A/N: Hidey-ho! Thought I'd bring in the latest installments. My news is still the same. Thanks to all who have reviewed and continue to review. I am in a debt to you that can only be repaid with another chapter!

Chapter 7

The fortress did little to block out the evening chill that crept from room-to-room in visitation. It was so cold in fact, that the morning dew held ice to the tips of the grass and gave the appearance of a vast lifeless land. If the day had been somewhat warmer, the grass, resembling a damp leaf having been dipped in sugar, would have been given a more welcoming appearance, but along with the dew, a mist had settled in that seemed unwilling in its desire to rise and clear the land of its presence.

Lancelot awoke somewhat early and headed down to the tavern. He found Bors and Galahad already there, a bottle or rum open to be split between them.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to join us this morning," Bors jested as Lancelot approached the table.

"You should take it for a compliment. I don't sit with just anyone," Lancelot said grinning and taking a seat.

Galahad laughed and pushed the bottle in Lancelot's direction. "Don't know how much is left, but it'll do good in warming you up."

Lancelot picked up the bottle with more strength than he ended up using. "I should hope you have more." Lancelot took a long swig before setting it back on the table and wiping the back of his hand across mouth.

"But of course. The drinking hour has just commenced!" Galahad said pulling another bottle up from beside him. Lancelot grinned. Suddenly, a shivering breeze blew across the table. Lancelot felt the coldness spread through him despite the warmth the rum had brought him.

He reached for the bottle again, hoping to make the coldness go away but stopped when he saw the appearance of Gawain. The downcast expression on Gawain's face was appropriate for the weather, but puzzling to the knights. The laughter between the three knights seemed to dissipate, stolen as Gawain and his depressing aura walked passed the table.

"Gawain," Galahad said reaching out, causing Gawain to stop with his back to the group. "What news have you?"

"Silas is dead," Gawain answered, closing his eyes.

Bors's mouth dropped open. "Dead? How?"

"A freedom he believed in and kept by his own hand," Gawain whispered. These words were lost on the ears of Galahad and Bors, who remained thoroughly confused by Gawain's answer, but Lancelot understood.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Galahad demanded.

"It means," Lancelot answered, "that he took his own life." Lancelot looked grimly up at Gawain who turned around and nodded. Once that fact was out in the open, all of them understood why. Silas could have been retrained to fight and survive with the one hand that could still strongly wield a sword or he could take his life in the hope that freedom lied with death. Given the choices, Lancelot couldn't be sure he wouldn't have chosen the same thing.

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Secrets among the knights were hard to come by, but a death of one of their own was impossible to hide. As a result, Arthur decided it was best to cancel the day's practice. Instead, he scheduled a meeting in the fortress hall, hoping to bring encouragement in the ranks of his knights where it seemed to be failing. He wanted to establish where he stood among the knights, so that he was no longer their Roman commander, but a man not that much different from themselves.

The knights began filing into the fortress hall at the appointed time and instantly became confused. The long tables that had been originally placed with the ornamented chair at the top had been removed. In its place was a circular table that had the inner section removed so that a big "o" was formed. The outside of the circle had thirty identical chairs going around it, giving the knights no idea of where they should sit.

"What the hell is this?" Mace demanded while laughing.

"It's lunacy!" A young Sarmatian by the name of Korvin, responded.

"Everyone please find a seat." The knights turned towards Arthur as he entered the room. He went straight for the nearest chair pulled it out and stood in front of it. Korvin looked guiltily at Arthur, wondering if he heard what he said. Arthur's face however, was emotionless. The rest of the knights followed though many of them were still confused. "Please, sit." The knights in the room all found a seat and sat, but Arthur remained standing.

"By this time, I am sure the details to the death of your fallen comrade have become known to you," Arthur began. "The loss is unspeakable. The dedication all of you have shown is invaluable. I am not as oblivious to the fact that this life, this knighthood forced upon you, is a future not of your own choosing. I understand exactly what Rome has taken from you. I do not ask for that you wish not to give, but I do hope that as men we will have no titles amongst one-another. We fight and we make decisions for our own survival. For men to be men, we must first all be equal. Only then can we succeed. Only then can we make it through these years alive so that all of you can once again return to your homeland.

