It's been way too long since I've written a fic, what with the ACTs and everything going on, so now that I have time I can finally write something! Enjoy!
Arthur shielded his eyes from the bright sun reflecting off of the melting snow in the field. The first honest day of spring was here, and what better way to celebrate than to hold a tournament?
"Looks wet out there," Merlin said, sliding into his seat beside him in the stands, "Might be too slippery for the knights to stand on."
The silver clasp of Merlin's cloak clinked as Merlin sat down. As always Merlin wore his regular clothes beneath his ceremonial cloak, despite Arthur's attempts to dress him better, seeing as he was now a member of the court and all those representing Camelot should represent her well.
Arthur scoffed. "My knights have been trained with perfect balance, Merlin, and they'll fight with grace. They're very skilled, you know."
Merlin made a mocking tsk sound, rolling up his sleeves so that his forearms could enjoy the warmer air. The simple gold bands circling his wrists glittered. "Your knights might be well trained, but they're certainly no match for my men. They won't stand a chance."
Arthur scowled, but his irritation fled when Merlin looked up and Arthur saw that he was smiling.
"Those inexperienced boys?" Arthur shot back, "They can wave their arms all they want, but they'll scamper as soon as my knights lift their swords."
Merlin stuck out his tongue. "I trained them myself, and I've shown them a few tricks your knights won't see coming. And all within the rules, mind you. My mages don't cheat."
Arthur rolled his eyes and was about to say something very clever and witty when the crowd suddenly started cheering and they both turned their attention to the tournament field.
On one end of the field a half dozen of Arthur's knights had entered, armor polished to a shine and swords glittering impressively in the bright spring sun. They carried their helmets under one arm as they waved to the crowd with the other, basking in the adoration and leaving muddy footprints in the snow behind them. The crowd waved their flags and cheered as they paraded around the field, shouting the names of the knights they wanted most to win.
Arthur clapped along with the crowd. These were his newest knights, recruited in the winter and so had yet to prove themselves in combat. This would be their first chance to show their true colors, to show off their skills and strengths.
Another cheer rose up, and beside him Arthur felt Merlin sit up a bit straighter.
Merlin's group of mages had entered at the other end of the field. None of them looked very intimidating, the youngest of them couldn't have been much more than a boy. Instead of wearing impressive heavy armor like Arthur's knights, these mages were dressed in simple tunics like any other citizen.
They circled the field as the knights had done, waving to the crowd as they went. The cheers were just as loud, but underneath there was a murmur all round the field. Those who were not cheering were whispering to each other, wondering at how these six new, young, unarmed mages would behave in combat.
Arthur looked over at Merlin. Merlin was applauding and cheering with the rest of the crowd, eyes fixed on his men. From the way his eyes tracked their progress around the field, Merlin was nervous for them. Like Arthur's knights, this would be the first time the mages would demonstrate their skill publicly, but this would also be the first time for sorcery to be performed publicly.
"Calm down, Merlin," Arthur muttered, "You look like a fool."
"I'm no fool, or you would have made me Court Jester instead of Court Sorcerer," Merlin replied, his eyes never leaving the mages. "And why can't I cheer? I'm excited as everyone else to see how this will play out."
"You know exactly how it will go," Arthur said, "You've had all winter to train them, you know all that they do."
"I've taught them how to use their power, yes," Merlin said, "But they're each very powerful, I'm sure they've got some tricks they haven't show me in training."
"I doubt that," Arthur teased, "They're all so eager to impress you. Like puppies."
That finally made Merlin tear his eyes from his mages to raise an eyebrow at Arthur. "If my mages are puppies, your knights are like...horseflies. Big and impossible to get rid of."
"My knights will defeat your mages, just wait and see," Arthur said, "I've been training them hard this winter, they'll be victorious over mere magic tricks in a matter of minutes."
"We'll just see, won't we."
In the field, Arthur's knights occupied one end while Merlin's mages occupied the other. Both groups were eyeing the other and muttering among themselves, seeking out strengths and weaknesses.
"It's time," Arthur said, and Merlin nodded. Together they rose to a fresh wave of cheers.
"Welcome," Arthur proclaimed, "To the first tournament of the year, this celebration of the end of a particularly harsh winter. We are eager to break in our new knights-" Arthur gestured approvingly to his knights in their corner- "And the mages as well, and to put them to the test."
