Author's Note: These stories I am writing are set post-series-two of the BBC's Merlin, and once third series starts, alternative universe. This is story number four. Each story was supposed to be complete all by itself, so that it wasn't necessary to read them in any specific order, but I realized that the cycle of stories set in Cameliard contain predominately OC's, which might be confusing, so it's helpful to have read my previous tale, "Enemy Lines".

XIXIXIXIX

The Account of Sir Percival

The sheets of his bed felt different. Merlin rolled over, still half-asleep. The mattress was about the same, but the sheets felt different, and the blanket pulled up around his shoulders was heavier. The aroma of baking bread filled his nostrils—that was definitely different. Merlin opened his eyes. It was only dawn—and this was not his room.

Intermittent laughter, a few shouts of recognition, the splash of water in buckets—the growing din of a waking city sounded through the open window. Merlin lay in the bed, which was big enough for one person, and looked at Arthur on the bed opposite. He was sitting at the foot, his bare feet on the floor, hands curled around the edge of the bed, looking toward the door.

"Do you think they suspect who we are?" Merlin sat up.

"I gave the King my word that we mean no harm." Arthur looked at Merlin and then stood up. He was shirtless, as he often slept, but wore the trousers he'd had on since they'd chased a manticore to the kingdom of Cameliard. King Leodogran had agreed to quarter Arthur, Merlin, and the nine surviving knights who'd set out with them from Camelot. The room Arthur and Merlin now shared was small, but tidy and comfortable. It was on the street level of the castle, but tucked beside an unused alley of the city, affording them some privacy.

"How long do you think we'll be here?" Merlin watched as Arthur put on his shirt—the same shirt he'd been wearing for about a week. They'd initially set out just to investigate the destruction of a neighboring village, but once there Arthur decided to pursue the beast that had caused it. Nobody had a change of clothes.

"Until all the men are able to ride." Arthur grabbed his belt.

"What if Leodogran finds out who you are? He might not like Uther's son—"

"Then he'd better not find out who we are. Merlin, I'm perfectly aware of the danger we're in—my father's warned me enough about kings like Leodogran."

"Who would see magic destroy us all."

"Exactly." Arthur began sorting through the pieces of his armor.

"But magic destroyed the manticore."

Arthur stared at his wrist guard, holding it between his hands, his right thumb rubbing a circle on some spot. "For all we know the King's sorcerer summoned it in the first place."

"But for all we know, he didn't."

"Are you going to get up, or are you just going to lie in bed all day hoping some spell turns me into your servant?"

"I don't think there's magic strong enough."

Arthur scowled and grabbed his boots from the floor. Merlin got out of bed and dressed in the same time it took Arthur to pull on his boots—an act that seemed to disrupt some more important matter on his mind.

A knock sounded, and a servant brought breakfast in, bowing low as he left.

"Well, that answers that question." Merlin smiled and sat down. Arthur stared at the door a minute before taking the opposite chair. The food was simple but nourishing, the water fresh. Knowing that the servant would come back to retrieve the dishes, Merlin and Arthur took pains to hide any insignia or token that would reveal Arthur's identity as the Prince of Camelot.

The main square outside the steps of the castle thrived with people. Merlin gawked at the sights around him, taking in the faces of the passers-by, the sounds, the smells, the buildings of dark-grey stones peppered with pink ones that made the walls seem bejeweled in the sunlight. Arthur kept his eyes forward to their destination, inserting a dour presence into the animation of the city.

In Blaise's chambers, Merlin ogled the books that teemed across the walls—he recognized many from Gaius's own library, but others were unfamiliar and clearly on magic. Blaise himself—sorcerer, physician, advisor—stood at a long table grinding dried leaves from one of the many jars littered throughout the room. The man was dark, swarthy. As tall as Arthur and Merlin, he had a graying beard trimmed in a neat circle around his mouth—Merlin guessed that he was twice their age, though younger than Leodogran.

"Did someone take a turn for the worse?" Arthur indicated the mortar and pestle in Blaise's slender fingers.

"Hm? Oh, no," he lifted his dark-brown eyes to Arthur, "your men are awake, if you'd like to speak to them." He motioned his head toward a doorway leading to the adjacent room and picked up a small bottle filled with powder. Arthur went out, but Merlin continued to take in the names on the magic books, the scrolls strewn about, the small desk where it appeared Blaise was transcribing one of the volumes. Merlin peered at a jar crammed among the books that contained what looked like a dragon's claw.

