Chapter Summary: The test of luck is held.
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Chapter XI: Before You Became Peasants
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Without giving anyone time to process, Balinor turns to one of the magic-users behind him. A tall middle-aged woman clad in a deep violet dress steps forward, her smile almost splitting her face in half. She roughly shakes long blond strands away from her face and thrusts both hands up. Her eyes turn liquid gold. Several applicants take steps back when a brief but strong gust of wind assaults them. The sorceress places her arms down, and attempts to curb her glee.
Balinor nods in approval. "Applicants with green fingers, please proceed to the left of the training grounds. Those without, stay on the right."
Theo, Merlin and Mordred exchange puzzled looks. Green fingers? None of them . . . Merlin looks down and finds six of his fingers blotted with sickly green ink. He blinks, turning his hands around and trying to find where it came from. Theo and several others are in similar confusing conundrums. Mordred's skin, meanwhile, remains clear and unstained.
"I ask you to hurry." The Court Sorcerer drawls out, piercing through their bewilderment.
Mordred offers them a look indicating he's as clueless as they are before shrugging. He walks to the space indicated by the Court Sorcerer. Theo, Merlin, and other green-blotted applicants hesitantly gather to the left side of the grounds.
Eventually, the applicants are neatly separated into two lots. Balinor confidently approaches Merlin's group, hazel eyes skimming through their faces. Scuffling feet and bowed heads greet his presence.
"You." The Court Sorcerer points at a short brown-haired boy. The boy visibly gulps, and shares worried looks with the brown-skinned girl beside him.
Balinor gestures at three more people, seemingly at random. Heads comically bob to the directions he points to. "You, you, you and . . ." His eyes stray to Merlin. The warlock bristles and hurriedly offers a small smile. He fears it may have come out as grimace. The Court Sorcerer's gaze swiftly switches to the blonde man behind Merlin. "You. Join the other group."
The five mentioned applicants shuffle out and away, dithering but complying all the same. Merlin feels the tension rising, all but a few knowing the purpose of Balinor's actions. Theo's shoulders are set in a straight and tensed line. Clar is even sporting an uncertain expression as she watches her group gain more people. Mordred, ever the expert in blank faces, merely looks on with a cool facade. Beside the druid, Morgana . . . Morgana has yet again averted her gaze from Merlin as he catches her. The warlock's eyes narrow in suspicion.
Balinor unites with the other full-fledged magic-users, drawing Merlin's attention. The Court Sorcerer silently counts the applicants in each gathering. Curious, Merlin does the same and finds out that each batch now holds twenty-six people.
The two crates floating in the air are gently placed down and opened with a flick of a finger. Bronze goblets wrapped with red and blue metal band hover out of the crates with soft clanking sounds. They whistle through the air as they head toward the applicants, blue bands going to Merlin's lot while the red ones wobble within the reach of Mordred's group.
"Get one goblet," Balinor commands, face expectant.
The applicants blink and share confounding glances. Then, each one plucks a goblet from the air. Merlin studies his, running the pads of his fingers around the cool smooth metal. No magic emanates from it and all in all, it seems to be an ordinary chalice used by noblemen during feasts.
While the warlock is distracted, three more of the court's magic-users cast simultaneous and combined spells, their voices mixing and echoing almost harmoniously.
A dome-shaped shield glides into existence, opaque and milky white in color. It spans the whole of the training grounds, spawning from the barriers between the stands and the grassless field. The shield hides the audience — even Prince Arthur — from the applicants' sights. Merlin feels strangely relieved; now, Merlin doesn't have to keep seeing Prince Arthur's reactions to any magical thing he does. The sudden decrease of noise, however, unnerves him; the shield has also muffled the sounds of those outside it, making their words low and unintelligible.
A moment later, two other shields form; these ones are transparent in nature, only shimmering a light golden gleam. One surrounds Balinor and the rest of the court's magic-users like a large bubble. The other ascends from the middle of the grounds, dividing the area into two. It leaves the two groups of applicants physically separate. With cautious steps and glances, they give the newly formed barriers a wide berth.
Balinor loudly claps his hands, getting everyone's attention once more. "Now that the preparations are complete, we shall begin the first test." For the first time since the Court Sorcerer entered the grounds, something other than nonchalance paints his face. A sliver of mischief flits by the corners of his lips, and amber eyes dance with something akin to elation. "It's quite simple. These — " Balinor motions with flourish at the filled buckets on opposites sides of the grounds. Merlin holds his breath. Poison? Sleeping tonics? Venom? Skin-melting — " — are varying doses of hair dying potions. We've made them odorless, tasteless, and colorless. Well, colorless for some. A cupful can change the hue of a whole head of hair. The higher the dosage, the quicker the effect."
