Arthur, however, didn't get much of a chance to think things over. There was another feast to attend and he left for the dining hall directly, in no way eager to return to his room after the day he'd had. Arthur supposed it served him right for napping in the afternoon instead of attending training like he had planned. Normally he would have gone, instead he'd found himself unable able to resist the call of his bed sheets. Considering the attack that followed, he began to wonder if that wasn't also part of the witch's machinations.
The feast had kept him occupied well into the night and when he eventually gave in and returned to his rooms, it was to fall into an exhausted heap, too tired even to worry about the unnatural events that had occurred earlier that day. He awoke the next morning with a summons from the King and lingered only long enough to dress before making his way to the long hall, where his father held counsel.
Arthur cleared his throat gently,"you wanted to see me?"
Uther continued to read the document in his hands. "...Yes," he affirmed absently. The silence stretched out endlessly and had Arthur gritting his teeth in impatience. He hated when his father did this. It was one of the methods that Uther used to subtly remind Arthur of his place. He did it with everyone, though, and Arthur felt ashamed that it still bothered him so much. But he was his son, for goodness' sake. You'd think he'd show some affection, or pleasure instead of treating him with the same indifference that he showed everyone. But even there his father denied him.
Eventually Uther acknowledged him with a momentary glance. "I've heard some alarming reports," Uther started. Arthur remained silent. "According to the guards, there was a disturbance in your room earlier; the sounds of yelling, fighting. Care to explain?"
"It was a misunderstanding, Father, all is resolved," Arthur replied evasively. Uther's frown deepened and Arthur fought to maintain a neutral expression as his father eyed him suspiciously.
"There were also rumours that a woman was later removed from your rooms."
"Nothing more than rumours, father. I think I would have noticed a woman in my chambers," Arthur responded with a lopsided smile and a slightly puzzled expression, inwardly praying that his father bought the act.
"Be that as it may, I trust that you will be more discreet in future dealings. We don't need those sort of mutterings tarnishing the Pendragon name. Am I understood?"
Arthur unclenched his jaw, "Yes, Father, was there anything else?"
"I need you to take a group of knights and patrol the road. Apparently there have been bandit attacks along the stretch that runs through the forest to the north. It also appears that they have a sorcerer with them. I need you to validate these claims and if there is any truth to it, you have permission to kill the sorcerer and his allies on sight."
Arthur's insides turned cold. The moment he'd heard the word sorcerer, his thoughts had immediately jumped to his manservant. He straightened his spine and tried to rid himself of his sudden worry that Merlin was even remotely involved and nodded. "Of course, Father, I'll leave as soon as I can assemble a group."
Uther waved his hand dismissively, returning to whatever conversation that he'd disrupted upon his arrival. Arthur left with a frown, reluctantly making his way to his room. He intercepted a servant on the way and instructed him to gather his most trusted knights in the courtyard in an hours time. He named seven men he knew would best suit the task and continued on to his chambers.
It was quiet in there, peaceful, like nothing more exciting had ever visited it, bar the occasional nightmare. It was like yesterday had never happened or that Merlin had never happened. The thought didn't sit right with him. The way that life seemed to go on uninterrupted, how everything had seemingly returned to what classified as normal around Camelot was baffling, but the wheels continued to turn, people went about their business in an endless cycle of wake, eat, work, eat, sleep. And somehow it all felt hollow, not-right.
Arthur could put off preparing no longer and went about packing his supply bags, checking his weaponry and equipment and was about to call out for a servant to help him with his armour when a soft knock on his door startled him. He opened it cautiously, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise and a blush immediately tinged his cheeks pink. Gwen stood in the door, resplendent in her soft lavender dress, a blush to match his, and a slightly apologetic expression. Arthur's heart jumped into his throat and thoughts of his pending mission flew from his head. "Gwen, I-"
He didn't get further as Morgana, who'd been standing, overlooked next to Gwen pushed her way past Arthur with an aggravated huff and stalked to the centre of his room, then whirled around to glare fiercely at him, her brow furrowed and her mouth pulled into an angry white line across her face.