"Do you always poke around in other people's spaces?"

"What?" He jerked around—Blaise was facing him. Merlin smiled, "Oh, uh, no—you just have an interesting . . . shop here."

Blaise eyed Merlin's height, his head following Merlin as the young man made his way to the door. Merlin paused on the other side and watched Arthur speaking with Sir Brandt, whose leg had been broken. Three other knights of Camelot had been hit with the manticore's poison, and were lying awake nearby. Most of the other dozen beds in the rather large room were occupied by Leodogran's men, while the rest of Arthur's knights were sharing rooms inside the castle. Arthur finished whatever he was saying and steered Merlin back into Blaise's chambers.

"I want to thank you for all you've done."

Blaise lowered his head to Arthur.

"How long until my men can travel?"

"Blaise," a servant fell through the doorway, out of breath. "The King needs you in the courtyard."

Merlin and Arthur followed Blaise outside where a retinue of Cameliard's knights and servants stood waiting with Leodogran. A party of some importance was approaching from the gates. Merlin and Arthur couched themselves among the crowd as Blaise took a place by Leodogran's side.

A small contingent of knights, in polished armor and white, gold-trimmed mantles rode up. Their leader stared down at Leodogran from his richly adorned white stallion.

"Greetings, Leodogran," the man smiled.

"Prince Lot. How lovely of you to drop by."

"Rumor has it that you had a bit of trouble yesterday."

"Rumor has many things, Lot—she's quite greedy that way."

"Then you are in no need of assistance?"

"As you can see. And besides, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you—with your obviously over-compounded schedule that won't allow you to even dismount for a civilized conversation—with my piffling little problems."

Prince Lot smiled large. "My humblest apologies, good King, but indeed you are correct—I am busy. Marauders daily raid poor villages, including those along your own borders as you surely know, and we are on our way to prevent a massacre."

"And these marauders are going to wait until you get there?" Blaise narrowed his eyes.

"The benefit of good spies—they allow one to predict and prepare. I detoured here only in my concern for your safety and that of your daughter. She does still belong to you? You haven't given her away while I wasn't looking?"

"My daughter belongs to herself, Lot." Leodogran sighed and forced a smile, "but we thank you for your concern. In fact, when you are done saving poor villages, we would be happy to provide relief to your wounded, tired knights, and to wash your white dainties which must surely become soiled."

Lot's smile lost its luster. "Your generosity is most—generous," he shifted in his saddle. "But we can see to our own—far more easily than you."

Prince Lot's men turned their horses about in one synchronized motion and trotted away. Lot's own white horse defacated on the stones with the nonchalance of all horses, while Lot stared down at Leodogran.

"My lord," Lot bowed his head and turned to join his men, the stench of horseshit rising from the ground behind him.

Merlin watched Lot leave. "I'm sorry I ever called you a pompous, arrogant, obnoxious, spoiled ass," he said to Arthur as they moved toward the king's party. Arthur glowered in Merlin's direction.

"Who was that?" Merlin asked Blaise. The servants and most of the knights had returned to their normal duties—Blaise and Leodogran stood with only one pair of guards.

"Why, are you deaf?" Blaise answered.

"Just stupid," Arthur said.

Leodogran stared toward the gates of his city. "Inform me immediately when Anna returns," he said to the knight beside him. The knight nodded, and Leodogran marched off.

"Okay, I'll rephrase. Who's Prince Lot?"

"Just a visitor." Blaise turned away, heading back to his chambers. They followed.

"Prince Lot, son of King Lot, of Lothian," Arthur said. "His father is still alive, though dying from what I understand, and young Lot is already happily reigning."

"You seem to know quite a bit," Blaise glanced at Arthur.

"We've—traveled quite a bit."

"Some of you more than others." Blaise looked at Merlin.

"I take it the Princess has refused his proposal," Arthur said.

"Where is Anna?" Merlin looked around as if she were hiding behind the next corner.

"She rode out early this morning." Blaise entered his chambers and returned to the powders on his table.

"Does she do that often? Ride out alone?" Arthur asked, watching Blaise.

Blaise paused in his process, examining Arthur. "Anna regularly visits nearby villages and homes, but no, she does not ride alone, not these days. At least, she's usually smart enough not to. Percival and Bors are escorting her today. Are you asking out of curiosity?"