Merlin blinks. The revelation breaks the constricting tension among the participants like a popped bubble. Relieved exhalations puff out in the air. It seems, like Merlin, they were all expecting the worst.
"For those on the right." Balinor tilts his head at them. Merlin notices, for the first time, that almost all the applicants on that group are of noble descent. "You are given three different doses. The blue one is the mildest, taking effect several minutes after ingestion. The yellow takes a handful of minutes to be seen. The red has the highest dosage among the three, taking only a few seconds."
The Court Sorcerer then turns to the second group, expression shifting ever so slightly into something a bit more blank. "For those on the left, you are given two doses. The one with a carving of a '1' has the same dose as the right group's blue. The second, labeled with a '2', is the same as their yellow's."
Merlin squints and could barely make out the said numbers engraved at the lip of the pails.
"These particular potions are brewed specially." The Court Sorcerer clasps his hands behind his back again, glancing between the applicants with a challenging gleam in his eyes. "If you drink a cupful, you can neutralize its effects by drinking another cup with the same or a higher dosage before the effects fully manifest.
The goal is, of course, to ensure every strand of your hair retains its original coloring. Each of you will be filling your goblets with the liquid of your choice." Again, he gestures at the buckets. "An applicant from the opposing group will have to drink it. I've ensured that each group has the same number of members so by the end of this test, you must be holding a cup that initially belonged to the other group."
Merlin glances at his own chalice, at the five buckets, then at the people at other side of the barrier. A niggling thought plants itself at the forefront of his mind, something that furrows his brows.
"You have half-an-hour to decide what to fill your respective goblets with."
Someone behind him summons an hourglass the size of Merlin's head. With a wave of Balinor's finger, the hourglass lifts itself up to float over all their heads. The light-colored sands at the bottom shifts restlessly at the movement.
"After that, you will switch goblets with someone from the opposing group." Balinor's gaze roams the field once more, a faux contemplative look marring his face. "Hmm." His eyes settle on the people on the right — Mordred's group. "I'm giving your group the right to choose who to exchange drinks with after half-an-hour." He lifts his head once more to address all applicants. "Your cup must be filled before the sand runs out. Otherwise, you will be disqualified. You cannot sabotage another's cup once its filled. Doing so will also lead to disqualification. You can drink two cups, one of which must be the swapped goblet. Two cups, no more." He holds up two fingers for emphasis. "If you drink more, not only will you be disqualified but I also cannot guarantee your safety after doing such an utterly idiotic thing."
Balinor makes a sharp wave, and the hourglass flips upside-down. The grains begin flowing seamlessly from the top chamber to the now empty bottom. He says nothing more, not even a remark to indicate the end of his speech. He again merely looks expectantly at them.
Relative silence reigns the whole area for quite a number of seconds. Only the soft murmurings from outside the milky shield can be heard. Merlin gulps, fingers tightening around the sapphire-banded goblet.
"Wait," the baker's daughter, who's in Merlin's group, calls out in the quiet. "We only have two doses!"
Realization comes slowly for some of the applicants, their faces brightening and then going slack with incredulity.
"Indeed," is the Court Sorcerer's curt and unhelpful answer.
"B-But how are we going to pass this test, then?" another applicant, one with bright red locks, cries out. "If they give us the highest dose, we'll have nothing to counteract it with!"
The Court Sorcerer cocks a patronizing brow and remarks, "It would seem so."
Merlin's suspicions have been proven to be very much correct; his batch is clearly at the greatest of disadvantage. Gasps and protests fill the air, most of them precipitated by the warlock's group.
A high-pitched cackle reverberates above the din. A gigantic smirk climbs the thin lips of Clar as all eyes turn to her. "Clearly, you lot have to beg before your betters to pass this test." She delicately gesticulates at the nobles surrounding her.
The nobleman beside her startles at her statement. After a moment of thought, he decides Clar's words do have a certain amount of merit. He jeers, "Yes, I should think that is the purpose of this test."
Three more people of nobility chuckle derisively, murmuring amongst themselves. Caged anger splinters the visage of the peasant born, although the diffident ones merely look down at their boots. Indignation flares in Merlin's breasts, and he ventures a glance at the shielded sorcerers and sorceress. Impassive faces greet him, and no one is more expressionless than the Court Sorcerer. They seem utterly unconcerned by the chaos they wrought.
"Cava, Cava." a boy from the other side, one whose fingers are still stained green, calls out. A brown-skinned girl turns in response, an anxious frown etched on her face. "Don't worry. I'll give you the mildest one."
The girl blinks, and then beams. "Oh, Goddess, thank you! That would be brilliant, Fi."
The smile on the boy's face is earnest as he replies, "What, you didn't think I'd abandon you like that, did you?"
The girl shrugs. "We are sort of enemies for now, you know."