Arthur groaned inwardly. He was becoming increasingly too familiar with Morgana storming his room to throw a tantrum of some sort about something he'd supposedly done to offend her. Last month it had been him chewing too loud at the dinner table - though it had taken some time to get to the root of Morgana's actual problem. There had been another execution that morning and it had deeply unsettled her. He didn't understand why her reaction to it had been so violent, but he wasn't unsympathetic; the person had been around the same age as them. Now that he thought about it, Merlin had been uncharacteristically silent and had finished his duties rather quickly, then disappeared early on, mumbling about gathering herbs for Gaius. It was easy in retrospect to understand his servant's strange behaviour, since it had been a sorcerer that was but Morgana would always be a mystery to him.
"Where's Merlin?" She demanded and Arthur was momentarily thrown for a loop.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Merlin, where is he!" She all but snapped. Arthur sent a questioning look at Gwen who did little but shrug, clearly as nonplussed as him.
"I don't know?" Arthur responded uneasily, his eyes darting from one woman to another.
"So help me, Arthur, if I've found out you've upset him again, if he's run off-"
Affronted, Arthur cut Morgana off mid-stream. "Hold on, again? When have I upset him?" Morgana's eyes widened in disbelief and her mouth dropped open. "Recently, I mean."
"Gwen told me about yesterday and besides that, don't you remember last week when you called him a 'colossal idiot' and he threw a vase at you?"
"As I recall, he dropped the vase on my foot and then I called him a colossal idiot. What of it? I've called him worse before, and he to me, the cheeky bugger. Lucky I didn't throw him in the stocks."
"Well he stormed out of the room in tears, Arthur. Tears. It took Gwen and I hours to calm him down." This was news to Arthur. He vaguely remembered the occasion. It had happened not long before Arthur had sent Merlin on his little vacation. Now that he was thinking about it, it had struck him as a little odd. Merlin normally would have returned with an insulting or patronising comment that Arthur wouldn't pick up on until he'd thought on it for half a day before realising that he'd been made a mockery of. That time, however, Merlin's lower lip had trembled, his eyes had gone glassy, he'd taken a shuddering breath and then slammed the door behind him in his wake, leaving Arthur staring for an extended moment at the door, dumbfounded, before he had been able to shake himself and carry on.
"I-really?"
Morgana huffed noisily and maintained her glare, squinting at him as she waited impatiently for an answer to her initial question.
"Morgana, despite what you may think of me, I don't go out of my way to make Merlin feel like an idiot." A raised eyebrow. "All of the time," he amended. "Look, that's how we communicate. I call him an idiot, he calls me an arrogant ass or clot-pole or any number of strange and I daresay made up insults, I return by telling him he's a girl, he ripostes, I respond in kind, then Merlin comes out with a random statement about plankton, we stare at each other a moment and laugh, then get on with it. It's how we bond."
Gwen and Morgana gaped at him, their expressions identical in their disbelief. They shared a sideways glance. "That's how men bond..?" Morgana stage-whispered, aghast.
Arthur thought on it a moment, mirth tugging his mouth into a lopsided grin as he nodded. "Pretty much. And no, Morgana, I haven't seen him. Perhaps he decided to go visit his mother."
If possible, Morgana's eyes widened further before regarding Arthur with a look normally reserved for the village idiot. "In this weather, with Winter fast approaching? Don't be absurd, Arthur. I know it's a struggle but I'm sure there are some brains in there somewhere. You could try using them for a change," she sniped.
Arthur's jaw was creaking with the effort of not replying with something equally nasty; he didn't have time to get into another row with Morgana right now, and a fight with her could take days, given the proper provocation. "This is Merlin we're talking about here," Arthur reminded them around clenched teeth.
It seemed that even with his considerable restraint, Morgana was spoiling for a fight regardless, outraged by Arthur's response. "How can you say that!?" she cried, her voice indignant. "He might be your servant but we all know that he's more than that. He's your friend, Arthur! Don't you even care what's happened to him?!"
"He's a big boy, he can look after himself," Arthur deadpanned, resisting the urge to start tapping his foot in impatience. Morgana scoffed, shared a look with Gwen and turned back to Arthur with a bemused expression.
"That boy attracts more trouble than a loose purse at a port-side tavern! And have you seen his sword skills? Atrocious!"
"Hang on, I call him an idiot and I'm being unkind. You call him useless and that's ok?"
"Lies! I never said that!"
