"Your Majesty."
Lancelot was the first to react, straightening immediately as Heinz entered the corridor. The other knights followed suit in perfect sync, their armor clinking softly as they bowed.
"Your Majesty."
"Good to see you well, Your Majesty."
Their voices overlapped, respectful—but Heinz could feel the tension beneath the formalities.
The faint unease that always followed him now, like a shadow that had learned to bow too.
He raised a hand slightly, a wordless gesture for them to stand at ease. His gaze found Lancelot's across the room, steady but heavy—too heavy.
And then that feeling twisted in his chest again.
That memory.
'So it was them. They kept his body. They sewed his head back on… because they couldn't stand to let him be burned.'
He should have been furious.
By all logic, he should have been.
They had defied his order—a direct command from their king.
But he wasn't.
He couldn't be.
'Why should I be angry for them doing what I couldn't?'
