Chevalerie

It was a sublime stroke: The silver gleam of the brush-like arc, interwoven with crimson threads. "Yes, the brushstroke of a master painter was how best to describe it," thought the young maiden. An imposing figure looms over her like a stallion over a housecat. His wide back, stretching from edge to edge of her horizon, was covered by a frayed gambeson, with an almost imperceptibly thin line drawn upon his skull, stretching from one ear to another.

As streams of blood began cascading from the now-visible line, the severed dome of the bandit’s head started sliding off the lower jaw, carried by the crimson river, as if the corpse had only now realised the flames of its life had been snuffed. Small, white ‘beads’ were swept in the stream. Which needs no mortician to be identified as several molars cleaved in two from the upper jaw, revealing that the sharpness of the sword matched the skill of its wielder.

Laying upon the ground in her ragged, muddy garbs; once a purple hemmed, pure white dress, she recalled the knights in her father’s court. Despite their status as ‘greatest in the land’, she never once glanced at their practice sessions or jousts as much as she ogled the technique of the stranger who saved her. The bandit crumpled, revealing the full profile of the swordsman, whose stature had only reached up to the bandit’s chest. Her eyes locked with his, even through his long, messy hair…

~December 25th, 521 AD

The clashing of iron against iron reverberated throughout the field, a constant stream since the morning, audible even through our tent's walls. Many of the locals of Camelot; men, women, and children alike, gathered to glimpse the numerous clashes between the many knights of the various kingdoms, earldoms, and lordships throughout Britannia.

“Tch, stop moving so much,” I murmured to the curly haired boy, tightening the cord into a knot, fastening the padded jupon onto his coat.

“Ow, ow, ow! It’s hard when you keep tightening those knots!” He squealed in return.

“Kay, sometimes, I wonder if I’m the elder brother,” I slightly adjust the visible mail collar under Kay’s coat of plates. Although this was a more casual tournament, the extra protection from the extra piece of padded cloth on top of the coat of plates and mail shirt never hurts, in addition to the gambeson underneath them all.

Our father, Ector, was one such lord, called to attend a meeting between kings. Whilst I would have preferred to stay back at our keep, he insisted on me joining to “learn more about politics and chivalry” and to “keep Kay from angering half of the kings”.

The latter was more persuasive.

Kay was a rather hot headed young man, though smarter than most would assume, with brown, curly hair and hazel eyes, standing at 187 cm in height with a lean body, built with muscle. He had only just been knighted, yet he is already scanning his competitors resembling a hawk hunting its prey.

Without breaking his gaze, Kay took to a new topic: “Anyone caught your eye? Wait, do you even know any knights other than yours truly?”

“I guess… Agravaine and Marhaus are pretty cool...”

“Ha! Are they the only ones you know? They’re old news, I’m aiming for the rising stars, guys like Sir Gawain and Sir Bors. Their dads are probably with Father in that stuffy meeting of theirs.” Kay gave a heavy sigh while adjusting the helmet on his head, “those are the guys all the dames are fawning over.”

“Aren’t you next in line for Father’s position? I may not care much for politics, but I at least know that those men-at-arms are a rank below where you would be.”

A loud crash rang out from a nearby ring before Kay could retort. A spear’s wooden haft shattering after knocking a knight to the ground, I would wager. Kay and I turned to see a slightly tan girl, likely from working as a farmhand, run up to the knocked-down knight, wearing a tabard with characters sewn on the back, representing the number ‘364’. Kay returns to his rebuttal:

“If I just inherit Father’s lordship, I would likely be spending time with some old geezers, at most I’ll marry some princess who loves me less than her father covets my land. Now, a knight on the other hand, I’ll at least earn some admiration from the fairer sex,” Kay, turning away from the wounded knight and his company, stares at me with a look of… concern?

“Say Arthur, do you plan to marry a noble lady and live out your days in peace, or are you going to gain glory as a knight, and settle with a nice peasant girl? Oh! Maybe, you’re planning on taking me on a ‘hunting trip’.” That last line seemed to put him in a better mood, as he snickers with a hand over his mouth.