"Wha-yes you did!"
"No I didn't! I said he's a poor swordsman. I'm sure there are many tasks he's capable of that don't require stabbing things, but if he were to run into bandits or wolves...or an irritated badger, he could be in serious trouble!"
Arthur suppressed a snort at the mental image of Merlin fighting off a badger before running a hand over his brow in frustration. "I can't believe I'm still listening to all of this. Look, I don't have time. I've got to go root out those bandits and possibly an irritated badger or two. Now! If you two don't mind, I have places to go, things to kill so unless you're going to help me with my armor, I suggest you both get back to whatever it...is...that...girls do."
Morgana sputtered in indignation, "Why ah-"
"I'll take care of it," Gwen stepped in hastily, cutting off Morgana before she could work herself into a tirade, while throwing Arthur a glare that had him squirming in his boots.
Morgana scowled but was clearly fighting to take the higher ground. She stormed towards the door but paused before exiting. "Mark my words, Arthur Pendragon." Oh no. He knew he was in trouble when she referred to him by his full name. "If I find that you had anything to do with Merlin's disappearance you will wish I'd never been born." The door snapped shut loudly behind her and the room fell silent as he digested her oddly worded threat.
"...Touchy..." he murmured glancing to Gwen with a smirk that dropped from his face the moment he caught her terse expression. With more force than necessary, she handed him his chain mail, slapping it into his waiting hand as she stared reprovingly - and unrelentingly - as he pulled it on, the next piece of armor clenched tightly between her fingers.
"Gwen, I, look it-" Arthur's voice failed him as Gwen turned her gaze away, refusing to meet his eyes for more than a brief moment as she helped him into his gear. Her hands were shaking with a fine tremor that grew more noticeable as the intense silence became more uncomfortable as each second passed. Arthur moistened his lips and attempted to breach the awkwardness stifling the room. "Gwen, I didn't me-"
"You know, Arthur, we may not go out hunting or killing things, we might not fight and die in wars or against bandits and thieves but that doesn't mean that we contribute nothing. We don't do nothing, Arthur!" Gwen's voice was rising, her words coming out in a rush. Arthur didn't try to stop her, unsure exactly what he should be doing in such a situation and he could only watch in wide-eyed amazement as this servant girl again surprised him. "We watch as our men - our fathers, our brothers and sons - go out and get themselves skewered on our enemies weapons, we wait, never knowing if we'll see them again and if they come back, whether they'll be the same men as when they left! We keep our homes, our lives running while inside our hearts, a piece of us dies everyday while we live in uncertainty and we are made powerless to do anything to help out on the battlefield by some strange male notion of chivalry!
"We're not flowers, Arthur, we don't sit around embroidering cushions all day and given the opportunity many a woman would want to be out there, standing beside her man, defending this country but you men sequester us away in ivory towers and think romantic thoughts about us, write poems about our delicacy and softness and frailty and never once think that what we go through isn't as terrifying and horrible as what you endure.
"Who mends the wounds? Who holds the hands of the dying when they're brought back in broken pieces? Who is it that holds them when they wake up screaming and crying uncontrollably? We do, Arthur. Not because we want to but because it's the only thing we can do! And it tears us up inside that we can't do more and it kills us that what little men allow us to do for them is disregarded and so meaningless to you that some days it's hard to not hurt you ourselves!" Gwen's eyes glittered, but she held back her tears, meeting Arthur's gaze warily, knowing she'd overstepped her bounds and more.
The silence permeated the room and Arthur swallowed and again, trying to bring some coherent thought to the fore. He'd never really thought what it had meant to Gwen, watching him march off, knowing that it might be the last time. Without prompting his hand came up to caress her cheek, his calloused thumb gently grazing her soft skin, wiping away an errant tear that fell from her lashes. Her hand came to rest on his chest and she met his gaze, still fiery but full of sorrow and affection.
The silence was broken by the distant call of the town crier and both startled and took a step back. With reluctant hands, Gwen tightened the cinches on his spaulders and helped to assemble the rest of his armor. All too soon he was ready to leave, no part of him wanting to in the least but his pride and his honour and his King demanded it.
"...I'd best be off..."
