Once, Camelot's guards were the best of Albion.
"We caught another five escaping tonight," Kestrel reported; Captain Kai's shoulders sagged.
"Describe them," he ordered, though everybody already knew what kind of people were trying to escape. Even within their ranks, some of the guard - the wise and the lucky - had already disappeared into anonymity, far, far away from the bloody borders of Camelot.
Kestrel hid behind impassive attention, clearly thinking along the same lines. "One had magic. Not much. She could barely summon a flame, and unless all the sense was knocked out of her head, she would have fought back if she could. The other four were trying to escape before they were executed for knowing a sorcerer. All in the dungeon awaiting trial. Sir."
All the unspoken thoughts, all the carefully neutral words. How had it come to this? One sorceress, one death, and -
Even treasonous thoughts were treason. He stopped.
"Kestrel," he said at length, "it's been a long night." It's been a long year. "Bring the men some of the fall cider. They've earned it."
Kestrel blinked. "But the cider's going bad -" He paused. "I'll do it myself, sir," he said, ever so neutrally.
Dice, once grounds for immediate dismissal, gradually found their way onto late night tables and far outposts. Absences went unfilled. Training slipped. The king, oblivious to the fact that his once-elite were not nearly as competent as before, carried on as if nothing had changed. (He was half right. A good deal slipped past the ordinary guards, but very little escaped Kai's very careful attention.)
Sorcery, of course, was blamed for the increasing escapes. Yet another nail in the coffin the guards were slowly and unknowingly dismantling.
It was nineteen years later, and Captain Kai was exhausted. His job had become far more demanding of late. While King Uther still remained complacent, his son was becoming more and more aware of the substandard quality of the Camelot guards. Magical attacks, for many years dormant, were again on the rise. Anonymous contacts warned that the Old Religion was stirring, and it demanded blood and justice. On top of it all, an uneasy report had been filed by one of the few remaining old guard who had remained as protectors of the city - for the city was what they had sword an oath to, not to the castle, not even to the king. Someone has been down to visit the dragon, the note read. A chill trickled down Kai's spine. The dragon was dangerously bitter and enormously powerful, held in check only by straining locks of questionable origin.
Wait, he wrote in careful, tight script at the bottom of the report. And watch. His hand shook only a little. Invisible, unless you were looking for it. He sent the directive out to all of the old guard. And they watched.
They watched as the boy quietly and usually unobtrusively deflected threats to the unsuspecting prince. They watched as a startling and unusual friendship slipped into the prince's arrogant, caring, isolated life. They watched as the boy started uncertainly down a long and lonely path of protection that, although somewhat different, the old guard knew only too well.
Kai had been worn down by his role for many years, only remaining because he knew both the skills of the old guard and why the new recruits could not learn such things. None else could replace him. Not until now, when Arthur's cheerful, lonely protector started guiding Arthur onto a path that might one day allow Camelot's guard to again be the best of Albion.
"Retirement?" Bedivere said, shock and sorrow strong in his voice. "We need you, Kai - you are one of the only guardians this city has left."
Kai smiled, slow and aching. "The city has a better one, now." A young man, old enough to know right and wrong and young enough to be unwearied by it. One capable of far more sacrifice than Kai found in the depths of his soul. One who gave all and asked nothing but forgiveness - he hoped that one day, the prince would see who truly stood at his shoulder.
And so the passing of roles, quiet and unobserved, was silently handed on to the next generation.
Inspired by The Guard's Code of Conduct by Drag0nst0rm over on Ao3.