The city was quiet. As Arthur walked into the lower town, he passed a couple of well-dressed freemen following a servant who was holding a lantern as well as a handful of peasants loitering outside one of the shadier inns. Other than that, Camelot's citizens seemed to have gone to bed.

As he approached the eastern gate, Arthur slowed down and started to look around for any signs of Merlin. But his manservant was nowhere to be seen. Where could he have gone? The city gates were long closed and there was no tavern around here, though Arthur knew that some of the less savoury establishments were not too far off if he were to follow the city wall further east. The idea of Merlin visiting a brothel seemed laughable, but Arthur had to consider every possibility, correct?

Before Arthur had to make a decision, a movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. He turned his head to the right and, sure enough, in the narrow space between two houses he could just make out two shadowy figures. Arthur approached the little lane, on quiet feet and at an angle as to not draw attention to himself. He pressed himself against the wall of the house, then peered around the corner. This way, he could just make out faint voices.

One of them was undoubtedly Merlin's, he realised with some excitement. However, it was hard to make out the words from a distance.

"…please… I have… more," said Merlin. Even from just a few scraps of conversation, Arthur could tell he sounded unlike himself: meek and intimated. Arthur frowned and his hand automatically went for the hilt of his sword. Was somebody threatening Merlin?

Merlin seemed to be talking to a man, though his low, rumbling voice was even harder to hear than Merlin's words. "…enough…"

"I'm trying!" Merlin replied. His voice had gone high-pitched and more frantic, which seemed to carry better. "I swear… everything I've got!"

"… gold…" said the man.

Arthur tensed. Whatever Merlin and the stranger were talking about, it involved money. There was hardly any doubt about it: This man had to be part of the reason why Merlin was in dire need of coin!

"Give me some more time, please," begged Merlin. He sounded desperate.

The next snippet had Arthur wince. "…tell the Prince…"

"Please don't! I swear I'll do better," promised Merlin pitifully.

Approaching footfalls had Arthur hurriedly retreat from his vantage point. Quickly, he crept a few steps along the façade, then hid himself in the shadow of the doorway, praying that the residents wouldn't choose this moment to open the door.

Arthur held his breath as a figure left the alleyway. It was Merlin. He hadn't bothered to conceal himself with a hood or mantle, and didn't look around as he made his way up the road and towards the castle. He was rubbing a hand over his face as he hurried away. Was he crying? It was too dark to tell, but he had sounded upset enough before.

Arthur was about to follow, then thought better of it. He knew where Merlin was going. The other man was of much bigger interest to him. Arthur waited for more footfalls. But none were coming, so he sneaked back to the gap between the houses and peered around the corner.

Nobody was there.

Arthur stepped into the dark, narrow space and quickly made his way down the tight lane. Arthur prided himself on knowing his city, but even he didn't recognise every nook and cranny, especially at night. The way was longer than Arthur had anticipated, leading past several more buildings and a fenced-off courtyard. Twice, he had to squeeze himself sideways through a very narrow passage. Finally, after a minute or so, he came out on the other side. As he stepped out into the moon-lit street, he immediately got the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

At first, he didn't see anybody, though another careful inspection of his surroundings revealed a shadowy lump to be not debris, as Arthur had first thought, but actually a man wrapped in tattered rags, huddled against a wall nearby.

Arthur approached him. "You there! Have you seen a man pass by here a few moments ago? He must have come from that alley over there."

The man blinked up at him. Even in the dim light of the moon, Arthur could tell he was skinny and grimy, sporting matted hair and a wild beard. A beggar, most likely. His rags did little to keep the cold of an autumn night at bay and he was shivering.

"Who's askin'?" he rasped, letting out a white puff of air as he spoke.

"That's none of your concern," Arthur replied.

"Ha!" the man croaked. "Important fella, are ye?"

Arthur could not quite hide his annoyance when he pushed, "Have you seen a man or not?"

The man shifted and pulled his rags more tightly about his person. "I might've…"

Arthur sighed inwardly. Spontaneous as this investigation had been, he hadn't brought his purse to buy information. What else did he have to offer? He glanced down at himself, then said, "Tell me what you know and you shall have my cloak. It's a good trade, with winter approaching."

The beggar tilted his head. More respectfully than before, he said, "Mhm. A fine cloak, sir." He paused as he considered the offer. "Aye, I saw a fella."

"What did he look like?"

"Tall, bearded man. T'was a knight."

Arthur leaned closer. "A knight? Are you quite sure?"

"Aye, sir," the beggar confirmed. "Had a sword. Good quality, wasn't none of 'em scratched-up ones the guardsmen carry." He waved a bony hand at Arthur's sword belt. The blade was only just peeking past the cloak. "Like that."

"How would you know a quality blade from a lesser one?" asked Arthur with raised eyebrows.

"Wasn't always livin' on the street, sir," said the man with a shrug.