"Believe in my intentions how you will, but don't dismiss the lives of your comrades. The ones lost and the ones still among you. I wish to live to see the day all of you are granted the freedom you deserve, but until that time, we must not be blinded by the fact that none of us are more or less then men made up of the same design." Arthur took that opportunity to pause and look around the group. His eyes lingered on Lancelot who gave a slight nod indicating his approval for the speech. Lancelot believed in Arthur's words more than ever.

Not only were the words in his speech reinforced by what Arthur had told him last night, but present at the table they sat at. Ever chair looked the same, and its placement around the table allowed everyone to have an equal view of the others. There was no place here for anyone who did not want to be the same. Everyone here was to have the same respect for the other when speaking or listening and that was how the table had been arranged.

"These meetings, knights, are not to be filled with my own voice. No one is restricted from speaking. If an opinion is to be said, let not anyone prevent it from being heard," Arthur claimed. He became silent and waited, hoping that someone would speak the concerns he knew so many of the men were concealing.

Finally, a voice spoke up and Arthur turned towards the most commonly silent Sarmatian, Tristan. His voice held its strong accent and monotone speech as he asked a question Arthur could tell he already knew the answer to.

"Arthur Castus, you are a man of both Roman and British blood, yet your loyalties lie with Rome. Why should we take the word of a man who chooses to side himself with a country that undeniably conquers for its own fortune?" A few murmurs of agreement echoed around the table.

"Rome is a growing empire," Arthur stated. "With it, brings the center of cultural, scientific, and artistic learning. Though I do not endorse the way Rome takes young boys from their homeland, I believe that Rome's advances are essential to the development of every other nation. If I can bring those teachings of equality that have been taught to me into the Roman culture, then they can spread across the land with the mission of teaching other nations. There will be no more servants to the land. People will have respect for those whose differences rest in breeding or religion. This is what I strive for."

"Rome, Arthur, is thousands of miles away," Galahad pointed out, feeling the courage to speak. "How does your presence here benefit that effort?"

"I'm here to represent Rome, Galahad." Arthur turned and faced Galahad as he spoke. "If I can spread my beliefs here, to the outskirts of Southern Briton, while serving the orders of the Pope, then that's what I intend to do." Feeling that he needed to address his standings with Rome, Arthur turned back to the group. "Knights, I realize many doubts about me remain in your eyes. If I can do nothing to relieve you of my intentions with words, then so be it, but I am not here to take any more from you than you've already given. I'm not here to obtain fame for myself. I am here to protect Hadrian's Wall and the knights who help me guard it. Once you recognize that my intentions are not for my own benefit or your demise, I feel that we will be able to accomplish anything."

"Hear! Hear!" Lancelot said raising his glass of ale while standing. Some of the knights looked startled by Lancelot's sudden agreement to Arthur's words following their argument the following day, but those knights who believed in Arthur's words followed suite. Little convincing was needed to encourage the standing of all twenty-nine men.

Two Months Later…

Arthur stood in his tunic removed of his armor and staring out the window. He had been pleased with the friendship and trust that had developed between the knights and him over the last two months, but he was troubled. None of the knights would have initially assumed there any reason to be. All the missions they had been on for Rome had been minor and met with little to no resistance from the Woads. If they did come across Woads, their numbers were often small and disorganized, but that fact is what bothered Arthur.

The attacks the Woads had been making on the Sarmatians were weak and would obviously be ineffective from their commencement with so few Woads and so many knights. Why they even started didn't make sense to Arthur. Of course the possibility remained for the Woads that the absence of a true leader caused ineffective attacks, but this idea did not sit well with Arthur either. Arthur had heard of Merlin, the supposed dark wizard who led the Woads, and as much as Arthur disliked Merlin for personal reasons, he had to give him credit for being more organized than he currently appeared. A suicide attack would also prove ineffective towards the causes of the opposing sides.

