Knights of Avalon

Chapter 3

“Yes? I’m right here. Are you feeling better now?” Aegis responded.

“Yes, thanks to you. I, uh… This is the infirmary, right?” Gawain asked.

“That’s right.”

It was just as Gawain expected. He was in the infirmary at the Britannian Imperial Military Academy. The boy in front of him had responded to Aegis’ name as if it was his own.

The clothing Aegis was wearing and the bloodied jacket draped over the shelf were both undoubtedly like what Gawain himself had worn during his days at the academy. He pressed his hand to his aching temple.

Did that mean the events he remembered were nothing more than a long, detailed dream?

That couldn’t be. His memories, his life… It had all been too real.

The memories of the ten years he spent in the North, then his subsequent death, came flooding back. In spite of the whirlwind of confusion coursing through his mind, his memories were far too vivid to be dismissed as a dream.

Does that mean… I’m dead?

After pondering that question, the only answer he could settle on was that he had died, but he wasn’t dead.

Gawain Kressian was not dead.

He placed his uninjured right hand over his chest. He could feel it. His heart was beating, slowly but surely, proving that he was still indeed alive.

Aegis looked down at Gawain as he sat up in his bed. The boy’s arms were crossed over his chest as he muttered in displeasure.

“Hah, that damn Calvert. I never thought he’d use my older brother to pull something like this.”

Gawain was speechless.

“And during the exam period too, when there’s going to be practical exams soon…” Aegis balled up his fists, openly expressing his annoyance. He was obviously referring to the injury on Gawain’s shoulder that had sent him to the infirmary in the first place.

Gawain found himself unable to offer any response. It wasn’t because he didn’t remember what happened, but because he was confused.

As he waited, his memories gradually came back to him. Prior to his death, these events would’ve been a faded recollection of the remote past. But now, Gawain felt more and more as though the events had just happened yesterday.

Though there were two separate sets of memories jumbled up in his mind, a singular thought persisted.

Did I somehow return to the past?

It seemed to be the only explanation given the circumstances. Gawain felt the need to send Aegis away, if only for a moment, so he could gather his thoughts in peace. He lightly touched his throat and forced out a rasping cough.

“Gawain? Are… are you okay?”

“Yes, but… My throat… It feels a bit dry.”

“Do you need some water? Hang on! I’ll get some for you!”

By the time Gawain finished speaking, Aegis had already rushed out to fetch him a cup of water. With Aegis gone, the infirmary was quiet.

Gawain began to piece the situation together. He realized that his two disparate sets of memories were now slowly aligning into something more coherent.

Although his left shoulder still thrummed with pain, thankfully, it was starting to subside. And as sore and achy as he was…

This is still nothing compared to the wounds I sustained while fighting cryptids in the North.

The cryptids were, as their name suggested, otherworldly beasts whose existence seemed to defy the natural order of the world. They were monstrous creatures that swallowed everything in their paths, man and animal alike.

Areas in which cryptids could be found in large numbers were barren and unsuitable for human habitation. But as inhospitable as these wastelands were, it was still necessary for someone to be there to keep the cryptids at bay and prevent them from pushing into the central regions of the realm.

There was a saying among the knights stationed in the North. If you could avoid losing a limb in your first year, you were lucky. If you avoided becoming a corpse for three years, you were luckier than being blessed by the good King Arthur himself.

Gawain had endured not just three years, but a decade in the North. There, once a battle broke out, it was common to not be able to rest for weeks on end. As great of a warrior Gawain was, the years had still taken a toll on his body. Compared to all of that, the cut on his shoulder could barely be considered a wound.

Gawain looked down at his hands again. While they were callused here and there, they were pristine in comparison to the gnarled and knotted fingers he had during his time in the North.

Back then, Gawain’s hands were so scarred and weathered that he could scarcely find a patch of unblemished skin.

Just then, the door swung open, and Aegis walked in. He held a steel tumbler full of water out toward Gawain.

Gawain silently stared at the water’s glistening surface.

“Aren’t you going to drink it?”

“Oh, yeah. I will. Thanks.”

Aegis Jupiter was the illegitimate son of the illustrious Jupiter family and a prodigious knight. Among the scores of bastard children sired by members of the Jupiter household, Aegis was the only one who was deemed worthy enough of being given the Jupiter name.

Despite his distinguished background, he still witnessed how his lowborn mother was treated by the rest of his family. Aegis was markedly less arrogant than most other young scions of similarly noble ilk.

Even Gawain, who was wary of Aegis at first, soon grew to forge a close friendship with him once he learned more about his personal background and friendly nature.

Gawain gulped down the water Aegis brought him. He swallowed it greedily, but it felt like his thirst had hardly been quenched. After nearly finishing the water, Gawain set the tumbler down on the shelf next to his bed.

