Scene: Backstage, dimly lit locker room.
Sir Lionel de Montbar kneels in front of a small medieval scroll from Medieval England hung on the wall, reciting old prayers. Across from him, Kim Jong Un’s son, Tae-Hyun Lim, dressed in modern but extravagant gear, scrolls through a phone, paying little attention to the tension in the air.
Lionel Pauses from his prayer, his voice low but firm.
Sir Lionel: My lord Lim, the time for honorable combat draws near. These men who speak venomous tongues—what say you we answer with steel and valor? A challenge. A duel to cleanse this dishonor from our house.
Kim's son barely looks up from his phone, smirking.
Tae-Hyun Lim: A duel? Really, Lionel? You still don’t get it, do you? These guys aren’t gonna fight fair. You think they care about honor? The only thing they care about is making us look weak. And you wanna give them a clean fight?
Lionel narrows his eyes, rising from his prayer position. He turns and looks at his ruthless tag team partner.
Sir Lionel: And what is your plan, then? To stoop to their level? To abandon all decency, all that separates us from beasts? Nay, I cannot. Not when their transgressions taint the air we breathe. There is still nobility in this world, even if it be forgotten. It must be upheld. Besides, our next bout is against our very own. The community of the darkest night, the Midnight Society are our foes for now.
Kim rolls his eyes and puts the phone down, finally giving Lionel his full attention.
Tae-Hyun Lim: Look, old man, I respect your whole... knight thing. Really, I do. But this isn’t your medieval battlefield. These guys aren’t gonna be swayed by your speeches or your sword. They’re playing dirty, and if we don’t hit back harder, they’ll bury us. We can’t just 'defend our honor'—we’ve gotta crush them.
Sir Lionel: Crush them? And what then? What victory remains when you have destroyed not just your enemy but your own soul? The honor of our cause is the only weapon we need.
Kim, standing now, moves closer to Lionel, the tension thick between them.
Tae-Hyun Lim: Look, I’m all for glory, but you’re living in the past. This is a different game. We play by their rules... or we lose. You think the crowd out there is chanting for some code of honor? No. They want blood. They want a spectacle. They want someone to go down hard.
Lionel turns toward the tapestry, his expression softening for a moment, as if longing for the days when things were simpler, when a fight was won by skill and honor, not by tricks and hatred.
Sir Lionel: I was once like you—hungry for victory at any cost, believing that force and fire were the only ways to conquer. But I have seen too many kingdoms fall to such hubris. This... this war, it must be fought on our terms. We do not lower ourselves to their depravity. We rise above it. That is how we win.
Kim sighs and throws his hands up.
Tae-Hyun Lim: Fine, fine. You do your chivalry thing. But when they come at us with chairs and chains, don’t say I didn’t warn you. We’ll see whose tactics work better in the ring.
Lionel calmly sits on a chair, thinking heavily about their upcoming wars.
Sir Lionel: Lord Lim, 'tis strategy that we require now. Our next foes are but stepping stones on the path to greater triumphs. I am well aware you hold no true allegiance to the UoW, save for your desire for revenge upon those treacherous knaves who betrayed you. I shall stand by your side when the time for action comes, yet we must still adhere to the laws of the gladiatorial games. Unprovoked attacks will only hinder your quest for what you truly seek. I beseech you, let us deliberate on our upcoming three battles and devise a course forward.
Tae-Hyun looked at the knight, drawing on the table with his fingers creating imaginary lines. Sighing, he sat on a chair, watching Lionel lay his plans. Lionel looked at his partner, a smile etching across his face. The wild inferno was calmed for the moment. Lionel pulled a dagger from his satchel, scratching carvings into the table. Lionel scratched in three separate lines, wood shavings splintering along the lines.
Sir Lionel: Once, I was a strategist in the king’s army, commanding during two crusades and leading countless skirmishes against the French and the so-called Holy Roman Empire—those hounds are neither holy nor Roman. We must approach these three contests with precision.
The estranged knight carved lines on the left panel on the table, all pointing inwards.
Sir Lionel: First, we face the Midnight Society. They fight as wolves—swift and relentless, their aim to break their opponents' defenses through sheer ferocity. We must not meet them with equal speed; rather, we must slow the battle to a crawl, turning their wild rush into their undoing. I shall withstand their initial assault, while you, my lord, shall finish them in spectacular fashion. Such a victory shall befit your noble stature.
The Englishman turned to the second panel.
Sir Lionel: Our second battle is more complex, though one in which I am directly involved. AAPW as they call themselves threatens our very existence here. Though you may hold little concern for it, you too have something at stake. Should this faction of mongrels destroy your targets, your chance at vengeance will be lost. Once we dispatch this foe, we may turn our full attention to your true enemies beyond the Tag Team Tournament. Aye, we shall seek to raise those shimmering relics high, trophies of power and prestige like those won in tournament after a joust, but our focus must remain on this foe and their defeat by honorable means.
Lim looked at the knight in disdain on the honorable means line, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it idly. Montbar stabs deep into the table to draw Lim’s attention back to him.
Sir Lionel: And then, my lord, there is the matter of your personal vendetta. The treacherous fiends who wronged your lineage now await you in combat. Three of your adversaries shall be present, though I must warn you—there is a wild card among them. A man who appears to wield the powers of ancient myth, as if drawn from the legends of Olympus or Asgard, wielding lightning itself. I know not the outcome of such an encounter, but you must avoid him, focusing instead on dismantling your true foes piece by piece. Though I cannot condone this path, I understand the fires of wrath within you will not be quenched by mere words.
The Knight looks down and draws 4 lines signifying Tae’s opponents.
Sir Lionel: If you seek to cause the greatest suffering to your enemies, I advise you to strike at Valora’s squire, Abbigail. Should you injure her, it will drive Valora into a blind rage, making her vulnerable in her reckless fury. Let her exhaust herself in her wrath, and then you may tear her asunder.
The knight watched a smile spread across Lim’s face before continuing in his planning.
Sir Lionel: Lastly, there is Sato, the final foe. I know not how best to fell him, for he seems impervious to most assaults, rising again after each fall. You may require aid to best him, though this is but the beginning of our stratagem. In that contest, I will not stand beside you, but within those walls of steel and barbed wire, you will find all you need to claim victory. Beware, though—do not destroy yourself in pursuit of your revenge. You shall have many more chances to dismantle them, perhaps even in the tournament itself.
Lim stands up in a huff
Tae-Hyun Lim: I don’t need your strategy in that ring. Only action. I will dismantle them piece by piece and see their blood flow just like they did to my father! Stay out of my way, I don’t care about your other battles!
Lim stormed out of the room, enraged at the thought of his foes so close but advised to hold restraint. Lionel stood up, clasping his hands behind his back.
Sir Lionel: We shall see, indeed. But remember, dear lord Lim: those who live by the sword alone, often find themselves perishing by it.
The knight watched the fired up North Korean exit the room.
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