"She's not like other princesses," Merlin's voice muttered. He faced a wall of books, staring, bringing his hand up to almost touch one of the magic books piled on the shelves. Arthur and Blaise paused. They glanced at Merlin out of the corner of their eyes, and pivoted around to look straight at him. Merlin hovered over the spine of a book, let his finger fall, and caressed the binding.

"You know a lot of princesses, then?" Blaise looked from Merlin to Arthur.

Merlin turned around, realizing he was now the focus of attention. "I've met several. Well, actually two—one."

Arthur sneered and shook his head. Merlin avoided his gaze, moving to the middle of the room.

Blaise turned back to Arthur. "If you're interested in Anna, you can seek her out yourself—you'll find she's very polite. But as to your earlier question: your man with the broken leg shouldn't ride until it's healed, but everyone else will be fine by this evening. Now if you'll excuse me, I am in the middle of something."

With no duties to perform, there wasn't much to do. Whatever the affairs of Cameliard, they kept the king occupied with his council. Few questions had been answered, and Arthur and his men were left to their own devices. Arthur and Merlin sat on the steps of the castle watching the bustle of the city. Arthur fidgeted, picking apart pieces of straw from the ground, brushing dirt off his shirt sleeves repeatedly, pounding the heel of his foot against the ground to a tempo only he knew. Would you wipe that stupid smile off your face, he'd said to Merlin, who just kept watching the streets in front of them.

The Princess rode up to the steps at midday—she was followed by three riders. Arthur hastened toward her, but she had already jumped off her horse. She wore grey trousers and a blue shirt with a purple vest. Merlin recognized Bors and Percival behind her, and they wore the dark brown capes of Cameliard— but the third rider was a black-clad woman, olive-skinned, her loose dark hair tangled about her shoulders. Merlin stared—the hint of a grin poking the corners of his lips—as she dismounted. Her muddy black boots, pulled over trousers, rose to her knees and a large knife hung at the small of her back.

"Lady Anna," Arthur grabbed the reins of Anna's horse.

Anna ran her fingers across the side of her head, combing wild strands of blond hair back into her braid. She smiled at Arthur, stole a glance at Merlin. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." Arthur patted the nose of her horse. Both Percival and Bors were watching him. "You missed Prince Lot's appearance this morning."

"Oh dear," she rolled her eyes. "Cara," Anna called to the dark woman. "Caradoc, this is our potentially illustrious, potentially dangerous rogue of a guest. He and his men are recuperating with us."

Merlin got up and joined Arthur.

"My Lady," Arthur took Caradoc's outstretched hand and kissed it.

"Le Bel Inconnu," Caradoc seized Arthur's hand and kissed it. Anna grinned at Arthur who stood stunned.

"I'm Merlin." Merlin offered his hand to Caradoc who shook it.

"I see you get a name."

"Oh, I'm nobody," Merlin kept a hold of her hand. Arthur froze.

"So you're somebody, then?" Anna said to Arthur. Merlin released Caradoc's hand, turned his head just enough to smile weakly at Arthur. Arthur remained silent.

"Percy," Anna said loudly, still eying Arthur, "did you need to go see your family?"

"Yes my Lady, with your leave."

Anna nodded. Percival bowed his head and walked off. Arthur and Merlin watched him go.

"Bors will be reporting to my father—if the goings-on of our little kingdom hold any interest to you while you're here." Anna nodded to Arthur, to Merlin, and laced her arm through Caradoc's, leading her off.

"Right this way—Bel Inconnu." Bors walked up the castle steps and through the doors, not checking to see if they followed.

Sir Cadoc was tending to his own horse when Sir Percival entered the stables. As long as Arthur chose to stay in the city, their horses were quartered alongside those of Cameliard. Cadoc nodded to Percival. Percival returned the gesture and moved to examine the horse beside Cadoc's.

"Your men have sturdy horses." Percival said, petting the stallion.

"Thank you. They are fine creatures." Cadoc smiled and finished brushing his horse.

Percival moved down the line, selecting a fresh, saddled horse and leading it back toward the door. He looked at Sir Cadoc, still no more than one of the nameless men from unknown lands, was just putting on a saddle.

"You know we have stable boys and hostlers who can do that?" Percival said.

"We don't want to be a burden."

Percival caught a flash of bright red from beneath Cadoc's saddle. "You don't seem to want to be here at all." Percival stared at the red—it was part of a larger piece of cloth stashed among the blankets beneath the saddle. On it was a bit of embroidery, or an insignia, much of which was obscured—but enough showed to see that it was a dragon.

