The Mark.

"That mark…"

Uttered Serle in a half panicked- state. Still unfocused and quite unaware of what to do, he gently laid the head of Lancelot down and looked upon his sword. Lancelot's sword was much bigger than Serles, much sharper too. Though, it looked more worn…and on the blade was dried blood.

"Possibly from an animal."

Thought Serle aloud barely making a squeak over the loud hustling of a heard of goats near by. Serle knew though, that this was left on the sword as a memento, as a trophy per say. As all good squires do, rinsing off the blood of an animal is noble, but the blood of your first kill must stay upon your sword, until it comes desecrated by that of a thousand others. Caressing the used chain mail of Lancelot, he felt many more curves and rivets than his. The metal, now warm from his body, was sharpened at a spot that was abruptly ended. This, indeed showed he was in combat once before.

"SERLE!"

Bellowed Lord Stephen. Not in his usual "I want you to eat dinner before practicing sword skills" Voice but his "Lankin, you shall be punished" Voice. Taking a deep gulp that burned his throat, Serle clenched his sweaty fist and looked up to meet the eyes of his putrid brother.

"Look Unto me son. How Dare you wrong this young Squire, how dare you blessed child, ruin your one chance with this boy. Hes not such a Git or a Wench stealer like you. You must help him immediately, and so help you if he does not wake up, for you to will loose everything!"

Serle, practically bursting in tears, took another glance at Lancelot. Lance's piercing green eyes were hidden behind heavy lids, stained heavily with blood which was protruding down the side of his face and resting in a harty pool just beneath his chin.

"My boy, can you hear me?"

Croaked Lord Stephen, but in a voice that now bellowed deeply in the back of his throat, and for some reason made Serle cringe slightly. No answer. Arthur held his breath, for dare not to add tension by letting his lips loose to get Serle in more trouble.

"SERLE! I demand you go to the Castle quarters, fetch me Oliver, tell him we may need his ahem…services."

"Services…righ…right."

Repeated Serle, afraid to ever look into the dagger sharp stare of his father, for he knew that even his look could prove fatal. Whimpering like wench caught with a knight after hours, he took a few wobbly steps, then stabled and started to run in the opposite direction. Just then, he stopped him self quite readily. Took a deep, shaky breath, and started towards Lord Stephen once more. Now standing almost a foot taller due to the fact the Lord was kneeling, Serle towered over, his shadow covering the unconscious Lance and his father.

"Well, get on with it Son, we don't have all day!"

"No father."

"How Dare you talk to your Lordship like this, your father."

Serle could feel pressure between his very forceps and biceps building. His veins, coursing with adrenaline, his face, shaking with fury. Arthur backed up a bit, for pure fear that his brother was about to combust.

"You never knew him did you, father."

"Surely that did not matter, Serle go fetch me Oliver, My God, you better pray that Giles does not find out, His only son slaughtered at the hands of my own kin, enough to cause war."

"Sir, Lord, my liege, my father, I am truly repentful for this, but he is not dead, nor is he honourable to his father."

"What is this blasphemy?"

Lord Stephen, now red with anger, and possibly fear, held out a weathered fist that bore a ring of gold on it. Ah yes this triggered memories for Arthur, This was the ring that left the blistering scar on his arm, as Arthur peered at his arm to recollect when His father gave a thundering punch for he not paying attention in church, Serle seemed to become even calmer with the enragement of his father.

"His stomach is rhythmically moving up and down, his neck is pulsing, and he's alive. Once more lift up his hair from over his brow front and you will see the very thing that makes me fear him."

Looking at his son like he had escaped the dungeon with the mentally incompetent, he Uttered a very many

"Very well."

Then he pulled back the blood matted mane and he too, gasped ever so subtlety. For on the head of pour lance was the branded mark of a murderer. The inverted star in a circle, now used as a symbol for Satanism, was branded to the inner part of his forehead, just above a very bad gash, and now the imprints were filling with blood, very quickly so no one could quite tell if they had imagined it or not.

"I told you father, this traitor, this boy has murdered one of our own."

For the star was imprinted on your head the very instant you made murder trial, if you were not sentence to exile that is.

"God damn-it."

Lord Stephen did not quite know how to act. This mark meant that the crusade could very well be in trouble.

" A spy is at hand in Caldicot, son, this isn't the mark of a murderer, it's the mark of a blood traitor, it's the mark of an outsider, a spy."

For indeed Lord Steven was now trembling with fear, he knew very well if Lancelot was a spy, he could have easily found out plans of the army they were about to very well let him train for. He slowly got up off the dust filled grass, with blood staining his royal purple robe, he slowly turned to Arthur.

"My boy, Alert Giles and all the others, Alert our messenger, he must head over to Nightenvale, Immediately, tell him to tell the Lordship that his son is a traitor, a spy, and has been quarantined in Caldicot manner until further notice. Tell him to prepare, its happening sooner than I thought."

"Yes, sir."

Arthur felt important as he lept through the fields, over the marshes and up top to the castle. He felt as though his legs were very well turning into the blood pudding he had been eating hours before the incident. The castle was a real beauty, old vines crawled and twisted with certainty up to the very peaks of where Arthurs quarters were. The other side of the tower was where his father had lived, with his mother. His mother was always inside lately, since his youngest sister Sara, who was terminally ill, had been brought unto the world a month ago.

Arthur had only seen her once, beautiful blue eyes, just like his mother. She had been born with a high fever, and blue-ish skin. Arthur had thought of her as some kind of monster with her ferocious cry, but his mother reassured him she was just a little ill, and that she would be heathly soon.She never was. He could now hear cries from that tower, the very same that haunted him at night. Not noticing he had paused, Arthur awoke from his daydream in a daze and kept running. He had found the messenger scribe and told him the news, from there Arthur ran and warned everyone he met.

Once everyone was informed, the pace had quickened and the mood had changed around the marshes. Arthur who could care less with the passing weeks slowly becoming havoc, sat atop a tree branch that overlooked Whales. Below he could hear panic, he could feel tension, he could also see his elder brother practicing harder than ever with a troubled look upon his face.

"I should be helping," Mumbled Arthur to himself.

"That you should young lad, but only time will tell if their preparation has helped, or only hurt their progress."

Arthur, startled by the thunderous voice, almost fell off of the sap covered branch. He looked below to find Merlin, his elder friend who gave him his book. Leaping from the branch to land awkwardly on the ground, he greeted Merlin with a low bow.

"My boy, I am not courtship, nor will I make it to be in my age. No need to bow to me."

Merlin had now began to stroke his beard of white. It reminded Arthur of the cold winters of the marshes of where little snow fell, just enough to cover the ground with a cold blanket. Merlin wore very rich robes, of green and black silver and white, though his favourite colour was purple, purple could only be worn by royalty. Though, Merlin mimicked royalty with the way his speech formed and the way he did certain things like not bowed to other royalty, as he thought he was above it. Now Arthur noticed Merlin was holding a very round stone in his hand.

"Ah my boy, this is what I was longing to give you, it is called the seeing stone, for centuries you can see your future inside, give it a try."

With that Arthur picked up the stone and peered inside, what he saw was magic.