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Lancelot was always known for his composure, he was the embodiment of the ideal knight in all aspects, and his discipline was repeatedly emphasized by everyone who had the pleasure of even a minute to contemplate the knight at his post. Even his stance was clearly calibrated and in it he looked more like a statue than a living person. Moreover, in such shaky times, when the king died without leaving an heir, Lancelot felt even more obliged to maintain his tone. So with what shame did the fact that all this military restraint was shaken by one stupid buffoon press into his consciousness.
Like any disease, like plague or consumption, it all began unnoticed. With soft and smooth steps it crept up on him, gradually making its way deeper into his heart. The news of the new court jester was not perceived by him in any particular way. The castle's staff changed frequently, even in the king's absence, and as long as it didn't relate to his job as a knight, Lancelot had no need to focus on it. In addition, at all major events, his attention was almost never paid to the entertainment part. So, indifference was all he had at that moment.
Then the first social event began with the participation of the new jester. Lancelot did not plan to listen closely, he was much more concerned about maintaining his guard post, while the red echidna - his colleague, known as Sir Gawain, although he did not abandon his duties, still sometimes glanced sideways with interest towards the guests, looking around a newcomer with a quick and casual glance. And sometimes he even giggled at the performance. And so, the latter slightly piqued Lancelot’s interest; Gawain knew how to have fun within moderate limits, but to see him so relaxed at his post was simply nonsense. Lancelot sighed heavily and finally turned his head slightly to the new jester, with slight interest in what could captivate his partner in arms so much.
This was the first time he saw Sonic. Didn’t just hear the maids’ stupid chatter about him, but saw him with his own eyes. And Sonic was really able to capture his interest a little, and in the role of a jester he seemed very atypical. Lancelot was accustomed to seeing jesters as ugly people whose appearance was considered amusing in the palace environment. And Sonic didn't look like that at all. In terms of physique, he was more like a knight or nobleman, and the exquisite blue needles, implying dignity and wealth, looked royal even under the clothes of a jester. Moreover, his bright smile and the persuasiveness of his words did not look like an antics from dope.
In his hands was a violin, another striking detail. It was normal for jesters to play musical instruments, it was highly valued, and jesters with musical skills could go far. But it was always something simple: a harp or a pipe. But something as majestic as a violin has never been a frequent guest in their hands. If not for the jester's clothes, the hedgehog could easily be mistaken for a court musician. He played during a break from jokes, thereby filling the pauses for laughter, but the music itself sounded much better than just a melody for pauses, it was delightful and it seemed that every note complemented the sound, turning into musical infinity. There was something very special about the way he held the instrument, as if it were an extension of his body.
Lancelot kept his gaze on him, an unaffordable luxury - to be distracted from his duties by the performances of a jester, from which Lancelot himself felt like a fool for being so distracted by his standards. But the jester continued his performances, not giving him a chance to look away. The knight tried to ignore it and maintain his usual stoicism, but his fascination with the moment did not subside. It was shameful that he was a knight, a warrior from his youth, trained to restrain the storm of feelings, but still this skill was ruined by the simplest thing: a jester.
It seemed that he was approaching the end of the performance, the hedgehog began to spin in acrobatic numbers, still continuing the process of playing music. Suddenly, during one of the performances, the Jester lost his balance and fell right during a pirouette, spinning into a small whirlwind before ending up sitting on the bare floor. As soon as the crowd had time to see his poses, Sonic, clearly expecting this, played a sad melody with notes of comedy on the violins, and the audience immediately laughed. This is how the jester’s first performance went before his eyes. Lancelot couldn't get this suspense out of his head. He silently scolded himself for such a feeling, all this should not have such a strong effect, but only instantly dissolve in memory. But the truth is that the hedgehog still left a strong mark on him.
At the end of the same event, a tournament was loudly announced to appoint a new king. This caused a wave of hesitation among the people. Everyone knew that after the death of the king, a huge stone with a sword inside appeared in the center of the kingdom, on the hilt of which was written: “Excalibur, the person who pulled not with great strength will be bestowed as King or the land.” However, a person capable of pulling out a sword was never found in the entire kingdom. And so, as an alternative, the tournament didn't sound so bad. Many among the knights supported Lancelot's candidacy. And although the knight himself did not consider himself fully suitable for such duties, he expressed a desire to take part in the tournament.
And, merciful God, how he regretted it. As part of the tournament, many significant personalities came to Camelot: both from the surrounding area and from very distant kingdoms, wanting to grab the throne for themselves. However, Lancelot was not concerned about their competition, but about the number of banquets in honor of their arrival.
Because he simply had to be at every banquet with this colorful hat.
Lancelot was no longer present as a guard, but as a participant in the tournament, he sat at the table where everyone else was feasting and laughing, trying to maintain his discipline to the end. But all these efforts were resolved as soon as the blue blur entered the stage and waved its arms in a theatrical manner. It was hard not to remember the jester's name when he heard a loud "Sonic" from everyone in the audience every night. The performances were varied each time, reeking of creativity, and the repetitions were so insignificant that anyone would hardly have noticed them. But Lancelot noticed that he devoured each performance greedily, each time more and more shamelessly withdrawing from the world around him and concentrating solely on the game of the jester. However, he never laughed, maybe he noticed moments that were objectively considered funny, and to which the whole hall responded with laughter, but there was never even a hint of a smile on Lancelot’s face. Only a crimson glow from under the helmet.
At one of the regular events, another jester suddenly performs, this is normal - there were a lot of jesters. Sonic probably only performed so often because he was a crowd favorite. But nothing lasts forever, so it was a matter of time before another joker appeared in public instead. And Lancelot again saw the more familiar image of a jester, a slightly sloppy and cartoonishly ugly man, performing in a boring and sickening manner. The audience, however, still laughed, although not as often as with Sonic, but Lancelot did not find anything attractive in this satirist. Having quickly lost interest, he returned to what he had done all his life at these kinds of dinners before he saw Sonic perform - scanning those present for a potential threat or keeping an ear to the rumors circulating among those present.
For the next three events, Sonic never appeared on stage. Everything seemed to return to its usual course as Lancelot concentrated on his work; his gaze no longer wandered over the blue jester, sparkling with his smile. But he didn’t want to leave his thoughts, Lancelot was constantly distracted by wondering why Sonic still hadn’t appeared in public. Or what his next performance would be, what he would do this time, how unconventional his approach would be compared to others. Lancelot didn't like that there were so many distracting thoughts swirling around these minor acts, but there seemed to be nothing he could do about it. Sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of the waters of thoughts about Sonic. Could he call it longing for the jester? Lancelot never missed anyone, and some fool by profession could not be an exception.
