test the limits of his fellow Knight.

Was this incarnation worth the pride that was so renowned by dearest Bedwyr? That was to be tested, to be gauged. It had been so long since he’d run across another true Knight…

“Have it your way,” Bedwyr said, his hand flicking to the spear not far away—the rock beneath it shot it upward, trailing the weapon in an arc, until it landed in his outstretched hand.

Two memories overlapped. Seeing Bedwyr use a spear was… Odd, to Erec. But now, as he recalled the many versions of Bedwyr… It had been odd that the man had never used the weapon before now, hadn’t it? That massive sword had been wrong, and now he was looking at what was truly right. A completion of who his brother was always meant to be.