Chapter 8: Footsteps of War

"He's going to wear a hole in the ground, the way he's going."

The pacing had only grown worse in the last 2 hours. Gaius and Hunith watched apprehensively from the upper parapets as Arthur walked repetitively back and forth whilst observed the new knights train under Gwaine's watchful eyes. Arthur's own knights could sense that something was clearly off with him but none of them knew what it was and most were loath to approach him. Gone were the days where one could carelessly approach the King and ask if he was "alright" personally. It was as if he had deliberately closed himself off to the world. Truth be told, ever since Merlin had gone, the King was a different man, a man that no one knew and perhaps this was the most frightening thing of all.

Whatever had happened, Arthur seemed extremely off – kilter, and unbalanced. It didn't help that Hunith and Gaius were keeping what looked like, a strict watch, over their King. The looks they exchanged amongst themselves were wary and analytical, like they were expecting him to suddenly lose it.

"Gaius. I don't know what to do." Hunith wrung her hands, a little unnerved in the sudden shift in the behavior of the man she almost thought of as her own son. Ever since the previous night he had an almost deranged air about him. She knew that last night's conversion had caused some kind of clarity or epiphany to occur, but the way in which he was dealing with it was alarming.

"There's nothing you can do, Hunith. Until he talks about whatever is ailing him, himself, there's not much more we can do for Arthur." Gaius didn't look any happier than she did, to be content to just wait him out, despite words to the contrary. "What happened last night?" Hunith hesitated, unsure of whether she wanted divulge the proceedings of the previous night at all. She knew Gaius was close to the boy, but she didn't know if Arthur would want his physician to know that he had been in the throes of a panic attack last night.


"Arthur? Arthur. Sweetheart, what is it?" Hunith clutched the frantic King to her bosom, confused by the panicked expression he wore. His breath was coming in short, labored gasps, and his brow was wrinkled from the efforts of his thoughts. She thought quickly, fearing that Arthur would render himself unconscious if he did not calm down fast.

Hunith grabbed a hold of his face and tried to grab his attention, she needed him to focus. His eyes were darting back and forth but it seemed as though he were lost in his own head.

"Arthur!" Raising her voice, as understated as it was, was all that she needed to pull him back to her. He moved almost as if he were coming back to himself and immediately caught a hold of himself. He was still flustered by whatever he had thought of, but now he was at the very least aware of his own panic. He pulled back from Hunith, holding her at arms-length and took a few deep breaths.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure my behavior must seem strange to you." He got up and walked over to window in his chambers and touched the cold glass window. Arthur closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down, even if his mind was going crazy, no good would come of everyone else being able to tell that he was slowly losing control of his own faculties.

"Well, it isn't exactly reassuring, darling." It was only here, in his chambers, that Hunith ever deigned to treat him with the nicknames and affection that he had seen her bestow on Merlin. Somehow, that, to Arthur was oddly bittersweet, knowing that her sorrow for her son ran deeper than she let on and yet, here she was, attempting to console him.

"I'm sorry. It's... still difficult sometimes for me to sleep, and I have these...spells, at night. I regret having allowed you to witnessed one. All I've done is scare you." Hunith was shaking her head in the negative before he'd even finished the sentence.

"Don't be daft Arthur. I told you, I think of you as if you were my own son, and don't forget, I raised Merlin. That boy had his own vast share of demons." She patted his face again and then motioned for him to sit next to her again. When he did, somewhat staggeringly, she once again enveloped him in the warm embrace of the throw she had pulled from Merlin's room.

"Do you still want to hear the rest of it, dear?" He nodded, not trusting his voice to stay stable. Hunith patted his hand in a sort of rhythmic pattern, as if soothing a child and became lost again in her past.

"I'm not sure we even realized it, back then what was happening, but we just knew." She was looking at him and Arthur had the eerie thought that Hunith knew everything he was feeling.

"You just knew?"

"We could both feel it, that one existing without the other was more pain than either of us could tolerate. Of course," Hunith's expression was one of pain now, her fists clenching tightly. "We both should have remembered who and where we were, because that night, after I went to bed, I woke up the next morning and he was gone. In the next few hours, Uther's army was all over my house, looking for him for ages. I can only assume that Balinor somehow sensed them coming and escaped before he could be caught. Something about having brought shame upon the King by just existing." Hunith saw his startled expression and sort of shrugged her shoulders.