The interaction triggers something within the disadvantaged applicants. A handful of them begins knocking on the shield, trying to get the attention of the the other four that were transferred out of the group.
"Hey, mate, help a poor girl out?"
"I can give you guys a bit of coin after the exam!"
"Come now, are we not on the same side?"
"Are you really going to side with those snobs?"
The four stare wide-eyed at them, countenance clearly hesitant. They exchange glances, silently asking each other what they should do.
Another few decide to try their luck with some of the nobles that look friendly. They are met with more or less the same dithering responses. Clar and those of the same mind as her merely snorts and gloats boisterously.
"So this is the test of luck, is it?" Bitterness drips into every word of the baker's daughter, her arms crossed tightly and chalice dangling on slim fingers. "Unlucky are those commoners who dream of dining like kings." Her glare is sharply on the shielded magic-users of court.
Merlin tears his gaze from the desperately pleading applicants and turns to the baker's daughter. "'Dining like kings'?"
The woman startles as if she didn't realize she could have been heard. She composes herself and holds up one lime-smeared hand. "All whose hands are like this are ones who helped themselves with the food." She gestures at the two long tables filled with now mostly empty plates.
Merlin glances at said tables and finds them wholly on their side of the shield, as if to mock them. He looks down on his own hands, the fingers which touched the food coloring a splotchy green. The baker's daughter is right; all those who have partaken in the feast have been grouped together and placed at the side with less doses. He recalls that none of the highborns even got close to the feast. It isn't surprising; nobles are used to a better fare, and therefore unlikely to touch even a single morsel.
Knowing that, Merlin can see that this test is blatantly designed to favor those of noble birth. The warlock's eyes dart to the Court Sorcerer. Is this the attitude of his not-father towards the peasant born then? He swallows down the lump of anger and disappointment building in his throat. He feels strangely let down.
"That may be so," Theo interjects into their conversation. Both Merlin and the baker's daughter turns to face him. Theo cups his chin, a contemplative look crossing his face. "But if there's one thing I learned from these tests is that they're not that simple. Besides, Lord Balinor doesn't care about anyone's birthright." To the baker's daughter, he blithely says, "I'm Theo, by the way."
"Oh. Elise," she responds with quick quirk of her lips. Distantly, Merlin is relieved that he can finally put a name to her. She turns to the warlock expectantly.
"Merlin," he introduces shortly. Then, to Theo, he asks, "B — Lord Balinor doesn't? Discriminate against class, I mean?"
Theo shakes his head. "As far as I know. Else, he could have just made it so that only nobles can join the Apprentice Exam, no?"
Comprehension alight the Elise's face. "You're right." Hope begins to paint her expression and she frowns in thought. Merlin feels similarly optimistic after hearing those words.
"There must be some trick to it." Theo taps his stubbled chin. He glances at the two buckets on their side. "Maybe if we filled half the cup with each of the dose, it'll negate the highest dose of the other group?"
Merlin is shaking his head even before Theo finishes speaking. "If we combine half of each dose, I think they'll just neutralize each other." Gaius has drilled into Merlin the importance of doses in potions, and the warlock is certain mixing them as such will not produce a stronger dose.
"Yeah, you're probably right "
"Maybe we can brew an antidote?" Elise suggests next.
Theo lets out an amicable laugh. "As you can see by our presence here, none of us are mages."
Elise sighs. "And I doubt we have the ingredients for that anyway." She glances at the opaque shield. "I suppose they blocked the audience so that they couldn't offer help."
All three of them assume a pensive silence. Two cups, no more . . . Switch goblets with the opposing group . . . Another cup will neutralize . . . Now that Merlin is thinking about it, the way the words were woven are strangely reminiscent of Anhora's riddles. When Arthur had killed a unicorn and had to make amends to prevent Camelot from becoming a wasteland, both of them had been trapped in a beach in Gedref as part of a test. Anhora, keeper of the unicorns, had presented them a riddle involving cups and poisons.
Can it be that the instruction itself is a riddle to be solved? Merlin concentrates fervently, mind working over the words, the potential clues they are given.
"The buckets . . ." Merlin's head snaps up in realization, unadulterated excitement igniting in his chest. "B - Lord Balinor didn't say we have to fill our goblets with only the buckets assigned to our side."
Elise and Theo blink rapidly.
"You're saying we can get from those three over there?" Theo points a thumb at the colorful buckets implicitly belonging to the other group.
"Yes, the Court Sorcerer did just say we can fill the goblets with the liquid of our choice." Elise nods slowly but the frown on her face denotes she isn't entirely convinced. "But aren't you forgetting there's currently something preventing us from doing exactly that?" She gestures at the crowd of applicants currently banging on the shield separating their groups.
Merlin grins, having already thought of a solution to that. "He also didn't say we can't destroy it."
At that, both Elise and Theo offer him nonplussed looks.
