This time round insurrection plagues the land as a rogue knight seeks absolute power, his minions bellicosely spreading discontent, as everyday peeps simply try to get by.
He believes Arthur and his knights are too tolerant since they've wisely embraced fair play, and prefer to see people peacefully cohabitating to baleful pernicious destructive autocracy.
Arthur's brotherhood freely expresses ideas round the table in open discussion, and although he has the final say, he's open to counsel and fresh perspectives.
But his convictions are sternly tested after he earnestly rewards young Lancelot, for risking his life to save noble Guinevere, who had fallen into the rogue knight's clutches.
Lancelot wants Guinevere to leave with him and build a new life far away together, and she can't deny her feelings, after he's boldly come to her rescue.
Arthur catches them together and sees a look upon Guinevere's face which his prowess has never inspired, the genuine gaze of devout passion, it drives him to bitter madness.
He charges them with treason and lavishly decrees to hold their trial in the public eye, and hundreds gather to keenly watch the unexpected unprecedented spectacle.
But the trial bears the familiar stench of unsympathetic destitute absolutism, for he could have been more understanding had he embraced sublime forgiveness.
His descent into absolutism paves the way for the rogue knight's return.
And he cleverly almost takes Camelot.
Before Arthur makes the ultimate sacrifice.
Lancelot still avenges him and might does not assert tyrannical rights, the lighthearted unassuming romantic emerging at the forefront of the ethical imbroglio.
Thus age gives way to perspicacious youth and a new day dawns for the compassionate kingdom, but how the knights regrouped in the aftermath unfortunately remains unknown.
At least further data isn't provided within Jerry Zucker's amorous First Knight.
Perhaps love and romance in fact endured.
Not such a bad thing when they govern at play.
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