“I doubt that I would become a knight, though if it puts you at ease I may try my hand at it.” Kay stopped laughing and gave a small tut at my blunt answer.

“Tch… Arthur, this has troubled me for the longest time. Pray tell, what is it that you wish for yourself?” Facing away from me, it was clear, transparent at that, that he was still frustrated with my decision. Despite this, I have no intention of deceiving Kay on my goals.

Being my elder by 5 years, I always followed in Kay's footsteps, matching my pace to his. Regardless of how crazy his ventures were, it felt right to be behind him.

“I just wish to serve at your side, being a page of yours would be quite━” Pain exploded in my cheek! Kay’s punch would have floored me had I not immediately stuck out a leg to steady myself. Tugging at my shirt he pulled my 154cm frame up to his eye level, where I could feel them bore into me without needing to steal a glance.

“What the bleeding hell, are you trying to replace my shadow, you clod! Arthur, a man has to have pride! Ambition! You can’t keep following me like this… Even if you refuse to be a lord in your life, raise your head! Strive to be the noblest of knights! Don’t settle for just being one of my servants, aim to be my mightiest, my right hand! …Besides, that punch had floored Father’s personal knights, yet your instincts had you eating it no problem! There is no reason to keep answering me this way. So, feel like returning the favour to your big bro?” Kay’s grip loosened, allowing me to fall back down. He pointed at his chin with a smile and leaned fowards. However, I hear him sigh in defeat when he saw I had elected to ignore his presence and continue my inspection of his set, whilst rubbing my bruised cheek.

His regular clothes, spare armour, a spear, a shield, and his… I glance at Kay’s hip, trying to spot a scabbard at his belt to no avail. Kay must have realised it too, as he started scrambling inside our tent for his blade. He emerged with his palm against his face in embarrassment.

“I must have left it at the tavern, I’m terribly sorry, but could you fetch it for me?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. Responding with a resolute nod, I sped out of the tourney grounds to our inn. I paused to consider the best path, deciding to head in the direction of the castle of Camelot.

Within the center of the town of Camelot is a castle, using a motte and bailey design; the castle being on a hill; the motte, with an area beneath separated from the town by stone walls; the bailey. The tournament grounds are held within the bailey, which is open to the citizens. Our temporary lodgings are, however, beyond the stone walls of the bailey, in the part of the town behind the castle. Most people have to walk away from the castle, exiting through the main bailey gate, then circle around to get to the other half of the town. However, due to Father’s position, I could cut through the castle grounds, and exit through the back door of the motte and bailey.

A thought happened upon me shortly afterwards. Admittedly, due to my maintenance work, I hadn’t paid any attention to the knights. Specifically towards their turn orders. It gnawed at me enough to make a quick detour towards a posting of the names of the contestants. ‘405 - Sir Kay, son of Ector’. I could probably make it if I ran. But before I could move, I hear an inquiring voice from behind me.

“Might you move, young man, I require access to change the postin’s,” I twisted back, revealing eight towering men. Each with numbers upon their spotless clothes; the lowest being ‘372’, the highest being ‘401’. Yet, the one who drew my attention was the woman in the middle.

“Is somethin’ th’ matter? I do apologise fer being somewhat rude, but we really are in a hurry.” She was very soft-spoken, with the tinge of an accent more commonplace up North.

“Ah, sorry!” I blurted out, immediately stepping out of the way, watching the lady begun to crossing out names. Gasping in realisation, I rushed towards the castle; ‘if this many knights withdrew, Kay’s match is going to be brought forward,’ I couldn’t waste anymore time. With a quick bow, I took my leave from the group of men at arms.

Standing beneath the castle's outer gates for a second time, I was too filled with adrenaline to be as taken with awe as when I first arrived. Upon flashing the coat of arms upon my surcoat, the main guards raised the quillons, though I admittedly slid beneath it midway through its ascension. Before attempting a dash around the keep beneath the castle, I stopped dead in my tracks when a glint caught my eye from above me.