Sonic performs again. Lancelot feels that from such news his chest is filled with strange bubbling inside. He watches the entire performance without interruption, never once taking his eyes off the jester. It seemed that even if a crowd of enemies burst into the castle screaming, Lancelot would still pay attention only to the concert. It was irresponsible, stupid, selfish, but God, let him be selfish for once. Lancelot notices how his and Sonic's eyes sometimes meet. This makes it even more interesting for him, it adds even more excitement to the observation, to catch the moment when Sonic looks at him. When his emerald eyes, shining like the brightest jewels, are aimed specifically at Lancelot. Everything about him is frozen, there is not even a smile, but his gaze seems to be chained. Well, let this minute pass like this.
Finally, the series of feasts was almost over. The last thing that remained before the tournament was the ball, where all participants could finally fully get to know each other. In a good way, he also had to analyze his opponents throughout the evening. However, instead, Lance constantly scoured the hall with his eyes, trying to find the location of the jester. The action is essentially meaningless: the knight had no intention of talking to Sonic, and there was no objective benefit from observing the jester. But this did not stop his stupid search.
He was also stupid because Lancelot still couldn’t find the jester’s cap in the crowd. This was absurd, the jester’s clothes always stood out brightly among the other inhabitants of the castle, so for what reason could the knight’s keen eye not detect this colorful spot among the gray crowds? Could it be that the jester, whom everyone loved so much, was not invited to the ball or simply did not come here? A slight nervousness gradually overcame the knight when a sudden voice came from behind him, all too familiar.
“That's where you are! I've already searched you.”
Jester’s giggle tickled my ear like velvet. And the phrase like a fish on dry land has never suited Lancelot so much. Not only did he miss his search object literally behind his back, but he also did not notice how he, loudly ringing the massive bells on his cap, approached him. At this rate, he won’t even reach the halfway point of the tournament if he continues to have his head in the clouds. He recoils from Sonic, somewhat losing his usual warrior grace, and looks at him through his helmet. A second is enough for him to return to a more appropriate position for a person of his level. “I'm sorry?” knight tries to say it so coldly and formally, hiding the unwanted excitement from the meeting.
“Oooh, don’t pretend you didn’t recognize me, noble knight!” Sonic says in a cheerful tone that never seemed to change in his voice. “The way you look at me every time you perform, you know, it’s embarrassing.” Lancelot is silent in shame; a wave of embarrassment washes over him from head to toe. And Sonic just blinks childishly. Lancelot was a stranger to being caught out of control of his actions. And the fact that his glances were noticed by another person, and, God save him from this thought, that they were noticed by the jester himself, trampled all his honor into the mud.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time, you know,” Sonic continues jokingly, in favor of his profession, gesticulating chaotically, likening his light hand movements to an analogue of a mesmerizing dance, “I knew that I couldn’t please everyone, even though I'm so attractive. But it’s hard to even imagine how exactly I annoyed you, since not a single joke of mine even made you smile.”
“I’m completely indifferent to you, buffoon. My discipline does not allow me to laugh at your jokes, don’t take it personally.”
“Oh, I thought so too at first: the code of chivalry, all these boring rules of yours about being boring and how to be a prude. But then you kind of stared at me menacingly every time I spoke? Also, my colleague did not encounter anything like this when it was his turn. So, I took it as a threat specifically to myself.” Lancelot again only remains silent in confusion; he is grateful that under the helmet the awkward trepidation that permeates his face is not visible. Even though he had been criticized by Percival earlier in the morning for daring to come to the ball in his usual armor, now he was only relieved by it. When Sonic once again does not receive an answer and he gets only strict silence, an even more caustic smile plays on the jester’s face, stretching as much as it should not be capable of in a good way. The jester accelerates closer, reducing the distance between them to more or less moderate limits, his back bends slightly in an arc, and his head tilts to the right, where he rests on his hand folded in the shape of a gun.
“So, may I ask what I did to one of the most famous knights of Camelot?”
“Violin.” Like a moron, Lancelot says the first thing that came to his mind.
And without going into details, he was right. The reason why Lancelot's gaze lingered on Sonic for more than two seconds was the musical instrument carefully clutched in the hedgehog's paws. The very fact that the jester had a violin was intriguing, the skill with which he handled playing it and completely captured all attention. And the semblance of waltzing, exaggerated from the essence of the jester’s work, in the process made the bells crackle. Moreover, the crackling sound is very pleasant, complementing the melody with chaotic mischief, which already radiated from Sonic. He didn’t dare say all these thoughts out loud, leaving this short essay about the hedgehog’s musical talents exclusively in the depths of his mind.
“Violin?” Sonic answers in surprise, probably not expecting that he would receive exactly this answer.
“Yes. You play an extremely sublime instrument, while jumping like a monkey. It is unheard of for a jester to play the violin.” Rough. Much ruder than Lancelot had originally intended to respond. And his usual cold tone seemed to make the situation even worse. On the other hand, Sonic thinks that Lancelot is angry with him and that is why he glares, so such an answer should have been expected from him. Having heard him, the jester would probably have left Lancelot alone, or at most ridiculed this comment in some way in the procession of his speech. Instead, the ringing voice continued to address him.
“Actually, the profession of a jester is also extremely sublime,” Sonic snorts, putting his hands on his sides, with out-of-nowhere importance.
“Don’t make me laugh: Fool is a fool for everything.”
“I’m sorry, but all I can do is make you laugh,” the jester says with a wink, clearly beginning to get a taste for the dialogue. “Can I know your name? I would like to understand how to call the hero of my new fable in speeches.”
“You mentioned that I am one of the most famous knights, and now you say that you don’t even know my name? Truly a sublime profession.” Lancelot seems to be using sarcasm for the first time in his life.
The jester chuckles. Piercingly tender and sincere, his laughs on stage were more rehearsed, and the pulp of the running fun was immediately visible. Lancelot finds it in himself to hear more of this kind of genuine mischief. Maybe this won't be the only sarcasm.
“I do know your name, Lancelot Sir Ultimate Knight.” But I thought it would be just in your chivalrous spirit to exchange names on a more personal note.
“I don’t think that kind of etiquette extends to a fool like you, Sonic.”
Sonic laughed again and then shook his hand, the names being said to each other anyway. Their communication continued to glow with caustic phrases that fired up each other’s spirits. This turned out to be much more exciting than Sonic performing on stage. The satirist joked for him, clownished at him, and the existence of other guests at the ball was just a faded background that threatened to dissolve.
“Well, which performance angered you the most, Lance?” —Lancelot couldn’t remember at what point his name was shortened by Sonic to such a noticeable similarity.
