"Sorry! 'scuse me, coming through!" a tall lanky young man with raven black hair dodged a flock of servants, expertly balancing a breakfast tray in his hands. He was late as usual, and all the servants in Camelot knew to simply stay out of his way.
"Merliin!" The princes voice could be heard through the whole castle, making a couple guards on the wall chuckle and shake there heads. This was definitely no unusual occurrence. If Merlin hadn't saved King Arthur's (Then Prince Arthur's) life a couple years ago he would never have made it as a servant.
Merlin dodged through the princes doors, narrowly escaping spilling the tray onto the scrubbed floor. Fortunately King Arthur was impatiently looking out the window, or he might have caught the brief flash of gold in his servants eyes as the tray righted itself. At the sound of the tray being set down however, he whirled upon the hapless servant furiously.
"Merlin, would you care to explain to me where the hell you have been? I have a counsel meeting to get to." If Merlin hadn't known it was mostly an act on the Prince's part he might have been slightly daunted. But it was, so he wasn't, and he merely grinned.
"Ah, I was, helping Gaius." He supplied. Arthur grunted and sat down to eat his breakfast.
"Well, since you're feeling so helpful this morning Merlin, you can help me by polishing my armor, cleaning my room, and assisting with training after the meeting." He smirked.
"Don't you think one of the man-at-arms would make a better training assistant, Sire?" Merlin asked hopefully, straightening the bedspread with quick fingers. Of course he couldn't tell the King that he had really been stopping a revenge-ridden petty sorcerer last night. Merlin slid a hand under his neckerchief and rubbed a large bruise he had gotten, falling from a roof while evading the city guards. It be hard to explain that.
"Merlin, only a complete bumpkin like you would consider it a chore to train with the King. Other men would be honored."
"Well you see, I've already had the honor, and found I quite like living in oblivion." Merlin snatched up the empty breakfast tray and narrowly dodging a goblet that came sailing at his head, made for the door. He turned around to fire a last quip.
"I can see you're just dying to get to that council meeting like the truly great King Turnip-head that you are." He shut the door just in time to miss an empty pitcher that clattered on the wall where his head had been moments before. Arthur repressed a smile and turned to the reports he was meant to look over before the meeting. The patrols had been coming across a disturbing amount of druids in the forest
near Camelot. They had been spotted seemingly observing the city, departing quickly when the patrols were seen. It was probably nothing however. The Druids were peaceful people and no harm had come from them, especially since the king had decreed protection for them following the haunting incident.
~Three Days Earlier~
Caldior looked around the crowd gathered in the Druid camp of Ethspen. All the faces were turned to him, many in slight anger. Caldior raised his hands for silence, then began.
"My friends, I know why you have come. You are impatient that the king has not yet accepted magic into his kingdom." Several voices broke out in angry agreement. "But the anger and fear that has tainted the king's heart since birth will take long to uproot. Emrys has promised us that with time, he shall bring the king to reason."
"With time our people are still being persecuted, driven from our homes, outcasts in society!" The speaker was Gerith, a young sorcerer who had come to live with the Druids after he was hunted from his town. Many heads nodded vigorously in agreement. "How much time does Emrys need? Maybe what our great king truly needs is to see the power magic wields, to be convinced he needs it on his side."
"You know that goes against the teachings of the Druids." Caldior spoke sternly. "Magic is to be used for good. The prophecy says that only Emrys can guide The once and future king to unite all Albion. We must wait till this comes to pass."
"Maybe," Gerith stood and looked around him, "We need to give Emrys the push he needs. I have heard the seer Nimsheh, she says the Fates themselves are tiring of the wait, and with small scarifies they will bring this about.
"Doing this may be detrimental to the success of Albion. The Fates are unpredictable and twisted, caring not for Destiny." Caldior concealed his worry at seeing how many agreed with Gareth.
"Maybe this destiny is wrong. I'm not a Druid. I have no care for these ancient, useless laws. I shall go to the fates myself, if this is what it takes!" At this the whole crowd burst into uproar, most of the youngsters agreeing with Gareth.
"No!" Caldior boomed, stilling them. "No-one, will go to the Fates. Who knows the price they would inflict or the consequences!" he glared at Gareth like an enraged bear. "My father died in Camelot, for the safety of the Once and Future King that he could unite the land of Albion. We will not disregard him, or the many others who died by doing this thing." Caldion turned abruptly and left the circle, his burgundy robes disappearing from the firelight. The older druids followed their leader's example quickly, returning to their tents.
Gareth tossed his head. "I think Caldior jut doesn't want to admit he's wrong." A few young Druids looked skeptical, but were largely overwhelmed by the murmurs of agreement from the rest.
"Maybe it's time we take matters into our own hands."