They were silent for some time after this, both lost in their thoughts, until Arthur asked a question he had been hesitating to put into words.

"Do you regret it? Falling in love with him? He left you after all." He was startled by the small laugh that she gave, involuntary as it seemed.

"Oh make no mistake, Arthur, if I had crossed paths with him again in that first month after he'd gone, I would have beaten him silly. But," she touched kerchief on Arthur's wrist with an expression of affection, one that only a mother could give. "How could I remain angry with him when he gave me one of the most precious gifts a woman could ever hope to have. Merlin saved my life just by existing, he gave me something to love and something to cherish just when I was giving up on the thought of life." Arthur could accept that, seeing the way that Hunith treasured her son, it was not inconceivable that she would feel that way about finding a new sense of purpose in her.

For the first time, Arthur felt vaguely ashamed of his Father's actions. He knew Uther had a tendency hand down sentences and punishments undiscerningly. Now it seemed that his actions had caused Merlin to lose his father.

But he did wonder how one survived, feeling that sort of love for someone and then having them disappear, never to see them again. Arthur found that he could answer that question on his own, though it may not be what he thought it was. Not for sure.

He knew that being without Merlin was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Everywhere he went he saw the ghost of Merlin wandering. From the moment his eyes opened, Merlin was there, making snide remarks as he ate breakfast, making fun of him for eating such a sumptuous spread but simultaneously chiding him to eat more, and make sure he left nothing on his plate. Merlin's ghost would wander the halls at his side, and Arthur had begun to feel as though he were going mad.

Hunith watched Arthur's face as he quietly thought to himself, and slowly extricated herself from the blanket and urged Arthur to get up as well.

He never batted an eye at her ministrations and allowed himself to be guided to the bed and put under the covers. He lay there, thinking, with his eyes slowly becoming heavier and Hunith kept watch until his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing evened out.

She breathed a sigh of relief. He was asleep. At last. When Hunith thought back to it, she thought it best to give him a condensed version that would point out the problem without revealing too much.

"He couldn't find it in himself to sleep, and made a request for just some conversation. We couldn't decide what to talk about until he asked about Merlin's father." Gaius raised an eyebrow at that.

"All the conversations in the world you two could have and he chooses that one?" Hunith smiled a little at that. She thought about how to say what she wanted without giving away what the King had probably only just realized.

"I don't think he was asking because he was genuinely interested in my own love story. I think he was trying to compare what he feels to what someone else felt. He's trying to verify something that he can't have anymore. That upsets him more than anything I suppose." Gaius could mildly sense what she wasn't saying aloud and

"I would agree. The most maddening thing is to find out something important when it's too late." Gaius sighed and the two turned away from the pacing King, going back indoors and splitting up.


Arthur couldn't concentrate no matter how hard he tried. He was sitting in the throne room, trying to focus on the people in front of him. Two older men, each with their with sons, and a timid young girl standing in the center. It was some sort of benign argument about the legitimacy of either one of their sons over the girl to wed. He knew it wasn't Kingly but he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes up to the heavens and potentially let them just stay there from sheer annoyance.

They were speaking to this young woman and her mother as if they were property to be wagered over, offering each of them different traits each son supposedly possessed. Arthur was already having a hard time focusing on real life and not reminsce into the past about a future he would not have and having to hear their banal problems were not helping.

"I have 7 mares and a stallion with at least 3 bulls and possibly three more to come, Matthias, which is more than you and your twit of a boy can say for yourselves." One man, called over, clearly deigning him unfit as competition.

"At least my boy can call himself a man by which any woman would call herself lucky to wed. Unlike your boy who has yet to prove his own potency." The other man's face grew apoplectic with fury and the yelling began anew and with far more vigor than before. It rattled in Arthur's head and he exhaled, frustrated, exhausted and on the verge of genuinely losing his temper.

He slammed down his fist on the armrest of his throne, bringing the dimly clamoring room to pregnant silence. Satisfied that he had their attention, Arthur spoke, noting the quiet entrance of Hunith from just off to his left, the woman quietly taking her spot against a wall.

"Enough." Arthur couldn't help how positively frosty his voice was as he addressed them. "I have heard you two speak at length before me, and what you both have failed to provide here is crucial evidence that you have any 'claim' on this maiden." Arthur made sure to stress the word 'claim' hoping their pea-sized brains would pick up on his displeasure at the act.