Gwen nodded and attempted a smile, though it wobbled and fell. She bowed her head and stepped to the side deferentially as Arthur finished securing his weapons and travel bags before stepping through the door. He didn't look back.
He ran. The wind bit at his face, roots attempted to pull his feet from under him, branches scratched raw lines across his cheek and his breath burned in his lungs. He kept running, till his legs were on fire, till the tears mixed in with the sweat, till night had wrung the definition and colour from the landscape. He ran till the surroundings blurred before him, till he no longer recognised the world that flew past him. He ran while daylight bled back over the hills and gilded the treetops with warm golden light and when the clouds converged to hide away the sky and rain streamed down in a heavy torrent he continued to race across the land, faster and more recklessly than a hunted beast. And when he finally stopped, he fell; lay panting and exhausted and broken on the forest floor, cold seeping into his bones, shaking with both the chill and adrenaline spent. And as he lay there, breath moving his lung like a bellows, the magic pulsated around him, wound through him and burst like a ray of light, so hard and harsh, it pierced the overcast sky. Blissful, wonderful blackness crawled in around the edges of his vision, till there was nothing left to see, till there was nothing left to feel. Just cold, beautiful emptiness.
With a steady stride, Arthur made his way through the halls of Camelot, his body lined with tension, a sense of foreboding clenching his gut. Every noise had him on edge, every inexplicable shadow making him flinch and although he kept his eyes firmly pointed forward, he was still hyper-aware of his surroundings. So when he failed to notice the presence until the frail, birdlike hand had jerked out and pulled him into an adjoining hallway to come face-to-face with last night's would-be assassin, it was with shock and not a little humiliation. He was, however, given very little time to berate himself for it.
It took mere seconds to recognise yesterday's attacker, despite her having washed, dressed in a servant's uniform and provided a decent meal and even less time to wrap his hand tightly around the grip of his sword. Arthur couldn't say what stopped him from running her through right then and there or call out to the guards but he staid his weapon and held his tongue.
Her voice, when she spoke, was reedy and thin, "what you seek is not what you will find. What you find will lead you to where you seek but time alone will deliver the answer to you. Make haste, no! Wait...ride forth. Find the walking skeletons. Dance with the dead. Let Sol's consort die, then live and become whole. You must ride. Ride with the wolves and paint the world red. Run! Chase down the life-giver, find the place where hoarfrost takes no hold. There you will find your heart's shield. Go, give in. Become traitor. Come home. Come home whole. Take hold of the land and bring it from darkness. Go forth!"
Arthur could hardly comprehend his inaction, let alone worm his way through a riddle; he could only continue to stare at the woman with the glazed and unseeing stare. Abruptly she blinked, shook her head and stepped around Arthur as if he were a statue, her gaze no less vague or unfocused. He watched her drift down the hallway until she disappeared around the corner and had to rally himself before he could resume his own journey.
He did so more slowly than when he'd originally set out and arrived at the courtyard where seven of his men were assembled and waiting, some already astride their mounts, others in different states of repose; standing, sitting and crouching in a rough semi-circle. Arthur nodded his head in greeting, attempting to clear the cobwebs from his mind as he returned to the business at hand.
He didn't offer any speeches, only asked that they double check their supplies before they head out. With everything settled for the moment, Arthur and his men set out at a steady, brisk pace. Villagers peered out from windows and lined along the streets to watch as they passed. Some offered waves, one or two inclined their heads in respect but the weather kept their salutations brief. The air was cold, the sky a bruised sort of purple, promising storms - not the most ideal of weather, but typical being this close to winter. The wind howled through the streets, tossing dried leaves across the muddied ground and tugged at cloaks like a grasping lover.
It was at times like these that Arthur was eager for the onslaught of winter. While the season sometimes encouraged wolves to venture closer to town in search of food and made honest men desperate, those were unusual occurrences and easy enough to deal with, but this torturous approach of the season always seemed filled with chaos, danger and growing uncertainty. At least with the snow, the worst of the trouble was held at bay by blankets of white, bone-chilling temperatures and pelting snow-storms. People very often stayed indoors rather than risk certain death outside. Though even winter was not without its troubles. Cabin fever often had castle inhabitants being tetchier than usual, and that in itself presented a whole world of new challenges. It was also the season of court intrigue, when there was little to occupy the minds of the nobles other than their own scheming and affairs.