He nodded in the direction of the mages, who in turn bowed their heads. They weren't trained by Arthur, but they were still his subjects and he was still their king.
"This year is a special one, as instead of years past it will not be new knights against the new, but new knights against the mages. I myself know little of magic, so I am interested to see how Lord Merlin has seen fit to train the mages."
Merlin smiled. He waved at the knights, then winked at his mages.
"Remember this is not a fight to be victorious, but to prove yourself," Merlin said. "As you knights and mages prepare to fight, I remind you that you are not enemies, but friends."
The crowd cheered at those words. The knights and mages regarded each other carefully. Some smiled and waved, others merely nodded.
"Let the tournament begin!"
Trumpets blared as Arthur and Merlin resumed their seats.
"Don't look too frightened, Merlin, my knights have instructions not to kill any of your mages today," Arthur said, leaning over to speak in Merlin's ear as the first fighters took their places on the field.
Merlin grinned at him. "Oh, I'm not afraid for my mages, I'm nervous on behalf of your knights."
"You're very confident in their abilities."
"You have no idea," Merlin replied, eyes gleaming with mischief.
No, Arthur thought, he really didn't. He'd grown up taught that magic was the worst of all evils, and he'd only ever been told about the horrible ways magic could be used. He'd rarely seen the good uses for magic, but ever since magic was legalized people were becoming more and more comfortable with practicing it in public. The ban on magic was lifted in the spring of last year, but in the summer people were still wary of doing any sort of magic with the king around, but they finally began to get comfortable when they learned that Arthur had appointed an official Court Sorcerer that autumn and they realized they no longer had to fear execution.
Still, winter tended to keep people shut inside their homes, warm and safe and out of sight. If there was magic being practiced, Arthur didn't get to see it.
That winter Merlin was up from first light training his small group of mages. In that time Arthur didn't get much opportunity to see magic performed, much to his disappointment. He could have spent a day watching Merlin train the mages, but he himself was busy with the new knights or important matters of state.
The excitement coursed through Arthur now, any reservations about magic melting away with the winter snow. As the first opponents readied themselves Arthur could barely hide his eagerness to see a real display of magic after all this time.
Arthur asked for the name of the mage who would first be fighting, a copper-haired boy with a long nose.
"This is Audrey," Merlin said, "He's the oldest of the group, I suppose that's why he's going first. Who's yours?"
"Bartholomew," Arthur replied.
Audrey and Bartholomew took their places. Bartholomew unsheathed his sword and swung it round and round, sending sunrays in every direction. Audrey, carrying no weapons, stretched his arms and opened his palms, inviting the knight to charge.
There was a moment of stillness. Then Bartholomew charged, sword swung high.
For a moment Arthur thought Bartholomew would strike the boy where he stood, but the moment before his blade touched Audrey, an invisible force threw him across the field. He landed hard, skidding and splattering mud in every direction.
The crowd cheered as Bartholomew got back to his feet, but this time Audrey didn't let him charge. This time he stretched out his hand and Arthur saw his lips move around the words of some spell. The mud at Bartholomew's feet surged, and Bartholomew fell to the ground as if a rug had been pulled from beneath him.
The crowd roared their laughter. Audrey smirked as Bartholomew rose once again to his feet. The knight was now covered in mud from head to toe, while Audrey had not a smudge on him.
"Come on, Bart," Arthur muttered under his breath. As soon as he said it, Bartholomew cast a glance at the box where Arthur sat. Arthur immediately tried to school his expression into something more reassuring, but it was too late. Bartholomew had seen the disappointed look on Arthur's face.
He gripped the hilt of his sword with a renewed expression of determination. Audrey gestured and said something that looked a lot like "bring it on."
Bartholomew charged once more, but he had taken no more than one step before Audrey snapped his fingers and Bartholomew's sword plunged into the ground, taking the knight down with it.
Audrey, moving for the first time from his initial spot on the field, sauntered over to where Bartholomew lay and tugging the sword from his grip.
"Do you yield?" Audrey demanded, pointing the sword at Bartholomew's head.
From the crowd rose cries of "yield!" or "continue!" until Bartholomew raised his head to say, in a voice that Arthur could hardly hear from his spot in the stands, that he yielded.
