Lancelot of Benwick

Lancelot, After the loss of his companion Percival, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Lancelot was devastated. Those years were marked by guilt and sadness, for he had failed to save his friend. Every step he took seemed to drag him further into darkness, until finally he decided to embark on a journey, perhaps seeking redemption or a spark that would rekindle his purpose.

On one of his journeys, he arrived at a small town. The streets were filled with merchants, travelers, and adventurers going about their daily routines. Lancelot decided to rest at a modest inn, where the rooms accommodated all sorts of people: merchants, explorers, and wandering souls. That night, as the moon dimly illuminated the outside, Lancelot reflected silently on the lost years, on the absence of Percival, and on the emptiness that still filled his heart.

At dawn, he rose early and wandered through the village. He needed to stock up on provisions to continue his journey: bread, fruit, dried meat. As he inspected the merchants' stalls, something caught his eye. Among the crowd, a figure shrouded in a black cloak moved with grace and discretion. But what truly stopped Lancelot was the magical presence emanating from it: a power so intense and pure that he had not perceived it in the world for a long time.

Without hesitation, he decided to follow her. The woman slipped through narrow, winding alleyways until she finally reached a discreet place: a cavern converted into a bar. The light was dim, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol and candle smoke. Adventurers, thieves, and all sorts of men were there, chatting, playing cards, and laughing rudely. The woman sat down at a secluded table and began to drink calmly, cautiously observing her surroundings.

Lancelot remained at a distance, aware that any false move could alert her.

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