The knight, Sir Galahad, sat atop his trusty steed, Arthur, staring out across the vast expanse of the kingdom. His eyes were fixed on the towering mountain in the distance, its snowcapped peaks reaching up towards the heavens like claws trying to grasp at the very fabric of existence. He could feel it, deep in his bones, a sense of foreboding, as if something dark and ominous lurked within the mountain's shadow. His sword, Excalibur, gently swayed back and forth at his side, its razor-s...