† Year Five, Day 262 †
Merlin walked down the bustling avenue of the capital of Camelot, a heavy volume tucked under her arm, and let the splendor overwhelm her. Here, a vendor praised his excellent craftsmanship and showed a handful of silver and pearl chains to an interested pair. There, a travelling artist performed magic trickery in front of a crowd of gawking children. They oohed and aahed at every burst of colorful sparks he threw into the air, and the parents awarded his performance with golden coins. A couple yards further down the street, a group of Holy Knights, clad in shiny armor conversed between a stall with magical trinkets and a wooden shop selling tea in a thousand aromas, each flavor from a different corner of Britannia. The exotic scents tingled Merlin's nose, and with a small smile she reminisced the first time Meliodas had prepared tea. With disastrous results, but Merlin had nevertheless downed the entire cup.
Everywhere she looked, the people of Camelot displayed a joy unmatched by any other city in this world. Children ran across the street, absorbed in a game of tag, a trio of merchants laughed at a dirty joke, a couple exchanged affectionate kisses. Nothing suggested that sixteen years ago, Camelot had been a crater.
On first and second inspection, the gifts Chaos gave were as marvelous as Merlin had imagined in her wildest dreams, and with his power, Arthur had rebuilt his home into the perfect paradise. He had fulfilled all her hopes. Then why could she not enjoy her stroll through the avenue towards the royal palace the way she had before?
With the help of teleportation magic, Merlin could have crossed the distance between the cramped and dusty library downtown and her laboratory inside the palace in an instance, but the desire for normalcy had driven her towards a longer way. A search for a little optimism to make her upcoming task flow from her hands with more ease. And while the wonderous architecture, from the grandest archways to the smallest decorations above the window frames, lightened her steps on other days, today, the book under her arm weighed on her like a ten-ton boulder. A boulder neatly wrapped with the colorful ribbon of guilt.
The laughter that filled the streets of Camelot had made her forget the threats of war outside these walls, and the kind words Arthur offered her and every living creature under Chaos' sun had banned the task she had to fulfill from her thoughts.
She had let four and a half years pass since Lancelot's disappearance.
If he was still alive, the Lady of the Lake had poisoned his thoughts to the point where his parents would no longer recognize him. A puppet on sinister strings, dragged around in the Lady's twisted game. She had proven the ease with which she played with people before.
After a final longing look at the alabaster towers of the palace, crowned with red shingles, Merlin let the magic flow through her and returned to the murkiness of her lab.
Instead of the pleasant smell of tea, the windowless room overflew with the aggressive stenches of too many potions cramped in too little space. Merlin snapped her fingers, and two dozen oil lamps flickered and sprung to life. Their light illuminated the many glass tubes and bottles filled with bubbling substances in the most unnatural of colors: vibrant green, deep burgundy, and pink shades to make every flower look pale by comparison.
Merlin waved one of the oil lamps out of her face. Thanks to the overabundance of magic in the air, the lamps glided about the room like a pesky swarm of fireflies. One of these days, she would find herself a laboratory with a window from which she could overlook the city. Too bad so many of her experiments disliked sunlight with an explosive passion.
In the center of the room, above the large wooden experiment table, her most troublesome research object spun in the air. The water of Salisbury Lake had lost nothing of its power over the years of separation from its source and had brought chaos upon Merlin's lab on more than one occasion. She had lost some of her most valuable tonics the last time, and she could have sworn to hear the Lady of the Lake laughing when she had faced the tornado of multicolored potions.
With a healthy dose of hesitance, Merlin approached the sphere of water and placed the volume she had acquired on the table. The Magic of Chaos – A Cross-Examination on the Behavior of Clan Magic Towards Each Other read the title.
To have found such a text had required as much time as it had luck. In all of her millennia worth of research, Merlin had come across not a single source with a mention of Chaos written after the fall of Belialuin. And the few scriptures to predate the event had soon fallen victim to the turns of time because the number of people who had learned to read the language of Belialuin could be counted with one hand. Students of the magic arts had become rarer and rarer until they were per definition extinct. Not a living soul bothered to research the multifaceted magic of Britannia these days. Therefore, no one understood how the powers of the Lady of the Lake functioned.
But for once, luck had allied with Merlin; one of the few survivors of Belialuin had not only kept this particular book but had also translated the writing into the common tongue.
If anywhere in this world existed a clue on how to break the magic of the Lady of the Lake, Merlin would find the answer in this volume.
