The stone table was the most prominent feature of the sanctuary, a secluded clearing in the middle of an endless forest. Around it, nine chairs were set. One chair was for the old man himself, another was for his advisor and longtime friend, another was for the warden of the sanctuary, and the six others were for the six other members of the Table, a closely-knit group of seven knights of which the old man was leader.
"News from the mortal plane," one of the knights informed the old man.
"What news?" the old man asked.
Another knight took up the thread of conversation. "Your old friend is corporeal again."
The old man raised an eyebrow. "The same?"
The knight nodded. "The same. His ship as well."
"This is an unexpected turn of events." The old man thought for a second. "Well, an agreement is an agreement. If he has chosen to return at this point, then so must I. My people will need me."
"You are so hasty in your decision-making, Carl," the advisor admonished him.
The old man smiled. "Wasn't I always, Julius?"
"Still," the advisor commented, "maybe it is best to consider carefully the situation. After all, you know the rules. If you fail, you can never come back."
The old man rose, grasping his staff. "I won't."
The keeper of the sanctuary, a beautiful long-haired lady in flowing white robes, rose as well. "Kronalus, you are sure of what you are doing?"
The old man nodded. "Of course."
The keeper smiled. "Take this, then. It may help you." From nowhere, she produced a long mahogany box that floated gently in the air. The box opened, revealing an ornate rod.
"The Rod of Divine Might," the old man breathed.
The keeper gestured to the rod. "For serving well with your Table and representing the highest ideals of Lord Galahad's order, we reward you now. Take it. It is yours."
The old man grasped the rod uncertainly and lifted it from its box. As he did, he felt strength surge through his body.
"Go forth, Kronalus. Make us proud."
The old man could not suppress a smile.
He was a ship.
He had not asked to be resurrected as a ship!
He quickly surveyed his own systems. With a shudder of realization, he realized exactly what he was.
I am the Chariot Rebuilt. I am the Heleriya.
"Every thing in life, no matter how strange, has a purpose," he heard the sanctuary's keeper say. "Your form as a ship is twofold. Your people are in danger. The captain onboard your ship must seek to find your people."
"Why a ship?" he could not help asking.
The sanctuary's keeper shook her head, smiling. "Not a ship. You are the Machine Spirit."
He understood better now. The legends were true. So every machine did have a spirit after all.
As his engines warmed up, he turned his attention to the captain, a very familiar face that he recognized without trying. The captain had sensed his presence and was now smiling.
"It's good to see you again, Logan," Carl Reddington's spirit greeted Admiral-General Logan Grimnar.
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