"What?" The father of one of the men who was short and portly called Matthias, Arthur recalled, furrowed his brows indignantly and then hastily smoothed them out, remembering that he was speaking to his King, and amended his speech. "What could I have left out, Sire?"

"Yes, we have given them every possible compensation and offering that we can afford for the hand of her daughter and yet they still do not give us the answer." The other parent Thomas spread his hands out, covering a wide berth as tall as he was, with a long, pinched face.

Arthur did actually roll his eyes and saw Leon shake his head, knowing the King was coming to the end of his rope.

"Have you perhaps spoken to Madeline?" The two men blinked at Arthur and looked at the King and then at each other, the suggestion seeming to confound them. The sons were no different, whose names Arthur had not even deigned to try to remember. He prodded them again, clearly seeing they needed help to see common sense.

"I asked you if had spoken to Madeline if she particularly fancied one of these men over the other?" Gwen, who stood just off the side of the throne, next to Hunith did not look impressed at their actions.

"There was no need sire. There is not an abundance of able men in our village, of our caliber and breed. It would be common sense that the girl, -"

"Madeline."

"What?" Thomas stumbled over the King's interjection, and he grew slightly fearful that the King seemed irritated.

"You will address her properly, if you wish to seek her hand in betrothal for your son, then you would do well to at least address her by her given name." Arthur began to tap impatiently on the arm of his throne but a quick glance from Leon did enough to make him stop.

His statement seemed to reduce Thomas to speechlessness, giving Matthias enough time to take over.

"It loathes me to admit it, Sire, but I agree with Thomas. She knows that she can do no better for suitors, that there is no one worthier than my son to wed, but Thomas insists on poisoning the girl's mind against my Ian." Arthur glanced at Ian, who was thin and twigg-ish, despite his father's portly visage. Arthur may even have believed Matthias, if it weren't for the fact that Ian wasn't so much as looking at Madeline, as leering at her. It made him feel vile, and he was only watching the son, so he couldn't imagine how Madeline herself was feeling, noting the way she shifted behind her mother, as if trying to disappear altogether.

Arthur motioned toward Madeline, beckoning her to him. Ever so timidly, Madeline practically tip toed towards him. When she stopped a respectable distance away from him, Arthur cleared his throat, drawing against the full attention of the room and silenced the murmurs of the crowd.

"Alright, since neither of the two of you seem particularly keen on it, I shall ask Madeline herself." He got up and walked over to Madeline, who visibly shrunk at his approach. Dear god, why are you so jumpy? Arthur couldn't help but think exasperatedly to himself.

"Madeline. Which of the two of them, if either, do you fancy?" Her eyes grew wide at his question and became suddenly quite interested in the floor. She muttered something under her breath all at once, and he struggled to decipher it.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that, what did you say?" There was an odd sort of huff from the aisle and it seemed to jump start something in Madeline and she looked up rather abruptly and forced the words out.

"Aldrien, Sire." Arthur blinked at that.

"What?" Madeline looked behind at her mother, who nodded once, sharp and quick.

"I do not wish to marry either man. My heart belongs to another." It seemed to have taken all of her courage to say the words because now the poor soul was quaking where she stood. Arthur patted her on the shoulder to pacify her.

"And would Aldrien be present at this occasion Madeline?" The peasant girl flicked her eyes off towards her right and Arthur glanced up to see a tall, broad man, in a worn shirt and trousers standing in the front of the outer aisle, watching the two of them. He had no further indication from Madeline, but could reasonably assume that he was the man of whom she spoke.

One motion to Gwaine, and the knight was dragging Aldrien up to the King, where he and Madeline conferred together, much to the bewilderment and sputtered protests of Thomas and Matthias.

From there, the path was clear. Arthur gave clear orders that if it was the desire of the couple, they would be free to wed, whenever they saw fit, and that Thomas and Matthias were to keep a well and clear distance from the couple and their families. Failure to do so would evoke the displeasure of their King.

Some hours later, the Great Hall was cleared of villagers and Arthur was able to retreat to his quarters, exhausted. He sat on his bed, having dismissed the servant who was attempting to tend to him and forbid anyone from fetching Hunith unless he expressly asked for her.

Night had fallen and once again Arthur was alone. It had been only a day since his chat with Hunith but Arthur felt unstable, and shaky.