Arthur startled from his thoughts as a severe gust of wind bit at his face; they'd left the protection of the city walls and ahead of them lay the road, a brown smudge through the grey and desolate land surrounding it. This mission was looking less and less desirable as each moment passed. He could sense the displeasure of his men; their loyalty, honor and fealty to the crown the only thing keeping them steady on course. The party remained stuck in a strained silence, the plodding of their horses' shoes against the ground and the metallic clink of their tack the only sound other than the rustling of the wind as it rushed through the dying grass of the valley.
For some time they maintained their speed and their silence and only stopped some hours later so they could rest and water their horses. The sky had turned darker, more threatening and Arthur was loathe to continue at this point, except to find some shelter. It wouldn't be long before the heavens burst and soaked them to their bones; their task was unpleasant enough without them being drenched through and through. "We'll continue to the town of Bree," Arthur announced once his men had gathered again. "We'll hold up there for the night and hope for better weather in the morning. There's no point in getting there fast if you're too sick to fight. However, if it doesn't clear up by tomorrow, I'm afraid we're all going to have to risk it. Mount up."
At least the remaining distance to the town was small. Bree hardly qualified for more than a village, but it had an Inn with a stable attached and was famous for its' local cider. If they pushed their mounts a little faster to reach it, no one was complaining. It wasn't till they were firmly ensconced at a table within the tavern that the silence truthfully broke. All nine of them crowded around two tables by the fire, each with a mug in front of them, relieved from the drudgery of travel.
"Ah!" Galahad slapped his hand against the table, startling the others. "I figured it out!"
"Figured what out?" Sir Kay asked wearily, leaning back in his chair.
"What's missing," Galahad replied, a smirk on his face. All around the tables each man let out a groan.
"What's missing?" Sir Pelleas enquired dutifully. He was the youngest in the group, only newly knighted and for whatever reason had found in Galahad a mentor of sorts. Lord only knew why.
"You haven't noticed?"
"Noticed what?" Arthur said through gritted teeth. Galahad, though stalwart, trustworthy and a mean hand with a sword was also an annoying little prick sometimes.
"What's missing!"
Sir Liam bared his teeth in a growl and slammed his tankard on the table with a loud thud and a slop of his drink, "for Christ and Country, Galahad, just spit it out!"
"Merlin," Galahad replied with a flourish of his hand. He then took a deep sip of cider and lounged back in his chair, looking quite pleased with himself. The table was silent as each man looked around and in unison an "Aah," of revelation escaped the others. Arthur just groaned and would have put his head in his hand, but restrained himself, settling on glaring at Galahad, who returned the look with amused innocence.
"where is Merlin?" Pelleas asked, brow creased in concern. Trust Pelleas to ask. Though the boy was young, only just turned twenty, he was a mountain; broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, thick jawed and about a foot taller than everyone else in the kingdom. Intimidating was putting it lightly but as with many people of large stature, it only figured that he was all mush in the middle. He acted with almost maternal protectiveness when around Merlin - Merlin being so skinny and shorter by comparison, even if he was an inch or two taller than Arthur - because Merlin wasn't a warrior and it made Pelleas all the more wary about Merlin's safety. The green knight had only really been travelling with Arthur and his knights for a few months, so was still not used to seeing Merlin standing unscathed after a foray with bandits in the woods or a bar room brawl. Of course, once all danger was over, Merlin still managed to catch his foot on a root or bar stool and end up in a world of hurt. Arthur supposed it was part of his charm.
The others voiced their curiosity as well, all eyes turned towards their prince. "Uh, he's, doing some...errands...for Gaius today..." Arthur replied weakly. There were a few raised brows but no comments; he was the Prince after all. "Anyway, enough of this. Finish your drinks and get some rest, we'll be leaving early tomorrow." He stood abruptly and marched upstairs to his room, leaving the others to watch his retreating back.