"Arthur," a voice said from the door. Arthur immediately recognized Lancelot's voice. The two of them had become increasingly good friends. Arthur trusted all of his men with his life, but none more than Lancelot. He couldn't tell what feature about the tall dark knight he found most intriguing or most annoying for that matter, but he found that he could trust Lancelot with anything. Perhaps, it was his spirit. Lancelot's strong beliefs from the first day he had laid eyes on the knight were a great cause for admiration. Especially when Lancelot had drawn his sword to challenge him. Lancelot's spirit was something that Arthur found in himself. After all, without his spirit to back his beliefs, Arthur would have no more reason of being there than Panador himself, but Arthur knew it was more than that quality alone that helped establish their friendship.

"The men have yet to see you appear for a drink. What troubles you so often as of late?"

Arthur turned around and found Lancelot leaning against the doorway, concern replacing the typical Lancelot smirk that sent the ladies wild.

"The Woads, Lancelot. Ever since the battle in front of the Wall their actions have troubled me," Arthur explained. "You know far more of the Woads than I, what do you make of it?"

"If it's a comparison you're looking for, I'd say the Woads seem less organized-"

"A conclusion I've noticed."

"Do you think perhaps Merlin has died?" Lancelot questioned.

"A possibility I haven't thought of, but unlikely. We are the main enemy of the Woads here, and we have yet to fight him."

"You have suspicions," Lancelot commented, knowing from look on Arthur's face.

"Something I cannot foresee has begun," Arthur said uneasily. "The attack of the Woads seems to be nothing more but a way for them to inform us that their presence is still there."

"If your concerns hold any truth, what is it that the Woads may be covering up?"

Arthur shook his head. "That's what I can't answer, but of course the most obvious answer is an attack on Hadrian's Wall."

"They've attacked the Wall before. There aren't enough in their numbers for them to take the wall," Lancelot protested.

"But if they could obtain more men—"

"From who, Arthur?" Lancelot demanded. He was sick of hypothesizes. "I do not dispute on the irregular activities of the Woads, but to suppose they are forming some type of army while keeping us distracted with unnecessary battles seems highly unlikely. Their most likely ally would be made of Saxons, and even the Woads won't result to such extremes."

Of course Arthur realized that his theories sounded unbelievable to his own ears, but he wasn't able to dismiss them as easily as Lancelot. It remained the only plausible theory he could construct while still believing Merlin to be alive. If Lancelot's theory about Merlin being dead was correct, then the attacks of the Woads would make more sense. Arthur however, didn't believe that the Woads could successfully keep Merlin's death from the rest of the world if it happened. Arthur nodded and was about to speak when a boy in his twenties appeared before them out of breath. A red cloak rested on his shoulders, but did little to cover his rugged appearance.

"Artorius Castus, I'm looking for Commander Artorius Castus," the boy rushed out.

"I am Arthur," Arthur said stepping forward.

"I bring word from Commandor Serqius from Chelmsford," he said while pulling a letter from his pocket and handing it to Arthur. Arthur took the letter, opened it, and began reading, meanwhile Lancelot turned to the boy.

"You came a great distance with no escort," Lancelot pointed out.

The boy looked Lancelot up and down. "I have no words to address a Sarmatian," the boy hissed.

Lancelot's quick temper caused him to reach for his swords. "Perhaps you are better with your sword then."

The boy glared at Lancelot. "That is what your people are good at, aren't they? Slaughtering the likes of those who stand in their way."

"My people? I believe you have confused my people with your own," Lancelot spat. The reference the boy had made confused him, but the insult was clear.

"Enough!" Arthur said finishing the letter and looking slightly distressed. He turned to the boy. "You may stay here for as long as you need, but if I hear you stirring up trouble amongst my men, I will see to it myself you're escorted off the premises." Lancelot sheathed his swords with a glare at the boy as he left the room before addressing Arthur.

"What news comes from Chelmsford?" The town was located on the most southeastern outskirts of Briton. It served mostly as a trading town because of its position at the edge of the North Sea.

"The answer to our troubles with the Woads, I believe," Arthur said grimly. "Lancelot, gather the men. We have a major issue to discuss."