Notes: Arthur centric. I'm pending things sometimes to get the results I want. Can't promise regular updates….
Disclaimer: Not mine.
The battle was complete and utter chaos. More so than usual, Arthur though as he spun around and efficiently gutted the man who had been about to take his head off.
He was very fed up with the little quarrels that had sprung up. During his father's reign this hadn't been a problem. No, the problems had been of a different kind.
He had been the Reagent for about three months and finally the upheaval that had followed Morganas takeover was starting to wane. But it was not over yet, and the current fight was against yet another ragtag group that had crawled out from its hiding hole in hopes of gaining leverage during Morgana's reign.
Morgana really wasn't in any way a competent Queen, Arthur had found out. After wining back his kingdom he had been faced with scared people, weak fighting force and rather lot of collateral damage. Morgana had concentrated her efforts into scaring her people into terrified submission and persuading the remaining knights into cooperation. Via more bloodshed. Arthur couldn't believe that the kindhearted lady with sharp tongue and brave heart could have caused so much sorrow.
He had worked without rest to repair the damage. He had removed some of the riches from the King's vaults in order to rebuild the homes that had been destroyed in the battle. To his delight, some of his knights had retreated when it became obvious that Morgana's army would win and had been plotting in secret, hoping to find their prince. When the word of Morganas defeat had reached them, they had hurried back, horrified that their prince had faced the immortal army alone.
More knights had come to Camelot since then and even few more that had no noble blood. With them, Camelot's fighting force was starting to regain its former strength.
The addition of Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan and Percival was also godsend. They were true warriors and each had a good head on their shoulders. They had rapidly become some of his most trusted men and he often sent them to oversee his orders. He needed people he could trust, with more than his back in battle.
And right now he dearly wished he had at least one of them with him. He had sent small patrols all over the kingdom to quell any unrest from bandits and other petty criminals.
Bloody Morgana and her inability to secure the safety of her people.
He had sent each of his new knights to lead a patrol that consisted of soldiers and few knights to hunt down any offenders. Leon he had left in Camelot to oversee the training of remaining knights. He himself had wanted to see the condition of his people and their crops with his own eyes, to assess any lasting damage done by the harsh ordeal. He had wanted to reassure the people and set their minds at ease. It had worked splendidly. He had sent help to those villages that needed, be it more grain, food or a physician and now had unwavering loyalty of the peasants. Which left the lords and other nobles to be won over.
But right know his immediate survival was his main concern. He had led his own patrol of knights and soldiers but they had been attacked. In the middle of the night. The attackers were not the usual bandits with little skill and much brawl, no, these seemed to be leftovers from Cenred's troops. Apparently not all had put blood in the cup in hopes of immortality. And that had speared their lives. Arthur guessed they hoped to reach favor amongst the lords in Mercia by bringing his head to them. After the death of Cenred Mercia had fallen. There was no heir to the throne and it's army was all but gone. Most influential lords were filling the void and trying to both seize the crown and bring a semblance of order. Arthur had sent a representative in hopes that Mercia would soon settle and he could officially sign a peace treaty.
But there would be no hopes for peace if these soldiers managed to either kill or capture him. Not to mention that Camelot had no heir either. And that left Arthur to fight for his life, with no boots and barely any light. The watch guard had noticed the attackers, but had had only enough time to shout a warning that had roused the men before they had been attacked. At least they had slept with the chainmail on.
But they were outnumbered and he was being forced apart from his men. They were all driven apart. He drove his sword into the next attackers chest, spun and slashed next one's throat.
"Reform! Do not let them surround you!"
If they could reform and watch each other's back they would survive even with the odds against them. His knights were well trained and he trusted them to direct the soldiers. It was his position that was the problem. The darkness prevented him from assessing the situation and the forest was full of noise from the battle. He could not remain in one place or the sheer number of attackers would overcome him. But in the darkness it was harder to be on the move and still remain close to his knights. And his attackers were doing their best to put as much distance between him and his men.
For a brief moment he wished that Merlin were there. Merlin had a wonderful ability to protect his back with his abilities. But then he remembered that he had ordered Merlin to stay behind to help Gaius with the wounded. Poor Gaius needed every available pair of hands to deal with the patients.
But Merlin's magic would be rather helpful right now, even if he wouldn't count on it in non-magical battles.
Arthur was no fool.
