King Vogt and the Guardians of the Round Table
— by Mario Crescibene
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Interlude
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6. King Vogt sat in his throne at the Round Table, tapping his fingers impatiently as he waited for his knights to arrive. The circular table was divided into twenty-seven segments: King Vogt’s at the head of the table, and twenty-six seats surrounding him, each bearing the name of one of his Guardians.
Twenty-three knights in all had already taken their places and were conversing as they waited for the final
three Guardians to show. Most of the knights regaled the others with stories of valiant deeds, questing for the Holy Grail… while others sat quietly playing chess… and off to the side, a small group had gathered to place bets on which of the three remaining knights would arrive first, and who would arrive last: Sir Ramirez, Sir Messick, or Sir Hedges.
Despite the spirited camaraderie, the delay was making King Vogt quickly lose his patience. But just as he was about to call for his arch mage Carl Willis to divine where the missing Guardians were — the doors to the great hall groaned open, and Sir Messick walked through with Sir Hedges a half-step behind him.
“I won!” cried Sir Smith triumphantly, upon seeing Sir Messick enter first.
“Indeed you did not!” returned Sir Cantillo sharply. “Sir Messick and Sir Hedges clearly arrived together. The bet is off!”
But before the debate could continue, King Vogt interrupted the two bickering knights, “Enough. Sir Cantillo is correct that they arrived together, yet despite arriving together, Sir Messick entered first. Therefore, Sir Smith wins the bet.”
As Sir Smith happily collected his winnings, King Vogt turned to the two Guardians who had just taken their seats.
“And where have the two of you been? I sent my summons out yesterday calling you all here.”
Both knights collapsed into their seats wearily with the exhaustion of men who had ridden straight from the battlefield, their armor still caked with mud.
“Forgive us, my liege,” Hedges said, grabbing a goblet and taking a long draught before continuing. “We had just finished dispatching a band of Black Sox when your summons found us.”
Sir Messick interjected excitedly, “My king, we have seen the Holy Grail! It appeared to us right before our battle.”
King Vogt’s eyes fell to the gold trim now lining the red ‘C’ on each of their chestplates.
“Yes, I can see that,” he said, nodding slowly. “That means you, as well as Sir Bibee and Sir Kwan, have all seen the Holy Grail — which is exactly why I have summoned you all here today.”
King Vogt looked around the Round Table filled with his Guardians… and then stared at the one empty seat remaining. “Yet one more is still missing.”
As if on cue, the doors burst open as Sir Ramirez came storming through, muttering as if he were arguing with himself. His frustrated strut ate up the stone floor as he made his way to his place at the Round Table next to Sir Rocchio, dropping down into his chair with a heavy thud.
Sir Rocchio leaned over, a cheeky grin breaking across his face, “The maestro graces us!”
Jose didn’t answer.
Sir Rocchio prodded him, “Hey, you just lost me money. I bet that Hedges would arrive last.”
Sir Ramirez peered over at him, but before Ramirez could respond, King Vogt rose from his throne and solemnly placed both hands on the table. The hall fell silent.
“My Guardians,” he began as he looked at each of his knights seated at the Round Table, “it has been a long campaign. We have battled and bled for The Land, and we have lost good knights along the way. Sir Hoskins was among them. He fought boldly until his body would carry him no further. And so to begin, we honor the fallen.”
A murmur of approval moved through the hall, and a quiet nod of acknowledgment could be seen from more than one knight who had witnessed Sir Hoskins’s heroic endeavors.
“But as some have fallen,” King Vogt continued, “others have risen to take their place, such as the newly knighted Sir Espino. We have welcomed veteran warriors into our ranks as well, such as Sir Adell, who has performed courageously in battle. And though many have not yet received a vision of the Holy Grail, four of you have: Sir Kwan, Sir Bibee, Sir Messick, and Sir Hedges.”
He looked from each to the next as he said their names and then continued.
“And still — we seek not just the Holy Grail — but the Commissioner’s Trophy! That is why I have summoned you all here today.”
With that, he drew Excalibur from its sheath and held the great sword in front of him.
