And they're off to whatever fate awaits them... Muah ha ha ha!

Gingeraffealene: I also feel for the people of Amata. If Arthur manages to keep himself safe maybe he'll have time to save them too... (Though we all know Merlin will probably end up doing all the work:)

Early the next morning Arthur handed the Sarrum's messenger a scroll sealed with Camelot's royal emblem. In short it only said that Arthur would be accepting the Sarrum's request, and that he would be arriving at their prearranged date. The messenger left immediately upon receiving the scroll.

That afternoon Arthur called his knights to his chambers. When they were all there he began.

"Yesterday I received a request from the Sarrum of Amata that our peace treaty be signed in Amata instead of Camelot because of him currently being indisposed." Arthur paused, trying to gauge their reactions. Gwaine looked openly skeptical, Percival and Elyan less so, but Arthur couldn't tell what Leon or Mordred were thinking. "I cannot ignore the possibility of this being a trap. This is why I will have us split into two groups during our journey. The first group will be lead by Sir Leon. It will include Gwaine, Hugo, John, and Mordred. A sixth horse will ride in the middle of them with a mannequin designed to look like me. I will lead a second group following three hundred meters behind with Elyan, William, Ronan, Percival, and Dernhelm. I will not be taking any more knights for fear of leaving Camelot unprotected. Depending on the weather the journey to Amata will take us roughly a week, so I want you all ready to ride at dawn tomorrow morning." Arthur ended and waited for any of the knights to comment. Gwaine's lips were pinched into a thin line, but he knew that they had no better option on this short of notice. Everyone else felt the same.

Merlin was packing his old leather bag when Gaius knocked lightly on the door of his room before stepping inside.

"Merlin, I thought you should have these. He handed the young man a newly knit pair of socks. Looking a little sheepish Gaius continued,

"I just noticed your old ones have holes. I would be a terrible physician if I let my apprentice became sick from tromping through Amata with cold feet!" Merlin smiled and accepted the socks, adding them to his packing. He wasn't surprised that Gaius knew about Arthur's mission; he was a trusted advisor of the king. But Gaius was much more than an advisor or a physician, and the gift of the socks showed the care of a father. Merlin felt a feeling of warmth bloom in his stomach. Despite the knowledge that his journey to Amata would be risky at best, he also knew that Arthur was also unaware of one of his greatest weapons: Merlin himself.

Gaius was halfway out the door when he craned his neck back to look at Merlin, and in the same serious, voice, with those same raised eyebrows Gaius said the words that Merlin had heard almost daily for the last eleven years.

"And Merlin, be careful."

The group had been traveling a day and a half. Now the sun was past its midpoint in the sky and it was mid afternoon. Currently they were traveling through a dense forest, the sun casting dappled shadows over the ground, the horses, and their riders. Growing up in the forests of Camelot had instilled great wonder of the mysterious place in Mordred, and he saw beauty in every leaf, bough, brook, and canopy that spread above them. Sir Hugo was riding beside him and chuckled as Mordred unconsciously leaned his head back to feel the breeze on his face.

"You seem to be enjoying the ride." Mordred laughed sheepishly.

"I grew up in the forest. Since I came to the castle I've missed spending as much time out here." Mordred didn't mention how he could feel the throb of magic pulsing through every root, trunk and stem around them. He could sense it flow as every songbird took flight, running through every carpet of moss, or in all the rainbows of wild flowers. His druidic upbringing and inherent magic allowed him to see, hear, and feel more than most others. Hugo looked around the trail and shook his head.

"All that patrols have taught me is that sleeping in a forest means fending off midges and sleeping with roots boring into your back. But if it's to your taste, my friend, then don't let me stop you from enjoying it." Mordred laughed at the comically confounded look on Sir Hugo's face. Sir Hugo was at most one or two years older than him, and Mordred found himself liking the young knight's expressive nature and sense of humor, even though it was dramatically different from his own. It made Mordred feel more relaxed and helped him drop some of his constantly guarded composure.

"Oh no we nearly lost the king again." Arthur's dummy self was bouncing around so erratically on the back of it's horse that it's one leg had nearly slipped out of its bindings, and it's straw-stuffed torso was lolling precariously to the left. Hugo came up along the side of the dummy and did his best secure "Arthur's" leg, while still keeping his own seat. True to his nature Hugo exaggerated each failed attempt with loud groans and impressive facial contortions. Mordred watched with a smile, but after a couple minutes of increasingly louder and louder moans and grunts a word from Sir Leon put an end to Hugo's performance. Not wanting to fall back into the monotonous rhythm of the road he raised his voice to Leon.