He had noticed Merlin's rather particular brand of luck rather quickly. First he chose not to act on it in order to find out what Merlin wanted. So he played oblivious, and kept a sharp eye on him. He was already curious about Merlin since he had saved Arthur's life. And had kept on saving it, and Camelot and even his father's life.
Soon it had become a game. Merlin would do something and save the day in rather obvious way and Arthur would play blissfully oblivious, tease Merlin and then show his appreciation in small ways without Merlin ever realizing they were his tokens of appreciations.
Sometimes he thought Merlin new that he new. Sometimes Merlin's eyes would flash when he walked next to Merlin instead of ahead of him in public or when he ignored Merlin's habit to address him by name rather that title or sire, and there would be a small smile playing in the corner of his lips. He would stand a little taller, his chin a little higher and he would snipe at Arthur as if they were not prince and a servant but equals. And Arthur would snipe back or throw something and they would go on with their day with a smile hidden in their eyes.
Arthur had let things be as they were. He would lie for Merlin and he didn't mind when Merlin lied, since it was his little game. Their game. Maybe he would one day confront Merlin about it, when he could set the law as he saw fit. He could talk to Merlin about the nature of magic and how to deal with it in order for Camelot to best benefit from it, or to be best protected from it. Gaius and Merlin would know better than him since they mostly took care of the magical threats in the end.
Arthur cursed, a sharp hiss escaping as one soldier managed to slice his arm. He dispatched the man for his troubles but was forced to retreat more into the forest, further away from his men. Soon he would have to flee, least he be overwhelmed.
He fought with all the fierceness and skill he had gathered during his life and left a trail of fallen men at his wake. He was running, trying to stay ahead and the glow of fire from their camp grew smaller as he fought.
A sword came at his head in big arc, the man wielding it having at least a head more in height to him, and he raised his sword to block. He felt the hit in his whole body, but managed to direct it to the side and sink his sword through the chainmail and into into the man's side. Another man came at him while he was still locked in combat and this time he was too slow to avoid the attack. His own sword was still inside his previous assailant and the next attack caught him. He scrambled away, hand pressing over the wound but still more came at him.
He realized he was now driven into a corner. One on one, he could still take them, but he only had two hands and now he was wounded. He ran.
Cador was a weary man. He live in his small house at quite a distance from the nearest village and had a small patch of ground to farm, few chickens and a goat. He was a talented craftsman and carved wood to earn what he couldn't grow. He once had a wife whom he loved dearly but sickness took her from him a few winters ago. What he was left with was the memory of her kind and selfless heart. And eight children. His wife could not turn her back to the suffering of a child and none of the children were his by blood. He and his wife were unable to have any of their own. They had lived in seclusion in the forest were he could easily come by the kind of wood he needed for his carving. It had been a lonely life without any children.
Once in every month they would travel to the village and trade. During one of those trips his wife, whose heart ached for a child to care as her own, had picked up an abandoned child from the street. Over the time, one child became two, then three until he found himself alone with eight mouths to feed.
His eldest, Claudin, was thirteen winters and together with his slightly younger sister, Iseult, took care of the house and the small field. He carved wood and took care of the heaviest and more difficult tasks, and with them all working, they survived.
He was on his way to collect the logs he had left after cutting down a tree the previous day. With him he had his cart and two of his small sons, Gwyn and Lucan. They were still small and ran around him, playing together. They would not be much help to lift the heavy logs, but worked well together and Cador could trust them not to get hurt.
They had yet to reach their destination when they heard sound that set ice to Cador's stomach. The sound of metal clashing. The sound of battle. He froze where he stood, trying to hear anything that would tell him who was battling. Next to him Gwyn had noticed his reaction and snatched Lucan's had in his, bringing them both to his side. Cador reached for his axe and whispered to his now quiet sons.
"There is a danger ahead. Go home and tell Claudin there is a battle in the forest. You must hide in case they are bandits going to attack."
Gwyn and Lucan now clung to each other in fear for they new what a bandit's attack meant. "We will" said Gwyn with all the false bravado of a child and pulled Lucan with him, running as fast as he could to their house.
Cador watched them go and sent a small prayer to the Old Gods. The he started to the direction of the battle.
He advanced slowly, fearing that he would be spotted and killed on the spot. He should turn around and hide, but he did not want to cover in fear, guessing when the bandits would run from the forest and kill them all. He would much rather find them and see the threat himself.
Finally he reached the site of battle, just in time to see a young man with golden hair to slay another man. Silver flashed in the sunlight and he realized they were both knights. Was a war upon them when two knights fought so fiercely?
