Chapter 144: Knightly Tales

Chapter 144: Knightly Tales

Of course, Isaac woke up a few minutes later, but even though he’d only been asleep very briefly, there was something awesome about spending the ‘night’ in a medieval castle.

He got up and burned a core to pull his laptop out of thin air, then started to write up his training plan. He’d gotten started on it back home, but now that he knew what was available here, he could refine it.

What to teach them, what to focus on, what they could handle. All of these varied widely on the power of the people he was dealing with, but now that Isaac had that information, he could make his preparations.

And then there was the big question. Who would receive the legacy [Skills]? [Legacy of a True Warrior] was up to Level 8 now, giving him a total of thirteen slots per week. One of those had already been spent giving Arthur [Phantom Armor], which left him with twelve. Or six, if he decided to give everyone involved both of the [Skills] he could offer.

That took a few hours, but by the end, Isaac had a very well thought out plan on what to do, and even created a personal checklist for how to decide who to empower. Though the real question was if there were any people in this place that met his criteria. Well, that and actually needed the [Skills]. For example, Elena definitely qualified but as a spellcaster, [Epic Blow] was pretty much wasted on her.

Still, it wasn’t like there was any risk of the slots going to waste. Isaac was going to leave before the slots reset at the end of the week, and once he was back in Germany, finding soldier or police officer who’d make good use of the [Skills] would be pretty damn easy.

Before any of that happened, though, Isaac wanted some food. And based on the delicious smells wafting in from downstairs, it seemed like breakfast was ready.

Of course, given how oddly peoples’ sleep schedules now worked and the fact that no one here was at all hindered by working at night, ‘breakfast’ didn’t really work all that well as a concept anymore, but that didn’t matter to the apparently wonderful cooks that toiled somewhere beneath his feet.

Once again, Isaac used the absurdly hard to get [Skill] of [Fully Geared] to switch over to his street clothes. Using a legendary [Skill] to avoid having to change clothes the normal way ... some might go so far as to call that sacrilege. Not Isaac, though. The [System] was a tool, not something to be held in reverent admiration, and he used it as such.

As for his clothing, Isaac had gone with a generic set of functional clothing. Pants with enough pockets to be useful, but not so many that they got in the way, a shirt that didn’t slow him down via drag without being so tight that it looked ridiculous, and a scabbard for Balmung. He normally didn’t have the sword out and about, but that was in normal, polite society. This was Camelot, home to the first group of knights of the new era, and he was dressing appropriately. And, of course, everything was made from incredibly durable materials, ranging from spider silk from monsters to [Skill] produced and/or enhanced string, creating an end result vastly stronger than pre-[System] body armor.

Now adequately dressed, Isaac headed down into the great hall, which had been transformed into a massive breakfast buffet. In a case of highly effective and well thought out design choices, the great hall could be used as ‘throne room’ and looking the part, while also being perfectly able to be transformed into a cafeteria that worked perfectly. No inefficiencies due to things being in the way that only the throne room needed, no half hidden kitchen appliances that ruined the aesthetic, just a room that equally served both purposes.

When Isaac entered the great hall after having walked down an impressively large spiral staircase, the noise hit him like a physical thing. Countless people were already here, enjoying the food, and things were, well, rowdy as all get out.

Sure, there were other places to eat in Camelot, but the great hall had the great confluence of free food, good food, and great company.

As with everything in Camelot, the whole affair had to be damn expensive, but that was hardly a problem, considering how it was being financed.

Camelot had been founded by a group of millionaires, people who’d made their money as entrepreneurs, creating new goods or services ex nihilo because there was a demand. People with the intelligence and drive to invent something, then build and finally run a business built up around said invention.

Among them? Arthur Wells and Elena Hightower.

And then, when the [System] had dropped, these people had seen the writing on the wall, pooled their knowledge, connections and resources, and finally created this place.

Now, while creating something like that was one thing, but sustaining it was an entirely different beast. Obviously, spending money like water without a sufficient stream of income was doomed to failure.

That was where the [System] came in. More precisely, the material generation capabilities of summoning monsters as well as the vastly increased farming potential of even small plots of land, which combined to allow Camelot to be almost self-sufficient. Meanwhile, the things that couldn’t be produced in house and had to be purchased were funded by the sales of monster bits.

This wasn’t something that the [System] as it had been intended to be could have created at this point in time, though. The original [System] had been intended to give XP in a trickle as people acted in accordance with their [Class], granting slow but steady gains. But now that it had been possible to use monsters to speed up XP gains, this virtual paradise had been able to be created mere months after the [System] had appeared.

On one hand, Camelot was awesome. On the other ... the idea that anyone could create all of this with just a little power was a very dangerous one. How many people would look at this place and go ‘I can do that too, right?’, then get themselves and others killed trying to gain the power needed for this construction?

But Isaac had almost a week to think about all these things. For now, it was time to explore the fantastic spread available on the breakfast buffet.

Unsurprisingly, the food available was largely a typical English Breakfast, complete with crispy bacon, delicious sausages, eggs both fried and scrambled, hashbrowns that were wonderfully crispy on the outside while being light and fluffy on the inside, a dozen different kinds of toast, ranging from the traditional sliced bread ready to be stuck into the toaster to pre-made French Toast, stuffed and baked mushrooms ... and a massive metal dish labeled ‘bread pudding’. Not immediately piling his plate half a meter high with what was essentially a French Toast casserole dish was quite the struggle.

