I look up at Lancelot and internally panic.
"Tell your Servants to stand down," he orders, his hand not moving in the slightest as he holds me up.
This is... wait.
I push past the adrenaline and the fear, and actually
think. He hasn't killed me. The Lion King's orders, as reported by Mata Hari, were for Lancelot to hunt the Chaldea-Hashashim Alliance down and put us all to the sword. But here he is, using me as a hostage to ensure that we surrender. If he was actually following his king's orders, he wouldn't be bothering with this. Just like with the refugee camps Mata Hari mentioned. That means... I've learned my lesson from Attila and Duryodhana. If the enemy isn't killing me immediately, it's because they want me to stay alive. I am the Achilles Heel of humanity's last hope, after all. Killing me stops Chaldea dead in the water. And he doesn't want to do that. He's rebelling against his king's orders, even if it's through deliberately misinterpreting said orders, which would indicate a moral conflict. I can use that.
Of course, all of this is relying on the word of an extremely biased spy and now confirmed traitor. But, well... I know the look of a man who's actually planning to kill me from the look of a man that's bluffing. And Lancelot's bluffing.
Of course, the half-formed arguments crystallizing in my mind won't work if they're delivered from a position of weakness. I need to remove his current power over me. Moreover, I need to gain the upper hand.
I have just the thing on hand.
'
Galahad, get ready to catch me.'
'
Flynn, what the Hell are you planning?'
I don't answer, instead looking up at Sir Lancelot, my left hand drawing my teacher's first-ever gift to me behind my back. God, please let this work.
I grab his arm to pull myself up, smiling as I do so. "You make a solid case. I guess I have no choice but to say-"
I then drive the poisoned dagger, enchanted just enough to let me hurt Servants, into his wrist, forcing him to release me.
"-No."
His look of absolute shock is far more hilarious than it really should be. I think I might be slightly hysterical.
The cliff's cracks and textures fade into a blur as I fall, gaining momentum as I do. For a second, just a second, I wonder if this how I die.
And then Galahad catches me in midair, before driving his shield into the cliff face to brake our momentum.
"I swear to God, Flynn," he grumbles. "Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, one of these days I
won't be around to bail your ass out of whatever fire you've jumped headfirst into? Where would you be without me, huh?"
"Dead." I grin as he unceremoniously dumps me on the ground. "So, it's a good thing I can rely on you, huh?"
He looks nonplussed at that. "Well, at least you admit it." He raises an eyebrow. "Where'd you get that dagger?"
"Medea gave it to me. It's enchanted just enough to hurt a Servant, but she didn't bother to enchant it any further. Not much point, really, there's no way I'm landing a hit on a Servant twice. Only way I could ever hurt one would be with a surprise attack."
"Fine." Galahad smiles. "I suppose I'll have to finish the job, then."
"We're negotiating with him." Honestly, this entire idiotic ambush only happened because I yielded to peer pressure, and it's already proved itself to have been a terrible idea.
"WHAT?" Galahad yelps. "Flynn, you promised!"
"And I'm not going to keep it if it means hamstringing our entire war effort against the Lion King." I look at him sternly. "I just saw him in action, and he was an absolute
whirlwind of death."
As if to prove my point, Da Vinci is sent flying off the cliff, and lies, groaning, in her impact crater.
"He took on
six Servants and won. We just lost Cu and Siegfried, two of our heaviest hitters. I still don't know if Georgios survived. Your father is a freaking
juggernaut, and even if we manage to beat him, I'm beginning to suspect any victory we could pull off would be pyrrhic. Thus, we're negotiating."
"You're just going to roll over for him? You're
surrendering?"
"Of course not. We're negotiating the terms of
his surrender." I walk over to the still whimpering Da Vinci and start dragging her to her feet.
"You're
fucking insane."
"Look on the bright side. If my plan fails, you still get your fight in." I struggle to lift Da Vinci, who's babbling something about spiders. "Now help me with Da Vinci, would you?"