Cadoc was occupied adjusting the saddle. "No—on the contrary," he said. "Your king has been very kind and generous to us. But we are much farther from home than we intended to be," Cadoc sighed.

"Well don't worry," Percival smiled and briefly turned his attention to his own horse, "Blaise is the finest physician I've ever met—you'll be ready to leave in no time." His smile faded. He bowed his head to Cadoc, glancing quickly at the saddle, then led his horse out into the afternoon air. Percival took in the position of the sun as he mounted, then he set off at a full gallop through the city streets and out the gate, people jumping out of his way as he passed.

"I hear Anna's friend gave you a name today." Leodogran sat back as a servant set a plateful of food before him.

"The men are already calling him Bel." Anna glanced at Arthur and then shot her father a raised eyebrow.

"Are they indeed?" Leodogran watched two servants pour wine into his goblet, as well as the three others. Arthur, Anna and Blaise had joined Leodogran for dinner. The four of them sat at the head of a long table in a modest dining hall. Arthur and Blaise were on Leodogran's right, Anna on his left, directly across from Arthur.

"So it seems," said Arthur. "News travels fast—I myself heard something today about raids along your borders."

"The knights of Cameliard can handle raiders, if you're concerned for your safety." Blaise stabbed a small piece of meat.

Arthur stared at Blaise, and was in turn watched by both Leodogran and Anna. "Actually, I was concerned for yours," he said. "The report from Sir Bors indicated that these marauders manage to replenish their supplies—including men— far more quickly than you."

"Ah, yes, I remember that," Leodogran leaned back and stroked his chin with one hand, holding an elbow with the other. "Dear Bors thought that these bands of thieves were under the aegis of a far more powerful enemy." Leodogan nodded to himself as though some deep realization had come upon him. Anna looked at Arthur, trying not to smile, while Blaise pretended to be more concerned with his food.

"I mean no disrespect—"

"Good." Leodogran leaned forward and picked up his knife.

"We can handle marauders," Blaise mumbled, a mouthful of bread.

"Unless, of course," Anna picked up her fork and began moving the food around on her plate, "these raids are, as Bors believes, designed to make us expend resources, to whittle us down until we are too weak. We have lost knights." She took a bite.

Arthur looked to Leodogran, but he chewed slowly, disinclined to speak with so full a mouth.

"You think these raiders are part of a larger plan?" Arthur asked. "Who would use such a tactic? And who would hire mercenaries willing to work solely for the privilege of thieving?"

"They're not working solely for the privilege of thieving," Anna said. "I'm sure they're getting gold in addition to what they steal—they would not be so diligent in their duties otherwise."

"I don't think so," Arthur said. Leodogran and Blaise watched him, exchanging glances now and again. "If some enemy needs to 'whittle you down", they don't have the resources to spend on disloyal thieves, especially if this enemy is planning a war. And thieves won't stop just because someone seized a throne—it's a treacherous strategy. Who'd risk it?"

"You're assuming this unseen enemy cares what happens to villagers and townsfolk. He may have no intention of making the marauders stop—perhaps he even plans to demand his share."

Arthur looked at Anna, her hair, still tightly braided, a tiara draped around her brow. She wore a simple blue dress, one ring on each hand, and a black band hugged her throat with a tear-drop shaped pearl resting above her sternum. Her blue eyes stared back at him, a forkful of food waiting in her hand.

"You don't believe there's some mastermind at work behind these constant raids on our borders?" Blaise lifted his goblet.

Arthur paused. "I know that there's never a shortage of scavengers around a dead animal, and they don't need to coordinate."

"But that requires a predator to kill the animal in the first place," Blaise said.

"We're not dead yet." Anna stared at Arthur, her hands flat on either side of her plate.

"I meant—"

"No disrespect?" Leodogran met Arthur's eyes, but there was no accusation in his tone or his gaze. Arthur looked to his plate for a moment.

"You really think someone's using marauders as a war tactic?"

"Not everyone cares about honor when wealth and notoriety are to be had." Leodogran looked at Arthur over his wine, and then contemplated the designs decorating the goblet. His eyes perked up, noticing something across from him. "And Blaise, I thought I told you to make a charm so the devil would stop appearing whenever it was the topic of conversation."

Blaise sighed and Anna closed her eyes, muttering to herself. Leodogran signaled for more wine and a servant filled his goblet to the brim. Arthur looked down the table to the far end of the hall where a matronly woman stood. She was attired richly in gold and purple, her graying hair ornately piled atop her head and as she approached, Arthur could see she wore gems all around her neck and on every finger. She came to stand between Leodogran and Arthur, smiling as she wrapped a hand around the back of Leodogran's chair.