Once he’d chosen what to get, he waltzed over to the tables and sat down in a decently large open space that had still been available near the center of the room. This put him in a position where people could approach him without intruding on anyone else who’d been having their own semi-private conversations. Sure, with people’s senses being what they were, anyone in the room could listen in on anyone else, but that didn’t matter. It was now simply a matter of social convention to at least act as though you had normal senses, and give completely useless amounts of space that didn’t impede your ability to eavesdrop in the least.

“Good morning Isaac. Sleep well?” Elena asked form the other side of the table as she approached him. But even before she’d finished speaking, though, the same anti-eavesdropping [Skill] from earlier had settled over the pair of them like a heavy blanket, ensuring that even if this discussion turned to sensitive matters, nothing of any importance would get out.

“Sure.” Isaac nodded “Though it seems like beds are beginning to become obsolete. You spend so much on the mattress, nice sheets and everything else, and then you only spend a handful of minutes a day inside it.”

“But if we ever tried to get rid of them there’d be a riot.” Elena remarked.

“Obviously.” Isaac nodded along “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other options. For example, the fact that people only need to use their beds for an infinitesimal fraction of the day means that hot bunking is a lot more viable. It would, at the very least, save a lot of space.”

Elena blinked at him in surprise, then facepalmed “Right, mythology expert. I don’t suppose you’ve also found Avalon and can show him where to get a sword that will last longer than a couple of weeks?”

In theory, Elena’s Lake could become Avalon. If she took on the role of Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, she could gain the sword of kings so she could gift it to her chosen champion.

But that wasn’t how this was going to go, wasn’t it? The ‘historical’ Nimue had been a rather passive character, who didn’t really take many overt actions. In fact, she even removed Merlin from the picture in a couple of versions of the tale. Sometimes the wizard was a dirty old man who pursued her, in others, she was a dangerous seductress, but both versions ended with the wizard sleeping for eons, sealed in a tree.

Even though Elena was most closely aligned with the historical figure of the Lady of all the people in the stories, she was still very different from her. She wouldn’t become Nimue’s heir; she just wasn’t that passive.

Isaac raised his gaze to look straight into her eyes “Are you sure you want to go there? The land of the fae can be tricky, dangerous.”

“This is a joke, right? Because I was joking when I asked you if you knew where Avalon was. I ...”

“Nice to see you’re still capable of being surprised.” Isaac chuckled “And yes, I was joking. Sort of. I don’t know where Avalon is, but I do have a weapon that might last him a little longer than his current swords.”

She threw him an irritated look, but Isaac just reached into his pocket, drew out and inscribed core and plopped it on the table between them. As he placed his hand atop it, it vanished, only to be replaced by a slim weapon wreathed in a fain yellow glow.

“A ‘Vastly Inferior Copy of Mimung’?” Elena frowned as she read the blade’s description.

“A blade fit for a king, historically speaking.” Isaac said.

“How so?” Elena asked, brow furrowing.

“Wayland, the blacksmith who forged the original Mimung initially made it for his king, but then gave the king a fake while keeping the original. So there’s a precedent for kings running around with crappy knockoffs that are nonetheless vastly superior to anything an ordinary knight might wield.”

“And it’s enchanted?”

“Eh, sort of. A lesser version of [Piercing Strike] is perpetually active on the blade.” Isaac explained “Not quite how actual [Enchanters] work, as far as I know, but still similar.”

“Uh-hu.” Elena nodded, then grew far more serious “But don’t you think you’re taking this whole ‘Arthur is an actual king’ think a little far? I mean, there’s something there, he is the ruler of a castle, he is in charge of a group of knights and everything, but an actual king?”

“In the old world, all of this would have been ridiculous, yes. A man functionally declaring himself king? But like I mentioned so many times before, this world has changed, far more so than is currently apparent. Arthur is the sovereign of what is currently becoming an independent state, for most practical intents and purposes. He’s going to be fighting monsters, demons and dragons soon enough, like some hero straight out of the storybook. Quite frankly, at some point, he might even be able to legally change his last name to Pendragon.”

“You’re more confident about that than I am.” Elena observed.

“I’ve got the spirit of an ancient warrior, master at arms to a king with a historical impact comparable to King Arthur, at least locally.” Isaac reminded her “I know what a true king looks like to a far greater degree than anyone else alive today. And when I look at Arthur, at what he’d built here, I can see that look. This place will go far, and Arthur will rise with it.”

“That’s ... I really don’t know how to put it, exactly. It ...” Elena paused, taking a deep breath before continuing “It means a lot that you said that.”

“You’re welcome.” Isaac said “And please, the blade is a gift. This is my [Blacksmith’s] number, in case you want to commission a customized weapon for Arthur, or if you need the Mimung copy repaired.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ll be calling that number right after breakfast.” Elana said “Thank you.”

“No problem. Us people who try to stem the tide against the monsters of this world to stave off the apocalypse need to stick together.” Isaac replied.

“Do you really think it’s going to go that far?” Elena asked “I mean, things are chaotic and will be for a long while, but apocalyptic?”

“There are ten Tiers of monsters, each of which exponentially stronger than the last. And so far, we’ve only seen the first six. Given what human nature is like, is there any chance people won’t summon everything there is to summon?”

“It’s more likely that a snowball can survive in hell than that people will stop summoning.” Elena agreed with a sigh.

“What we do have is us, our preparations, and the fact that there are other good people out there who are doing the same. We can make it through this, it’ll just take a lot of work and elbow grease.” Isaac said, swallowing his final piece of bacon “Now, it was nice talking to you, but I do have to get going if I want to make it to the training grounds in time.”

Elena gave him a bright smile “It was nice talking to you too. See you around.”

Returning her smile, Isaac got up, carried his plate over to the dirty dishes collection area and subsequently left the great hall. That had been nice, but now, it was time to whip some cosplayers into shape.