While making her way through the complicated style of the author, Merlin tested out the various spells and methods listed to separate the individual components of the water's magic. She used a variant of «Purge» – a poor replacement for the Goddess and Druid ability of the same name, but without Elizabeth, Merlin had no excuse to be choosy – to drive out the Demon magic inside the sphere but to no avail. She confronted the water with various crumbs of earth and plants and accursed trinkets from other realms, and while the respective magic did react, the water itself lost nothing of its power. Her spells proved no more effective than imploring the water to dissipate with an angry stare.
The pages turned and turned, the unread portion of the book slimmed, and Merlin had yet to make any progress to speak of. She kept overlooking something, a secret to Salisbury or the Lady herself that would explain the strange aura clinging to the lake's water.
She was about to besiege the uncompliant sphere with a string of colorful curses when the door opened and Arthur stepped in. Although he had matured since he had first acquired the crown and power of Chaos, his boyish looks had lost nothing of their charm, and he wore his hair as messy as always.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said and looked from Merlin to the sphere of water spinning in the air.
"Hardly. I've been treading on the same ground with my work, so you don't have to worry about delaying any breakthroughs. It seems I won't find them anytime soon. But what brings you here this afternoon?"
Arthur gave her a tired smile. "It's past midnight."
Merlin blinked and looked around the room. But the oil lamps and stone walls gave no hint as to the time of day.
"I must have lost my sense of time," she said.
"Don't you always? You're overworking yourself."
"Pot meet kettle," Merlin countered. "If it's past midnight, you have no business coming here of all places. I'm sure there are some important meetings for you to attend to or guests to entertain tomorrow."
"You would know if you'd show yourself upstairs more often. I miss you, Merlin. I miss your advice and I miss talking to you. For someone who claims to have her wish granted, you don't look all that happy."
Merlin made an effort to avoid Arthur's gaze and placed her new volume on a free spot in her bookshelf. With a little luck, Arthur hadn't had a chance to read the title. "Nothing you have to worry about."
Arthur studied her face, unconvinced, but when she further distracted him by offering him a chair, he didn't complain. With the wave of her hand, Merlin produced a decanter filled with her favorite type of wine and two cups out of the air. She had deposited the liquor in the depths of her storage for either the moment of success in her research or the moment when she would feel too outmatched to continue. The current situation leaned more towards the second scenario, but Merlin lacked the energy to care and filled both cups halfway.
When she attempted to hand Arthur the second drink, he declined. "Water, please."
With a raised brow, she emptied one cup into the other until the ruby-colored liquid nearly spilled over and passed Arthur a mug of water, likewise conjured out of thin air.
He looked exhausted. The continued disappearance of humans nagged at him with the same unforgiving fangs as the conflict surrounding Edinburgh, and if Merlin failed to find a way to lift one of these curses from him, they would tear him to pieces. More so than the teeth of Cath ever could have.
She seated herself on top of her experiment table for a lack of a second chair and watched Arthur as he examined the plethora of ancient spell books with leather bindings in black, gold, and forest green stacked on the bookshelf. The mug in his left hand quivered.
"You haven't answered my question," Merlin said and sipped her wine without tasting any of the fine aromas. Meliodas had first introduced her to this particular type. No one knew his way around the booze market as he did.
"About why I came here? Is Edinburgh's attack on Megadoza a good enough reason to convince you to join the court meetings every once in a while?"
Merlin could have sworn that the Lady of the Lake's laugh sounded from the orb of water. Or maybe it was her father as he mocked her shortness of vision. She licked her lips to counter the sudden dryness. "When?"
"Two days ago," Arthur said. "Melio– Liones sent Tristan to hand over the report. That's what he claims at least."
"He should have stayed in Liones. His connection to the throne makes him a prime target for any criminal looking to increase his wealth. Not to mention the potential of his magical powers."
"Believe me, I gave him the same advice. I don't think he listened to a word I said. Once his eyes are set on a mission, nothing will get in his way, least of all an old man with a crown." Arthur smiled. But his eyes lacked humor. "He reminds me of someone else who wouldn't take no for an answer and spent three thousand years to accomplish her goals. He wants to talk to you. About his mission."
Merlin ran her thumb across the stem of her cup and pondered on how to best avoid such a conversation. A locked door wouldn't stop Tristan for long but maybe a sudden vacation to the other end of the country could do the trick.
"What else did he mention about Megadoza?" she asked.