Arthur was fairly sure that he was in love with his manservant. His dead manservant – Arthur corrected himself desolately, which meant that he had all these feelings and no real outlet for it. It was almost pathetic, Arthur thought, and it made him wonder what could have been if he had just realized it sooner.

He allowed himself to go back, consciously for once, to that night, and tried to think about that morning. Merlin had sniped the entire time they had been preparing to leave, muttering something inane about preparations and clothes that he had been wholly ignoring. Now he wished he had listened.

If he had known Merlin was going to die, he would have listened a little longer. Maybe even tried to talk to him without the bickering.

Arthur was well aware that what he was doing was moping, sulking even, but what could he do. It was as if the grief began anew in the wake of this new knowledge. If he had only had the courage to face himself earlier then maybe, he wouldn't regret it as much as he did now.

He glanced out the window, watching the frost inch its way across the window, and rattle slightly against the elements outside. Somehow it was winter again and with-it Arthur wondered where Merlin was.

Was his body where he had left it? Alone? Crushed under stone and ice. He didn't know, he'd never had the courage to back.

The overwhelming guilt he felt would not leave him, even when he ignored the other complications. The fact was that a good man had died in entirely preventable circumstances. But what he still couldn't understand was the Witch's fear when she gazed into Merlin's' eyes.

When he had discussed it with Leon, the Knight had simply chalked it up to the fact that Merlin was much bigger than her previous pet. But Arthur wasn't sure he bought that explanation. Circe had not only feared Merlin but seemed in awe of him. Had actually begged for his forgiveness and stranger still was that Merlin did not appear to find that strange in the least. In fact, it didn't seem to come as a surprise to him at all.

But the more he thought, the more Arthur felt that he was thinking too deeply into matters, no matter how much he felt there had been something else happening in that castle the entire time they were imprisoned there.

Arthur climbed into bed and continued to think, and somewhere in the middle of all that ruminating and deliberating, he fell asleep.

And for once he did not wake until morning, though his sleep was restless and even a little comforting.


It was getting easier, somehow, to ignore it. Merlin sat alone, in the middle of his prison, having lit a fire. A rabbit hung on a spit above it, roasting, slowly. The room with the mirror still called to him, trailing temptingly on the edges of his mind, it kept reminding him of Arthur and the tantalizing prospect of seeing his King again.

But Merlin knew he had to resist, because the more he got involved in that way of thinking, the greater the chance of Arthur finding out he had survived.

He knew that if he were to look into the mirror and see another threat against Arthur he would not be able to withstand the temptation to go in. The first time he had done it, he was fortunate to have had the cover of night to allow him to move as freely as he had.

Not all of his future endeavors would be as lucky and he could not risk it. He didn't know how his other self would function around humans now, and he didn't know what he would do if it turned out that he attacked his friends and family.

The beast inside him grew stronger every day and Merlin was sure that sooner or later he would lose the fight against it.

It was a matter of time, nothing else.

He almost laughed at the way his thoughts panned out, Merlin wasn't sure when it had started, but the idea that he would be taken over by this "other him" somehow had wormed its way into his psyche despite his best efforts.

It turned into an eventual surety, not something that remained an off – chance. Merlin poked at the meat, checking the tenderness to see if it was cooked. Internally, his mind suggested quite casually, that the level of tenderness didn't particularly matter in as much as actually eating it mattered.

He tried to think of something else, as the smell of the cooking food filled the cavernous room.

He had got up and ventured into what he guessed had used to be Circe's chambers and found himself in front of the vast library of magical texts that she had amassed. It was full of old and worn texts, the pages frail and soft to the touch. Merlin reached up to the 6th shelf, once again marveling at how easily he could reach it now that he was almost 7ft tall.

Sometimes when he was alone, he would forget how tall he was, and then something would happen that would remind him just how much he had changed. He didn't know this new Merlin. This man who was so angry and full of sorrow. Inside he could only wonder at the unfairness of it all, and the injustice of having to serve such a fate. But at the same time, he acknowledged that this was only one side of him.

There was something else there too. Something more instinctive. Primal. It was responsible for the way he had behaved when Arthur had been attacked and when he had raised his hand against that abusive villager in Ealdor.

Like it or not, whatever that witch had done to him, it made him more powerful than he had ever been. Now whether that was beneficial or not was something he hadn't yet been able to ascertain for himself. Not that he was going to give himself a chance to do so.

