Chapter Two
"Put more force into your swing, Leret!" Arthur ordered, watching the newest potential knights-to-be go through the drills. Several of them showed much promise. He hadn't decided if Leret was one of them yet. The man was too timid in his strikes. Though perhaps with time that would be eradicated.
"Ceron, your stance is too narrow! I could knock you down with one finger! Stand firm!" Arthur sparred a glance towards the man who had shouted the order—his trusted knight Burik. Burik was mainly in charge of training these eager recruits. Arthur was only really here to see which ones had any potential.
Was it Burik? his unconscious mind whispered to him.
Arthur had already asked that question, so he ignored it and turned his attention to the line of trainees once more.
"What do you think?" Burik's familiar voice asked unexpectedly. Arthur nearly jumped—he hadn't noticed the knight had been moving towards him.
Maybe it was Burik.
Don't be stupid, Arthur, he told himself. He doesn't need magic to walk across a field.
"That one there has talent," Arthur responded, indicating a man a third of the way down the line. "I haven't caught his name yet."
"His name is Garris. He's from the village Oreet'i."
"A villager?" Arthur asked in surprise. "But he's a noble. He must be."
Burik nodded. "The third son of the Seifild family." Arthur bowed his head in understanding. That fief had been slaughtered several years ago by Cederic, before the treaty had been formed. Few had survived, and most of those few preferred a much simpler lifestyle after what had happened. "He must have been young when he fled. And he can't have trained in the village. How did he get to be so skilled in a village?"
"He didn't," Burik responded. "He'd hardly touched a sword until he came here to Camelot."
Arthur looked back at the man with a new respect. "That's some natural talent then." He indicated another man, a few spaces away from Garris. "What about Achet there? His defense is weak, but he's got a very firm attack stance. And he's fast. What's his story?"
"Second son of the Benay family. From what I gather, he wants to prove he can live up to his brother's level of expertise." Arthur nodded. That was the more typical background he was used to. "Oy! Leret! Don't hesitate, strike hard and fast!"
As Burik moved to address the issue more closely, Arthur couldn't stop his eyes following the knight. Burik was known for being rather sure of himself. And Emrys had certainly been calm and in control.
Arthur suppressed a sigh and looked away. Burik was too tall to be Emrys.
-
That evening Arthur dined with his father to inform him of his observations. "How are the new recruits fairing in training?" Uther asked.
"There are several promising individuals," Arthur reported. "And many more not so promising."
Uther nodded. "That's to be expected. But Burik is a good trainer. Perhaps he can make them into something yet."
Arthur nodded respectfully. "I've no doubt that if anyone can do it, it will be Burik. How are things fairing with Cedric? I understand he has been particularly paranoid in regards to Camelot recently."
Uther heaved a sigh. "No doubt matters will eventually grow worse, but for right now things seem to be holding steady."
"Do you have any plans to resolve matters peacefully?"
"I wish things could be so simple, my son, but unfortunately things seem to be going in a very different direction. He has yet to breach our borders with his violence, but he has been so severe on travelers suspected of leaving Camelot that it is difficult to say what the future holds."
Arthur nodded solemnly. He and Merlin had experienced that brutality but half a year ago, when they had traveled to find Balinore.
"Do you think—" both father and son froze in an instant. It was subtle, but the vibrations were definitely there. The room was shaking. Arthur jumped to his feet, reaching for the sword he did not wear. A moment later the vibrations stopped.
"What was that?" the prince asked, looking around the room for any sign of danger.
Uther didn't look quite so concerned. "A simple earthquake, most likely, and a mild one at that." Nonetheless, he called for the guards. "Did you feel that?" Uther asked as they entered.
"Indeed, Sire. What shall we do?"
"We have no reason to suspect anything unnatural about it, but have your men do a sweep of the castle looking for anything out of the ordinary. I will not take any chances."
"Yes, my liege."
"An earthquake?" Arthur repeated once the guards had left. He'd never been in an earthquake before. "In Camelot?"
"It is not unheard of, though they do not come frequently. The last one I remember was nearly thirty years ago, and it did hardly any damage at all." Arthur nodded slowly.
-
Merlin stopped dead in his work, feeling as though he had drunk one of Gaius' potions that made him slightly dizzy. But this was not him, this was the ground. A moment later the vibrations stopped. Merlin looked up at the man who stood in front of him at the pump. "Did you feel that?" he asked.
The man, looking quite unnerved, nodded. "I've never been in an earthquake before. Do you s'pose more will follow?"
An earthquake? Merlin frowned, trying to remember what his mother had said about earthquakes. "I don't know," he answered, not remembering anything in particular. The man left hurriedly to return home, and Merlin stood up for his turn to pump water before hurrying inside once more.
He felt no further tremors as he returned to Arthur's chambers, so Merlin put the strange occurrence out of his mind. He dumped the last bucket of water into the tub. He didn't bother to heat it—he never did. It would be far easier to simply heat it with a flash of his eyes when Arthur walked through the door. That way the prince could never complain that Merlin had started too soon and that it was too cooled off. There was, of course, that one time when he had heated the bath a little too well, but since then he simply decided to pay a bit more attention—even with simple little heating spells.
He heard the door open.
"Aestus," he muttered under his breath, focusing on the water. He released it when a slight steam rose up.
"Merlin?" the expected voice rang out. "I hope you've got my bath ready. I am utterly exhausted.
Merlin quickly felt the water to make sure it wasn't too hot, then returned to the main room. "I thought you were just going to watch the recruits train for a bit."
"Followed by dinner with my father."
Ah. Arthur often left those dinners fatigued. "Yes, it's ready."
Arthur stepped into the next room. "All right, that'll be all for today, Merlin."
Merlin stared after his master. Usually Arthur had a ridiculous list of new chores for him to accomplish between the time he returned and the next morning. "Arthur, are you feeling all right?" Merlin asked sarcastically.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do you want to wash my dirty socks?" he asked.
Merlin grimaced. "No one wants that."
"Then I'd suggest you do as your told and head back to your chambers."
With a shrug, Merlin left.
-
At last Arthur sank into the hot water with a sigh of contentment, the warmth easing his stiff muscles from the day's work. In truth, he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts for a while, hence the reason he'd sent Merlin away.
Why could he not put this Emrys thing behind him? Nothing had really changed that night. Apparently he'd always had a magical protector and just never known it. The only difference now was that he knew about it. That wasn't really that significant, was it? And yet it was.
He'd already decided a week ago that Burik could not be Emrys, based on the same thought that he had re-concluded today—Burik was too tall.
He'd also decided that Kinan was too dark-skinned for Emrys' light-colored hands to be his, Iren was simply too big in more ways than one, and Daros was far too insecure to have acted so confidently.
The problem was that he didn't really know if any of those things mattered. As Arthur had realized countless times between that night and this, he had no idea what magic was capable of—what it could disguise. All his assumptions were based on the fact that Emrys had been cloaked. If he could simply have disguised himself with spells, why would he have kept his face hidden? Surely that meant that what little Arthur could see of the man was in fact him.
But then again, maybe that was exactly what Emrys had wanted him to think.
And it scared him slightly that Emrys' hidden identity bothered him more than an earthquake.