Arthur supposed he would have to trust the beggar's word on that, however much that was worth. "Where did this knight go?"

The man raised his arm again, this time to point at a house across. "In there."

Arthur turned to observe the building. It was a run-down, stone-built townhouse with a thatched roof, nothing remarkable about it. "Do you know who lives there?"

"T'is a boardin' house," said the beggar. "Always someone movin' in, movin' out."

Arthur frowned. "Why would a knight go in there for lodgings instead of the castle?"

"Lodgin'? No," said the beggar. "But for a game o'luck?"

"You mean gambling."

The beggar nodded. "Has a roomy cellar, that buildin', I hear…"

"I see."

An actual gambling den, not just some men casually playing dice at a table. Arthur didn't want to believe an honourable knight would frequent such an establishment, though it wasn't impossible. More likely, though, was that the beggar had been mistaken, that it hadn't been a knight, but some sellsword.

That would make far more sense, wouldn't it? If Merlin did indeed have a gambling problem, as Arthur had already considered, and had debts accrued in this house, they might send a man after Merlin if he couldn't pay. Men who knew that Merlin worked for the Prince, from what he had overheard. Perhaps they were threatening to get a message to Arthur if Merlin didn't pay up.

A shame that Arthur couldn't go in there to investigate now. The people of Camelot knew his face too well for that.

"Sir?" the beggar ventured.

"Yes, you've earned your reward, man," said Arthur and pulled back the hood of his cloak.

The beggar hissed, then curled in on himself. "Ah—m'apologies," he stammered, raising two hands in a submissive gesture. "I didn't— Please, Yer Highness, I didn't mean nothin'—"

Case in point: Even a beggar recognised his face in the middle of the night. Arthur shrugged off the cloak. "Peace. You did nothing wrong. I thank you for your help. It's much appreciated." He held out his cloak, but the beggar didn't reach out, only ducked his head as far as he could. "It's yours, as per our deal."

"The guards'll beat me blue'n'bloody if they catch me dressin' a prince, m'lord," the man murmured and curled up even further.

Arthur sighed, though perhaps the beggar had a point. He put the cloak back on, then offered, "I can come back with some coin. You were promised a reward and I'm a man of my word."

The man didn't reply and Arthur wondered if he was still shivering from the cold or had started to tremble in fear, too.

On a whim, Arthur asked, "What's your name?"

The beggar didn't look at him when he murmured, "Harlan, Yer Highness."

"Harlan. Will you be here tomorrow?" Again, the beggar didn't respond. Too afraid, Arthur realised. With Merlin around, it was sometimes easy to forget how intimidating a prince had to appear to a mere peasant. Arthur softened his voice considerably when he continued, "I'm not asking to send the guards after you, Harlan. You have committed no crime by answering my questions."

More silence, then a very hesitant, "Aye, m'lord. T'is my usual spot."

"Then you shall receive your money tomorrow." Arthur made to leave, then thought better of it. He added, "In fact, I would ask another favour of you, if I may."

The beggar uncurled just a little. "M'lord?"

"The man – this knight. I'd like to know whether he leaves tonight or tomorrow, and in which direction he goes if he does. It would be much appreciated if you could keep an eye out."

"I'll try, m'lord," said the beggar, though he still sounded cautious.

"I thank you, Harlan," Arthur said. "Until tomorrow."

With that, Arthur left to make back to the castle. He couldn't linger and have anybody else recognise him. He had already risked his father's ire by walking about the lower town at night without any guards. As he crossed back over the drawbridge, he made a point of nodding at the guards so they knew he had returned. It wouldn't do for them to raise an alarm because they thought him missing.

When he lay in his bed again, Arthur found himself even more agitated than before, wondering about Merlin and threats and gambling. When Arthur eventually did find sleep, it was short and restless.

The next morning, Merlin looked dreadful. His cold finally seemed to have passed, but there were dark shadows under his eyes and he went about his chores even more clumsily than usual, almost upending a serving of sausages right over Arthur's head. Clearly, Arthur wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

Arthur decided to put him on light duty and Merlin seemed relieved when Arthur told him he would find himself a squire for training and to see about some sewing and mending instead.

In the afternoon, he sent Merlin off to Gaius's again. If Merlin started to find it suspicious that Arthur kept sending him away, he certainly didn't let it show. Arthur went to retrieve a handful of coins from his coffer, then left for the lower town again.

It took him a while to follow his steps from the night before but eventually, he recognised the narrow alley and the boarding house. Sure enough, Harlan was sitting across from it, his head of matte hair buried in his rags. He appeared to be asleep.

Arthur waited for a group of craftsmen to pass them, then stepped closer and cleared his throat. The beggar's head came up, though he immediately ducked it again when he recognised Arthur.

"M'lord," he murmured.

"I've come with your reward," Arthur said in a low voice and reached into his purse. When the beggar didn't make any move to hold out his hand, Arthur crouched down and let some silvers and coppers fall into the man's lap.