"As far as we know, no Giants were caught in the attack, but Deathpierce turned the entire city into a beacon; you could see the fires from Liones capital against the night sky. The message is quite clear."
"Megadoza is located on Liones' territory. The Giants have abandoned the city in favor of the Fairy King's Forest years ago. None of this should keep you from using the night for a round of much-needed rest. I will spare some time tomorrow to investigate these events if you promise to sleep."
"I can't sleep. And when I do, I always end up with more restless thoughts on my mind than before…" Arthur gazed into the depths of his mug, unseeing. The oil lamp above his head completed two turns before he continued. "I've been dreaming. For some time, actually. It's always the same kind of dream."
With sudden hyper-awareness, Merlin eyed him for traces of possession or other magical manipulation. She knew more than one person with the ability to influence the minds of others, and most of them had more harmful intentions than Gowther. But apart from a lack of sleep in his violet eyes, Arthur showed no signs for concern in his round features.
"Maybe Chaos is trying to show you something," Merlin suggested.
"Maybe. But if so, he's not exactly doing a good job of making himself understood. Even after all this time, I can't figure out what he wants from me when he shows me these images or sends me these sudden emotional bursts. Did you ever think I was the wrong person to become the King of Chaos?"
"Arthur, Chaos himself accepted you as his vessel. You are the chosen wielder of Excalibur, and you have done more good for Camelot and the entirety of humankind than any king before you. Take a look outside and watch the people out there – that should be enough to nullify your doubts."
Arthur set his mug aside and reached for his right arm. The arm he had lost. Because Merlin had failed to see the threat lingering behind Cath's harmless façade. What more would he have to sacrifice before the end?
"I hear these stories from other people at court all the time – and yet every single one of my Holy Knights could best me in armed combat. I'm a wreck held afloat by some cosmic magic I don't understand. I want to know what you think. Why did you choose me?"
Merlin downed the rest of her wine and studied the rim of the cup, engrossed in thoughts of days long gone. When she had lost Meliodas to the grace and loving smile of Elizabeth, she had sought refuge in tales about Chaos, the creator, the god, the being with the power to fulfill all her wishes. These texts had given her comfort. But not hope. Hope had only returned to her when she had wandered through the streets of Camelot, on the run and framed for the murder of Zaratras. That day, hope had taken the face of a young boy with amber hair who had approached her without a shred of hostility or hatred.
"Because I could see that your wish to become a great king and help those in need was genuine from the moment we met," Merlin said and at last met Arthur's gaze. "I know only two people who would offer a hand to a girl with no one to turn to. Hold onto your kindness and your honesty, and no one will deny that you are the one true King of Chaos. Maybe smile a little more often."
An honest smile broke through the dam to make Arthur look ten years younger. Few things in this world sparked the same warmth in Merlin's chest as this expression. "I will do my best."
"I know. Now, what was that vision you mentioned? I'm no expert in dream interpretation, but I'm sure I can find something worthwhile in one of these books. Probably in one of the dusty, moth-eaten ones in the lowest shelf."
Her attempt at humor missed the mark. A frown replaced Arthur's smile, and he stared at the water sphere as though the spirits of his dream resided in there.
"It's always the same person," he said, "a knight clad in white armor. I can't see his face, but I feel like I have met him. Most likely in the dream that woke me up the night before. The White Knight will come to Camelot, I can see the city walls and the towers reflecting on his helmet. Sometimes rain runs down the stone structures. Sometimes snow covers his path. He is coming. And although the dream never shows a battle, I know that I will have to face him. What happens when I do, I cannot say."
Merlin tapped her chin. The story troubled her. It troubled her that Arthur troubled himself over this dream and a White Knight intent on sowing chaos and destruction. In theory, his powers should protect Arthur from any adversary. But if Chaos sent Arthur these dreams, maybe as a warning, maybe as an omen of good fortune, then perhaps there was more to the White Knight than a rare set of armor.
"I will look into this," Merlin promised. "In the meantime, I want you to know that whatever happens, you won't have to face this knight or any other threat on your own. The Seven D– I will make sure it won't come to this."
Arthur gave her a smile. "Thanks, Merlin. I know I can count on you. You've always been there to guide me when I needed help the most. But if you could do me a favor and just talk to
them—"
"We've had this conversation before."
"I know. I just thought that something might have changed in the years since. He won't be mad at you forever. You were a team, the best group of knights I can imagine, and I'm sure they will welcome you back if you give them a chance to understand you."