“When you opened the basket with bees: bringing it into the throne room is simply dangerous, I don’t understand why you’re still not in prison.”
“Bees? Hah, it’s just my favorite!” Sonic adds a moment later, “Well, after the violin, probably.”
“Where does the jester even get such skills? I thought only graduates of prestigious institutions play like this, and not a fool from the stage.”
“Well, all fools want to become smart, so why wouldn’t a smart person want to be a fool?”
“This is not your case; you are clearly not smart.” Lancelot laughed. Okay, maybe it was more like a strangled snort with a slight, almost imperceptible, smile. But in recent years it was the closest thing to laughter that he had ever had. This made Sonic’s eyes sparkle: “Wait, wait! Could I really make even you laugh? Who knew that to do this you just had to get off the stage!” Lancelot snorts in response, shyly turning his gaze away, avoiding other people's attention.
“I laughed not because of you, but at you.”
“For me it’s the same thing.”
After this dialogue, Sonic did not leave him alone throughout the entire score and was simply magnetized to the knight. As soon as he had the opportunity, he immediately approached the knight, uncontrollably rattling off any absurdity with his tongue. And Lancelot found no reason not to answer, since Sonic’s job is to entertain, then why couldn’t Lancelot use his services and distract himself just a little. The backdrop of the ball's decorations finally disappeared completely.
“You know, I could tell you a joke,” Sonic says sharply at one point.
“I’m not interested, I’m sure he’s as boring as those on stage.”
“Come on, give me a chance, I’m the best court jester for a reason!” Sonic drawls feigningly pitifully.
“You can’t be the best after working as one for less than a month.”
Sonic puffs out his cheeks and puffs foolishly, resembling his hedgehog origins, but this fake offense quickly fades from his face. He still starts smiling again and telling a joke, didn’t Lancelot refuse? Does this guy even know how to listen? Obviously not, even a rhetorical question here was unnecessary, but since Sonic had started, it was unlikely that he could be shut up now.
“One day a wife came up to her husband and said: I must return our wedding ring; I love someone else! Without thinking twice, her hubby replied: Give me the name and address. The wife immediately became concerned: Why? Are you going to kill him!?, but he only told her in a calm voice: No. I'm going to sell him a ring.”
It was an average joke. Not the peak of humor, but not the worst Lancelot has heard. Sonic could say much funnier things during his performances. It was just the way the joke was told that amazed Lancelot. The gaze was directed exactly at him, without looking away for a second, and with such playfulness and childishness. The voice had delightful fun with the words, acting out the characters Sonic had created in a second, making them seem deeper than just four phrases and an additional description. They had a liveliness to them, just like Sonic himself. And it was precisely this that softened Lancelot’s heart, not dubious humor, but the openness of the hedgehog. He smiled, softly and treacherously noticeable to someone else's green eyes, although it only lasted for a moment.
“I honestly don’t understand how you kept your job.”
“Well, I think I can easily understand this, because you smiled again! Second time this day, Lance. I'm beginning to seriously believe that I really am the best jester at court.” Sonic laughed again. Lancelot would like to start counting every time the jester does this, so that he has something to answer the counter of his smiles.
But just knowing the jester, he could smile an innumerable number of times in an hour. Sonic's importunity, surprisingly, continued after the social event. Lancelot was finishing his final training session before the start of the tournament when he heard his newfound nickname again: “Long time no see. You seem to be serious about winning, Lance.” And this one sentence was more than enough for the training to be discarded completely, the focus of attention instantly hanging on the newcomer.
“Jester?”
Lancelot brings it belatedly, having not fully recovered from Sonic’s sudden appearance, the sword immediately disappears in its sheath. The jester, realizing that he has been noticed, waves his hand to give a clearer sign of his presence, also winking with one eye in addition.
“Knight?” Lancelot only snorts disdainfully at Sonic’s obvious joke.
“Shouldn’t you be preparing to perform at the tournament?” From what I heard in the barracks, Regent Sally chose you for this role.
“It’s nice to know that you were eavesdropping to find out about me,” Sonic winks, descending from the spectator stands, “but I wanted to see you before leaving.”
Now they are both standing in an arena filled with mannequins and gun racks. And if in the bright colors of the castle, Sonic in his fancy dress still looked appropriate, plus or minus, with a not so strong excess of brightness. On a field that was stingy for scenery, it felt like a bright thorn in the eye.
“Why do you need this, and how did you know that I was training here?”
“Gwaine said a word about how you’ve been here all your free time. Among all the knights, he was the first to come up to praise my show, and I wanted to bet on him winning the tournament, simply because he looked more massive than all of you. But just in case, I decided to watch you fight, and I seem to have changed my mind.”
The mention of Gwaine stings my soul. Because of him, Lancelot came to this precarious position. It was Gwaine who turned his attention to Sonic first, and as it now turns out, the echidna also speaks to him. Something twisted painfully into a knot, although Lancelot’s physical health had never failed him, and even now, it seemed, was normal. Could Lancelot have been in Gwaine’s place if he had approached Sonic a little earlier? What if, instead of staring at him, you had spoken to him in a friendly way? Then he would have tasted the fruit of pleasant witticisms and barbs from yesterday’s dialogue much earlier. If only... Lancelot didn’t like to think so much about the outcome of events that were theoretically impossible, but his head was simply spinning from all these nervous thoughts.
The clang of metal quickly brings you to your senses. Sonic took his sword out of the rack, seemingly bored by the knight's intense, silent gaze. He examined the bladed weapon in his hand, casually tossing it and catching it at the end. Lancelot shushes him in warning, to which all he hears is a muffled “hehe.” The knight maintains a calm expression on his face, despite the irritation growing inside him. Surprisingly, it was even a little pleasant.
“Do you want to spar?” Sonic asks, pointing his newfound sword in Lancelot's direction.
The knight raises an eyebrow in confusion, which is not visible under the helmet, but he was too shocked and outraged by the proposal. The joke, in his opinion, was clearly not funny, but only distracted from the training. Just like Sonic's very presence. Which, perhaps, should have been thought about earlier, when the azure hedgehog only illuminated him with his arrival.
“We have different fighting skills, and besides, you are without armor.” Just put the sword down.
The request, or rather the instruction, was rudely ignored. Sonic stood up in a fighting pose, making a warning lunge towards Lancelot, briskly moving his legs in his direction. The knight immediately pricks up his ears and pulls Balizard back out of its sheath. He makes more dangerous movements, hoping to calm the hedgehog, but Sonic only easily dodges, as if his movements resonate with the evasive wind and laughs enthusiastically.