"Julia," he took a large helping of food and continued speaking, inscrutable sounds coming from his overfull mouth, his hands gesturing in the air. The lady looked at him with the same exact smile.

"Forgive us," Blaise said to Arthur. "This is the Lady Julia."

The woman turned to Arthur and offered her hand, continuing to display her smile. She wore minimal cosmetics and eyed Arthur's person as if selecting a fabric for a new dress. Arthur stood and kissed her hand.

"My Lady," he bowed.

Her smile shifted to one of genuine amusement and approval. She eyed Arthur again.

"You must be our fair, unknown guest," she said. "But are you fair only in appearance?" For a third time, she sent her eyes over Arthur, moving to the other side of his chair by Blaise, then moving back to stand by Leodogran.

"Stop circling like a vulture, Julia." Leodogran had swallowed his food. "Sit," he said to Arthur, who obeyed.

"A mysterious band of men drops a monster on our doorstep, and you invite them to stay without the slightest probing?" Julia moved around to Leodogran's other side and gave Anna a look. Anna grinned, lips closed tight and moved down one chair. Blaise, now directly across from her rolled his eyes in sympathy. Julia sat down in Anna's seat. "Dear cousin, even you could not be that much of a fool."

"Am I not? And yet, here we are."

"We didn't drop a monster on you—we followed its rampage here. And yes, I asked that I be allowed to keep my name to myself."

"A strange request," Julia said. "From what kingdom did you follow it?"

"Through many."

"But which one was the first?"

"Julia," Leodogran's voice sharpened, "he has given his word that his intentions here are honorable—that is all I need to know."

"His word?"

"I encounter so few that are worth taking."

Julia snapped her head toward Arthur. "Then welcome to Cameliard—I hope you find our humble kingdom to your liking."

Anna spoke up, "I think it's time for me to retire—I'm just so exhausted by today's events."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't—" Julia picked up Anna's goblet.

"My friend," Anna interrupted, speaking to Arthur, "would you be so kind as to escort me to my chambers? Who knows what rogues might sneak past our sluggish guards," she glared at Julia, who finished off the wine in Anna's cup.

Arthur nodded. The room was silent as they both stood and bowed their heads to Leodogran and Blaise, and Arthur to the Lady Julia. Servant's opened the door where Arthur took Anna's proffered arm. They heard Julia remark well he seems compliant as they turned down the corridor and the huge doors clanged shut.

"I apologize for that," Anna said.

"For not introducing me to your cousin before, or for introducing me to your cousin at all?"

Anna laughed, her smile easy and bright.

"Let me guess, her bark is loud and rough, but she's harmless?" Arthur said.

"Julia's yipping is far too sleek to be loud or rough, and 'harmless' is the last word I would apply to her." Anna's face fell and Arthur could feel her hand tense around his arm.

"Is she a mastermind?"

Anna stared in front of her. They passed a servant carrying linens, who pressed against the wall to let them pass.

"Julia would never destroy anything she intended to steal," Anna said quietly, her eyes still on the corridor ahead.

"Then Lot must be the main suspect."

A small smile crept across Anna's face. She stopped and turned to Arthur. "Blaise is right—we can handle marauders." She continued down the hall, still holding Arthur's arm. "But you know you're right about scavengers. Our enemies do outnumber our friends."

"I know." Arthur frowned, looking straight.

"Do you?" Anna stared askance at him. They turned a corner and she returned her gaze to the long hallway. "But we're still powerful enough that it will cost any conqueror who wishes to try."

"Unless you're besieged by multiple enemies at once. Why not send for help?" Arthur glanced at her.

She didn't answer. They mounted stairs and went down another passageway lit up by torches.

"My father's policies are not popular among many other kings," she said. "Those who are friendly toward us are not so kind as to ally themselves with us." She stopped in front of a door. "As I said, we can handle the marauders, such as they are. If you need a cart to carry home your man with the broken leg, we'll be happy to lend you one." She smiled. "Goodnight—Bel Inconnu."

"Goodnight, Lady Anna."

Arthur stared a moment at the wood of the closed door to Anna's chambers, its roughness, the torch beside it. He passed back down the corridors distracted, nearly running into a servant carrying a full ewer. And once back in his own room, he watched the night in the alley outside the window, though the only view was of stone and sky.