A long flight of stairs separated the outer gate and the actual castle, which is divided by large landings, the first of which is a garden, visible from the bailey’s gate. Despite its small size for a castle as grand as this, being near the main gate makes it unmissable with its many flowerbeds and fountains. And what better to put in such a prominent position than a weapon of prestige; a sword. Caledfwlch, as written on a bronze plaque, was embedded in an anvil-like rock. With a blade reminiscent of a Roman spatha, and two metal guards protruding from the base create a striking crucifix silhouette. The image of which, granted me a most devilish revelation…

Ascending the stairs, I glanced at my surroundings. Empty. Turning back towards the gate, the guards were focused more on the outside than the goings on of the inside. It would take around 10 minutes to reach the inn should I attempt a mad dash for Kay’s sword, even ignoring the return trip. Whereas, I would return in 5 should this plan succeed; though a new set of problems would emerge later.

A closer inspection confirms my suspicions, making my plan plausible; the sword appears to be fitted in an indentation, meaning it is held with nothing more than friction, and not melted to the stone. First, I gave a firm tug on the handle, hot to the touch from exposure, unsurprisingly, it didn’t so much as budge. “Ah yes,” Upon inspection, I thought to myself: “Likely, the sword was inserted first, before a small wedge, probably wood, was hammered in to lodge the blade. And, there seems to be gravel particles around the blade, probably to hide the wedge, since most people would view the sword from a distance. This should make it easier.”

Rushing towards the small fountain at the edge of the garden, under a tree,I dipped my hand. “Cold,” reaching for my dagger, ‘Carnwennan’, I removed its sheath and swiped up the cool fountain water. As the next steps would require fast movements, I placed a finger on the edge of the sword, running it up and down. “Makes sense, it’s not gonna be used, so why sharpen it. Its sharpness doesn’t matter in a tournament context anyways.”

Tipping my sheath slowly, I pour the water down the middle of the blade, cooling it quickly; reducing the expansion due to heat faster than the gravel and wedge, whilst lubricating it. With a quick movement, I placed a hand under the crossguard, gripping the blade with the other, and pulled. First tug: Slight movement; Second tug: A loose movement. And with the third heave, the blade slid out as if it was lay a scabbard.

The smoothness of the pull, caused me to fall backwards off the anvil with a heavy thud whilst hugging the sword. Gripping the hilt, I was amazed at the weight and balance of the sword, the 1kg blade felt as light as a feather despite being a decorative piece. But there’s no time for admiration, I need to sneak it out! After re-sheathing my dagger, I placed the sword inside the long sleeve of my houppelande, rolling it up the best I could, and holding the end. It’s not perfect but it will have to do.

Now to head back before anyone notices…

Interlude

From when the tournament began in the morning, the keep has experienced a large influx of visitors like never before, foreign and local alike, all to attend a seemingly unremarkable competition. Outside the bailey’s main gate, two massive tents flank the main path. Within one reveals the reason for the relatively small tourney. Approaching the large, unassuming structure, where the highest powers of the country have gathered, a rhythmic jingle grows louder.

“You have a lot of nerve, summoning all of us. Especially with the invaders at our doorstep,” Lot, the great King of Orkney, sneered; dripping with venemosity. His small, crafty eyes that carry the weight of over 62 years of experience, embed his wrinkly face. A long blue dress covered his frail body, with a purple surcoat over top it.

“Heh heh heh! That’s rich, coming from the old cod who can’t control his own army. But, you do raise a point. Bedivere, you should be honoured that we even decided to humour you, the uncrowned man!” Placing his tree trunk-sized legs on the table, Carados, king of Caradoc, stared across the table at the man that summoned them. In contrast to Lot’s thin, old frame, Carados was a colossus, who easily towered over the other kings even while sitting. His attire of a shirt and tunic, whilst far more informal a dress, accentuated his intimidating physique.