“Then you should know, I won’t hold back.” - Lancelot growls, launching another attack.
“I never dreamed of this!” And damn it, Lancelot regrets that he delayed sparring for so long. They both moved briskly and briskly, completely dissolving in the battle, without a trace. Lancelot's style was much more offensive, among the two he was more likely to lunge or attempt to stab his opponent, while Sonic preferred to dodge, flickering back and forth around the arena. For a second, it even seemed to Lancelot that a blue trail was trailing behind the jester during the jerks. The swords touched and rattled loudly, each time ringing louder and louder.
“Such negligence in working with weapons? Even for a court jester you are too weak.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I'm not going to lose, so you should feel ashamed that you were defeated by such an inexperienced swordsman.”
Rough, caustic, playful, pleasant. Adrenaline surged through him as blood rushed to his ears. Strike, strike, strike - a little more and he will finally make it, but Sonic dodges again, and a smile freezes on Lancelot's face. He wants to pierce each of Sonic's bells to hear them make the final ring. And the Jester, in response, swings at him again with the same agility. Lancelot does not know how long these impulsive movements lasted. Maybe an hour or two, because the evening sky had already darkened until the stars were visible. In the end, they were both simply exhausted, overwhelmed with feelings and emotions. Almost simultaneously, both descended to the ground; it should have been cold due to the late time of day, but, as it turned out, their fight completely warmed the ground. The chest rose and fell. Lancelot doesn’t remember the last time he was so tired; he could only raise his visor and look excitedly at the stars.
“You don’t have a bad face, Lance. I don't understand why you wear this all the time.” Sonic speaks shakily, still trying to catch his breath after the intense battle.
The knight turns his gaze; in the night, even Sonic seems dim. But for some reason even more charming and attractive. He looks straight at Lancelot, his azure eyes sparkling much more tenderly and pleasantly than usual. There was an intimacy to the moment, something quiet after all the noise. The noise they also made together. The knight opens his mouth, not knowing whether he wants to say something or just get his breathing back on track.
“Where did you learn to fight so well?” apparently, there’s something to be said after all.
Sonic laughs confusedly, turning his entire body towards Lancelot. He does the same in response, now the two bodies lie breathing heavily next to each other, both clutching the hilts of their swords in their hands, but so casually that Lancelot would like to shout at himself in other conditions. But not here, when this buffoon is so close, everything else seems insufficient to interest him.
“You said that I’m bad even for a jester?” a playful snort, but Sonic's tone finally recovers, and now he just sounds tired.
“But I didn’t say that other knights higher by my standard. It’s unfortunate, since even a jester who doesn’t really know how to spar could bypass them.”
Lancelot is sure that he spoke with enough seriousness to hide the compliment within the words. But Sonic smiles a particularly warm smile. Either from his stupidity, or he really understood the knight’s words. There was a short pause when they both just silently smiled at each other on the now cooled ground. Sonic, slightly frozen, sits up with his elbows and then spins the sword in his hands, squinting and peering at it. Lancelot also sits down next to him in response, although his armor constrained him much more in such movements.
“In fact, I think that such a good battle is the merit of Arondite, he simply led me into battle,” Sonic says carefully, running his finger along the sharp part.
“Arondite? Have you already given the sword a name? He's not even yours.”
Lancelot raises an eyebrow, teasing someone else's immaturity with his tone. He looks at someone else's sword in more detail. He really seemed more unique than everyone else in the arena. It had semi-serrated edges and diamond-shaped designs near the tip. The blunt side of the Ardonite has eight angular layers of metal, while the shield has another layer of metal with a claw-like extension at the front. The hilt itself is white and thin, with gold decoration and a pointed pommel of the sword. Lancelot wasn't even sure how exactly the sword got here.
“Hey, don't act like I'm so strange. Many people give their swords names. What is your name, for example?”
“Balizard, but I not often use this nickname,” he mumbles with slight shame.
- Pfft, how boring! Arondite's name is a hundred times cooler!
Lancelot rolls his eyes. He silently admits that Arondite did indeed sound and look more impressive than his own weapon. But he doesn’t want to repeat this out loud; the jester has already had enough praise for today. The crickets begin to make their annoying chirping criminally loud - this makes it difficult to listen to Sonic's breathing. Someone else's head turns in different directions when it also hears a foreign noise. The slight giggle is loud enough not to be muffled by the insects.
“It seems quite late already. I delayed you too much.”
“This is the first time I missed the curfew” the realization of how much Lancelot had already moved away from his usual life because of Sonic tingled in my side.
“Then I won’t keep you any longer,” Sonic chuckles, returning the sword from where he took it with a little sadness and reluctance - see you at the tournament.
“See you.”
Surprisingly, when Lancelot returned to the barracks no one reprimanded him. A nice plus from the reputation of a diligent knight. Exhaustion from the fight weighed heavily on him, so he did not regain consciousness for long. But those couple of minutes in bed were completely filled with thoughts of Sonic. About his blows, jokes, songs. Just... about him. He didn't care at all about fighting in the tournament or winning it, now he just wanted to have at least one more sparring match with Sonic.
Morning. It was chaotic and soapy. He was used to acting automatically in the morning, so the moment when he found himself in the arena, surrounded by opponents, passed him by. He realized himself only when Sonic, rolling, entered the middle of the field. Right where they fought yesterday. In his hands was a wooden sword intended for training.
“Oh, right now I am in front of my future king! Although I admit, all these knights look frail. Not like me.”
Sonic swears in front of the hall from all sides in turn, introducing himself to a giggling and enthusiastic audience. He takes out his wooden sword and points it straight up towards the sun: “I’ll show you what martial skill means, guys!” And of course, the sword swings go horribly wrong, as if a newborn had just taken the hilt, and even then, it would have worked out better. The crowd laughs, but Lancelot doesn't. He finds it insulting how Sonic belittles his skill now. But he keeps his mouth shut, still making a fool of himself is Sonic's job.
“Okay, I admit it. I’m not that good,” Sonic says, sadly throwing his sword towards the stands. The maids quickly carry him away “Then, I suppose, like everyone else, I should place a bid for the future king?”
Sonic slowly walks between the participants, prolonging the extra dance moves with his feet. He peers into the face of each knight, most of them smiled proudly, waiting for some humorous saying about themselves. Ser Gawain looked at Sonic with particular confidence, too familiarly, but Sonic didn’t even have time to reach him. He finds himself a centimeter from Lancelot's face. How awkward. The knight immediately tries to evade, to look away.
