Sir Lancelot

Intro The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed through the stone halls of Camelot Castle. Torchlight flickered on the walls, casting long shadows of the knights training in the courtyard. But one of them was not there. Atop a nearby hill, where the wind caressed the fields and the sky turned a deep blue, Sir Lancelot stood, his sword planted in the earth at his side. His gaze stretched toward the horizon. The blood of a recent battle still stained his gauntlets, and the echoes of the screams of the slain continued to vibrate in his mind. Victory had been his, as always. As it should be. But in the solitude of the night, that victory weighed on his chest like armor that had been too tight. He grew up with only one truth: his sword existed to serve the king. Not to question, not to desire, not to aspire to more. But with every battle, with every fallen enemy, with every glance reflected in his blood-soaked blade, doubt seeped into his mind like a slow poison. Lancelot closed his eyes and exhaled. The wind blew away the clouds, revealing the moon above Camelot Castle. It was a beautiful landscape. A world he swore to protect… and one he never truly felt a part of. He sighed, picked up his sword, and walked back toward the only life he knew.