He looks at me, still incredulous, before snorting and shaking his head. "I'm not sure if I want to applaud you or just punch your face in."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. Now come on over and help, she's a lot heavier than she looks, and your father is both very scary and very close by."
He snorts, and then grabs Da Vinci's other arm.
'
All Servants, converge on me. We're parleying.'
---
I see Lancelot draw near, a white flag raised high to match my own. Thank God. After what I've seen from him, I'm not sure that even having all my Servants on hand would be enough to beat him.
Alright, then, I've got my improvised ideas lined up into a proper speech that
might do the trick.
Almighty God in Heaven,
please let this work.
"Sir Lancelot!" I call from behind Georgios, Vlad, and Galahad. "Thank you for joining us."
"Why did you call for parley?" Wow, not sparing any time for pleasantries, is he? Well, I can work with that.
"To offer you terms of surrender, of course!" I say cheerfully. "If you and your men surrender now, we'll pardon you for your previous acts of treason, and allow you to seek your own atonement on the battlefield at our side." Hook...
"Treason?" He repeats with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes. Your harmful and treacherous actions, deleterious to the goals and well-being of your liege lord." Line...
He glares at me. "Even if I have failed my liege, those actions are not yours to forgive."
"Sir Lancelot,
who is your liege?" Liiiiiiiiinnnnneee...
"The Lion King."
"An incorrect assumption. The liege you owe fealty above all others is not the Lion King, although I can understand the mistake." He looks confused, but he also looks like he's going to argue the point. Sinker!
"I think I should count myself qualified to know who's my liege."
"My good knight, what
is a liege lord?"
He blinks. "It is the king or noble to whom you have sworn fealty."
"And the relationship is quite clearly defined: The liege offers gifts to his vassals, and enriches them, and in return, they serve him in battle. You would claim that Arthur is your liege, for he has so enriched you?"
"Yes!" Lancelot snaps. "And I repaid my king poorly. I will atone with my service!"
"I'm afraid I would have to disagree, Sir Lancelot. I know of one to whom you owe a greater debt."
"And that would be-"
"Humanity."
He looks at me skeptically. "I'm not entirely sure I understand."
"Humanity is your liege before all others, for it has given to you before all others, as it has to every human being. It has birthed you and it has named you, it has seen your deeds and called them glory. It has given you gold and lofty keeps, it has fed you, and it has given you meaning. It has
created you, Lancelot, woven you together on the loom of civilization. All you have loved, and all you have hated, your
very existence, all of it you owe to
humanity! Your every moment, your every joy, your every sorrow, YOUR EVERY BREATH you owe to humanity! Your Lord and Master beyond all others is humanity, for it is a web of a thousand promises, the greatest fealty any thinking being could ever know, and IT NAMED YOU ITS KNIGHT! It raised you up above all others, enshrined as all mankind's defender by their collective will, the only reason you stand here in this moment, centuries after your death! AND HOW DID YOU REPAY THAT GENEROSITY?"
"I-" He's struggling for words, trying to come up with a way to respond to my tirade. He's actually backed up a step, looking like a deer in headlights. But most importantly, he looks
guilty. And if there's one thing that Lancelot is vulnerable to, it's
guilt.
"You betrayed it for a lesser lord," I say, relishing every word. "You are a
traitor, Lancelot. You have betrayed your father, and you have betrayed your mother. You have betrayed those who served you, and you have betrayed those who served beside you. You have betrayed
every human being to ever live, every human being who
knew you and called you a hero, every human being that
trusted you to save them." I snort. "And for what? To slavishly follow a twisted parody of the king you once served, not because you
believed her, but because you
wanted to prove to yourself that you were still a loyal knight." I laugh outright, there. "Funny way of showing it."
He's buckling, now, my words hitting him like actual physical blows. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"I suppose you are," I admit, making him look up at me in shock. "It's not too late, Sir Lancelot. You can turn back. You can atone for your treachery. Make up for your misdeeds. And the first step?
Put down your sword."
He stares at me for a long moment, and I feel myself begin to doubt. Was it enough? Did I screw this up? Did I peg him wrong?
And then Arondight hits the ground.
