“We need to do something. With their protection gone, all those towns, those passes, will soon be hit by spirit beasts.” Kay’s voice was the loudest, her fingers tracing the long route the Order used to protect. Percy watched her finger danced below the pass, the one that years of work had confirmed was the final measure of the prophecy.

  “There was always a bandit problem even when they were around. It can only get worse now,” Maeve added, her hands on her hips.

  “We should ride out, protect those people,” Lance said. Everyone turned to her. “Isn’t it obvious? We can’t change the course of the war, but we can do that much.”

  The group nodded enthusiastically. Even the reserved Tristan seemed excited by the prospect.

  “That sounds like a true adventure,” Taliesin said. He was smiling until he looked to her. Percy tried to hide her conflict from him, but she could see the dancing light leave his eyes. He knew her too well. Following his gaze, the others turned expectantly to them, surprised at their silence.

  Percy never liked being the centre of attention. No, that wasn’t right. Rather, she wanted to control the attention she received to best further her goals. That’s why, despite it being her heritage, her family’s duty, and the knowledge they’d carried for over a thousand years, she wanted Arty to speak.

  It wasn’t that, right now, a little part of her preferred to play the coward, to let Arty be the lightning rod for the upset to come. But Arty stepped into the trap of silence she laid for him.

  “If I could have your attention, please, noble cultivators.” She could almost hear him say ‘Knights’ and avoid it. The gulf between him and Taliesin hadn’t narrowed, but he’d reined in his more erratic complaints. “We have something to discuss and would like for you all to join us, as it is to do with our next steps and a threat to Euross that we are uniquely placed to manage. It is a quest of utmost import, and we seek your aid in it. It is a little cramped in here, so meet us in the main hall if you wish to know more.”

  He then swept out of the room, and Percy followed, as did Gawain and Bors. She tried to ignore the feeling of Taliesin’s eyes boring into her back.

  A couple of minutes later, everyone was gathered in the hall at the long table. Even the newly minted Sir Gareth had been dragged to the room. He was still adjusting to his powers. Apparently, sound-gifted cultivators had a rough time when reaching Iron. At every scrape of the stool and heavy footstep, he winced in pain.

  All had agreed to an oath to keep what they found secret from all but their Matriarchs and Patriarchs. There was no point in trying to hide it from them, but they had the good sense to stay well clear of a prophecy that directly stated that their involvement would bring ruin. Especially when they learned which prophetess had authored it.

  She sat at Prince Arthur’s left. He wasn’t Arty right now, not while his regal bearing radiated the authority of a lineage that had held fast for over a millennia. It didn’t put people down, but it elevated him somehow. It primed everyone around to sit up straight or kneel, and wait for the tap of the sword on their shoulder, and hope the blade didn’t go for their neck.

  She knew it was part of his intent and glamour. Exactly how it worked was a family secret that generations of De Grailles had never uncovered. It was subtle, and while it irritated some, most were sucked into its wake without even noticing. As a result, the table sat in silence, waiting for him to speak, heads bowed. All except Taliesin, arms crossed, eyes boring into the prince, his lips tight and jaw firm.

  She sighed, this was to be expected. Of course, a jester was immune to the powers of a king. Perhaps it was Taliesin’s resistance, but she could feel an excess of twitchiness about them. Arthur, for his part, was serene, but she could see him deliberately avoiding looking at Taliesin, who sat at the far end of the table he headed.

  Bors was last to join. He’d been deploying the privacy runes. He didn’t join them at the head of the table, instead sitting with the rest of them on the benches. Percy didn’t know if that was accidental or a deliberate choice to mark himself apart. Years of friendship, and she still couldn’t tell when Bors was flexing his exceptional understanding of people and when the politics were going right over his head.

  “Thank you for joining us. I wish to impart secrets to you. All of you have proved yourselves committed to fighting the Divine Cultivators. We have a quest, a prophecy passed down from ages past that has guided our actions and led to our presence here today,” Arthur spoke, his voice rich and authoritative. He was no great storyteller, but he had the voice of a true orator. The kind that promised death or glory and made everyone believe glory was the likely outcome, no matter the contrary evidence.

  “I shall ask Lady Persephone De Graille to share her family’s long-kept secret. The Prophecy of the Grail.”

  “My family has long guarded information, secrets from the time of the Atlantean Empire. Among those secrets was a prophecy imparted to us by the Lady of the Lake.” The table was utterly silent; no one breathed. Prophecies were common and closer to gambling than truth. Only the predictions of the fae were seen as truth, and this fae stood above all.

  “She told us of a relic. An artefact lost during the fall of the Empire to the traveller, one that was used by the corrupt cultivators of the time, who later became the Divine Cultivators we know. She warned us that it would resurface when certain things came to pass. All but the last had come to pass—until today.”

  Percy paused and recited the lines long burned into memory:

  “When the keepers of the pass falter, the desperate will seek tools to alter their fate. Look to the place forsaken by the eyes of traitors and dutiful alike. There you will find the grail of sacrifice being supped from once more. A place of pain, where kings shall falter, alliances will be sundered, and demons shall haunt your halls.”