He sneaked closer trying to see the colors the knights were wearing in order to identify them. When he got closer he saw the remaining knight stagger and slump against a tree. He was wounded!
Cador inched closer, worried and anxious. It was then that he saw the symbol sewn on the front of the golden haired knight's tunic.
It was the Pendragon's dragon.
The knight was from Camelot, one of the Prince's knights.
Cador abandoned stealth and rushed to the knight's side, kneeling beside him.
"Sir Knight, please, is there any way I can help?" he said in a rush, eyes sweeping over the man and assessing the damage. It wasn't pretty. It was apparent the knight had been a victim of ambush since he wore no boots and the soles of his feet were now covered in blood. The knight had run his feet raw. There was blood everywhere, dripping down his face from a cut over his eye, from his arm, from his side, above the knee. Cador's had hovered over the knight, not knowing where to start.
The knight had raised his sword when he had heard Cador's approach, but had lowered it again when he saw only a peasant. He now stared at Cador blearily, utterly exhausted from his fight. His gaze was still steady and had a steely glint into it. It made Cador for some reason want to bow low in respect, least he offend the knight.
He reached for the wound that ran over the knight's stomach and under his arm. He could see fresh blood seeping through the links of chainmail. How long had the knight been bleeding? His complexion was frighteningly pale and his face drawn in pain. Cador doubted the knight would be able to move anymore, not with the weak tremors that ran through his limbs. His muscles were cramping from tiredness.
Before his hand could make contact the knight grabbed his arm in weak grip.
"No, leave it" the knight rasped, "I am not sure I lost those who pursue me. You are in danger if you stay to help me."
Cador frowned, then shook off the knight's hand and went back to inspecting the wound. "Why do these men chaise you? Who are they?" he questioned as he drew back and started to unwind his scarf to tie the wound.
The knight did not stop him this time, instead he answered "They are knights of Mercia, those who survived the war. "
"Mercia?" He had heard of Lady Morgana's betrayal and how Prince Arthur had driven her out of Camelot in a battle, seizing back the control of his Kingdom. "Why do these men chase you? Are they still trying to conquer Camelot? Is Camelot still in war with Mercia?" He had though the war was over now that Lady Morgana was defeated and the King of Mercia was dead.
The knight drew in a sharp breath when Cador started to tie the scarf over the wound despite how careful the older man tried to be. When he answered it was through gritted teeth.
"The war is practically over, but there is no one yet to sign a peace treaty with. These Knights are scared and without a leader. I believe they are trying to achieve something by either killing or capturing me."
Cador looked into the knight's face, regarding him.
"Who are you? What could they accomplish by capturing you?" The knight tilted his head slightly to the side, as if considering Cador, eyes searching him intensively enough for Cador to shift uncomfortably. How could such a young man make him feel like a mere boy, unsure of himself?
The knight's hair flashed in the morning sun, shining in beautiful gold. It was then that Cador remembered what he had heard.
The golden prince of Camelot. Beautiful like no other man. With golden hair and blue eyes, just like his mother, Queen Igraine.
"You are the prince!" Cador gasped in astonishment. The prince, now prince reagent, wounded and alone in the woods! "Your Highness! What happened? Please, tell me what to do and I shall help."
The prince looked at him in mild bemusement, and then sighed. "You know I am the prince, then you should know what danger I bring if those knights find me. Why do you not flee?" He sifted slightly, tightening his grip on his sword. He did not have his gauntlets on.
"Your Highness," resting his hand briefly on the Prince's shoulder Cador smiled slightly "You have been the Reagent for only a short time and already you have the loyalty of your people. Bandits attacked my village long ago. We sent a plea for help and you answered it. We survived the following winter only because of the help you provided after dispatching the bandits. I own you my life. Now I pay it back."
The prince shook his head. "You own me nothing. It is my duty to protect Camelot and her people. " He shifted again, this time trying to regain his footing and raise from the ground. As the soles of his feet touched the ground he let out a starlet hiss.
Cador was quick to ease the prince down again. "No, your majesty, do not move." He bit his lip as the prince shifted his feet so the wounds were not touching the ground. He should get the prince in the shelter of his home, but he was not sure if the prince's wounds would allow him to be carried.
"Your Highness, I do not do this only because you helped my village. I do this because you are a man worth saving. Now, do you think you can be lifted?"
