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“My lords, it has once again come time for us to answer the call. The world is in peril.”

I had never been called a “lord” before, even if they meant it in the most barbaric of ways. I was not an owner of land, an overseer of peoples or serfs. I was just the latest recruit in the 21st century fold of The Knights Of The Round Table.

The table erupted in cheering, self encouragement and brotherhood. I couldn’t believe that the table was actually round, or that I was seated around it. The Knights had such a history, one that filled the popular mind as legend, and then the real history that was hidden from most.

The select few that knew it where sworn to secrecy, like my father and grandfather before him. They were the reason I was here, they were the reason I was here alone. Across the table, I saw other lords, much older than I was, with young versions of them sitting behind them. No doubt they were the squires, the sons of noble knights eager to join their fathers in vanquishing evil.

I smiled a painful smile, and turned my attention back to the speaker.

“There is still little known, but what our sources can tell us is this; we know who is behind it. This work bears the handprint of Mordred and his sons.”

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