This must be my third year…

With his memory returning in bits and pieces, Gawain was able to pinpoint the event in which he had injured his shoulder in the past. He cleared his throat before addressing Aegis.

“What’s on the agenda after this?”

“Agenda? Oh, you mean what class?”

Oops.

Gawain realized he had used the word “agenda” out of habit. Thankfully, the slip went unnoticed by Aegis, who brushed it off as nothing.

“I think it’s supposed to be imperial history and geography next.”

They were both theory classes, not practicals. Gawain pondered for a moment over what to do.

In the past, he would’ve forced himself to attend his theory classes. However, as of this moment, he felt that the time would be better spent on gathering his thoughts than listening to lectures.

“I don’t think I'm in any shape to attend today. Could you let the professor know for me?”

“What? I’ve already told them, of course. Don’t tell me you were seriously considering going to class in that state!”

After gently admonishing Gawain for his request, Aegis told him not to worry and to get as much rest as he needed.

Gawain barely convinced Aegis that he could get back to the dormitory just fine on his own, and he trundled on his way. As he neared his room, Gawain noticed a handful of students throwing glances at him, some of them more unfriendly than others.

Gawain ignored them and walked through the door. He never imagined that he would be standing here again.

Closing the door behind him, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. He surveyed the view of the massive training grounds and the sprawling gardens. It was unmistakably the military academy which Gawain had graduated from.

He turned to the side and was confronted by his own reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. With his disheveled uniform and bandages wrapped tight over one shoulder, he was a sight for sore eyes.

Gawain approached the mirror and pushed aside the wisps of hair covering his forehead. There was a scar on his forehead that he had acquired from a cryptid attack—one he believed would remain with him for the rest of his life.

It was gone.

“This is so strange.”

Gawain studied himself in the mirror. He looked young—so young that he wondered how the slight boy in his reflection would ever go on to battle cryptids. It seemed so natural when he ventured North at the time, but now, knowing what he knew, it felt comically absurd.

In any case, it was clear that he had somehow truly returned to the past.

Gawain ruminated on the subject. Someone else had summoned a demon on Walpurgis Night. And that someone else had framed him.

“I need to find the culprit.”

Returning to the past had saved his life, but there were too many dangers and obstacles looming before him to consider it a mere stroke of luck. The biggest obstacle of all was that of all the points in time he could’ve returned to, it was when he was still a cadet at the academy.

Once you were appointed as a Knight of the Round Table and agent of the Britannian Empire, there was essentially nothing that could stand in your way.

It was the opinion of the public that any action taken by a Knight of the Round Table was, in effect, for the good of the Britannian Empire. And having been a Knight of the Round Table, Gawain was too used to the free reign he once had. Being a cadet felt entirely restricting.

The only silver lining was that Gawain had returned right before his third-year final exams. While there was still another year left as a student afterwards, most fourth-year cadets spent more time outside the confines of the academy and worked on practical assignments.

Gawain gingerly moved his shoulder to check the extent of his injury. A sharp, numbing pain shot through him, and he clutched at his shoulder.

“Ugh, that hurts a lot more than I expected.”

There was no way he’d be able to hold a sword with both hands and wield it fully in this state. He tried his best to come to terms with the present reality based on his returning memories.

The injury had been inflicted on Gawain during a duel. As a military academy, it wasn’t uncommon for students to spar with each other.

The person who had challenged Gawain was Aegis’ older brother and the firstborn son of the Jupiter family, Tuar Jupiter. It was under the pretext of teaching Gawain a lesson.

Of course, just because someone had requested a duel didn’t mean you were obligated to accept. But given that Tuar had put forward a direct request in his family’s honor, Gawain had no choice but to accept.

However, the person Gawain found himself up against at the duel was not Tuar, but someone else. It was a shocking turn of events. After leveraging his family name to force Gawain into a fight, Tuar had sent someone else to fight in his place.

The boy who appeared as Tuar’s proxy was Calvert Ceasar, a student in the same year as Gawain who, anticipating that Tuar would one day become the future head of the Jupiter family, obeyed his every whim like a loyal dog. And it just so happened that Calvert harbored an immense dislike for Gawain due to his friendship with Aegis.

Gawain had emerged as the victor of the duel, but Calvert, unable to accept his defeat, had ambushed Gawain just as he had turned to leave the finished duel.

Fortunately, sensing Calvert’s attack at the last minute, Gawain was able to parry the attack just in time to avoid being lethally wounded—but Calvert’s blade still landed a deep gash across his shoulder.

And this was how Gawain ended up in the infirmary. By the time the stunned students on the sidelines came to their senses and rushed in to break up the fight, Gawain had already been wounded.

An accident like this right before the third-year final exams had far-reaching consequences, especially in regards to the practical assignments that would be given to fourth-year cadets. Could this really have been just an unfortunate mishap caused in an impulsive, heat-of-the-moment act?

“Hah. Absolutely not.”