  “What is this Grail?” Lance was the first to ask. Persephone didn’t know her well enough to gauge the flickering emotions the Squire tried to repress.

  “From the accounts, we understand it’s a tool given by the demons to their earliest disciples. It amplifies the power of sacrifice. Its exact powers are not mentioned in the prophecy, only that it will greatly empower our foe if they get their hands on it.” A true statement that hid her real knowledge. She’d read her family’s research. Even the conservative estimations of its powers, if accurate, were enough to keep her up at night.

  “And why is it us? Why are we not getting Pel or Mother Chox to escort him there?” Taliesin asked, watching them carefully. His face was devoid of emotion, his usual lilting tones gone, leaving him feeling like a different person. Even Regus had more life in him than this.

  “The prophecy is clear: ‘They who bear of my gift and their allies most true must quest alone, for disaster will follow the uninvited gaze.’ There is far more to it, but the intent is clear. It is best if a small group loyal to the ‘bearer’ are involved.”

  “I spoke with his sister Marianne some time ago and know she is no fan of the Divine Cultivators. She recently reached Steel. Why is she not involved?” Taliesin’s voice wasn’t unfriendly, but it was so in contrast to the warmth it usually displayed, it felt like a slap. Percy felt Arthur stand, his regal indifference cracking just a bit as his eyes turned to flint.

  “All the other members of my family are watched closely by various factions. Steels especially can’t move without a great deal of attention. As the youngest, I’m oft forgotten and have little power, so I am the perfect instrument. The enemy doesn’t know the Grail survives, and we need to keep it that way.” Arthur restrained himself remarkably well. Percy breathed a sigh of relief. Of all the family members he was often compared to, comparison to Lady Mary was by far the least troublesome.

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  The group gave nods, Taliesin settling back. His eyes looked to Lance, as did several others. Tristan and Maeve were the greatest offenders. They waited to see what the Squire was going to say. For her part, she was clearly thinking, seemingly battling to restrain herself from launching into the argument. A sensible choice—it is not every day you find yourself the possible chosen of an ancient prophecy.

  “So, the plan is to sneak up toward this location that you’ve divined? What, and just ignore the war as we focus on this ‘Grail’? He has too many enemies who might bar our way.” Kay snapped. Percy frowned. She’d expected this to be a sticking point for the group but was surprised at the former Inquisitor’s hostility, before remembering her more mortal upbringing.

  “It’s about the good of the many. The Lady herself charged us with this,” Gawain spoke up.

  “That does not mean her motives are so clear cut,” Taliesin’s voice was bitter.

  “Do you disrespect her?” Arthur snapped, a vein starting to pulse on his neck. Percy and Gawain grabbed at him, keen to avoid the worst-case scenario. Revealing Arthur’s second glamour here would be a disaster.

  “No, I speak from experience. I sit here literally wearing the outfit she picked out for me. I’m relatively confident that her fiddling with my fate is half the reason why we’re all having this conversation. Yet I was given no direction, not even a word.”

  “Wait, what?” Tristan perked up, but was shushed. He alone seemed to have missed the update on the Lady’s involvement with the resident bard.

  Arthur shrugged them off, taking a calming breath before standing tall and adjusting his tunic. “Then it is fate! We shall head out and make haste to this hidden place.”

  “Having to hide all the way. There are people in need of help throughout our whole journey,” Kay cut in again. Percy winced as she saw the nods around the table and felt the gap between the groups growing.

  Taliesin and Bors remained silent, neither of the group’s peacemakers able or willing to find their voice. She wished she could’ve got permission to bring in Taliesin before now, but her petitions to her elders were refuted.

  Her elders assumed that any Knight would give their teeth for a chance to be part of such a quest. Trying to explain he was a Bard hadn’t helped, and she hadn’t dared mention he’d met the Lady. She was certain the Patriarch would’ve started a political incident—the man was fantastically obsessed with recording encounters with her.

  “This quest is too important. We must hide ourselves from scrutiny. There are also those who are not fans of the Quilvern line who would make trouble for us. It pains me, but we must look for this Grail discreetly,” Arthur spoke up. He sounded confident—a miracle, given how much he loathed the plan. Still, he understood why it was necessary.

  “Then why are you even going? I know I can’t be the only person who’s noticed that there are two people in this room who fit this prophecy.” Lance’s voice silenced everyone. Percy sighed, she new this was coming. Lance was direct; her words could be seen as clumsy or impatient. At times, she came across as even more unaware than Bors. It was a total lie.

  The woman was as shrewd as her oracle mother, seeing through the distracting wisps to find the secret hidden within. She couldn’t have missed that this prophecy applied to her as well.

  “That’s—” She saw Gawain grab Arthur before he said something they'd regret, his mood getting whipped up by the hostility of the others. She'd hoped the anger would've started to drain away but given the vein in the prince's neck had been joined by a friend on his forehead, that seemed unlikely.

  “She has a point. It also furthers Taliesin’s observation that we cannot guess at the exact intention of the Lady in bringing us together.” The new Sir Gareth had joined the discussion, supporting his long-time friend.