The prince stared at him with what could only be astonishment before huffing out a tired laugh. With it seemed to go the last of his strength and he slumped boneless against the tree, head falling back. "You are not going to leave me, are you?" He whispered, peeking at him through half-lidded eyes. Cador shook his head with the wry grin. "Very well, " continued the prince, "I do not think there is much choice then, I can not walk a single step any longer."
Cador assessed the prince. He had a warrior's build, but had still the lightness of a man in his twenties. He wasn't too tall, and even with the chainmail Cador was sure he could carry the prince, at leas till they got to the carriage. He reached for the prince's wrist in order to pull the young man over his shoulder when he heard a noise. Both he and the prince froze.
"Go," hissed the prince, pushing him away "there are still some left. Hide and if I survive you can come back for me." He reached for a low hanging tree branch and to Cador's astonishment, hauled himself to his feet. The action made him even paler and he went gray from the pain, but he did not fall. Lifted his sword and motioned Cador to hide. "Go! They are close! You are not a knight, your duty is not to fight!"
Cador hesitated before he snatched the prince's arm. "No, we can hide together."
The prince wrenched himself free. "Do not be a fool! They are not bandits; they are Mercia's knights! They know I am here and they can track me down. It's no use for me to hide. But they do not know you are here and they are not interested in peasants. Now go! You are no use to me dead and you cannot fight trained knights." He pushed Cador away from him and turned to fell in other direction. He left bloody footprints to the ground. They could now hear cleary the sound of men approaching them.
Cador hesitated, then turned and fled. But he could no go far, for the fear of losing the young prince. He hid in the undergrowth keeping the prince in his sights. The prince staggered forward. Other hand pressed tightly against his side, other clutching his sword. He used the trees to take a little weight off his feet. He must have run over stony terrain in order to gain such wounds.
Suddenly Cador saw the pursuers. There were three more knights. Three! The prince couldn't possibly take them all when he shouldn't be able to even stand! Cador still had his axe with him. It was meant for cutting wood but he could cause damage with it. He inched closer, just in case as he watched the prince turn to face his pursuers and lift his sword. There was no sign of pain in his face, only determination. Cador was struck speechless from the sight of the brave prince.
The first knight had reached the prince. Foolishly he thought the prince incapable to defend himself anymore and attacked boldly. He was quickly killed for the mistake. Camelot's Prince was not helpless if he could still stand.
The second knight was not as stupid and the prince was drawn into an longer fight. Cador saw the third man approach from behind, intending to take down the prince. Cador would not allow it. He slunk behind the man and then sprung from the undergrowth, sinking his axe into the man's back. The man went down and the distraction of Cador's attack allowed the prince to kill his opponent. He turned with a grateful smile to Cador only for his smile to turn into alarm.
"Watch out!"
The prince lunged towards Cador as the man whom Cador had thought dead or unconscious rose with his sword raised. Cador had barely enough time to blink before the sword was buried in his chest. Another blink and the prince stood in front, his sword now peeking through the chest of the foreign knight. The knight coughed once, blood dripping from his mouth, before the prince pulled out his sword and the man fell to his side.
Cador felt his legs give out under him. As he sank to the ground the prince reached out to grab him, but was too weak to hold them up. They both sank to the ground. The prince held the older man against his chest as they both gasped for breath.
"Yo- you saved my life. I would… would not have sur- survived otherwise. And you…. paid for it." gasped the prince between his uneven breathing. Cador reached out his arm and managed to grasp the prince by his shoulder. He was laid across the younger man's lap, head resting against cold chainmail in the crook of the younger man's arm. He could feel the warmth of his blood as it ran from around the sword still in his chest. The pain was overpowering and he knew he would die.
"P-please" He begged. Tears were starting to leak from the corners of his eyes. He didn't know whether they were from pain or fear. "Please, your Highness" His hand now clutched the shoulder under his palm with a white-knuckled grip. It must have hurt but the prince didn't show it.
"Hush," He whispered, laying a calming hand on Cador's forehead, "Hush now. It's all right. You'll be all right. Tell me your name."
"Cador", he gasped, still frantic "Please, I have children- "
"Calm, Cador, calm. They will be provided for."
"N-no, I- I am the only… only one they have. There is no-one e-else." He pulled on the prince's shoulder, looking straight into those blue eyes. He held the gaze and made his request.
"Make sure they are looked after. Promise me! Promise me you will not let harm come to them if it is in your power to prevent it!"