No, they would not. Not until Merlin redeemed herself in their eyes by presenting them what they had lost at the hands of the Lady of the Lake. Nothing in life and nothing she desired came for free. After getting scot-free for so long, the time had come to atone for her sins. Until that day, the day where she might look at Meliodas without facing the deep wounds of betrayal in his eyes, she had a three-thousand-year-old puzzle to solve. And unlike with the resurrection of Chaos, time was of the essence.
Arthur emptied his mug and turned to leave but hesitated at the doorframe. "Oh, and Merlin? I would never want to discourage your experiments, but this Chaos magic coming from your ball of water is a little unnerving. If you want to do research on Chaos' powers just ask. There's no need to go behind my back."
The winecup slipped out of Merlin's hand, and she didn't think to apply levitation to spare the silver from clattering onto the floor. How? How could she have been so blind when the answer had waited there all along, the solution had practically stared at her everywhere she looked. The Lady of the Lake had no unique power, she herself had said to have been wrought from Chaos. The link in the water of Salisbury that trapped the magic of the Sins, the magic of all five clans, had never been her doing…
Merlin jumped from the experiment table and waved Arthur, who had given her and the winecup on the floor a concerned look, to come closer.
"Could you reach out to this water with your Chaos magic for me?" Merlin asked, and the thrill of discovery filled her with childish giddiness. Wonderful, overwhelming world with all its wonders wrought from Chaos' will.
A little thrown off, Arthur obeyed and raised his left hand towards the sphere above the table. And in accordance to his willpower, the water shifted. Small structures forged themselves out of the sphere, tiny walls and towers, until a perfect replica of Camelot hovered in the air. The amount of detail surpassed the works of the most talented wood carvers. Merlin edged closer until her nose hovered mere inches away from the windows engraved into the water model.
"Should I be concerned?" Arthur asked.
Merlin never did so much as look up and instead marveled at the miniature people trapped inside the castle. "Not in the slightest. You have helped me a great deal, and this discovery will surely be of great service."
Arthur shook his head with a small smile and made his way to the door. "Even the best Mage in Britannia needs sleep every once in a while. Try to remember that for once."
As soon as he closed the door behind him and the presence of Chaos fled, the small Camelot dissolved and returned to the uninspired sphere in resemblance of the current state of Salisbury Lake.
Indeed, the lake had never been the Lady's creation nor her chosen home. She could not show her form or leave because she preferred to mock others with an aura of mystery but because the water restrained her.
The Lake was her prison.
A prison conceived by Chaos for one of his first and most loyal creations.
Like the Sacred Tree reigned over all plants to make them grow or wither in accordance to his will, and like the Supreme Deity and the Demon King held the power of light and darkness in this world, so did the Lady of the Lake control the element of water. And some time before his other creations betrayed and sealed him, Chaos had trapped the Lady inside the very thing she had once commanded. What motivations could lie behind such a deed? Had he punished her for a mistake? Or had he foreseen the ease with which she manipulated humans and had wanted to protect them? No matter his reasons, Merlin could imagine how the Lady felt about her imprisonment; brooding, sulking, planning for millennia. Until Merlin had given her the magic of the seven most powerful individuals in all realms. And little by little, she had used this power to fight her prison. One crack here, a fissure there until her greedy hands had found a way through and pulled humans into the depths of Salisbury Lake.
Humans like Lancelot.
Merlin stared at the sphere of water as it drifted in front of her. Over the course of many nights she had tried and failed to manipulate the magic inside. She had drawn magical energy from its power, yes, but the integrity of the structure had resisted all her wiles and tricks. Arthur on the other hand had toyed with the water with childlike ease. If anyone could free the disappeared people while making sure the Lady of the Lake remained in her goldfish glass, Chaos could.
But what about the White Knight? He haunted his dreams for a reason, and if Arthur revolted against the Lady of the Lake, the confrontation might become inevitable. Another test, another trial, far sooner than Merlin had feared. Could she risk Arthur's life if it meant saving Lancelot and the others?
No.
Never.
Arthur was the last beacon of hope in her world after she had pushed away and snuffed out all others. If she lost him, she would lose everything.
Merlin would tackle this problem alone, no matter how long the search for a solution would last. She would never let him see her troubles, and she would keep all threats and nightmares at bay.
So that his reign as King of Chaos might last until the end of time.
12/1/2020 - Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. I'll be busy with a lot of stuff throughout December, so I can't promise to continue these frequent updates. Here's to a hopefully less stressful Advent for you.