The crowd roared and Audrey raised his arms above his head, victorious. He waved to the crowd, then turned to the box. He bowed first to Arthur, then to Merlin, then he stuck the blade of the sword into the mud and offered Bartholomew a hand.
Arthur clapped, trying not to look too sullen, while beside him Merlin whooped his pleasure.
"I told you!" Merlin laughed, "My mages win!"
"Hold on, it's only been one fight!" Arthur protested, "Just wait and see, the next knight will win the next round."
The next knight taking the field was Wesley, and Arthur hoped he would prove himself a match for whichever mage would fight against him. Wesley had often proved himself strong in training, but Arthur hadn't prepared him, or indeed any of the knights, for how to deal with magic.
"Ah, Garrick!" Merlin exclaimed, "He's a good sorcerer, very skilled with animals."
"I can see why," Arthur sniffed. Merlin smiled, apparently missing Arthur's reference to the horse-like shape of Garrick's face.
Wesley didn't charge at Garrick, instead stood with his sword at the ready, waiting for whatever Garrick decided to throw at him.
Garrick threw his head back and shouted something in another language at the sky.
"Oh," Merlin murmured, and Arthur had a moment to wonder what on earth Merlin was so surprised at when suddenly a black streak plunged down from the sky straight at Wesley. It came so quickly Arthur wasn't sure at first what he was seeing. Then Wesley was flailing his limbs all about in an attempt to shield himself from the crow that was attacking him.
After a minute's struggle, Wesley managed to drop his sword in order to grab hold of the bird and snap its neck.
"There, you see?" Arthur said, "Wesley knows how to defend himself against sorcery."
Merlin merely threw him an amused look before returning to watch the fight.
Wesley had dropped the crow to the ground and picked up his sword, and was circling Garrick, throwing occasional glances up at the sky for any sign of another crow.
"He could come with us on hunting trips," Arthur mused, as Garrick called something else and the field was suddenly filled with dozens of dogs running in from outside the field.
"Uh oh," Merlin said suddenly, "Oh, no…"
Arthur saw what Merlin was worried about. A single crow, Wesley could fight off easily. Two dozen dogs with big strong paws and sharp teeth, no man could survive.
Wesley tightened his grip on his sword, brandishing it at the dogs who were coming to surround him, and sent panicked looks all around him. He began to back away, edging slowly in the direction of his tent, but Garrick made some command and suddenly the dogs were rushing at him all at once.
Wesley's scream rang through the air as he brought his sword down low. One dog whimpered away from his blade, but before he could swing again the other dogs were on him. Wesley was forced to abandon his sword in favor of running, but the mud caused him to slip and allowed the dogs to pile on top of him.
Arthur rose half out of his seat, and beside him Merlin did the same. Wesley was lost, obscured from view by so many furry bodies. He screamed again and Arthur imagined his organs were being torn out, and he hoped with all his might that their claws would not pierce Wesley's armor.
The scream faltered and died away, and suddenly the crowd was laughing. Arthur craned his neck to get a better view, and finally he could see Wesley lying in the mud. The dogs weren't biting into Wesley's flesh at all, but were licking him furiously instead. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down.
"He shouldn't have done that," Merlin said, frowning, as he watched Garrick retrieve Wesley's sword and demand victory.
"Shouldn't have done what?"
"Used the animals like that," Merlin said. "He's always treated the dogs and cats of the castle with kindness, but look, that crow is dead."
"Better it than Wesley," Arthur pointed out.
"It still worries me," Merlin replied, brow furrowed. He applauded only halfheartedly as Wesley yielded to Garrick. "I'll need to speak with him about it. It could be dangerous if he continues like that."
"Is he a dangerous person?" Arthur asked. He'd seen Garrick about the castle, usually accompanying Merlin somewhere or with his fellow mages. He'd never seen the boy on his own.
"He's...kind, he's usually very kind. Arrogant at times, sometimes ignorant, even. But I think I can help him see his error today."
Arthur frowned. Merlin rarely spoke ill of his mages, proud as he was of them. Most of the time Merlin was always going on about how one of them had succeeded in extracting the essence of some kind of herb or discovered a special talent for healing or made some other magical achievement. He always spoke with happiness and pride of the boys he was training, the first mages of the new era of magic. Never had he said anything bad about their character.
