Potestas, a name my Knights have given me.
In Latin, it means Power; to the Sarmatians, it means Power of the Father.
Merlin, Mydridd, Moros, Janus; whatever you wish to call him, tells me that I'm the Father of a new nation.
I am the son of a Roman and a Celtic Briton woman.
My wife is a Woad, a member of one of the Pict tribes.
For years I have been the Commander of the Auxilia. A Handful of Centurions and a Single Legion, throw away soldiers from the other Legions.
Now I am King.
All I know is commanding men.
My Knights; Sarmatian Heavy Calvary. Numidian Light Calvary and Syrian Mounted Archers. Thracian and Creteian Archers. Slingers from the Balearic Islands.
Praetorian Guards that stayed behind after the wealthier Romans fled back to Rome.
Legionaries from the various outposts along Hadrian's Wall.
Men who fought under the standard of the Dragon, the Draco.
All good men that followed me as their Commander, now those that have survived to reach this point call me King.
I think Bors pissed himself laughing.
I have told them that they are welcome to return to the lands of their fathers as free men, the majority have told me that they will be staying, as free men.
When Merlin explained the magic in this parchment, I was uncertain if I would actually write on it.
To preserve my story, in my own words, but to also hold bits of the knowledge I've gained as a Commander and Warrior.
He said that one of my descendants will need the Knowledge of his Fore Fathers when Dragons return to the sky and Winter walks on two legs.
The magic of this place confuses me, worries me at times, always has.
I have met the Goblins, Centaurs, I've been told stories of Serpents that can kill with a gaze.
Greek Explorers called this place of magic Insula Albionum, the Island of the Albions.
Merlin calls it Avalon.
Just as he calls me King Arthur.
Lord of the Noble House of Potter.