  “Lance is still Bronze at this time and would be very vulnerable where we are going,” Gawain offered. The glare from Lance sliced into him. She felt the beginning of the Evil Eye forming from Lance—surprising from a Bronze, as was the control she showed by pulling it back. She started to speak but then bit her tongue and thought for a moment more.

  “I won’t lie and say that I am the strongest. However, this is not the way. We’re stronger together. But that strength means nothing if we don’t use it.” Lance sat back down with her piece said, her eyes challenging them.

  Percy rallied herself. The plan was the plan for a wide range of reasons. There were all sorts of factors, from political to Divine Cultivators, to what the prophecy said. All of which pointed towards secrecy being the best path forward. Preparing herself to present them, she was cut off at the knees as Bors’ voice rumbled over them.

  “If there is any other way, I’m open to hearing it. I’m not sure how I’d live with myself if we’d be leaving towns in danger and I knew we could help.” Bors’ rebuke took the wind right out of her. It was soft, not outright stating he disagreed, but making it clear he wasn’t happy. Sticking him on that bridge had put a distance between him and them that was still not healed.

  “Bors, you know me. I loathe the idea of leaving people to die, but this? It is bigger than us—bigger than any one town or city,” Arthur said, his tone one of forced calm as he tried to salvage the chaotic meeting.

  “How many lives are lost before that changes? How many mortals must die before it’s worth us intervening?” Kay fumed, slamming her hands down on the table.

  “I’m with Taliesin and Kay. I’m not going to go on some quest to get a cup, only to abandon others along the way.”

  “Secrecy is the best way forward,” Percy repeated.

  “Maybe it’s not, or maybe a different form of secrecy is best. Maybe if you’d spoken about this with me, I could’ve started to think of some alternatives. Now though, you make us feel that this threat is at the door, and we must decide or perish. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was the work of a confidence man.” Taliesin’s voice struck her like a whip.

  Without thinking, she snapped back at him. “What do you think I’ve been in the library all week? I’ve been looking for any and all ways we could do this, but I’ve found nothing.”

  “Why not mention this before? Or at least hint at it? My Grandmother has lots of resources that she could lend,” Maeve spoke up. She at least remained diplomatic, which irritated Percy immensely.

  “It may not have come to pass, and the elders decided that I could not share it unless certain circumstances were met.” She didn’t flinch, crushing the urge to apologise for the elders’ short-sightedness. To explain just how hard she’d pushed to do exactly that. But she couldn’t—that, like so much else, was part of the secrets she’d been forced to keep.

  Percy could feel it all starting to fall apart. She had entered into this hoping to secure aid from at least a few of them and to prepare her backup plan in Lancelot. The De Graille go-to was secrecy. They’d only agreed to let her tell the cohort because the prophecy straight up said he needed to rely on them.

  Even that had sparked debates among the squabbling academics. Some argued only Arthur should know, as that kept the secrets under control. That was the De Graille way: find the secrets and protect them. Even her intent was a reflection of that. And it was exactly why she’d wished to bring the group in well before.

  The strongest metals are revealed in conflict.

  Her intent was a reflection of her understanding of the physical metals held in everyone’s blood, as well as the mental steel people revealed in battle—either with blades or wits. In this moment of conflicting values, she was finding that there was a lot of hidden strength amongst the group. They collectively resisted the call of the quest in favour of the oldest and most often neglected duty of a Knight: to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

  “Is it not the goal of every Knight to have a quest such as this?” Gawain called out. Percy almost let her face slide into her hand. Gawain could never read a room.

  “You know, I’m surprised. Not that you’ve once again forgotten my path! No, it astounds me that you, of all people, would accept such a devious plan, Noble Prince Arthur,” Taliesin prodded the prince.

  “My responsibility is to stop the Divine Cultivators, to protect the people. Sometimes that duty includes sacrifice. In this case, the sacrifice may well be lives, and will definitely be my own convictions.” Arthur replied. People began to speak over each other, but then Lance slammed both hands down on the table and stood.

  “You know what? Screw your convictions. This plan doesn’t make sense. Why are you in charge? Why do you sit at the head of the table here, inviting us on this quest, like you’re doing us some favour? It is your family drama that is the problem. You’re the one making things complicated.” Lance turned and pointed at her, the Squire’s blue eyes boring into her.

  “She’s the one with the prophecy. I get that I’m a bit of a surprise, a bit of a wrinkle in the parchment, but surely, with both of us in play, you have to be able to come up with something better than us sneaking across a good chunk of Euross. I mean, have you met Taliesin? I’m not sure he could make it across a room without tripping over a fae or hidden plot!” Lance stepped out, making to leave.

  “We need cohesion,” Arthur called.

  “Yes, but do we need you?” Lance retorted before she stormed out of the room. After that, the room erupted, raised voices demanding more information, arguing different points.

  Percy mutely watched as Taliesin, his face held in that false mask she remembered from the balls, where he sought to hide his raging emotions, looked to her, looked down at the table, and finally stood to follow Lance out of the hall.

  Check the spoiler below for a library of cultivation terms and their Arthurian translations.