It had only felt like moments from when his head had hit the lumpy pillow to now, waking to the sound of a rooster's crowing. His feet were cold and his arm stiff from lying on it awkwardly and even though he'd not had much to drink, he was still feeling seedy and grouchy. Not wanting to delay his stay, he settled for only washing his face and under his arms with the hand basin, quickly donning his travel clothes and heading downstairs. It was still and quiet in the main room. The innkeeper gave him a sleepy nod of acknowledgement from his place behind the bar where he was setting up for the day to come. No other patrons were awake. Arthur took a seat at the table they'd commandeered the night before and poked at the banked fire, stirring the embers and throwing on another log to warm the room. It helped alleviate the gloom of the Inn, making the place a little more cozy and Arthur a lot more reluctant to leave it. Though he would have been more comfortable if he'd slept on his bed roll in the barn (ignoring the associated smells) - the bed had been lumpy and hard in places - the inn was well maintained, the sheets had been clean and the serving staff accommodating and when it boiled right down to it, Arthur simply did not want to arrive at his task.
The idea that he had free reign to slaughter people - even criminals - didn't sit well with him. This whole situation he was riding into just didn't feel right, and considering the timing of it - the very day after Merlin had fled the castle, it had Arthur's hackles up. He tried to consider the possibility that Merlin may be involved and had to pause. Outright, Arthur couldn't simply dismiss it as an impossible scenario. Once, he'd known Merlin, had known that there wasn't a single vicious or evil bone in his body. Merlin would let spiders free instead of killing them, much to Arthur's unending distress - being chased by giant arachnids had certainly seen to that embarrassingly resilient phobia. But now...how much of what he'd known or thought he'd known about Merlin was even remotely true? Despite what Gaius said, he didn't know Merlin. He hadn't known his most important secret and probably wouldn't have had any clue to it, had events played out differently. Merlin was a contradiction. A pitiful liar in most cases yet apparently a master at deception. How much was ruse? How much was real? Arthur couldn't even ask the man in question, with no idea where he'd disappeared to.
His first thought was to head towards Ealdor; it was the most likely place that Merlin would retreat, but Merlin also knew that Arthur was aware of that and if he feared for his own life, he would also fear for his Mother's and he'd know that his very presence could well endanger her.
Arthur stirred from his thoughts as his men trampled groggily down the stairs. The only one who looked even half awake was Liam, the oldest out of the assembled knights and the one most used to travel. Galahad appeared rightly hung over - he must have had one tankard or two more than the others after Arthur had left. Pelleas was surprisingly subdued - Arthur had always figured him for a morning person - and Kay was leaning on Sir Orlin's shoulder drowsily. The other two knights, Daffydd and Erst were looking as awake as Pelleas. Arthur's mouth drew down into a frown. This day was not looking promising.
They didn't stay long after assembling, just long enough to refresh their supplies and pick up a dry breakfast they could eat on the road. They stumbled into a grey and bleak morning. The ground, where not covered in a fine layer of dew was soaked with last nights' downpour and their boots were soon coated in a thick layer of mud. The air was crisp and their breaths fogged before their noses. Steam curled off the bodies of their mounts who appeared as subdued as their respective riders, necks hung low. Arthur pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and without waiting for his men, mounted Caesar and nudged him into a light canter. He heard his men follow suit, the trampling gait of seven horses were a thundering comfort behind him.
They travelled at an easy pace until midday, then stopped to water and feed their horses as well as give themselves a break from the saddle. It had drizzled off and on during the ride; the sun was making a tentative appearance from a break in the clouds and the men were glad for the temporary reprieve. Though it was no time at all before they'd remounted and continued on their quest.
They approached the forest far too soon for Arthur's liking; he was dreading the encounter for more reasons than he'd care to admit. The knights sat straighter in their saddles as the forest came into view. Before they hit the treeline, Arthur pulled them aside to organise their plan of attack.
"First things first, we need to ascertain our enemy's numbers, their strengths, their weakness and the terrain. I want Kay, Pelleas, and Liam in one group, Erst, Orlin, you're with me. Galahad and Daffydd, you're to stay and guard the camp, tend the horses and keep an eye on our supplies. The bandits are most likely holed up in the clearing beyond Tierre's Passage. The passage itself is reported to be where the attacks are occurring. It's an ideal place to ambush travellers; though the footing is treacherous and the path narrow, it's a popular thoroughfare since, unlike the main road it cuts directly through the forest and it's sheltered by the ridge on either side of the path, which also makes a great vantage point for archers.