He had been too relaxed with himself lately. Merlin tried to remind himself of the rules he had put in place for himself. Never to have contact with humans and to never appear in Camelot ever again. It hurt to think that he would have to watch from afar as Arthur's lineage progressed, but what else was he to do?

No matter what he did, there was nothing he could do for the man he had come to think of as his friend.

Are you sure?

Something from deep within the recesses of his mind suddenly spoke out at him, startling him and making him turn around, circling the room as if expecting to find someone else inside with him, knowing full well that were that the case, the person would never have made it inside without detection.

You know there is a way to keep your King safe. You are just too weak to face yourself, fool.

Merlin blinked. Now he was insulting himself. Clearly he was hungrier than he had initially thought. He grabbed a dusty royal blue book off from the shelves, and walked out of the room, down the hallway back to the main room trying to gingerly pass the enchanted portal.

Weakling. You have the answer and you fail to avail yourself. One day. That same fear will surrender your mind to me.

Who are you?

You know me. You refuse me my right and refuse your true self. You fool no one, wizard!

I know nothing about which you speak, now begone!

He threw up the strongest mental wall he could muster, bolstering the one already in place and snarled to himself, now realizing that his other self had finally found its voice, and it appeared to able to converse with him. Merlin could feel the displeasure on the other side of it, colliding with the wolf side of him. The roiling emotions were powerful and he had to be careful not to dwell to too close, lest he himself become swept up in a typhoon of emotions.

Great.

Upon arriving back into the main hall, Merlin was pleased to note that his dinner was now cooked the way he liked it and set to work removing the spit from its fastens and tried to civilize his meal as much as he could.

As he ate, he opened the book he had found, most likely his hundredth since arriving here and settled. He realized after the first few pages that the book contained the instructions for blood rituals, and his lip curled back in disgust, but kept reading.

And reading.

And reading, until he realized he was enthralled by the possibilities that the book presented. He had never thought he could have used Blood sacrifices to do something good, but here he was, looking at an entire book full of protection spells that would work if added just a drop of his blood.

Of course he knew the complications of such enchantments, the fragility of their constructs, not to mention their penchant for turning into a makeshift geographical prison for their caster, but he figured those complications need not apply to him, knowing that he wouldn't particularly be leaving this area for the foreseeable future.

Merlin put the book down and pushed the plate away from him, suddenly having lost his appetite. He bundled himself into the assorted furs he'd pulled from different rooms and lay by the fire, too emotionally drained to even contemplate going back to the makeshift bedroom he'd fashioned for himself.

His eyes closed and almost imperceptibly, his form rippled and waved, until what lay there was no longer human, but wolf.

Merlin didn't even notice, and for once fell into a slumber undisturbed by enchanted mirrors and nightmares, and instead walked with open arms into a night of pure obsidian.


"My King. Sire? Sire, get up!"

The young King blinked blearily as the curtains in his rooms were drawn back hastily and sunlight, poured in, bathing the room in bright gold. It was Leon, dressed in Camelot colors, with a ceremonial sword adjusted to his hip.

Arthur remembered abruptly, to his chagrin that today was to be a ceremonial breakfast with key Knights. The Knights who formed his chief company and rode with him into battle. He rolled out of bed and hurried over to his armoire, yanking it open.

"Why wouldn't any of you remind me that the Ceremony was happening today? The last thing I need is to be late to an event that I'm supposed to be hosting!"

Leon wisely chose not to answer the rhetorical question as the King flung his clothes off in favor of new ones and just settled on clearing his throat, in the hopes that it would catch the King's attention.

"Ahem." Arthur stopped, midway through shoving his feet through his pants and into his shoes. He caught sight of the Knight's expression and realized something else was going on.

"What?" Leon stepped forward and presented the King with a rolled scroll. Arthur took it but didn't open it.

He just looked at the Knight and his shoulders dropped.

"The Ceremony is going to have to be postponed wont it?" Leon nodded grimly and the King knew then, that today was not at all going to go as he thought it would.


"What do you mean an army?" Arthur paced around the table placed near the throne in the Great Hall. Around him stood his Knights, Elyan, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, and Leon, all looking as worried as he did. Leon just shook his head and nodded toward the opened scroll on it.

"I know about as much as you do, Sire. That comes from our northern sentries and if it came from Carhaix, then Pelinor's army could be here in less than two days. They were already half way past Carhaix when the sentries spotted them."