“You never seem to laugh at my performances, you impudent one,” Sonic notes gloomily, causing all of Lancelot’s neighbors in the barracks to immediately giggle. Mean “I think I'll choose you. The snob king will be the easiest to laugh at.”
The laughter in the crowd increases, Lancelot clearly won't go easy on Sonic the next time they fight. His bet is loudly announced, like all subsequent ones. Sonic playfully blows the knights a goodbye kiss before disappearing. An action that is as annoying as it is magical. How is a knight supposed to think about the tournament when a kiss was the last thing Sonic gave him! Or rather, all the participants, but he doesn’t want to go into details. But the jester voted for him; I wouldn’t want to disappoint him on the first day of the tournament.
The battles passed quickly. Compared to yesterday's sparring, they did not present even the slightest difficulty for Lancelot. In each subsequent one, he emerged victorious in record time. The final battle with Gawain turned out to be the most satisfying of all, but even so, Lancelot won with pride, looking in the direction of the jester. Sonic snorts and rolls his eyes in response. It seems to the knight that behind this feigned disappointment lies the same pride and joy for him. With this thought, he looks at Balizard, remembering Sonic's words about him yesterday. The sword looked deplorable, unlike the Perfect Knight, Balizard could not withstand so many intense battles.
Lancelot decides to go to a new forge much later in the tournament. He heard knights in the corners of the castle praising the local master and recommending to each other the address for repairing weapons. Tomorrow was supposed to be the second stage of the tournament, where the new ruler would finally become known, so coming to it with such exhausted weapons was comparable to suicide. So, after several minutes of wandering and clarifying the exact location of the forge from passers-by, Lancelot finds himself on the threshold of a small house with a very cozy device. Despite the aforementioned modest size, the place did not look poor at all and probably the local master not only worked, but also lived in this forge. Walking inside, Lancelot is greeted by the sound of bells, which, jingling loudly, announced a new client. It's reminiscent of the sound of Sonic's bells, a surprisingly pleasant association.
“Good evening! My name is Blacksmith, how can my forge help you?” Lancelot hears from the threshold.
His name rather comically describes the boy's occupation. And Lancelot cannot help but be surprised at how young the forge worker is, the fox looks about eight years old at best. However, there is no point in thinking about this; perhaps he simply replaced his father before his arrival. Lancelot simply hands the child a tattered sword without further explanation. The farrier begins to twirl the weapon in his hands, running his finger along the tip and peering into the material. In total, this took about three minutes, the fox had already opened his mouth, about to express the details of the order to Lancelot, when the bell rang again above the front door and an unusually familiar voice tickled the knight’s ear.
“I brought what you asked for, buddy, although it’s a lot heavier than last time.”
Sonic. Lancelot turns around at the same second and meets the hedgehog’s gaze under his helmet. Sonic stood there, holding a pile of metal in his hands and looking at Lancelot himself with the same slight surprise, as if this presence of the knight was a surprise. The lack of work clothes for the jester is striking; now he was dressed in a red coat, almost like Lancelot’s eyes. The clothes were clearly worn and had definitely been worn for several years, but somehow Sonic looked more correct in them. The jester's clothes suited him, no doubt, but the coat was much more in keeping with his complex behavior and character.
“Jester? What are you doing here?” Lancelot is experiencing déjà vu, he said almost the same thing to Sonic before their sparring.
Sonic immediately smiles, he waves his hand in greeting, simultaneously pouring out everything he brought onto the counter, which makes the fox immediately sigh heavily and roll his eyes. The jester chuckles again, casually patting the youth on the head and turns back to Lancelot...could he keep calling Sonic a jester when he was dressed like that?
“It's nice to know that my little brother is getting more and more famous visitors! He really deserved it” the fox’s face immediately turns red with embarrassment.
“Is the Blacksmith your brother?”
“Non-native. Came because of Balizard? For such a tough knight, such negligence in working with weapons...” Did Sonic just quote Lancelot's insult?
“Well, you bet on me. So, you should be ashamed that your choice fell on such a careless knight.”
Sonic bursts out laughing, dragging out Lancelot's name in the process, which immediately piques the fox's interest. Laughter brings Lancelot even more pleasure than it did yesterday. The knight would like to listen to such a sincere laughter of the jester, taste every sound and begin to savor it. Thoughts lead in the wrong direction. A sudden comment from Sonic's younger brother saves Lancelot from going into such depths of consciousness.
“Is this the same one who was staring at you menacingly?”
Sonic blushes, he puts a finger to his lips, hinting for the fox to shut up. Lancelot frowns, offended, and even raises his visor so the fox can see how offensive the comment is. Although it was true. But as soon as he raised his visor, Sonic’s gaze immediately focused on him, blinking in confusion at what he saw. Yesterday’s: “You have a nice face, Lance” comes to mind. And he immediately regrets that his face is not hidden by armor, because now he is all red, like a lobster.
“So with my sword.” he tries to say in the same tone, but it comes out, frankly speaking, poorly.
The farrier immediately raises his ears awkwardly, remembering the purpose of the knight’s visit. He puts the sword away, stroking the hilt one last time.
“ It's in good condition actually. By tomorrow morning it will be as good as new. So just twenty rings will be enough.”
“You see, you’ll even be in time for the tournament!” Sonic mentions this with some special playfulness, there was clearly a second bottom in the words.
The child immediately frowns in response, mutters something under his breath, and finally casts a frown at Lancelot. This situation puts Lancelot into a stupor; he does not understand why one phrase from Sonic caused such a reaction in the fox who was previously sweet towards him. Sonic chuckles in amusement.
“It’s okay, Lance, he just doesn’t think highly enough of how many rings I got for betting on you.”
These words bring the situation to catharsis. The fox adopts a pose characteristic of offended children, when two legs are spread as far apart as possible, and his hands are clenched into a fist and stretch out to his sides. There was just one particularly striking detail in this pose that Lancelot would not have caught if not for Sonic’s provocation. Two fluffy tails straightened out with their ends raised towards the ceiling. Sonic's brother was a freak. People like him usually performed in the circus as an object of ridicule or were persecuted by others. Lancelot’s heart was stung by such an attitude from society, he didn’t know why, but something in his memories immediately flashed the silhouette of a distant girl, and the word inferior member of society or a burden was beaten with a whip, accompanying aggression. And although two tails, apparently, were not a hindrance, they would clearly be considered in society a sign of a curse or, at best, an object of laughter. Sonic mentioned that Blacksmith is his adopted brother. Did the fox's peculiarity play a role in this?
“We have already discussed this!” the child answers Sonic “The consul’s decision is stupid! A ruler must be able to think sensibly, be smart enough to rule the country, and have a pure heart. It’s best not to swing a piece of iron.”