“I hate to say it, but I agree. I recommend that you stop holding us up, since I doubt we’ll get any more guests, and the ones we have are losing their patience.” A perfectly rehearsed sentence from the youngest among them; King Uriens, of Reged, responded to calm the incensed kings. Wearing a flowing green dress, with a crimson doublet on top, finished with a black scapular, his almost-laughably formal dress stood in contrast to that of Carados’. With this, the temporary Lord Protector of Camelot, lifted his head and spoke.

“I understand your frustrations, but I humbly ask that you spare a few moments more.” glancing around the room, Bedivere continued: “Merlin, my knights, and I wish to discuss those very grievances of yours, regarding the invaders. We merely propose an equal alliance between the various rulers of the British isles against the mainland.”

“With them!? I would rather eat my own droppings!” Carados leapt out of his chair, revealing his full stature.

“You say an ‘equal alliance’ yet it is obvious that our armies are not equal. These fools will remain idle whilst my men do all the work!” Lot remained seated, his eyes far darker than before, as he spoke in an incensed tone.

“Get off your lofty perch old man! Your power hath waned!”

“This issue is alien to us, what benefit would we gain!”

“This is stupid, I’m leaving,” Uriens arose from his seat with his hood and cape already worn. With this, the spark has finally been lit for the fuse of the dozen-or-so rulers, creating an inferno of arguments. However, a deluge to douse the flames of arguments, signalled by the jingling of the bells outside, has arrived.

“Oh my, I assumed this was a roundtable but apparently I entered the local tavern.” A voice rang throughout the space, soft as wool, yet sharp as a sword. The rowdy kings turned towards the doorway to investigate the source, a man ‘walking’ through the entrance. The man held his right leg slightly above the ground, a long stick under his armpit, and a shorter cane in his other hand. One eye is obscured under his long bangs, yet his gaze had the pressure of 10,000 metres of water, and had the intellect of a master strategist, unrivalled by all but one within the room. He had a simple kirtle and gambeson, with a hood to cover his face and a tabard baring his armorial achievement. The ‘Three-legged Knight’ limped towards the nearest empty seat, coincidentally facing King Lot, all while silence filled the room, apart from his crutch crunching the ground beneath. “Sorry, I was dropping my boys off at the tourney,“ sitting himself down. Uriens was the first to break the tension.

“Lord Ector, I wasn’t expecting you to appear after all this time. I assume what Sir Bedivere was about to say concerns you, if I may be so bold to assume?” Uriens deduced, seated once again due to an interest in Ector’s presence.

“I can see how you earned your reputation as the Strategist King. Indeed, Merlin was the one who summoned us for this. After Uther Pendragon’s death, Britain has been split between us different sovereignty,” Ector, not so subtly, looked across the room before continuing: “Foreign invaders, and internal powers have thusly taken advantage of our weakness, and the people have suffered.”

“Hence, a call for all of us to join banners against these threats needs to be answered,” Bedivere continued.

“Ha, why don’t you ask me to prostate myself too! We are perfectly capable of holding our own up North, don’t expect me to pick up your slack!” Carados sneered.

“Yeah, considering how much of Scotland is splitting up, I suppose even you can control whatever land hasn’t broken away,” Uriens retorted without skipping a beat.

Bedivere, ignoring them, went on: “In order for better coordination, you will all be provided with reinforcement from Camelot’s army, as well as from other members of the alliance, to protect your respective sovereignties. Your status will not be threatened, but instead, protected; in return, the King of Camelot shall be the one to have the final say militarily.” Bedivere and Ector braced themselves for multiple objections, arming themselves with rhetoric to convince their fellows. However, the atmosphere was not one of anger, but of confusion, with one question in the air: “The King of Camelot?”

Interlude End

“Arthur! Are you alright? Don’t push yourself like this!” Kay practically yelled at me as I burst into the room panting. Handing me a cup, I gulped down the cool liquid as if I had just wandered through the desert for 40 years, practically inhaling it.