“Rise, Guardians of the Round Table. For the time has come for our final quest.”
Twenty-six chairs scraped back at once, and steel rang through the hall as twenty-six swords were unsheathed. Each knight held their blade upright, clasping the hilt in both hands, giving the Round Table the appearance of a bladed crown.
Looking at his Guardians, King Vogt held Excalibur high above his head and bellowed:
“For the Grail! For the Commissioner’s Trophy! For The Land!”
And in response, twenty-six swords rose in the air, twenty-six voices thundering back:
“FOR THE LAND!”
As King Vogt and the twenty-six Guardians rode off on their last quest, King Vogt asked that Sir Ramirez come and ride next to him. Sir Ramirez maneuvered his horse next to King Vogt’s, still in a dejected mood.
“Sir Ramirez, you are the most valiant of my great warriors, and you have had many impressive victories in your legendary career. What troubles you so?”
Sir Ramirez countered, “Sire, I may be the most valiant knight as you say, but I have yet to see the Holy Grail. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, or how hard I fight in battle… the Grail eludes me. I give my all in every battle… every swing… but every swing just feels like an empty hack.”
King Vogt rode alongside Sir Ramirez for a moment, thinking deeply, and then responded, “Perhaps you don’t have to try so hard. You are already my champion knight. Let things come to you.”
But just then, the crusading Guardians came across an encampment of Royals. Three lavishly dressed Royals sat at a long table filled with a luxurious spread of food and wine, and had apparently been partaking in quite a bit of merrymaking.
The steadiest of the Royals got up from his seat, spilling some wine on his fine powder-blue attire, and pointed impudently in the direction of King Vogt.
“Oh, I say! Look over there. If it isn’t a fool wearing a crown!”
Sir Ramirez bristled, whipping his horse around to face the Royal, “How dare you speak with such insolence to the one true and rightful king!”
The second Royal sitting at the head of the table drunkenly kicked his feet up as he leaned back in his chair, gnawing on a leg of venison, and returned scornfully.
“The one true and rightful king? I think not! Do you not recognize us as the Royals we are?”
Sir Ramirez fumed at their audacity. “Royals?” he barked back. “You aren’t royal! You aren’t fit to address the king, let alone question his claim to the throne.”
At that, the third Royal — equally as affected by drink as the second — got up and grabbed a carving knife that was sticking out of a glazed ham.
“Then we shall duel for the crown!” he called out drunkenly, swaying as he brandished his weapon. “I challenge the best of your so-called knights, and I shall defeat them using only this carving knife!”
Ramirez scoffed at the belligerent challenge, “I will not give you the dignity of engaging the likes of you in battle.”
The third Royal moved toward Sir Ramirez menacingly, “I challenge you! You must accept my challenge or forfeit your honor as a knight!”
Sir Ramirez was not moved, “I will not. For engaging you in battle would do me a greater dishonor.”
The Royal was incensed. He pulled the carving knife back, and hurled it at Sir Ramirez.
Ramirez let the flying blade track deep until it was nearly upon him before — in a flash — he drew his sword and sliced it in half. As the knife’s blade broke in two, a piercing light shot forth, and the Royals and their camp dissolved.
The gleaming vision of the sacred chalice rose high above King Vogt and the Guardians who were all too mesmerized to move, and a voice rang out:
“Sir Ramirez… you are worthy! You do not need a single moment of magic to prove your worth. Your presence is enough. Your presence elevates everyone around you… not just your fellow knights, but your king as well. Behold, the Holy Grail!”
With that, twenty-seven beaming rays shot forth from the Grail, landing upon the chestplates of the twenty-six Guardians and their king, gracing them with the holy light. And as the light slowly faded, and the vision disappeared… each plate of armor was left with a golden ‘C’ where the hallowed light had landed.
“Guardians of the Round Table… you have claimed the Holy Grail! Now go, and win the Commissioner’s Trophy!”
And so I invite you, dear reader, to check in after each playoff game to read the next chapter in the final crusade of King Vogt and the Guardians of the Round Table: The Quest for the Commissioner’s Trophy.