The child's words made sense, Lancelot realizes that he actually even agrees with him. However, he quickly suppresses this thought. He, as a knight, has no right to question the consul's decision. Besides, Excalibur never found its destiny, so it was probably a worthy alternative? The rings clink on the counter, too many thoughts arose in Lancelot during his stay in this forge. He leaves a tip, which he warns about in a half-whisper. There were many reasons, but mostly due to sympathy for the two tails behind the fox’s back. Sonic just smiles at this with special warmth.
As Lancelot leaves the house, he hears the bell ringing again. But they didn’t let him go alone. Literally a second later the sound repeats again. The blue blur, leaning over like a cat seeking attention, walks around Lancelot from the side. The knight immediately turns his impartial gaze to the hedgehog, and the early mistake hits him in the gut, like a hoe that has been stepped on twice. His visor was still up, his face fully exposed to the hedgehog. Lancelot is belated, but still lowers his helmet: it comes out too demonstratively and awkwardly, which immediately makes the jester burst into laughter. The knight hurries to leave, the jester follows him with his tail.
“Do you want another sparring?” suggests the jester, finally straightening up and walking towards the castle next to Lancelot.
From these words everything in the knight freezes. Yes. Fuck, just yes, he wanted this immensely, more than a thirsty man prayed for water. The very thought of a fight pumps adrenaline through him, and his imagination is already planning how best to prepare a blow, how their swords will meet again and what new witticisms will come out of their mouths. My hand instinctively tries to feel for Balizard's hilt, but then realization hits.
“I’ve already fought enough today,” Lancelot says with complete confidence, and then, a little quieter, embarrassed, he adds, “and my sword is now with your brother.”
“Oh,” also remembering this, Sonic widens his eyes for a moment, and then frowns slightly “it’s a shame, I would like to fight before you become king. Otherwise, I don’t think that a jester would be allowed such fun. Or do I believe too much in your victory, huh?”
Lancelot shudders, the puzzle pieces coming together in his head. When, or rather, if he becomes king, their interaction with Sonic will greatly change its character. Lancelot will remain the butt of Sonic's jokes as a jester, but such frivolities as dari can be forgotten. His heart was cut with a knife, he wanted to experience a little more of this in his life, at least a little. And was he even worthy of the honor of becoming a ruler in the event of victory? Knowing only how to follow orders, like a tool, Lancelot did not see himself as anything more. He applied only because the kingdom needs a new ruler, and everyone who is able should take part in the tournament. But now, when his chances of winning were roughly ninety-nine, selfishness and fear shackled him in indecision. Lancelot did not see himself in a supreme position, he was much more content to act as a tool in the hands of the consul, as a knight guided by the code, and even being here with Sonic intrigued him more. His thoughtfulness was reflected on his face more strongly than Lancelot could have imagined. Why did the frown not go unnoticed in Sonic's eyes.
“You know, Blacksmith has quite a lot of potential. He is a very smart guy, but sometimes he thinks very critically and is prone to maximalism. The consul's decision, to me, makes a lot of sense. All tournament participants are knights, they grew up in wealthy families and received a decent education. Perhaps using a tournament as a way to select among them is a controversial decision, but I would prefer that my future king be able to fight the jester on equal terms. So, this is a completely worthy alternative to a sword that came out of nowhere.”
Sonic's soothing words were casual, but the level of care and comfort with which he spoke came through in a blissful smile, so gentle that Lancelot felt like a stupid child. Biting his lip, he turns away, hiding his moment of weakness.
“A surprisingly wise thought for you.”
“Oh, nothing like that. Bro just argued with me too much about it. Seriously, these arguments are on my stomach.”
“ How did he even become your brother?” Without thinking, Lancelot blurts out, scolding himself for his tactlessness and stupidity.
Sonic brings his hand to his chin, stroking it, imitating the process of active thinking. The jester walks around him, looking straight into the knight’s face, thereby cutting him off and preventing him from moving forward. The movements of the legs are careless and sweeping, as if they were again at the tournament, where Sonic carefully examined all the participants. Only now the number of knights has been reduced to one specific one. Finally, when the hedgehog has returned to its original location, it relaxes its position and confidently points its finger to the sky. Lancelot was a little impatient to see what this circus was leading up to.
“It wouldn’t be fair to tell you something so personal just like that. And since a duel is impossible, what do you think about the race?”
“Race?”
“Uh, yeah? If you win, I will tell you how I sheltered the Forger. Let's say who's first from here to the fountain!”
The knight chuckles. He didn't really care much about the topic, he could live the rest of his life in peace, never knowing the details of the blue hedgehog's family life. However, something else was furiously agitating his consciousness. Race with Sonic. Lancelot had a clear advantage in the form of his special boots, created by pure and noble magic, which Sonic had no idea about. It was all pure sweetness, the possibility of a quick and easy victory caressed his mind. He could humiliatingly quickly and without even the possibility of defeating the jester, and then proudly listen to his story. In truth, the sin of boasting took hold of his soul like a tumor.
“Then get ready to see the true speed of the Perfect Knight.” — Lancelot grins, taking the starting pose.
Sonic does the same, his coat roughly following him, fluttering in the gusts of wind. And Lancelot was once again struck by the hedgehog. Sonic could match him in speed, moving as fast as the Ultimate Knight. Running at full speed, the jester smiles at him, causing air to rush into his mouth. Lancelot, realizing that after years of service at the palace, he finally faces an equal opponent, speeds up his run. The earth is spinning in the continuous flow of their movement, the muscles of the calves are tense, the adrenaline is gushing stronger than during sparring. Sonic begins to burst into laughter, so loud and sincere that Lancelot can't help but let out a small chuckle in response.
Both fought in the moment, trying to overtake each other, leaving the only support on the rocky ground, which sometimes feels much harder and at the same time completely imperceptible. The two hedgehogs ran at their own pace, throwing aside all obstacles along the way. Even though they run at speed, they zigzag along routes, delaying the moment of approaching the winning goal. And although the direction is chaotic, in the eyes, in addition to joyful excitement, awareness of the direction is visible. Both Lancelot and Sonic both know this non-existent route plan by heart. When the fountain finally faces the eyes, the Moon is already illuminating them with the muted glow of the night.
Sonic turns towards Lancelot, clearly ready to declare his victory, since he was only slightly ahead of the knight. But it is at this moment that the moisture around the fountain makes itself felt, and with one awkward movement, Sonic slips and almost falls into the water, saving himself only by the force of friction and catching himself in time. This gives Lancelot an amazing opportunity to overtake his opponent, and in a second, seizing the moment, sit on the side of the fountain, looking at Sonic with a victorious gaze.
