Peirce stood from the mud soaked grounds and took a step forward, brandishing his two long swords. "Stand down!" Gawain looked toward Peirce with reddened eyes. They had just lost three Knights of the Round Table. As things stood now, there was only Gawain and Ector remaining. It could be said that this was the greatest blow Camelot had taken since its establishment. Gawain's number one priority was protecting the lives of those that remained. He couldn't allow a moment of hot headedness or greed to ruin the foundation of Camelot. The gaze he looked toward Peirce seemed only a step away from madness. He had too many clashing emotions in his mind. On the one hand, he didn't agree with the way Arthur was doing things. But, on the other, he didn't want to see his King lose like this nor did he want his fellow brothers to sacrifice themselves one after another. In the height of his emotions, Gawain believed that Peirce was trying to step in to defend Arthur's honor. Everything he knew about Peirce to this point defined him as a man of honor and nobility. Acting to defend Arthur at this point was exactly what the persona of the past would have done. However, Gawain would have never expected for a simple command of his to cause Peirce's sword to find its way to his neck. Gawain might have been in an emotional state, but he was still one of the 12 strongest knights beneath King Arthur. He reacted with an inhuman quickness, arching his back toward the ground and barely dodging the long, slightly curved sword. Still, he felt a cold wind across his throat. When he brought his fingers up, he found that a thin line of blood had already been drawn across his adam's apple. Death had been just that close. When Gawain got over his shock, he immediately felt a surging anger. "Peirce! What do you mean by this?!" Gawain's roar seemed to be trying to rival the rumbling clouds above, but it was, maybe fittingly, completely drowned out. PPCCHUU! Before Peirce even got a chance to respond, Gawain suddenly felt a sharp pain to his back. He looked down, shaken. His body trembled, blood leaking from his lips as he tried to speak. But, the spear that had gone through his chest didn't seem apt to allow him to do so. Gawain struggled to turn his head back, only to be shocked to find his brother in arms, Sir Ector. Shock, unwillingness, resentment… It all flashed through Gawain's eyes in those last moments. But, all he saw in Ector's eyes was a dullness as though he didn't care about taking the life of his friend of so many years. Gawain's body fell limp and lifeless, the plop of his figure onto the wet ground somehow resounding more than his final roar. The eerie sound seemed to wake Ector from his daze. He blinked, his eyes squinting in confusion. He looked from his bloodied spear to the body on the ground. When he thought of a certain possibility, his heart shook. "ALIARD!" Ector's tragic cry sounded like a wounded beast. He was so furious that the blood vessels of his eyes popped, causing streaking tears of blood to coat his cheeks. However, they were quickly washed away by the heavily falling rain as though the world itself didn't want him to grieve. Ector turned his gaze toward an unassuming Magus, a seemingly amiable old man Leonel knew well. If it wasn't for Aliard, Leonel wouldn't have lost control of his emotions during his first meeting with Lamorak and maybe their relationship wouldn't have turned out as tragically as it did. PCHU! A spurt of blood flew of Ector's neck, his head snapping backward as small bits of remaining flesh tried to keep it attached to his shoulders. In his death, he didn't get to see who did it. However, there had only been one person in that direction. It could only have been Peirce. Ector could have never believed that he would be betrayed by not one, but two people of Camelot. This entire sequence of events was witnessed by both Leonel and King Arthur. The latter had reached such a state of rage that his visage had returned to an eerie calm. It was a kind of calm that even made Leonel's heart tremble. What kind of feeling was it to watch six of your brothers killed one after another? Not only killed, but to even be betrayed by two you once thought you could trust with your life? There were many times that Arthur had thought of expanding the Knights of the Round Table to 13 just to add Peirce. Magus Aliard was a pillar of Camelot, one of the 7 more powerful mages of their Kingdom. Yet, both of them had slighted him in this way. At this point, his rage toward the two of them was several levels beyond the rage he felt for Leonel. Leonel cautiously rose, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward Aliard. "So that's how things are… Maybe even Lamorak was being unknowingly influenced…" There were many people Leonel thought that might be traitorous. He knew there was a high likelihood of a Mythological Zone becoming a Unique Zone, so he had always been paying attention. He subconsciously focused on Lamorak because the latter had not only humiliated him, but always seemed to be outrageously antagonistic for little to no reason. Then, after he saw Mordred's backstory, he realized that the Pope might very well be involved as well. But he had forgotten one thing… Aliard had been there that day too… And, he was a Mage that specialized in mental attacks. What if from beginning to end, this was all orchestrated by Aliard? Leonel's eyes fell on the seemingly amiable, scholarly man. His aura wasn't as towering as King Arthur's, yet the wind and rain seemed to bend around him as though not wanting to disturb him. "You're very curious." Aliard spoke. Despite the billowing winds, heavy rain and rumbling clouds, not to mention the hundreds of meters that separated them, Leonel felt as though he was speaking right into his ear. "You've been branded by The Bishop. Why are you not following his orders properly?" Leonel's pupils constricted.