"We'll head out at dusk. Kay, I want your group to head in from the west and scout the surrounding area as you head towards the passage. We'll do the same from the east. Take care, don't get caught and don't try to be heroic. This is a simple reconnaissance mission. Once you've discovered as much as you can, head back here and we'll decide what to do from there."
His men nodded in understanding accompanied by some good-natured grousing from Galahad who'd much rather join the scouting party then set up camp. Having sampled Galahad's attempt at stew on a previous mission, Arthur would have considered bringing him along, except his appalling grasp of cooking was only out-shined by his inability to stay quiet for more than a handful of minutes. Galahad was not built for stealth.
Before the men set out, they had to water, tether and brush down their respective mounts; they wouldn't be able to move quietly through the undergrowth on horseback and after the miserable ride, they appreciated the opportunity to stand on their own two legs. The horses certainly didn't seem to mind the reprieve. Everyone assisted in setting up camp a short walk from the road, among a small copse of heather. Daffydd was volunteered to cook and the men had to hold in their complaints about the taste. It wasn't gag-inducing, but it was not exactly what one could call appetising. Edible, maybe; they'd grown spoiled on Merlin's hot-pot. Not that Merlin was much of a cook either but the knights could hold no candle to his speciality Rabbit stew.
As time for them to move approached, a thrill of excitement managed to worm its way through Arthur's veins, making his fingers clench and unclench with anticipation. Though he was not in the least enthused by the mission in and of itself, like the promise of a hunt it was enough to ignite the part of him that relished scraping over rocks and passing through trees unnoticed by his quarry.
It was almost with relief that he signalled his men to march out. The sun had well and truly dipped below the horizon, but it's light clung determinedly to the treetops and hills. Everything had become muted and difficult to distinguish yet still bright enough that despite the occasional misstep, the terrain was relatively easy to navigate. After the drizzle throughout the day, the sky was mercifully clear, stars shining feebly at first but growing in number and intensity as the men travelled further into the depths of the forest and night slowly crept in. Around them, the calls of owls, and other nocturnal creatures kept them company and helped disguise the occasional muffled curse as a foot tripped over an unexpected root or cloaks snagged in the underbrush. It soon turned out that their attempts at stealth would be unnecessary.
They heard the camp before they saw it. The sound of conversation, metal clanking against metal and most alarmingly the wailing of a small child bled through the trees as they approached. They had no sentries posted, which sent up an alarm in Arthur's head. Determinedly he signalled his men to move closer. The scent of smoke from a cook-fire drifted over to them, the accompanying food smells not in the least appetising, carrying an acrid, burnt quality to it that made Daffydd's attempt seem not so bad. As Arthur, Orlin and Erst approached the top of the ridge overlooking the clearing, they dropped low and crawled to the edge and peered over.
This was not a bandit camp. Or at least not like any Arthur had ever come across and he'd seen his fair share over time. His brow creased in confusion as he studied the camp with narrowed eyes. The child he'd heard, Arthur spotted near the cook-fire, wiping at a runny nose with his sleeve, free hand clutched by a woman who'd seen better days. Her hair was dishevelled, her dress torn and smeared with mud, hanging loosely off her frame like it had been made for someone much bigger. From the poor state of it, and the unhealthy pallor of her skin, it wasn't even a stretch to believe that it had been hers, only from a much healthier time. With a lurch Arthur recalled the witch who'd attacked him earlier and wondered if maybe she'd come from a situation like this. There were twenty others milling around in varying states of distress; only two other women among them. The rest were men with ages ranging from the very young to the very old. All had seen better days. The pot heating over the fire looked to contain no more than filthy laundry water that realistically must have been the food smell that still offended Arthur's nose with each brush of wind. The few huddled around with bowls in their laps sipped at their meagre offerings with hollow acceptance but clear distaste. Even one of Galahad's dishes was suddenly looking like a feast by comparison. What few tents they had were clustered together near a secondary fire. Little more than ragged sail cloths cast over hastily erected frames, Arthur couldn't imagine they were worth much against the bitter cold of the early hours of the morning and no help at all against the weather. About six men were laid about near the tents, the two woman moving from one man to the next and back, tending to foreheads and checking wounds under filthy bandages. He'd seen enough. He shared a look with his men and they slowly crept back down the ridge and once they'd moved a safe distance away, abandoned all stealth and made their way as quickly as it was safe to in the dark back to their own camp.