Arthur tried to think. If King Pelinor was making such a bold claim toward him when he knew that Arthur's army easily outnumbered his, it meant he had some kind of wild card that significantly tipped the balance in his favor.

Pelinor was many things, but a fool was not one of them. He turned to Gwaine and pointed at him.

"Gwaine, how ready are the new soldiers you've been training." Gwaine snorted.

"They're one hay bale short of a barn but they'll do in a pinch. Say the word and I'll get them ready to march within the hour."

"No," Arthur shook his head, waving his hand. "That's exactly what he wants us to do. There's no way he's marching from that faraway and he just lets himself get sighted when he's still 3 days out from his target. It would give us too much time to prepare and he knows it. No, he wants us out there, he knows the way my father would do this and he assumes that I would do the same."

Arthur's brow crinkled as he weighed his options.

"But I am not my father." He whirled around and motioned for the men standing at the doors to the great hall to open and called in the heads of all of his workers as well as all of the Senior Knights and Soldiers he had.

"Pelinor thinks that he is using my Father's war schemes against me, but I can assure you that will not happen. I will not allow for my Kingdom to be taken by a man such as he. No, we will wait here. If Pelinor wants to rule Camelot, he knows the Castle must fall first. If we are able to prevent that, then we win the fight." He pointed at Gwaine and then to the soldiers.

"Gwaine, get them ready, I want a full perimeter around the Kingdom, no one goes in or out. Each must be out fitted with the appropriate weapons for ground combat. No horses. If we are short of functional weapons, take the broken ones and gather every available blacksmith and get to work on smelting more. No one leaves, no one comes. We all do this together, or we die together."

Gwaine nodded curtly and signaled for the Knights to follow him and marched out of the doors, taking the men with him.

Arthur then spent the better part of the evening barking orders left and right. He thought nervously to himself as his people scurried in and out of the room. Even though normally this was the time of night that the castle would be settling into sleep, it was wide awake and bustling with activity.

This was the first time he had experienced a battle properly since Merlin had died and Arthur found himself feeling lost. Normally the antsy young man would be with him, helping him think through the finer points of his strategy. Even if he made no logical sense, just having him there usually gave him such a sense of peace.

Now, Arthur would have to learn do to without him. He had survived three years without Merlin by his side. Surely he could survive this.

Surely.


Merlin sniffed the air as he ventured out of the castle for the first time in a month. Something was different. Something was not right. The snow crunched under foot as he slipped into the ice covered forest surrounding the castle at the bottom of the sloped mountain he lived on, making his way to the southern Cliffside.

Distantly, he heard clamoring and marching. Dull sounds but amplified as if they came in great numbers. The sounds became muffled in the forest, but Merlin's heightened senses allowed him to pinpoint its direction and follow the sound.

He walked as if cutting through the forest, ducking under branches, to avoid getting walloped in the head. The sounds grew louder as he approached and when Merlin finally caught up with it, right at the lip of the cliff, he was a greeted by a sight he had not expected in the least.

Below him, marching by for as far as the eye could see, was an army. An army of chainmail clad knights, all carrying, scythes, broadswords, and shields. They all marched in tandem and at the helm Merlin could see a man walking in a formation that set him vastly apart from the rest.

It was a man, garbed in jewel toned blue, visible even in the waning sun sitting atop an armour clad steed. He was surrounded on all sides by a set of personal guards. If that wasn't enough, the crown sitting jauntily on his head gave away his status pretty clearly.

Merlin with his exceptional vision could see the face of the man clearly and had sat in on enough of Arthur's alliance and treatise meetings to recognize him instantly. It was King Pelinor, and judging by the manner in which he was setting out towards what he could only assume was Camelot, he was not here on friendly terms. Pelinor had declared war on Camelot. And if he was coming for Camelot, Merlin was sure he was bringing with him all manner of witches and wizards to aid him in quest. Everyone knew that unlike King Uther and his hatred for the magical abilities, Pelinor was inclined in favor of magic so as it was beneficial to him and his endeavors.

Merlin stood frozen on the cliff, quickly dropping on all fours to avoid being seen and thought quickly. Did Arthur know? The question was, what was Merlin going to do? Would he standby and do nothing? Leave it to Arthur to deal with?

Actually, the bigger question was could he standby and do nothing?