The man stared at the money. "T'is far too much, Yer Highness," he said timidly.

"It's really not," replied Arthur. "Now, have you got any more information for me?"

Harlan straightened up a bit, quickly gathering the coins in his bony hands before they could slip away.

"Aye, m'lord," he said, clutching the money to his chest. "Yer fella left at dawn. Made right for the castle."

"The castle? Are you sure?" Arthur asked.

"Followed him m'self, m'lord," Harlan said, bobbing his head. "Yer fella was sneaky about it, too. Waited for a group o'servants to walk in with. Reckon he didn't want'em guardsmen payin' attention."

"I see. Could you describe his face?"

The beggar shrugged. "Dark beard, sharp nose, t'is all I know."

Arthur nodded, then reached in his purse to get out a small gold coin. "I thank you. I hope this is enough to get you off the streets during winter."

Harlan stared at the money. He licked his lips, then snatched the coin from Arthur's outstretched hand. When he spoke, his voice was rough, "Thank you, m'lord, for yer kindness."

"Be well, Harlan."

Arthur straightened from his crouch and made his way back to the castle, wondering about what Harlan had told him. A bearded, sharp-nosed knight, who spent his nights gambling and was threatening Merlin? It sounded fantastical, but what reason would the beggar have to lie?

He was still mulling everything over when he had returned to his chambers. Merlin hadn't returned yet, so Arthur poured himself some wine and settled down at his desk. As he nursed his drink, his eyes fell on a folded piece of parchment to his left. Leon's notes, he realised. He had never bothered to look at them, occupied as he had been with Merlin's secret.

Arthur set down his goblet and reached for the parchment, smoothing out the wrinkles with his thumb as he began to read:

frequent visits to The Rising Sun – Sir Alynor, Sir Bors, Sir Ector
Sir Lucan – thrown out of The Red Oxen (scuffle over a game of dice)
Sir Galahad – involved with a woman near the western gate

Arthur frowned. It was a well-known secret that many a knight went drinking at the tavern, and bastard children born from peasant women were common enough among the nobility that Sir Galahad's indiscretion didn't come as a surprise to Arthur. Sir Lucan, though… scuffle over a game of dice. Arthur probably wouldn't have thought twice about this had he looked at the notes a few days prior. Now, though, this titbit immediately drew his attention. Sir Lucan, a gambler?

He tried to picture the man in his head. He was dark of hair, and wore a full beard, did he not? And his nose – definitely distinctive.

Arthur refolded the piece of parchment and shoved it into a desk drawer. Then he leaned back in the chair, stretching his head all the way back until he was looking at the ceiling.

Sir Lucan had always struck Arthur as an honourable man. He was a good fighter, reliable on patrol, well-liked among the knights. Even knowing he had been thrown from a local tavern, Arthur had no reason to believe the man to be involved in anything dubious, especially anything involving Merlin.

Still, Arthur found himself trying to remember if there had been any time Merlin and Sir Lucan might have been in contact. Except for the usual circumstances like training or riding patrol, nothing came to mind.

Say Sir Lucan's gambling went further than the occasional game of dice at the local taverns. Say Sir Lucan was indeed the bearded knight Harlan had seen entering the notorious boarding house. Where did that leave Merlin?

Perhaps the two of them had gambled together and Merlin owed Lucan money after too many a game lost. It would also explain why the man in the alleyway had threatened Merlin with going to the Prince – Sir Lucan could approach Arthur any day, if he needed to.

Still – a knight, gambling with a servant in some disreputable gambling house? A servant the knight knew to be the Prince's personal manservant? It all sounded rather ludicrous.

Should Arthur pursue this lead? Question a knight's honour over a troubled servant? Without any evidence but a random piece of information he had got from Leon and a beggar's tale that might as well be a lie? Were this about any other servant – except, he immediately amended, for Guinevere – Arthur would never consider doubting a knight.

Arthur was startled from his thoughts when Merlin entered his chambers.

"Sorry, I forgot the time grinding herbs for Gaius," said he and made his way over to the table. "He's been running out of fever potions. Here, I've got your dinner now."

Arthur stood and walked over, taking his wine with him. As he settled down to eat, he took his time to observe Merlin. He was still looking paler than usual. His eyes were tired and his hand was trembling a little when he topped up Arthur's wine. It was so very clear that, whatever trouble Merlin was in, it was taking its toll on him. Nobody could keep up the pace Merlin had been at for the past weeks.

Arthur hated seeing him like this. He wanted banter and insolent replies and jokes that took Arthur down a notch, not whatever this was. He wanted the old Merlin back, the one that didn't nearly steal from Arthur.

Perhaps he should pursue that lead on Sir Lucan, honourable knight or not. After all, Merlin had proven his worth many times over. He was every bit Arthur's man as any of the knights.