They met Kay, Pelleus and Liam just on the border of the forest and walked the rest of the way to camp in taut silence. It wasn't until they were firmly ensconced around their own fire that anyone spoke.
"They're refugees," Liam muttered, staring thoughtfully into the flames.
"That doesn't mean that they're not the bandits," Kay responded with a small shrug of his shoulder. Liam flicked his eyes up momentarily to regard Kay. Eventually conceding the point with a minute nod.
"They're not very good at it if that's the case," Erst rejoined brusquely.
Orlin snorted humourlessly, the corner of his mouth pulled up into a lopsided grin, "they certainly weren't revelling in any spoils from what I saw."
"Did anyone see any signs of sorcery or magic?" Arthur asked, cutting through the chatter. He didn't have to look to know that his party were shaking their heads in the negative. Kay and Liam were also indicating a no, but Pelleas hesitated. "What is it?" Arthur demanded. "Speak up."
Looking uncomfortable, Pelleas squirmed under the collective scrutiny of the group. "Well, it's not that I saw any magic per say, but I did notice that the child was being treated...deferentially? I suppose. I was wondering if maybe...I don't know, that maybe the child could have been the rumoured sorcerer." He looked unsure, hunching down into himself as if to avoid their gazes.
"Perhaps you're right, Pelleas," Arthur finally responded, his thoughts on the small Druid boy he'd once helped Morgana deliver from the city. He shook himself slightly and looked at each of his men in turn. "Be that as it may, this isn't a simple case of going in and rounding up thieves and brigands. Those people down there have no supplies, only rudimentary weaponry and no sense of organisation. My guess is that they've become desperate this close to winter and are attempting to steal from travellers merely to survive but I doubt that they're as successful as the report makes them out to be.
"For now, let's get some rest, we'll discuss ours plan at first light," I need some time to think, Arthur added to himself. His men nodded then retired to their shared tents. Arthur dismissed them all, taking first watch, grateful for the time to think things over in relative peace. He couldn't treat the situation as his father would have liked, even if they were the criminals described in the rumours. At times like this he would normally turn to Merlin for advice or some guidance - not that he'd ever admit it aloud. He hadn't realised how much he valued Merlin's opinion until this moment.
He could almost hear Merlin in his head, preaching on mercy and understanding and he chuckled fondly at the thought. He just hoped that Merlin would approve of his plan; his father certainly wouldn't but then his father wasn't known for his charitable nature.
The night was mostly quiet except for the sounds of nocturnal animals rustling through the undergrowth and the gurgle of the nearby creek a constant in the background. It was, however, cold. Bitingly so. Arthur drew his cloak tighter around him, shifting slightly near the fire. He'd kept it at his back so it wouldn't affect his night vision but it was hard not to turn around and warm his hands, which had gone stiff and tremulous. He contented himself with forcing them under his arms and continued his vigil, looking forward to when the next man would come and take his place.
The sky had turned ashen with pre-dawn light when Galahad sleepily dropped down next to him without a word and patted him on the shoulder, relieving Arthur of the watch. Arthur nodded in response and headed to his own private tent, collapsing bonelessly on the soft mound of furs, asleep with his boots still on.
A/N: I know, it's been...um years? I've actually been sitting on some new material for this story for a while and it's been edited, re-edited and then edited some more and as I was about to post it, edited one last time. So hopefully it hasn't been a disappointment.
I have also done some re-writes on the previous chapters, so there may be sections, which currently don't match with what I've already posted. I am in the process of updating that, so if you receive a lot of updates, sorry to disappoint you, but there won't be a new chapter, at least for a while.
I'd like to take the time to thank those people who've stuck with me over the years - considering how flaky I am - and also would like to ask that if you have any criticisms about my writing, please tell me. I want to continue to improve my ability and I can only do that if people tell me where I'm going wrong or even where I'm getting it awesomely right.
So typos, misused or misspelled words, missing punctuation, too much punctuation, characterisation issues, timing, tempo, suspense, plot holes, et cetera, et cetera. All of it. If you have suggestions, I'm open to hearing them.
I hope you have enjoyed this chapter and I also hope that in future I am able to write more regularly. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!