The King In The Battle Of Camlann

"The King does not understand how others feel?" Sir Tristan, nay, all the knights of Britain are mistaken. Why had it not occurred to any of you that the King was another person of Britain like the rest of you, said Sir Lancelot. The young squire overheard this blasphemy. There was an ong-tongue about the King, that he is not human. So as the tale goes. In the battle of Camlann, the King was fatally wounded by the Knight of Treachery, Mordred. For three days and three nights, no sight of the King was accounted. Then on the fourth dawn, he arrived, not alone, but accompanied by Knights of Round Table who were thought to perish in battles. Such a feat could not be obtained by mere human. Some claims that he was taken to Avalon to healed. Some

Its walls of white chalk are tall and imposing, as if rejecting everything outside it. Smokes from the bonfire of the refugee swept across the wall as if it tainting the innocence wall with evil. A young squire, who is looking through an eyethurl, observing the refugee camps, reminiscing about the day of his struggles, has a tan skin, jet-black eyes and a well-built body. His garment was of the simplest form but well-made, being a linen under-shirt and linen under-pants, woollen stocking and a surcoat. The squire was a foreigner to this holy city but not the land. Born from a lower class, in the westward dessert village, his parents were killed by a bandit raid but he was saved by a knight. The foreign knight was the embodiment of the sun himself. Reaching out to him, the warmth and smile blast away the shivering night of dessert. His words still echo in the squire mind “thou shalt be name Aurelius”. His past identity did neither matter anymore nor the identity of the foreign knight. The only thing that matters is his swear loyalty to his master. Aurelius’s master is Sir Gawain, right-hand man of the King. Formidable, courteous, and also a compassionate warrior, he is the ideal knight. “Are thou ready yet?” said Gawain. “Yes sire” answered Aurelius. Tonight the holy ritual of drawing would take place. Once a month, the chosen refugees of all tribes and creeds could be drawn