“It’s not fair, I slipped,” the jester hums, sitting down on the ground, leaning his back on the fountain.
“However, you lost, fulfill the conditions.” A satisfied snort flies out of the knight’s mouth.
“I hate water,” an indistinct rumble comes from the floor before Sonic looks up at Lancelot. “I’m really not a fan of telling such boring stories, so tell me if you want me to stop.”
A nod is enough for Sonic to begin his story. At that moment, the emerald eyes seemed much more melancholy, and the body, clearly tired after the race, complemented this sudden tragedy. When Sonic spoke phrases, even his voice seemed rougher despite his smile.
“I don’t really remember my childhood? I don’t even know where I’m from, my first memory is that I woke up in some hills. I think I was about ten years old or something? And I just wandered around here and there, at first leading that criminal lifestyle, hehe. I taught myself how to fight when I stole one of the swords from a knight errant and started participating in stupid children's tournaments just to get some rings. Then, I don’t remember at what point, but a traveling troupe of musicians picked me up. As soon as I saw the violin, I immediately played the part perfectly, I know I’m beautiful, hehe. Only the income from the performances was not enough, and that gang clearly had problems with this. So at some point I had to leave them. Perhaps that’s when I acquired the skill of a jester, performing alone? In any case, I found the Blacksmith during another trip from place to place, the poor guy was all beaten up and clutching some old blacksmith's pliers in his hands. It was impossible not to pick him up. It became even more difficult to feed myself and my child, so I had to work my way up the career ladder even harder. But I was able to get by with dirty work, including being a jester. And now here I am, with a wonderful little brother.” Sonic falls silent, despite the fact that the story was long, it is noticeable how the jester missed the especially dark details of the renegade’s story. And the narrative line was somewhat confusing and careless.”
“I expected you to talk exclusively about the child, but this” Lancelot bites his lip, choosing his words, “…a lot.”
Sonic's story took place in their world, outside of the nobles, it was the everyday life of the mob. But not all of this rabble went on to work at court, not all of them spoke with such pleasant ease, not all of them handled weapons so gracefully and, of course, not all of the lower classes smiled so delightfully.
“I think it’s really easier for a stranger to open up.” Sonic winks with a playful laugh “Sorry for blurting out, but you are the first to listen to this whole story.”
Strangers. Was this the characterization of their relationship at the moment? Quite expected, they had only known each other personally for two days. Lancelot wanted this title to be changed to a closer one, but also did not want to show it openly. It would be ridiculous to act like a puppy and seek affection from a jester when they should not be close.
“I’m sorry you went through this.” Only Lancelot gives it away.
“Hey, don't make me some kind of martyr. I am more than happy with my life, now I have a wonderful home, brother and I also met you. I don't think I could have asked for more!” Sonic is again as cheerful as before the revelation, his appearance has lost all the melancholy notes.
“But I understand how hard it really was for you!” Although not completely.
This phrase clearly attracts the jester's attention; his ears begin to flutter, fluffing the fur at the tips. Lancelot takes a deep breath, not knowing if he should also open up to Sonic about his own past. If he wanted to get rid of the oppressive status of “strangers” and move into something more, even calling Sonic a comrade or friend, then opening up in response could help.
“I don’t remember anything about my childhood either. I know that I promised someone that I would become a knight capable of keeping the world in harmony, but I don’t even remember who. When I woke up, I was lost and didn't know what to do. But one night the Lady of the Lake found me and thanks to her I became who I am. This did not grant me noble birth, so I was forced to work much harder to join the ranks of the knights.”
A particularly gentle grin appeared on Sonic’s face, and he stood up from the ground to look down at Lancelot with an encouraging look. Lancelot squares his shoulders and stands up in response, he was ready to tell Sonic about more: that the Lady of the Lake was the one who gave him the golden rings on his wrists that protected him from magical powers, that she also bewitched his shoes so that his boots would fit its true speed leaving behind a trail of flames. Anything as long as that smile shines in his direction.
“Sounds exciting enough to join a knight without a title? You are truly ultimate.” Sonic chuckles lightly into his clenched hand.
“You did a good job too. Considering that no one cared about you, unlike me and the Lady of the Lake, you also raised a child.”
Lancelot really tries not to give in to his thoughts and not turn the conversation into voicing praise for Sonic from his head. But even such small compliments were enough for the blue hedgehog to respond humorously; he began to imitate the everyday behavior of ladies at balls, comically brushing off his compliments and exaggerating his embarrassment.
“But I can’t understand why the jester.” knight says more sternly, proudly rising from the sides of the fountain.
“What do you mean?” Sonic arches an eyebrow, his red coat beginning to sway slightly in the night breeze.
“Of all the possibilities, you settled on the jester. Your talent for fencing is obvious, the way you handled the sword during our duel was sharp and at the same time precise! And watching you waste your potential on idiotic jokes, making a fool of yourself for the amusement of the crowd, is disgusting.”
Lancelot did not know whether he was offended for those childish actions with a wooden sword at a performance before the tournament, but all the words with sincerity fell out of his heart at once, like an unexpected storm on a clear day. With Sonic's skills, he could easily become a knight even without a noble origin, maybe even better than Lancelot himself! A haze of fantasies immediately appeared before my eyes, Sonic on a prancing horse, dressed in armor and holding a sword in his iron swords. Fight with Sonic in the same pain field, watch him defeat his enemies, then turn to Shadow with a smile. She pulls her helmet away and looks straight into his eyes. Every military campaign would turn into a theater and Lancelot would not be a mute spectator, but also a participant in the production, fighting side by side with Sonic.
“You mean I should have become a knight?” Sonic’s voice pulls you out of sudden dreams with its ringing and pleasant sound “When I was a kid, I really wanted this, stories about knights touched my heart with adventures and that freedom while traveling. I, huh, dreamed of becoming a wind knight. But you know, reality sometimes hits you in the gut. It turned out that being a knight means swearing allegiance to the king and following this stupid system. Sleeping in the barracks, as you do in peacetime, instead of admiring the stars at night. Meh, it’s so boring when even your words should be sublime or something like that. And I? I just want to do what I want and say what I want. I probably would have continued to be a traveling musician if the Forger didn’t need a stable home and income. So, since only jesters are allowed to say directly what is in their heads and do what they themselves want, in return only to be perceived as a fool, then why don’t I make fun of myself for everyone’s amusement, but while maintaining freedom!?”
