Alaia Skyhawk: Now we're into some really interesting stuff hehehehe.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!

Music: The Forged Seal (Merlin OST)

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Chapter 49: Negotiations ~Part 1~

If there were truly such a thing as 'organised chaos' then this was it...

Servants scrambled everywhere, the entire manor in a state of frenetic activity. All available servants had been drafted to the cause, the task being prepare fifteen guest rooms of varying status, get a very large entourage settled, and also somehow prepare a feast all before the sun set... It said something to admit that somehow they were managing to do it.

Liam hurried towards guest wing, so laden with sheets and fancy throws to put on beds that he could barely see over the pile at where he was going. His headache was going to be bigger than most, since Lord Hargren had placed him in charge of organising the preparation of the guest rooms. He'd spent the past hour ordering a covey of twenty other servants, to carry out the varied tasks ranging from cleaning floors and polishing furniture, to getting the beds sorted. When it had seemed that the latter-most task was taking too long, he'd then elected to help with it himself, hence his present armload.

Reaching the guest wing, he left his pile where it would be easily found, immediately turning around and descending back through the manor to the laundry. Getting there was the easy part... Getting into the complex of rooms proved to be another thing.

If the rest of the manor was organised chaos, then it was blissful calm compared to what was going on in here. The sudden announcement of a feast meant an influx of garments from nobles that had to be freshened up and pressed, and the staff in here were going flat out to deal with them all. Liam left them to it, instead going to the store room where the best throws were kept and grabbing an armload before raiding the rapidly dwindling white stack nearby for the sheets to go with them.

Delivering them to the guest wing, it was with great relief that a check of the rooms revealed they were all almost ready. With that in mind, he directed five of the servants to do the finishing touches, and the rest to come with him to go gather their unexpected guests' baggage.

Now, it might be wondered who it was all this effort was being gone to for, yet the answer made it quite clear that no effort was too much. King Bayard of Mercia, who was on his way to Camelot to sign a peace treaty with the kingdom, had unexpectedly decided he was going to stop by Ulwin on his way in to the kingdom... Instead of the originally agreed occasion of his being on his way home. It had thrown every carefully planned schedule right out of the nearest window.

The succession of trips to carry bags, even helped by some of Bayard's entourage, was close to torture for the already worn out Liam. When one final check revealed that at last all the rooms were ready, he dismissed the staff involved with instructions to go help prepare the great hall for the feast or whatever other jobs were available.

As for him, he made a beeline for Hargren's chambers, shut the door behind him, and slumped down into the nearest of the cushioned chairs near the embers that were left in the fireplace. When Fyren showed up with a tray of food a short while later, Liam could almost have hugged him.

The redhead grinned when he saw Liam's expression of gratitude, setting the tray on the table and seating himself opposite when the younger man came over and placed himself before it.

"I'm glad everyone thinks I'm a half-wit, all I got stuck with was helping settle Bayard's horses in the stables. You... You look completely wrung out."

Liam, chewing a mouthful of bread, swallowed it and began to grumble.

"I feel like it. Why the heck did he change his travel plans? We were supposed to have another six days to do all this."

Fyren winced in sympathy at the following thud, that thud being Liam's forehead planting itself onto the table.

"If I could tell you that we could have predicted this and been ready in advance. He's going to be half-a-day late to Camelot because of this stop, so I just hope that Uther doesn't take it personally."

There was a mutter in reply, muffled a bit by being spoken into the surface of the table.

"He won't, not with it being Lord Hargren who Bayard decided to pay respects to first. Either way, it's a mark of respect for Camelot."

Fyren continued to regard his fellow servant with sympathy, watching as Liam lifted his head and resumed clearing the plate of bread and cheese.

"I made sure your outfit is ready for later. It's laid out on your bed in your room."

Liam grimaced, thinking about the fitted shirt with its high, tight collar, and the tabard that just seemed determined to trap every bit of heat possible. Fyren had described the formal servant-wear they used in Camelot for events like these, and he was sure he would never want to wear the hat that had been mentioned. Hargren's choice for formal servant outfits was conservative by comparison.

Stuffing the last of the food into his mouth, he got up and headed for the door.