“Kay,” Arthur swiped at his mouth, “Your round has been pushed ahead by… a lot! I managed to grab this on the way fro-”

“Woah, slow down there. Take a few breaths. Okay, there you go. Also, yes, I heard about it before you ran in here as if chased by a beast. The guy who told me about it also wanted to see you, he should be back in a bit, I can go tell him now-”

“No, it’s fine, haaaaaah~” Exhaling out my fatigue, I pulled out the sword and presented it to my brother. “Here, this is the sword I borrowed. After the tournament, I have to return it.”

“Oh! It certainly looks regal,” Kay took a few light swings, “and the way it handles is quite exemplary. Though, hmmm, the blade is blunter than the edge of a table. Say, where did you get this?” Kay pondered, wondering at the seemingly familiar sword.

“They said it was a replica,” I replied, lying through my teeth, if Kay knew what it was, he wouldn’t use it. It should take a while for the guards to arrive, assuming they realised its missing status, I pondered.

Best case: I can return the sword before anyone realises it’s missing and then confess to Kay; unlikely. Another scenario: On my way to return the sword, I run into the knights, and have to confess right there to not implicate Kay; the most likely scenario.

Last, and the worst, scenario: The match is still ongoing when the knights arrive and they attempt to arrest Kay; despite being unlikely, I have to take countermeasures to receive all the blame before it reaches him. For all these scenarios, a written confession would be best for Kay to read; I shall have to use the supplies in the tent during his match.

"Hey Arthur, you're zoning out again."

“Sorry, I was thinking of what you said earlier. I think I understand what you meant about ambition.”

“Ah, I would like to hear it afterwards! For now, you should stay here until the guy I told you about comes back.” The worried look on his face hasn’t yet left. In fact, it seemed to have intensified, “I don’t suppose you have heard about him, given your record with names, but you should know that Merlin is possibly the greatest mind in all civilization! He...”

“...Is quite flattered, you embellish me gre’tly, Sir Kay. And I doubt I can measur’ up to the mind of Diogenes.” A soft, grainy voice, with a slight accent more common down South, came from the entrance of the tent. A man entered, his head covered with white hair, slightly thinner atop his head than at the sides, and equipped with a full beard, long enough to reach his collarbone. His wrinkly face is adorned with a thin nose, thin lips, and thin eyebrows, but with cold, piercing green eyes which, though contradictory, emits warmness. He wears a long blue dress with purple hems with a monastic scapular over top; bearing the symbol of a dragon, revealing his royal position. Kay and I instinctively took a bow to the old stranger.

“I see yer broth’r has returned, and in record time too.” The old man cocked his head, face tinged a slight pink from Kay’s earlier compliment. However, while his eyes seem to be upon us, it stared more intently upon the sword. Instinctively, I moved between the man and my brother, blocking his line of sight.

“Ah, I nearly forgot! Kay, yer round is comin’ up next, I trust you ’aven’t forgotten yet another weapon?” Merlin addressed Kay.

“Oh right… Thanks for informing me. Arthur, come on! I spotted a good seat for yo-”

“Ye can tell ‘im afterwards, if yer recall: I had somethin’ important to tell ’im.”

“Right… sorry about that, Arthur. It involves your old man….”

“Don’t worry about it, I also have some things to speak to him about,” I responded, ignoring him, my gaze never breaking from the ‘threat’. Kay quickly gathered his weapons; his spear, and more importantly, his sword, and excused himself.

Merlin’s eyes, once warming the tent, now filled me with icy dread. Even if he doesn’t know the sword is missing, he would still likely recognise it. In which case, I’ll need to take the full blame for it or Kay will be the one punished.

“So, how’d yer do it?” Merlin’s face softened immediately.

“Huh?”

“The sword! How did you get that thing out?” Merlin stared into my eyes, brimming with curiosity, appearing almost child-like, despite his aged complexion. I must admit, it caught me off guard quite a bit.

