Author notes at the end

One week earlier.

Amata has been starved of her beauty. Lord Grondin was staring pensively out of his high chamber windows. For all the reluctance he had previously felt at coming to the kingdom it's intrinsic beauty had immediately captivated him. He could still remember his first view of the land as he and his escort had stepped out of the forest to see the rising sun drowning the rolling hills in shades of red, pink, and casting deep purple shadows. Crowning the scene Amata's castle sat erected at the edge of a cliff, it's stone walls glowing gold.

Now when Grondin looked out he could see that once fertile fields were parched and brown, herds of sheep and cattle were sparse, and the streams flowed murky. He could see the people were suffering as well. Life had never been easy for them, but calloused feet had still danced over earthen floors, grizzled faces could coax beautiful melodies out of small flutes, and in the streets playing children could still provoke a hearty laugh. Now, people worked to keep the dusty soil on the ground, and backs were folded from heaving out the stones that had grown, seemingly overnight, in the dirt. Grondin could not be described as a kind man, but he was not completely heartless, and seeing the kingdom he had come to care for falling into ruin didn't fail to sadden him.

A long, sharp beak was rapping on his window. Hurriedly he opened the glass and brought the bird inside. A small scroll was bound to the raven's scaly leg, and Grondin opened it with trepidation.

Rùnar,

I have news-

Grondin didn't have time to finish reading because someone was suddenly knocking on his door. "Lord Grondin Sir, the Sarrum requires your presence in the Great Hall Sir." His chambers' thick wooden doors did nothing to muffle the servants high voice. Grondin let out a low growl, and responded with no effort to disguise his displeasure at being interrupted.

"Duly noted. And before you sulk away know that my chambers were left in an atrocious state yesterday. Ensure that today they are spotless, or I will hold you personally responsible." The servant's voice was even higher pitched in his reply,

"My apologies, of course my lord." His rapid footsteps echoed as he fled down the hall. Grondin waited a minute before going the same way. An audience with the Sarrum… What could he want now? Grondin couldn't think of any way he might have displeased him. Regardless, he carefully schooled his expression before entering the Great Hall.

Built more than a hundred years ago the Great Hall of the castle of Amata was a wonder to behold. If he had been less distracted Grondin may have paused to appreciate the soaring ceilings, sculpted stonework, and multitude of stain glass windows. In a fortress like this, built primarily for war, the Great Hall was a rare piece of art. As it was, Grondin was too preoccupied to think about this. All his attention was on the Sarrum, reclining in his marble throne at the other end of the hall. He was an aging man, but weathered and toughened by the storms of many battles. It had been years since Amata had seen outright war, but that was not because of the Sarrum's peaceful disposition.

"Grondin." The Sarrum had noticed him enter.

"Sire," Grondin replied evenly, still maintaining his careful composure.

"What do you know of Camelot Grondin?" Grondin tried to conceal his surprise at the question.

"Camelot… it lies roughly a week's journey from the southwestern border of Amata. The late king Uther reigned for thirty-three years, his queen, Ygraine, passed away during childbirth…" Grondin trailed off. The Sarrum's chilling gaze was boring into him and Grondin guessed that he had not yet mentioned what the Sarrum was waiting for, but what that could be he had no idea.

"King Uther passed away almost four years ago. Now his son Arthur-"

"Yes Arthur!" The Sarrum interrupted, pounding his heavy fist on the arm of his throne. "Camelot's young king rules a blossoming kingdom with a loose hand. Yes, he is supposedly a legendary swordsman, and he has continued in his father's mission to rid the kingdom of magic, although with considerably less zeal..." The Sarrum's lip curled in disgust. "However he has proved his youthful weakness in taking a servant as his queen." The Sarrum paused for a moment to collect himself. "I am not blind to the suffering of my kingdom Grondin, and Camelot is ripe for the harvest. I will not stand by and watch my people starve if, in my grasp, I have a way to save them." Through all this Grondin stayed silent, unsure of the right words. The Sarrum smiled coldly.

"Does this surprise you Grondin? I hope you have realized by now that you will also play your part in this." Grondin felt that at this moment it would be safe to bow.

"My lord."

"Ha! Don't act so humble Grondin, I know you. The moment you leave this room you will be trying to twist this to you own ends. Don't bother because I have already saved you the effort. Anyhow," The Sarrum earned forwards on his elbows, chilling grin wider than ever. "It is time to sign our peace treaty with Camelot. Arthur will be expecting us to arrive at his castle for the signing in about a week. As we speak one of my messengers is already in his way to Camelot, with a letter claiming that I am injured and unfit for travel. I have requested that Arthur would come instead to Amata for the signing." The Sarrum looked sideways at Grondin, "Arthur will bring with him his best knights. I have heard that they are not only fierce, but also extremely loyal, and that Arthur treats them like brothers. An ambush will be laid for the King and his knights as they pass through the forest of Arisnde. It lies between our southwestern outpost on the border, and ends ten leagues from the castle." Grondin nodded, forehead creased.

"And I will be in charge of the ambush?"

"Well done!" The Sarrum laughed condescendingly. "Yes, you will be the one to bring Arthur to his knees. And to give you some added motivation I will also be needing a steward to oversee Camelot once this business is over…" He knew he was dangling a tantalizing carrot in Grondin's face, and that he had no choice but to follow after it. "I trust you understand what is expected of you?"

"Arthur will not stand a chance. I will not disappoint you my Lord." Grondin bowed once again.

"Oh I already know you won't. You know very well what happens to those who do." The Sarrum held Grondin's gaze before going back to the papers in front of him. "I expect your report to be ready in two days. You are dismissed."

That night a raven lept out of one of the highest windows of the castle. It flew southwest, and then veered due west at the border. Dawn was already brushing the horizon when the raven alighted on a pair of pale, smooth hands. Nimbley they slipped the message from the raven's leg.

My Lady,

Today has brought better news than I dared hope for. If we are wise you stand to achieve more than you ever dreamed. As you read this plans are already in motion.

At the end of the letter it read

Your loyal servant,

Rùnar

And the plot thickens!

*Rùnar is a norwegian name meaning "secret warrior" in old norse.

Gingeraffealene: Thank you