The Archer Chronicles № 12: 2026: A Blue Odyssey. Episode 3. The Pirate-Knights of the Round Table.
No more Mr. Nice Guy.
Himmelsburg Castle atop Blue Mountain in Königsberg.
The interior of Himmelsburg Castle, nestled atop Blue Mountain, smelled of wild oak, mint, and sassafras. Outside, the late afternoon sun slowly approached the horizon—its rays shining brightly into the throne room, where many ornate tapestries lined the walls, and onto The Round Table, which sparkled like fine gold.
Seated at the head of the table was the Prince—William of Königsberg—his wiry frame burnished by a regal black captain’s coat, a flowing black cape with blue lining, and brown leather gloves. He was joined around the table, in no particular order, by the other pirate-knights of the House of Israel. Their names were: Sir Wendell of Tennis, Sir Nutter the Red, Sir Trevor the German, Sir Brett the Dapper, Sir Daniel the Brave, and a seventh—Sir Nick, known as the Irish Swindler.
Sir Nick had been sleeping down in the hull of the Galactic Fräulein during the action of the last two episodes. It was in this way that he had missed out on most of the major moments of his life. It was also how he earned a second nickname: “What Happened?”
Joining the seven at the table were two very welcome guests: Sir Robin Boggs of London, a defector from their nemesis, the British-American Empire, who had joined their ranks—and pledged allegiance to their God—and Sir Stevan of Oahu, who had been serving as the de-facto ruler of Königsberg while the others were away. He was also a master of Shaolin Kung Fu.
“Good Christian Knights,” the Prince started. “We give thanks to The Most High that we are gathered here today to address this monster business. We can’t go on like this. It has been three months since we returned from our twenty year quest for the Holy Grail, but things still aren’t right on our beloved Island. Something is rotten in Denmark, and it ain’t their delicious butter cookies.”
The knights nodded in agreement. Even Sir Daniel the Brave, who had previously suggested they just wait the problem out, joined them. He knew letting the monsters have their way, and run rampant over the island at sundown, was no longer tenable.
“Peace is always our aim,” the Captain continued. “But peace does not mean being passive in the face of evil. We cannot just ignore it, and hope it goes away. We must protect our House. Let the world do what it may. But our peace in Arcadia must be protected.”
“Might I suggest horses,” said Trevor the German, a stable master by trade when he wasn’t out plundering with the crew. “Let’s get us some horses, and some ponchos, and some stogies, and some six-shooters, and do this [expletive warning] shit Spaghetti Western style.”
The men at The Round Table nodded, more vigorously than before. It was a very attractive proposal.
“Sir Trevor, how soon can you get the horses prepared?”
“Lickety-split,” Sir Trevor replied. “It will take no time at all. They are already prepared. And I have been raising a special horse for you, Captain Billy, for this very moment. Its name is Thunder, the White Stallion! It’s the finest horse in the stable.”
“Sir Trevor, I am impressed by your initiative! I henceforth proclaim you First Mate. Sir Wendell, that old patch-wearing rascal, is retiring from pirate-knighthood—he will serve only as an advisor from now on. Sir Stevan will take his place in the seven.”
“Aye Greybeard, aye,” said Sir Wendell. “From now on, you will find Ol’ Wendell out on the tennis courts, working up a sweat! It’s how this old dog gets his kicks! I’ll take any of you rascals on, but bring your own racket!”
“Sir Brett, I have no doubt you can rustle up some ponchos for all of us, as you work in textiles,” Captain Billy continued. “And you, Sir Nutter the Red, can modify our sabers into old West six-shooters, as your trade is in all kinds of weaponry.”
“Aye, my Liege,” said the Byzantine Barracuda.
“I did not steal your spotted goat!” abruptly shouted Sir Nick.
“Nice of you to join us, Sleepy Nick. Hope you had a nice nap.”
“What happened?” the Irish Swindler predictably asked—to much laughter and no immediate answer.
“Then we are decided, O Pirate-Knights of the Round Table, the most courageous knights in all the German Empire. Tomorrow at sundown we shall ride out and do battle with the monsters. And may our Eternal King—Yeha, The God of Israel—be with us on our quest, and lead us to victory.”
Posted Jun 3, 2026, 1:41 AM UTC