“Well… I noticed that the sword wa-”

“No, not just from the rock! Tell me how you removed it from the castle grounds without any knight noticing! You can start from when you left the tent.” His excitement was palpable, if it weren’t for his royal attire, I would have assumed him to be a thief trying to sieve out a new technique to add to his repertoire. Giving in, however, would mean to confess, something I should have logically been against. Yet…

“... … …”

“In the spur of the moment! And for your “brother” no less! That was quite an intelligent plan for something unplanned, if I had gone through with testing you, you clearly would have aced it!”

“Test? Who even are you?! Which reminds me, you had something you wanted to tell me!” Coming off more aggressive than I intended, I took a deep breath, regretting how easily I let my story slip. He was obviously scheming something as I recounted my tale, evident by how he has been trying to read me since first we met. I needed to turn the conversation towards him.

“About what yo-”

“Yes, yer “brother”, I suppose now is a fair time. Ector and I have been mutually acquainted for a while now. In fact, this meeting was planned before the tournament was even thought of.” Not skipping a beat, Merlin continues to lead the conversation to his pace: “You have heard of Uther Pendragon, the second king of Great Britain, haven’t you?”

“I know the name, and nothing else,” I very bluntly explained.

“He… helped me out when I was in a rut. I served him afterwards as repayment…” I caught a glimpse of a smile as he explained this, which exuded an aura, far warmer than any of his previous expressions.

“Whilst I was proud to serve, to become king, he made a lot of enemies. So… he asked me to hide his son. But, I still knew that I would be pursued, due to being ’is advisor; so I passed ’im to someone I trusted.”

“...And that person was Father- er, Ector?” Finishing the sentence for him.

“Yes, you catch on quick! I’m sure I need not tell you who the son is. You are-”

“Turning this down, yes.” Holding out my palm, I interrupted his speech. “Look, the only thing ‘kingly’ about me is my blood. Blood which can... no... WILL be spilt by the other lords who will not accept a mere 14 year old yokel. You should know this, given your position.”

“Oh, but they will! Yer little stunt has given me inspiration! Yer name; ‘Pendragon’ is power itself, strong enough to unite the kings and lords against our invaders! Power, at your control…” Merlin retorted, though his words seemed to leak venom; minute but noticeable. I continued my rebuttal with a shrug however:

“So, you are just going to use me as a figurehead, are you now? I serve as the puppet, while you pull the strings? In that case, just name someone else as the heir, I presume that only a few know about this, it’s easy enough to hush them, especially if the name ‘Pendragon’ is as powerful as you say it is. In fact, I recommend my brother for this, he is the most capable young man I know…” I take a few deep breaths. I was honestly surprised with how emotional I got, and somewhat embarrassed too. “If this works, I will be off the hook, and Kay will get a big promotion to boot!” I thought, “I guess this would be my second present to him today, this hopefully makes up for me forgetting his birthday.”

“I see… I shouldn’t ’ave expected any less! No… you would have surpassed any I ’ad dreamt up… Though yer could rememb'r to breathe once in a while.” A smirk grew on Merlin with every mumble, one that sent shivers down my spine despite his diverted gaze, deep in thought. Though, that was only temporary, as it soon shifted back to me, unnerving me all the more.

“It would appear that I would need to be more forceful than I thought… What do you know about Caledfwlch?”

“What?”

“That sword was forged ages ago, by a famous line of smiths, as a present to the kingdom. It’s removal from its display is… grand larceny of the high’st order. And yer brother, though unaware, would be charged with conspiracy, should I wish, and I have no doubt that lord Ector’s position would, too, be in peril. Now now, unless you want to also tack on attempted assault on a nobleman, I would stay your hand off that dagger of yours and let me offer you a deal...” I could only see red as Merlin stared me down with a grin on his face. Were I to be of a clearer mind, I would be impressed at the web I was entangled in, weaved by this old spider.

“’ere’s what you will do: accept the position and become king. With this, the entire town will be yours, including the sword, which you had removed to lend to Kay for his match, let’s just say it was a gift. And, as motivation to unite the various scattered kingdoms, you will be aiding the Ector family too with the army of Camelot, no… all of Britain at yer beck and call.” I raise my eyebrow at this offer. “Uniting the kingdoms of Britain will ensure the aid of all their knights against any invaders or outlaws from attacking Ector’s lands. He may be strong, but he’s old, and his son is not yet strong enough to defend his lands. If you won’t do it for the island, do it for the family that raised you, your majesty” With this, all enmity vanished from the old man, as he took to one knee before me.

