Sorcerers are such a pain, Arthur thought grimly, as he made his way through the woods, ignoring his aching head. The trees cleared, and he stepped out at the edge of a field, and sighed in exasperation. He had been following them for almost an hour now, and while it clearly hadn't crossed their minds to at least attempt to cover their tracks, that was nothing compared to this.
Bandits are too, for that matter. If you're going to have a secret hideout, why not actually make it secret?
In the middle of that field, their so called stronghold would be seen by anyone passing through. Arthur tried not to be too let down. After all, the odds were in his favor. He could have spent days searching. But honestly, was it too much to ask for a decent challenge?
Grumbling to himself about boring rescue missions, he tied his horse to a tree and grabbed the crossbow, eyes narrowing as he observed the fortress. Two shots fired dealt with the patrol on the second level of the building, and as none came rushing to replace them, he moved forward, making his way through the field, his hunched form obscured by high grass.
The entrance was left unguarded, and he almost buried his face in his hands in frustration. Beating the villains of Albion into submission used to be a lot more fun. It's like they're not even trying anymore, he thought as he entered the inner yard to the suspicious sound of clucking. Apparently, this fort's entire line of defense was a chicken coop and a pig's pen.
Unless …
"No, Gwaine, I can't magic us out of there," Merlin repeated, his tone growing shorter. "Not with these chains on. Besides, it doesn't matter. Arthur will be here soon, anyway."
Gwaine rolled his eyes. "That is if he's even woken up from his nap yet. Why is it that so many of your solutions to problems involve knocking out and hiding the one warrior who can defeat a band of outlaws unaided, retrieve our swords and remember to get me a drink?"
Merlin just looked at him for a beat, an incredulous quirk on his lips. "Um, because if I didn't at least try to quell his quest for idiocy, Gwen would give me that look?"
Gwaine looked at him blankly.
"You know the look," Merlin insisted. "Where she narrows her eyes, and she's disappointed, and she gives you that look that somehow manages to be both scolding and forgiving? It keeps me up at nights, I'm telling you."
"Oh," Gwaine gritted out, his face suddenly paler. "The look."
"Exactly."
Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the warning bell, and running footsteps leading out into the yard. The clucking of chickens made its way down to their cell, and before long, their annoyed king appeared in the corridor, not giving them the chance to greet him.
"If you ever knock me out again, at least have the decency to make it worth my time. It took me one hour to find you two, Merlin. One hour. It wasn't even difficult to find their tracks."
"Hello to you too, sire," Merlin answered, not bothering to get up from the floor.
Arthur just sighed, swinging the cell door open with a kick. "I guess this is all the drama I'm gonna get. Let's go."
"Arthur, I can't get out of the chains," he pointed out. "They're resistant to magic."
Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, inspecting the chains. After a moment's deliberation, his eyes lit in a mischievous glint, and he suddenly raised his sword, ignoring their protests. Excalibur thrust down, and with a silent thump, the lock fell apart.
"Chains are just chains, Merlin, even if the baddies claim they're magical," he concluded. "Thanks for offering some excitement, though. We'd better get out of here before they catch their livestock."
"That was you, was it?" Gwaine grinned, the noise from outside still soaring.
"Well, they clearly weren't guarding you two," he confirmed, an incredulous shake of his head. "I guess I could have just walked in and got you, but that would have been too easy, wouldn't it?"
When the king of Camelot, his sorcerer and his knight made their escape from the fortress, the bandits were still chasing chickens.