The prince held his gaze with reassuring strength and calmness that made him look far beyond his years.
"I promise you, Cador, that I will do my all to ensure their survival. I promise on my honor."
Cador searched for a lie in the young man's eyes, and when he saw none, he closed his own and relaxed.
"Good" he sighed, and then he was gone.
He died in peace, but he might not have had known the severity of the prince's condition.
Shortly after Arthur realized the man was dead, he crumpled to the ground, finally succumbing to the fatigue, fever and pain that should have claimed him hours ago. He had survived this long with sheer force of will but now he had no strength left. He couldn't move his limbs and pain pulsed through him. He couldn't identify where it came for anymore. He could feel tremors running through him, as the world around him grew darker. Cold was seeping into him from the ground and he felt like it was moving underneath him. He tried to move one last time, but the pain from the action finally tugged him to unconsciousness.
That could have been his end. It would have been without Claudin.
When Gwyn and Lucan had run into the house, Lucan crying in fear and Gwyn not far behind, Claudin had already feared the worst. Iseult and his other sister Lunette had quickly calmed the boys down enough for them to explain what had them so scared and where Cador was.
After hearing the story Claudin had ordered his siblings to hide in a small tree house they had build in the forest last summer. Then he had set after his father. He moved with care, heart in his throat, fearing he would be attacked at any moment.
He had found his father's cart and had started to search any signs that would point him to the right direction. With some effort he found his father's trail and started to follow it. It eventually led him to a dead soldier. He saw a sword and chainmail, better than average clothing and guessed that this was no bandit. This was a knight.
He stayed absolutely still and listened for any sounds but the forest was very quiet apart from normal sounds of life. Then he saw smears of blood on the ground. They led away from the body. Whoever had walked away had been badly hurt. Claudin guessed what he saw were footprints, but the gait was very uneven, as if the one who left could barely walk. He swallowed and followed giving the unmoving body a wide breath.
Only a short distance later he saw more unmoving forms on the ground. Tears prickled in his eyes as he recognized the clothing on one of them. Forgetting his caution he rushed to his father's side, letting out a choked sob when he saw the sword and realized his father was already gone. He touched his father's face lightly, tears now running freely. He then bent his head so his forehead was resting on his father's and cried.
The forest remained calm around him as he mourned for his father, the only adult in his life. Fear for future and heavy responsibility for his family rested heavily on his shoulders and added to his grief. He did not know how long he cried, but eventually his tears ended and he lifted his head. He had had his time to cry, and now he had to face the reality. He was now the head of the family.
He wiped his face and turned to inspect the man next to his father. He was young and lying half under his father, other hand still under his father's head. A bloody sword lay near another dead knight. Two more were on the ground a bit father away.
One of Cador's hands were close to the young man and Claudin guessed the man had comforted his father when he died. He inched closer and studied the man's face. He was very beautiful, with straight nose, full lips and angular yaw. Claudin reached out to touch the man when he realized the man was still alive! His chest rose and fell ever so slightly in shallow and uneven pattern.
Cador pulled the man out from under his father and arranged him in a position that looked more comfortable. He saw his father's scarf around the man and realized his father must have helped the man.
Claudin bit his lip. He wanted to do what his father had done and help this man, but he did not know how. He had not learned much about tying wounds and caring for the sick. His mother had thought his sisters some herb lore but he himself new none. The man wasn't too big and he might be able to lift the man with some help, but he could not carry a grown man's unconscious body to his home. And if he left the man he would surely die.
The cart! Claudin scrambled up and started to run back home. He would gather his siblings and they could lift the man on the cart and pull him to their home where they could care for him. Like his father had done.
Claudin hurried home to bring his news. It took long before any of his siblings could do more than cry together, seeking comfort from on other. He allowed them to cry, he himself cried a bit more. It was already late evening before his devastated siblings were calm enough for him to explain what he wanted them to do. He gathered his sisters Iseult, and Lunette and his brothers Rion and even Gwyn and Lucan. Then they set to collect the cart.
Claudin would not allow his siblings to see the aftermath of the battle. Instead he took Iseult and together they rolled the lonely survivor on a blanket and bulled him to the cart where his siblings waited. They took off the man's chainmail and together they managed to get him on the cart. Iseult then returned to their father, pulled out the sword and covered their father. They would come back for the body early in the morning.
Iseult tied the corners of the blanket together and sent a prayer that no animals would come during the night. Crying quietly, she rested her hand on the blanket and said her goodbyes and apologies that their father would have to spend the night in the forest. Then she turned around and went to help her sibling to save the man that still could be saved.