“...” A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirled around my mind at this sudden ease in tension. Seeing a revered old man kneeling after threatening me, a 14 year old boy from nowhere. Well, I guess not ‘from nowhere’, as the weight of being a prince was now settling in. And Ector, as well as Kay, who both were like family, were biological strangers. The latter two facts were hidden from me by Ector himself, adding to my frustration.

“Pride… Ambition…” Kay’s previous words rang once again through my head, as I mumbled those words. I look down at Merlin as I grabbed him by the shoulders, and brought him to his feet. Staring him in the eye, I knew that if I just accepted the terms as is, Kay’s words would be wasted. I’ll need to take at least a step forward, be firm, or I will be nothing more than a puppet king…

“I have but two conditions…”

“Of course, my liege.”

“Firstly, I require a consort.”

“Of course, at your age, these thoughts are natural, though I ask for 5 years to locate one.”

“Make it 4.” I say firmly, irritated at the unnecessary comment. “Secondly, and you shall inform her of this too, I wish for her to bear my child immediately, and for him or her to be coronated upon birth! My consort would then rule as regent, while the both of us raise the child to keep the kingdom united.”

“...” Merlin seemed to be speechless for the first time in the conversation, though momentarily. “Heh heh heh… Yer ability would ’ave made you a fine king. However, I shall respect yer wishes and grant them posthaste. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some guests to entertain. I shall see the three of you in the afternoon of tomorrow. Oh! And, I hope you shall forgive me for being so forceful a moment ago, my deepest apologies.” And with a bow, he left the tent.

Remembering the meeting in session, Merlin began his retreat from the castle grounds. But not before having a word with the eavesdropper:

“He really was quite somethin’! Whilst his ambition is sorely lackin’, his determination and vigour were a welcome trip down memory lane. And that mind of ’is! Simply spectacular! He must have gotten it from ’is mother then! Needless to say… he was more impressive than you were.”

Kay stopped in his tracks before the entrance. He had planned to enter it slightly after Merlin left.

“He never let ‘is guard down, I couldn’t leave any openings in my speech. The web I spun to trap ’im was far grander than what I ’ad to make when talking to you.” Merlin’s eyes scanned the dirty, beaten gambeson on Kay’s person.

“Though the sword may be a gift, I pray that you ‘aven't been mistreated it as badly as your armour. Nevertheless, I won’t keep you any longer. Your little brother is exhausted, I’m sure the presence of his ‘big brother’ would comfort him.” Kay hadn't yet turned around to face Merlin. Was he ashamed? Scared? No. He had a goal in mind. Merlin could tell that the boys were similar in one aspect, and was made cognizant of it when he first noticed Kay’s presence midway through his discussion. He was reminded of it when Kay twisted his head back at him…

“Do not… threaten… Arthur… again…” Kay’s empty eye pierced Merlin sharper than any spear in the world. “This isn’t the face of someone who lost,” Merlin thought. Even when he was inside the tent, Kay’s bloodlust was palpable once Merlin began pressuring Arthur. Now, cold sweat started seeping out of Merlin’s crusty pores.

After what seemed like an eternity, Kay faced back towards the tent, his message sent. Merlin smirked to himself at the display he just witnessed.

"Those two are sur' to be interesting." With this knowledge, Merlin could return to the kings’ meeting. He wanted nothing more than to praise Ector’s parenting skills.

“Arthur?” Kay stuck his head through the entrance, immediately noting Arthur crumpled on the ground, in a kneel-like position where his legs form a triangular shape. His breathing was deep, yet steady as he stared forward at a slight downward angle, his eyes unfocused. Kay rushed over to his side in an embrace, causing Arthur to stir, and with a slight smile, the would-be king says:

“That punch still stings.”