"Sir Leon, what kind of a kingdom is Amata? I have not yet had the pleasure of visiting it." Leon didn't ignore the genuinely curious question but instead looked thoughtful for a moment.

"The kingdom of Amata is slightly larger than Camelot, but at it's most northern tips the ground is frozen during most of the year, so barely anything can be planted. Amata used to be a kingdom rich in natural resources, however in recent years drought and famine have caused it to weaken. Amata's king is referred to as the "Sarrum." He… Leon paused, carefully choosing his next words. "He is known for his unshakable beliefs in his kingdom's laws, laws that have been in place for over a century, and shows almost no leniency towards any suspect law-breaker. Camelot has similar laws but a more… receptive judicial system, as well as a lesser use of the death penalty. This difference is more distinct now that King Arthur rules." Leon paused again. It was difficult to objectively explain the politics of a foreign kingdom, and a mere knight such as Sir Leon was in no position to criticize the Sarrum, regardless of his personal feelings. Luckily for him Gwaine interjected.

"This Sarrum is particularly firm when it comes to magic. Magic-users, or suspected magic-users, are strongly punished and most are executed. He held Morgana prisoner during two years, some say in a pit, although no one in Camelot yet knows how he managed to capture and contain her." Leon and Gwaine, feeling they had given enough description, let the other knights mull over what they had said in silence. Hugo seemed content to ride pensively, with a small frown forming.

Mordred knew some of these things already. Because of the Sarrum's persecution the druids had long since fled to other kingdoms. Sometimes, during his childhood, a late night a crackling campfire would accompany some of his old elders' whispered tales of the terrible things that had happened in Amata. Mordred had hoped he would be able to avoid the place during his lifetime, but it seemed as if that wish would not come true. At the very least he hoped that no off comment would be made about druidic heritage, and he would have to be very careful about never changing in public with the others, lest someone notice his tattoo. Please let our stay be a short one. Ironically he thought about Emrys, the most powerful warlock ever to exist, marching up to the throne of Amata alongside his king. The humor of the idea pulled him out of his dark thoughts.

Merlin was thinking very similar thoughts as he rode beside Arthur with the second group of knights. He knew a fair bit about Amata, having heard things occasionally from Gaius and Arthur over the years. He was still wary for Arthur and the group's safety, but he was also experiencing a rare emotion- fear for himself. In the past Merlin had always been able to count on his magic to save him from all the impossible situations he had faced. The risk of being caught was still a very real problem in Camelot, but he knew that if his fears were realized and he was caught using magic in Amata the cruelty of the Sarrum would go beyond any punishment Arthur could, or would, ever choose. He sat up a little straighter, and with eyes a little brighter than before. Arthur noticed his servant's rigid posture and playfully poked him in the ribs.

"Ow!"

"Come on Merlin, why such a long face?" His manservant rolled his eyes. Typical.

"You already know how I feel about this mission."

"Merlin I love your optimism. Come on, you already know that this is the best choice we could have made. There's no use spending all your energy worrying until we get back."

"I was only thinking about everyone else back in Camelot," Merlin lied. "It will be a long time before we see any of them again." Merlin was surprised at the effect his words had on Arthur. The king's teasing expression hardened, and he looked away, something he only did when he wasn't confident he had control over his emotions, and didn't want Merlin to see. Merlin's annoyance melted into compassion for his friend. "We will come back to Camelot when everything is in full bloom. The queen be waiting for you on the castle's front steps, probably flowers all through her hair." Merlin became concerned when his attempt to cheer up Arthur only seemed to make the king more somber. "Arthur, we will come back." Arthur braved a look at Merlin and he saw uncharacteristic tears in his eyes.

"Gwen's pregnant." Merlin was shocked. Arthur, a father? Arthur the obnoxious, rowdy, and sometimes immature scallywag of a king? It was hard to picture him rocking a fragile baby, telling a toddler fantastical stories, or tucking them in with a kiss on the forehead. But then Merlin realized he wasn't giving Arthur enough credit. The man had a softer side as well. Years of loss and loneliness had created an appreciation of the joys of life, and a deep, loyal love for those closest to him. Merlin saw this all the time when Arthur was with Gwen. He knew it would be there for his baby as well. Arthur was staring at him and Merlin quickly realized that he hadn't responded. He grinned, and gave Arthur a little shove (although his thin arm barely moved the muscular man.)

"Arthur, that's fantastic! When did you find out?" Arthur sighed.

"Two days ago."

"Oh." Arthur had found out he was to be a father, and then had been pulled away his wife and future child to embark on a dangerous mission the very next day. Merlin's sympathetic silence was the best response he could offer.

Days passed and the two groups approached and then crossed the border into Amata. On their sixth day of travel they made camp on the edge of the forest of Arisnde.