The tournament continued. Balin was up next, against a mage in robes Merlin told Arthur was named Jeffrey. Jeffrey made a quick mistake: he dried the mud so that Balin was stuck to the ground, but there was no way for him to get close enough to get Balin to yield without risking danger to himself.
"Why doesn't he just magic the sword into his own hands?" Arthur asked, as Jeffrey pondered what to do next and Balin attempted to free himself from the mud.
"It's more difficult to do when Balin is so determined to keep it. I think he'll try getting close anyway, oh no, look-"
Jeffrey had indeed gotten too close at the same moment that Balin wrenched his foot out of the mud. With the flat of his sword he knocked Jeffrey to the ground, and with a forceful kick he freed his other foot and stood over him, demanding victory.
"There, you see!" Arthur shouted, roaring his approval with the rest of the crowd.
Three more fights were left. Arthur watched hungrily, dazzled by the tricks the clever mages pulled, proud of the strength of his knights. After Bartholomew and Wesley's tragic losses, the other knights managed not to lose so horribly.
One mage named Brenner conjured a heavy rain to fall on Robert, and only on Robert, soaking him and creating even more mud. Robert proved to have much better balance than the other knights, however, and after a long fight ended up beating Brenner. Another mage,
Bryan, created a wind so powerful it whipped the flags from the hands of the spectators, and Arthur had to hold his cloak tight around him to keep it from flying away.
Through it all, Arthur and Merlin watched their trainees closely, murmuring "he needs to work on that," or "good, he figured out how to do that after all." Arthur was fascinated by the comments that Merlin gave about his mages. He'd laugh and cheer when they did something particularly clever, groaned when they were outsmarted. Occasionally he'd bark out a laugh and say "I taught him to do that!" and watch as his mage performed some spectacular piece of magic.
The final fight was between Balin's brother Balan and the youngest mage.
"Ah," Merlin gasped, "Arthur, this is Darwyn."
"He can't be more than fifteen!" Arthur exclaimed in astonishment, as the young Darwyn calmly took his place on the field that was now torn apart by the fights previous.
"May be, but he's the most powerful of all my mages," Merlin said, "See that, just there on his neck? That's the triscillian symbol. When the ban on magic was lifted the Druids came to me and gave Darwyn into my care."
"They did?" Arthur raised his eyebrows. He knew Merlin had a close relationship with the Druids, that they called him "Emrys" and had high respect for him, but he didn't realize that they had asked that of Merlin. In fact, Arthur knew little about the origins of any of the new mages, only that Merlin trusted each of them. That had been enough for Arthur, but now he feels curiosity for this boy pricking at his mind. "What's so special about him?"
"He's very powerful," Merlin said almost absentmindedly, "They wanted me to train him because they said I was the only one who could understand him."
"I thought the Druids were powerful themselves?"
Merlin shook his head. "Not like him. Darwyn is different." He gestured to the other five mages, now sitting on benches alongside the knights they had just fought. "The things you've seen today, Arthur, are things most magical people can do. Conjuring wind, pulling someone's sword...maybe to you, who hasn't seen much magic before, these things might be impressive. But these mages aren't quite as extraordinary, not like Darwyn and I are."
"You keep insisting they're all powerful," Arthur said.
"They are powerful," Merlin sighed, "But it would take these mages years to learn how to do some of the things that come easily to Darwyn. Besides, many of the more powerful sorcerers are still in hiding. They still remember the Great Purge and don't trust Pendragons yet. No, don't look like that, they'll learn to trust you in time," Merlin said as Arthur opened his mouth to protest, "One day soon I'll send the mages on a campaign to tell other sorcerers of what's happening at your court. Then Camelot's army of mage will be as large as her army of knights. Until then I've chosen mages based on their character. They're just as noble and loyal as any of your knights."
Arthur blinked. The boy was standing motionless on the field, staring down his opponent, calculating carefully.
"You know that the Druids call me Emrys," Merlin continued, "And that to them I'm a kind of...leader, or wise man."
"I know." Arthur also knew that the Druids had called Merlin their king.
"When the Druids brought Darwyn to me, they told me there was a new prophecy. According to this prophecy, when I die, that is, if I die, Darwyn is to be my successor."
Balan was shifting his weight from foot to foot, taking steps forward as though he were about to attack, then drawing back.
"What if you have sons?"