The journey was hard and darkness was fast approaching before they reached their home where to of the youngest, Caelia and Eliwlod, waited. By the time they had the man inside their house, resting on the floor in front of their cooking fire, he was burning with high fever.
Iseult and Lunette did what they could. They cleaned the wounds and used all their honey on them. They gave him water and fever reducing herbs and put cold clothes on him to protect him from high fever. They gave him water to drink and cleaned away the blood and dirt. And they hoped the man would not die. Their father had risked his life for this man and it would all be for nothing if he were to die.
Camelot was in disarray. Arthur's patrol had mostly survived and the dead were accounted for.
Except for Arthur.
They had searched for him, but the battle had hidden any trails and they had been wounded. Those who could, had remained behind to continue the search and the rest had headed back to get help.
News of Arthur's disappearance had not leaked to the Citadel yet but as one day turned into two, then tree and four, the rumors had started spread. Before Arthur had left, he had set firm instructions for his council and they still followed those instructions. That left the knights free to search for their prince.
Leon had taken control of the knights since he was Arthur's first knight. He, along with Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan had set to head the search. They had found the start of Arthur's trail, but it was extremely difficult to follow since Arthur had tried his best to lose his pursuers. Arthur was a skilled knight and had lost most, if not all, of his enemies. But the different trails left by the Mercia's knights served only to hide what little remained of Arthur's tracks. Eventually even Leon, who knew Arthur's tricks the best had lost the trail and they had to switch strategies and start a wide search of surrounding villages and forests. During those searches they also searched Cador's village, with no results.
Merlin had accompanied them in all of those searches and had driven himself and the knights half mad with his worry. He knew Arthur was not dead yet, but that did not serve to calm him.
They traveled from village to village trying to find anyone who had seen anything, but it seemed Arthur had vanished in to the air.
"Oh, God! That stupid prat!" Merlin moaned as he paced in front of their campfire, "I bet he is doing this on purpose, just to annoy me! He'll be the end of me someday! He attracts so much trouble it can't be normal! What if those stupid knights kidnapped him? What if he ran into some insane sorceress and got cursed? Oh, I bet he got cursed! How am I going to find him if he cot turned into a toad or something?"
As he paced Merlin's rant became more and more frantic. This was common enough occurrence now since Merlin had started his worrying the moment Arthur had rode out of the gates.
The knights were used to it. It was rather comical to hear a servant worry about his master like a particularly worried mother. The humor died quickly when their own worry started to rise into alarming heights. Lancelot watched Merlin's pacing for a while longer before he reached out and pulled Merlin down to sit with them. Merlin didn't resist, instead he collapsed on the log and buried his face into his hands.
Gwaine, who sat on his other side leaned to nudge Merlin's shoulder. "Hey, don't panic so much. We will find him." He said, and then grinned lightly, "Besides, Princess knows how to take care of himself."
Merlin lifted his head from his hands, not at all reassured. "Oh yeah? How about the time when he went on his quest for the Fisher King's trident? We arrived just in time to save his hide!"
Gwaine shrugged. "Yeah, but that was a magical danger. He was ill and there were these Wyrens attacking. This time it's just normal knights."
"Just knights? Just knights?!" Merlin cried out. He looked ready to jump up and start pacing again.
Leon, who wanted to prevent any more hysterics, was quick to add his reassurances. "Arthur knows how to deal with knights. Even if he got captured, he knows how to escape."
"Yes, you do remember the castle of Fyrien?" You got captured and he got all of us out just fine." Elyan added.
Merlin just groaned and dropped his head into his hands again. Lancelot put his hand on his shoulder, offering his comfort. "We will keep on searching. Arthur is a good man and well liked prince amongst his people. If someone has found him, they will help him."
Merlin glanced at Lancelot from behind his hands. "But why haven't we found anything. No one has seen him. Not even rumors."
This time it was Percival who answered him. "He might have been injured during the fight. Maybe he is merely resting before he can travel again."
Merlin moaned again at the word injured.
They continued their search but when Arthur had been missing for a week Leon had to go back to Camelot. He did not dare to leave the castle any longer when the situation was still so fragile. His presence was needed even if he wished he could continue the search personally. And so, on the morning of the eight day he rode back to Camelot while the others continued the search. Half of the knights would remain in the citadel and the rest continued the search.
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