THE STUFF LEGENDS ARE MADE OF
Nestled in the heart of the British countryside, nobody seems to know quite well where, a visit to Camelot is a journey through the ages. Quite, literally, for where else is the exact century so utterly ambiguous? Camelot offers many accommodations for folk who long to go on pilgrimages, including first class jousting, beheadings, dragon slaying, combat, holy grail questing, betrayal and other modern forms of recreation.
A SINGLE STEP
There are about three sure ways to get to Camelot. The first method is by no means recommended, rather we recommend against it in the strongest of terms. In this mode of tempogeocirclefication, one is to be adequately conked on the head with a crowbar, by a man named “Hercules,” around the twenty-first of June, nearing the approach of an eclipse, relatively speaking. One is then to awaken in Camelot, how or why is never clearly explained, or maybe this is simply a side-effect of the contusion. Alternatively, the second means is to secure an apparatus for temporal manipulation. The last known location of this device was in Richmond, Surrey, South East England, United Kingdom during the Victorian era. If this is not to be found, the third alternative is magic. Because, as lovers of stories know, every problem can be solved with either magic, time travel— or amnesia.
Upon entry, one may be a bit woozy, as none of the three modes of transportation mentioned have ever been noted for their smoothness nor are apt to give due consideration to motion sickness. But, in stark contrast to England today, you will find quite a bit of sunny skies in Camelot rather than fog or drizzle. The countryside, itself, is quaint and sprawling. In the majestic meadows, jousts are often had, and it is there heroes are made. Now, assuming you have materialized somewhere in the outlaying plains and forests, rather than say inside a stone wall, which would be terribly cramped, you will know Camelot when you see it. Just take the straight and narrow path while looking for a city upon a hill, readily visible by the eyes of all people in the world.
Getting to Camelot is a bit of a hike, but, the locals, along the way, are friendly and rather colorful, especially when they got a touch of the scarlet, yellow, green or any rainbow of fevers. It should be noted, however, that there will be no end to vendors peddling wares, offering a hog ride or simply willing to be trampled upon for quick coin. Simply decline these offers. If that does not work, politely threaten to blackout the sun, this usually does the trick.
Follow the river, downstream from Astolat, until St. Stephen's Cathedral comes clearly into view. Now, prior to moving uphill, it is recommended to partake in some recreation. Along the way, you might consider hunting a great boar or two. They are rather pesky, and you would be doing the local's a huge favor. Incidentally, the surrounding wilderness seems to be heavily infested with all manner of queer beasts, and, to be frank, it is incredibly unlikely that your quest to Camelot is going to be uneventful. Something will happen... most definitely, it is quest, after all— that's kind of the point.
Once at the city gates, be respectful. Even though impoliteness is nothing to lose one's head over, you may need to consider where you are. However, if an eccentric Frenchman informs you that your mother was a sort of domestic rodent and that the your father's musk resembles a flowering, fruit-bearing shrub, assuredly, you are at the wrong castle, dear friend. Meanwhile, at the real Camelot, there is a good much to see and do. Spending Sunday mass at St. Stephen's Cathedral, founded by Joseph of Arrhythmia, is not only recommended but obligatory. The architecture is rather impressive as is the service. For those in want of a traditional mass, it does not get more classic than this. Assuredly, it is a welcomed departure from those priest who are all fire and not nearly enough brimstone.
Afterwards, why not take a stroll down market street? There you will be able to exam the variety, or lack there of, of brown breads, cabbages, fish and cheeses. Oh, and, let it not be said, your discretion is not only advised but encouraged. As well, off the cobblestone path, you will find a number side shops offering a variety of services. Take of them at your leisure. Just remember to pay your exorcise, less you be repossessed.
While a visit to Camelot can be a wondrous and life-changing experience, be warned! The adjacent lands are domain to hoards of frightful and mysterious monsters, even a tenth of which could scarcely be related. Regardless, an ounce of prevention goes a long way in avoiding the wild wood woses, of the rugged rocks, and trolls, of the hill country. That is to say nothing of the bulls, bears, boars and wolves that corner travelers. Visitors should likewise be forewarned of a particular conman fond of the color green. This hustler, claiming to be a knight, has been known to place seemingly outrageous bets only to come out on top due to an unfair advantage. Customarily, he generally gives his victims one year and a day to collect, but one would do best to avoid him altogether. You will know him by his horse, dress, skin, eyes— all of which are green.
Green knights aside, the dragon is a particular flying serpent that one might be well acquainted with through its depictions in various works of fiction. However, the reality of the dragon is nothing to make light of. An encounter with a dragon, even brief, is a grueling and intense experience that none ever wish to repeat. Another, ill-fated meeting may be had with a questing beast. This is a creature with the head of a serpent, body of a leopard, back end of a lion and legs of a hart, naturally.
- Sir Gawain and the Green Knight Translation by Paul Deane
- A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain
DOCUMENTARIES
- The Knight of the Snows, by Georges Méliès
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