Shadow's eyes sparkled under his helmet; it was Sonic's second thought that touched him so much. Perhaps this late time influenced them so much that the dialogue turned into revelations and philosophizing. Lancelot raised his visor, exposing his face to the moonlight. Sonic didn't ask for this, but returning his gaze just felt right. As correct as Sonic's more relaxed and sleepier smile in response. What a pity that Lancelot couldn’t draw, otherwise the whole castle would have been filled with portraits of Sonic’s completely different smiles.
“It’s already curfew in the barracks.” Lancelot whispers, remembering this because of Sonic’s mention of an ill-fated place to sleep earlier.
“Well, then good luck in tomorrow’s tournament, Sir Lancelot of the Lake,” Sonic laughs, waving his hand for forgiveness.
“You too, Jester.”
“Oh, you know, I could bring you a sword tomorrow before the tournament! What do you say?”
Lancelot nods and this is enough for Sonic to rush away towards his and the Forger’s house. It was already late, and Lancelot was breaking curfew for the second time, but he didn’t care. There was only a pity that Sonic left so early, I didn’t want to let go of the moment and seeing how the blue silhouette in the coat dissolved over the horizon began a metaphorical pain. And yet we must come to terms with this and return to the castle, one way or another they will both meet tomorrow at the tournament.
This time he doesn't get away with being late. Someone else's hand swings, trying to land on Lancelot's shoulder. However, his reflexes do not fail him, and the knight manages to pull away and turn around warily before an alien limb bursts into his personal space. Sir Gawain looks at him with some special cunning in his gaze, as if he had caught a child doing something childish, and not Lancelot who was late.
“Good night, Sir Gawain. I apologize for being late for my scheduled bedtime.” However, a clear phrase only further provokes malice on someone else’s face.
“Who is this lucky girl?” a sudden question from the echidna knocks him off his feet.
“I'm sorry!?” Lancelot really tries to sound restrained, but misunderstanding, mixed with embarrassment, breaks through his voice.
“Oh, don't pretend, Lancelot. I noticed your look during the fight, you clearly dedicated your victory to someone. You linger for the second night, constantly hovering in your thoughts. I'm not surprised that you finally have a beautiful lady, it's long overdue.”
Lancelot blushes in shame. Did the consequences of his distraction by Sonic look like this from the outside!? How could Sir Gawain compare the court jester and the personification of real, true, highly spiritual love, without realizing it! Shame covers Lancelot, perhaps also because there was some truth in these words. Now he would prefer to run away, into the depths of the barracks and never wake up again. But he remains motionless, thinking about what to say in response. Turning around and leaving was still an option, but the realization of his stupid teenage crush on Sonic suddenly washed over his shoulder. He did not consider himself a homosexual, but it was impossible to keep silent about how his heart was beating. Now any interaction with the hedgehog that Lancelot had previously had a double bottom, he felt like a hopeless fool worse than a buffoon.
“This relationship is impossible, especially if I win the tournament,” Lancelot doesn’t even understand why he’s talking about this, perhaps he’s looking for a solution to his sudden problem from another person, which was absurd. But he does not dare give details.
“Well, tragic love is very much your style. Although I understand you very well, one thief also prevents me from living peacefully with her legality.”
Lancelot swallows, did they try to make small talk with him? Throwing an indistinct: “sleep,” the dark knight retreats, in fact shackling himself with a sleepless night, filled only with thoughts of the jester. He hates having to be at the tournament tomorrow, since lack of sleep will clearly kill him and ruin his chances of winning. On the other hand, does he need this victory? He perceived it more as a duty, Lancelot was objectively worthy to be the head of the kingdom, both mentally and in terms of combat. But right now he felt so good in his place. Sonic told him that being a knight meant many responsibilities and supporting the vassal system. Lancelot never considered this a problem, he felt in his place from the very beginning with this knightly romanticism. But being king is a completely different experience, not something Lancelot ever wanted in his life. Sonic had all the skills to be an amazing knight, but he chose to become a jester to save himself. Will Lancelot be selfish if he deliberately loses the tournament for his own comfort? Will he be the type to leave his relationship with Sonic at the same level of permissibility and enjoy his company!? His thoughts ran through him for the rest of the night, completely robbing him of any chance of sleep. But what is one sleepless night for a knight? When the bell rang again for the tournament, he felt just as full of energy, which meant that the question of deliberately losing was still suffocating him.
Sonic still had not returned and brought his sword, so he distantly watched the noise of the knights, waiting for the hour of the tournament rather like an execution on the guillotine. Never before had he felt so backed into a corner on all sides; perhaps now he could even use some advice from a half-witted jester on what to do. Otherwise, he swears that he simply will not budge and will remain here until the end of time. And when, where, as everyone knows, Excalibur was located, a ray of bright divine light hit the sky, Lancelot felt like the happiest creature in the world. It happened quickly, while he stood, bowed, the ground simply trembled and rustled, distracting everyone’s attention, before that lighthouse in the distance sparkled throughout Camelot. Someone pulled out Excalibur! Lancelot will not have to decide about victory when the true king has appeared, when his relationship with Sonic will remain unaffected by the radical difference in positions. Lancelot ran even faster than during the race with Sonic, overcome with awe and happiness. He wants to see the king who gave him balance, to whom he owes all his happiness with Sonic. Perhaps he could even thank him for the coronation ceremony, where Lancelot could take a moment and read a couple of poems to Sonic, maybe repeat them with the hedgehog at the banquet.
But of course, fortune was not at all kind to him. Of course, the emotional swing immediately shifted in the other direction, and Lancelot immediately froze in front of the surprised crowd. Sonic. The blue hedgehog in a comic cap, like Lancelot, stood taken aback. In his hands was Exalibur, the emblem on the sword immediately changed to a graceful one: The Sword of King Arthur. It all seemed unreal, stupid, meaningless! Sonic, finally finding Lancelot with his eyes, immediately came to his senses. He came closer, holding out his sword and chattering.
“Blacksmith didn’t have time to repair the sword; he hadn’t slept much before, despite my requests! And I didn’t want to upset you, but this one was so close and sparkled so much. I don’t know, it was as if he himself was calling me? Sounds funny, doesn't it? Anyway, I got it for you. You can continue the tournament.”
Sonic held out the sword to him, fully aware of his inexorable position. And Lancelot felt so disgusting when, instead of answering, he fell on one knee in front of the new king, no, in front of Sonic. He saddled it more because of how much the situation was pressing on him than because of the welcome of the new ruler, he would not be able to even look at his face now. Sonic stepped back from the knight, looking lost at the same people bowing to him, and it was all so wrong. Lancelot felt most terrible on the day when the whole kingdom rejoiced at the return of the king.
At least he was not alone in this sorrow.