Inn Of The Four Seasons

Camelot had fallen victim to deception. Its stalwart towers no longer a tribute to all that was noble. Deserted, it slowly decayed into oblivion.

Champions had scattered to the wind...those who had been left standing after the battle. Guinevere, seeking refuge in a holy place, would spend the remainder of her regretful years in penance.

The once mighty Arthur had been spirited away to the misted Isle of Avalon, from whence he would some day return...when the heralds trumped a call of distress to summon him forth.

Of Merlin, there was no sign...only gossip of how his stolen knowledge had been used against him. The wily wizard was now regarded as an old fool who had been tricked by unrequited love, trapped in a fantasy from which he was powerless to escape.

Chivalry, however, retained a glimmer of life in one Francis du Vale, benevolent proprietor of the Four Seasons Inn, who had taken pity on Lady Celeste when she fled the magnificent citadel as it crumbled about her ears. He offered sanctuary, asking nothing in return.

In time, she became a curiosity. From a chair by the fire, she recounted the glory that was Camelot and hinted at a passion shared with a notable Paladin...though she named no names.

For a tankard of spiced mead or wedge of aged cheese, she happily spun her tale:

"Oh, what a knight!
Late December back in '63,
Was a very special time for me.
As I remember...what a knight!"



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