"Succession is not determined through genes," Merlin said, "It's a product of destiny and the will of the gods. I am to train him to harness his power and wield it, and when the time is right he'll take my place as the leader of the Druids. That's why he's special."
"And you believe this prophecy?" Arthur asked. Merlin kept watching Darwyn carefully.
"I believe in destiny and I believe in the gods. I've learned not to meddle with fate. I'll wait and see what comes. I am Emrys, after all."
On the field Balan finally charged, emitting a great cry and pointing his sword straight at Darwyn's heart. The crowd gasped in fright, but in the last moment before he was impaled, Darwyn vanished from sight.
"What-?"
"You see," Merlin said, a smile curving around his lips, "Powerful and clever.'
Balan down on the field was looking about him in confusion, searching the crowd for wherever the boy had disappeared to, when suddenly he cried out and slapped a hand on the back of his neck.
"He turned himself invisible?" Arthur guessed.
Balan slapped his cheek, then waved his arm all about his head. Upon closer inspection, Arthur saw that a tiny black dot was circling Balan's head.
"I was wrong," Merlin mused, "Your knights aren't the horseflies after all."
"Alright, impressive," Arthur admitted, "But a horsefly can hardly kill a man."
Sure enough, after a few minutes of Balan waving about in anger, Darwyn appeared once more as a boy standing in the mud, a delighted smile on his face.
"Oh good, very good!" Merlin said approvingly, as Darwyn stretched out a hand and Balan's boots began to move of their own accord, sending him stumbling all around the field.
Balan roared in frustration as he slipped and fell to the ground, and with a growl he grabbed a handful of mud and slung it in the direction of Darwyn. Darwyn held up his hand and the mud hung suspended in the air. For a shivering second nobody moved, and then there was a great rumbling and the mud on the ground began to froth.
Balan exclaimed in fright as the mud beneath his body moved. It gathered at the spot beneath the hovering ball and began to rise, moulding into a shape until a great monster was casting its shadow over Balan's trembling self.
All Arthur spared was a glance at Merlin to see that even he was impressed, and then he kept his eyes riveted to the scene down on the field. A hush had fallen over the watching crowd as they were all gripped with awe at the mud beast.
The beast started towards Balan, who scrambled to his feet and tried to escape. Darwyn's eyes flashed gold and the gates to the field slammed shut, so that Balan was trapped.
He raised his sword to meet the beast, but the blade went straight through its torso and emerged, mud-streaked, on the other side.
Balan's trembling hand released the hilt of his sword. It slid down through the beast's body until it landed on the soft ground, forgotten. The beast advanced, reaching towards Balan with dripping arms, while Darwyn stood in the background, watching.
Balan ducked and dodged, fleeing into the open space of the field. The beast chased after him, but it was slow as its feet stuck to the ground.
Darwyn blinked, and the beast distorted and split and then there were two beasts, smaller but still horrifying, standing in the field. They both charged at Balan, who continued to scream and run.
Arthur along with everyone else sat still as stone.
The beasts chased Balan into a corner and scooped him up, screaming, to hold between them. He was turned upside down and the two beasts embraced until they formed one unit. As the sword sunk through the muddy body, so did Balan sink to the ground, and the beasts sunk with him like a child's grotesquely melting snow man. They piled on top until all their shape was lost and all that could be seen of Balan were his legs, kicking wildly to free himself.
"He's won," Arthur said in wonder. He looked over at Merlin. He was leaning forward in his seat, watching with an intensely concerned expression on his face.
Something was going wrong. Balan was still stuck in the mud, his legs still kicking uselessly at the air.
"He yields," Arthur said, "Surely Darwyn can see that he's won. He can release Balan now."
Balan's kicks were becoming weaker. On the sidelines the other knights and mages were getting to their feet, hands on their swords or fisted at their sides. The crowd was beginning to revive, growing restless and calling for Balan to be released. Darwyn stood in the same spot, staring at the mud and Balan's legs. He looked as though his mind was in another world than this.
"Release him!" Arthur called, "He yields! Release the knight!"
Darwyn did nothing. He didn't even flinch. He only continued to stare.
"Merlin, Balan will suffocate-" Arthur said, jumping to his feet, "Mage Darwyn, I demand you release Sir Balan!"
Balan's movements were slowing even more, and then for a moment Arthur feared the worst, until-
"Darwyn!"
