The debrief room had quiet lighting, but sharp edges.

Arthur stood at the head of the table. Jacket still on. Posture unreadable. He hadn’t touched the console in front of him since walking in.

The Knights were in place, but not settled.

Lancelot sat with his arms folded and one heel bouncing under the table.
Galahad was stone-faced, still fixing the line of his sleeve.
Percival leaned forward with both elbows braced.
Bedivere had his tablet open but hadn’t moved past the first screen.
Tristan was still by the wall, one shoulder pressed into it like he’d never left the op.

Gawain had tilted his chair back just enough to annoy someone. No one had spoken.

Arthur finally broke the silence.

“We executed under pressure. The room was unstable. Objectives were met. Now I want the gaps.”

No one moved.

Then Lancelot exhaled through his nose and sat forward.

“She caught my knife.”

Arthur’s expression didn’t change.

“It dropped. Half a second. Mid-transition between two engagements. She caught it mid-air and used it. Dropped a guy I didn’t see yet.”

He tapped the edge of the table with two fingers. Fast. Controlled.

“That’s not awareness. That’s reading the room before I even stepped into it.”

Arthur nodded once. “Next.”

Galahad sat back, voice clipped.

“She armed me. Left holster. I was clean going in.”

He adjusted his sleeve again like it annoyed him more than the memory.

“She walked past. I felt the shift. Safety was off, grip adjusted. I didn’t check—because by the time I reached for it, I needed it.”

He gave a thin smile. “Didn’t even make a show of it.”

Percival leaned forward slowly, voice heavier.

“She rerouted me.”

He looked at Arthur.

“Service corridor. Flagged it sealed myself. I was already looping out when she passed me. Told me I was finally running the right direction.”

He paused.

“I checked the door. It was open. No alert. No breach. My mark was right past it.”

He shook his head once.

“She didn’t wait to be asked.”

Arthur let that hang. Then looked at Bedivere.

“She compromised my feeds,” Bedivere said. Quiet. Tight.

He didn’t look up.

“Five looped visuals. No flicker. No static. I would’ve missed them.”

He pushed the tablet forward with two fingers. Brought up the frame.

“She dropped onto the lens from above. Drew lipstick straight across the center. Full coverage. Forced the feed to glitch.”

He looked at Arthur now.

“She flagged the lie manually.”

Arthur didn’t react. Just shifted his gaze to the next seat.

Gawain didn’t speak right away.

He was sitting like he’d been framed for a crime he almost enjoyed.

“She took my comm,” he said. “Didn’t ask. Didn’t warn me.”

He rolled his shoulders once. “Then she threw herself into my arms, screamed about a rat, and detonated a ballroom evacuation with the emotional range of a stage actress on her third espresso.”

There were a few suppressed exhales around the table.

Gawain leaned forward, voice dry.

“I didn’t say a word. She just used me. And it worked.”

Arthur looked to the far corner.

Tristan didn’t shift.

“She moved the people,” he said.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just facts.

“She cleared the crowd away from my scope. Civilians, staff. One body at a time. Made the room align before it broke.”

He added, “I saw her once. In a reflection. Just long enough for her to know I saw her.”

The room went quiet.

Arthur’s gaze swept across them.

“You all saw her,” he said. “One-on-one. Not coordinated. Not briefed. Not deployed.”

He looked at Gawain.

“She gave you something.”

Gawain blinked. “Oh. Right.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim black notebook. Leather-bound. Compact.

“Gave it to me after the ballroom cleared. Slid it into my pocket and said something about funeral cards.”

Arthur took it. Flipped it open.

Merlin moved closer—only slightly. Like he already knew what was coming.

Inside: sketches. Route diagrams. Guard overlays.
Some of it matched what had been uploaded to the team.

But there were additional notes. Target behaviors. Alternate flanks. Behavioral loops.
A corner list of names—unflagged marks. One already circled twice.

On the final page:

You’re welcome
Drawn beneath it: a small, sharp-cornered crown.

Arthur stared at the notebook for a beat.

Then closed it.

“She moved faster than we did,” he said.

Merlin nodded once. “She always does.”

Arthur turned the book over once in his hands.

“Half of this wasn’t in the file.”

“She sent what we needed,” Bedivere said.

“She held the rest,” Galahad added. “Until it wasn’t hers to keep.”

Arthur exhaled. Not annoyed. Just...processing.

“She’s good.”

“She’s chaos,” Lancelot muttered.

“She’s effective,” Percival said.

“But unpredictable,” Galahad added.

Arthur tucked the notebook into his coat.

“We keep the notes.”

He didn’t say more.

Didn’t say we keep her.

Because he hadn’t decided yet.