"I'll go and get ready now. Could you tell Lord Hargren that the guest rooms are done, and I'll make sure to be in the great hall well before the feast starts."

"Will do."

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It had to be admitted, even when pushed for time, the staff of the manor seemed to be able to pull off miracles.

Liam walked at a sedate pace towards the high table, a jug of wine in hand which he used to refill the goblets of Lord Hargren and his guests. The feast that was laid out looked as good as any that had been prepared with more warning, only the propensity for smaller roasts rather than the large and impressive ones giving any clue to the truth. Large ones took too long, so the cooks had done many smaller ones and disguised the fact it was to save time by glazing them with a wide variety of things.

It meant it looked like they'd gone out of their way to impress the guests with variety rather than size.

"You clearly have some good people working for you, Lord Hargren. I must say I am impressed with what you have been able to manage at such short notice."

Hargren glanced at the king seated beside him, resplendent in his formal tunic and cape. A slight hint of amusement lifted the corner of his mouth into a small smile.

"It was no trouble. Much of the food had already been brought in ready for preparation, and the guest rooms were already allocated. All I had to do was ensure that I mustered the correct number of staff to see it was all carried out as planned."

From Hargren's other side, Lady Jancine also smiled at the visiting king.

"My husband prides himself in looking ahead and preparing in advance. Many have said that is why Ulwin has prospered so well as a hub of trade. He sees potential for future investment, and creates an opening to draw such investments into our fair town."

King Bayard raised his eyebrows at that.

"I see you reputation does you both justice. You defend a border, and yet also find time for trade. Admirable indeed."

Hargren set down his fork, his tone enquiring.

"Your Highness, might I enquire as to why you did decide to change your itinerary?"

Swallowing a mouthful of wine from the goblet Liam had just refilled, Bayard answered the question.

"I had intended to pay my respects to you after signing the treaty, but as I was nearing Ulwin I could naught but think of how well regarded and spoken of you are by all who have passed through the lands you are steward to. I felt I had to see for myself. To meet in person one of the men who has made this treaty a possibility."

Hargren inclined his head in respect.

"You honour me, your majesty."

Liam backed away from the table, resisting the urge to yawn in boredom at all the formal pleasantries being sent back and forth. He had to endure this every time a rich trade investor visited, and it was so familiar that the tedium gave him an extreme desire to find a corner and go to sleep.

He stood there, still trying not to yawn, with his almost empty jug of wine held ready in case another top-up was requested. In fact he was so focused on trying to appear alert that when his jug was lifted from his grasp and replaced with a full one he nearly dropped the new one in surprise.

Wide eyes gazed at him from an incredibly pretty face, the woman's smile warm beneath the blue head-wrap that tamed her hair. It was one of Bayard's servants, and still smiling she spoke in apology.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I hadn't realised you were as bored as you didn't seem."

Liam flushed a little in embarrassment, coughing slightly while trying to compose himself.

"I'm not bored, it's just this is a routine I'm used to. I'm not used to being surprised like that though."

She continued to smile, mirth in her eyes, and had his heart not already belonged to Hana they he might well have been tempted by her beauty. Instead he looked back to the guests, watching for any indication he would need to move forward to fill cups again.

The woman seemed to realise his lack of that kind of interest, eyeing him calculatingly before drifting away and out of the room. She had a purpose for being here, and to guarantee success she needed someone to buy her time. He was the only one placed to do so, apart of the half-wit she'd spotted earlier, but she needed someone with enough intelligence to be worth manipulating. Liam would have to do.

She walked away, retreating to where she had hidden her reason for being here. Pulling it out of its cloth wrapping, the plain and simple silver goblet glittered in the torchlight of this remote passage.

She stroked her fingers over it, contemplative of this as yet unremarkable object.

"Just wait. A little longer, and you shall become a perfect mirror of Bayard's gift for dear Arthur... And then, begins that which is to follow."

Slender hands returned the goblet to its hiding place, before she, High Priestess Nimueh, left to resume her observations. She would get her chance come morning, and a few innocent words to Hargren's manservant would assure her of that.

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Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, yep... it's her... (Evil grin)