Merlin stood sharply, his voice piercing through the air like an arrow, and finally Darwyn blinked as though breaking out of a trance. He turned to look at Merlin in the stands.
Merlin's expression was thunderous, cold, but also, Arthur noted, disappointed. Half a moment passed between Merlin and Darwyn, maybe less, and then Darwyn's eyes flashed gold and the mud released its hold on Balan.
The crowd cheered and Arthur sighed with relief. Balan coughed, rolled onto his side, and retched, but he was alive and would recover. The other knights rushed to his side, patting his back and carrying him off the field.
Arthur glanced at Merlin. Merlin was still staring at Darwyn with a world of emotion on his face. Anger, disappointment, disapproval...Darwyn, meanwhile, was shuffling as though he were ashamed. Not for the first time in his life did Arthur wonder if Merlin had the ability to converse without speaking out loud, and watching the way Darwyn hung his head, he supposed he probably did.
When Balan was off the field and Darwyn had shuffled away, Arthur proclaimed the tournament was over and thanked all the participants. He then turned to Merlin.
"Make sure that Balan gets to Gaius," Merlin said before Arthur could speak.
"What about Darwyn?" Arthur asked.
Merlin sighed. "I'm sorry for what just happened, my lord," he said, "He's young and still learning. He never intended to hurt Balan, but he doesn't know his own strength. His own capacity is greater than most others…"
He trailed off, glancing at Arthur uncertainly. "Please don't let this affect your view on magic people," he pleaded, "Darwyn meant no harm, I can guarantee it. He's just young and in need of council, that's what I'm here for. Please-"
Arthur held up a hand to silence him. "I understand," He said, "Darwyn seems powerful. Just make sure he learns. I trust you, Merlin. So if you trust him, I trust him."
Relief broke across Merlin's face. "I swear it," he promised.
"Good."
The crowd around them was dispersing, so Arthur and Merlin made their way out of the box and back across the mall toward the citadel. The crowd thinned as the peasants and servants went about their separate ways. Arthur saw Balin and Wesley helping Balan towards Gaius' chambers. A short distance away the remaining knights and mages were conversing easily, Darwyn among them. Some of the senior knights joined them, and Arthur and Merlin both smiled to see them talking gaily to both the knights and the mages.
"So what did you think?" Merlin asked, nudging Arthur with his elbow.
"Of what?"
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Of my mages, clotpole. Just as impressive as your knights, right?"
Arthur pretended to think about it. "I guess the mud people were sort of clever."
"Oh, come on, it was brilliant!" Merlin yelled, "a bit dangerous but you know they were brilliant!"
"I admit, I was impressed," Arthur acquiesced, "I think they'll be a wonderful addition to Camelot's army."
Merlin looked like he was trying desperately not to punch the air in victory. "A great addition to Camelot itself," He said.
Arthur nodded. "Of course, we'll have to start training them together. I was disappointed that the knights were so easily overcome. They'll need to learn to defend themselves against sorcery."
"Your knights could learn a thing or two from my mages."
"You're so proud of saying they're 'your mages,' aren't you?"
Merlin grinned. "Yep."
Arthur huffed a laugh and shook his head.
They stopped walking and looked back at the group. The knights had shed their armor, and all of them, knights and mages alike, were sitting together in their tunics and talking like they were lifelong friends.
"I think, Merlin," Arthur said, "that bringing magic back has been my best decision as king."
Merlin's eyes shone. "I think that's true. But there's even more great things to come."
Arthur knew it. There would be other laws, and other tournaments, and there would be wars and famines and droughts, but through it he would have Merlin, and his knights, and his mages.
"You know," Arthur said, "You never really have proved your power to me."
Merlin's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean?"
Arthur smirked. "A fifteen year old boy created mud people with his mind. What have you done, light some fires? That's hardly powerful sorcery."
"Lesser sorcerers defeated your knights," Merlin retorted, the beginning of a grin playing at his lips.
"I'm not a lesser knight," Arthur said, "In fact, I'm the greatest knight there is, and if you're supposed to be such a great and powerful sorcerer…"
"Arthur," Merlin interrupted, "Are you implying that you want to have a duel?"
"It's only fitting," Arthur shrugged, "Kings must lead by example. These new knights and mages need to know how it's done."
Merlin threw his head back and laughed.
"Oh, you are so on."