"You want . . . to try and destroy a shield maintained by Lord Dalion," Theo states haltingly, making sure he's hearing it right.
Merlin looks over. A man with slicked blonde hair and a thick goatee has both his hands raised, directed towards the middling barrier. The warlock falters slightly; now examining him closer, Merlin senses great magic emitting from his spell.
"Why not?" The baker's daughter shrugs carelessly after a thoughtful beat. A curious gleam flashes in her brown eyes as she glances at Merlin. "We don't have much of a choice. It can't hurt to try."
"All right," Theo concedes reluctantly. "But I reckon we need more than the three of us." He raises the volume of his voice and yells, "Oi, what if we fill our cups with one of their buckets?" He motions widely at the right side's pails.
All heads whip to Theo, who seems unbothered by the extreme attention.
Someone snorts. "The shield — "
"Do you really think twenty-something magic-users can't create at least a hole in it?" Theo crosses his arms. "Do you lot really think the purpose of this magical test is to learn how to bribe or beg?"
Epiphanies struck each applicant like lightning, and each side shared wide-eyed silence. Gazes shift to the shielded sorcerers and sorceress. Merlin is a tiny bit impressed that none of their faces or gestures offers a single hint.
"I don't know any offensive spells," one confesses, embarrassment tinging his face pink.
Following him, a few more applicants mumble their own similar admissions.
"I know a spell for fireballs," Elise offers. Her eyes glow gold as she effortlessly produces a flaming ball atop her palm. "I can teach you?"
Theo shakes his head, face pinched. "We don't have time to teach each other spells." He nods at the floating hourglass whose sand seems to be going a bit too fast for their liking. "Who here already knows offensive enchantments?" The gray-haired man lifts an arm up, indicating those who have similar capabilities to do the same.
Less than half of their group raises their hands. Merlin fails to join them, too deep in thought. Shields are usually specifically made to defend against offensive spells, and with a shield as powerful as this . . . he doubts their plan would work. He looks around, trying to think of other types of spells to break the barrier. Surprisingly, as Camelot's secret protector for years, he never had the need to tear down something akin to this before.
Elise, with a raised hand of her own, shoots Merlin a befuddled look when the warlock fails to join in.
Theo bites the inside of his cheek. "All right. It will have to do."
They all aim their spells at one spot in the shield. Merlin and the rest of their group anxiously watch them simultaneously recite incantations after incantations. A handful of those at the other side looks on curiously while most adorn worried facades. Clar crosses her arms, cocking a skeptical brow.
Each of their spells — palm-sized flaming balls of fire and strong whirls of gusts — fizzles out dramatically as soon as they slam into the shield. Even after about a minute of this, the barrier bears no visible damage.
Clar sniggers, loud and mocking. "You lot really think you can even put a scratch on that?"
The words break the resolve of half of the casters, and they instantly gather their arms to themselves, mortified. Some, like Theo, soldier on determinedly, valiantly ignoring the snobby nobles' snickerings.
Then, Morgana Le Fay gracefully stalks forward, one arm lifted and palm opened wide. A ball of crackling electricity materializes from her hand, her irises shining like the morning sun. All pause their actions, entranced by the beauty and lethality of the sight. With a sharp gesture, Morgana directed the spell toward the same spot Merlin's group has been aiming at. The electric sphere sustains itself for several seconds, and the shield wobbles and distorts funnily at the assault. A flicker of admiration crosses Lord Dalion's face. However, the spell dissipates soon and the barrier stabilizes soon after.
Morgana adopts a pondering look before chanting another enchantment; this time, strikes of lightning erupt from her fingertips to continuously attack the shield.
"What are you doing?" one noble from their group says in a high-pitched screech.
Morgana gives him a side glance. With a small playful smile, she replies, "Why are they the only ones allowed to have fun? I'd like to try destroying the shield too."
"You're mad!" Clar exclaims.
Morgana seems almost amused at the insult. She continues maintaining the spell. Merlin gawks, not expecting anyone from the other side, especially Morgana, to be helping them. Mordred sidles beside the sorceress and contributed a strong and short burst of wind of his own, proving the warlock wrong once more. Another one steps beside them, expression as mischievous as Morgana's when he blows out an air of green fire.
Confidence returns to those who had been discouraged. They begin casting their own spells, joining the others once more. With them, sixteen of the applicants now barrage the shield with a motley of enchantments.
The shield wavers vividly but Merlin can see the magic holding firm. It acts similarly to a hanged cloth billowing in the wind but too tightly pinned to the hanging wire to ever be swept away. Furthermore, Lord Dalion doesn't seem to be having trouble sustaining the shield amidst the onslaught.
Brute force won't do. Merlin approaches the shield, far away from the place everyone else is focusing on. He flattens a palm on the undulating barrier, extending and enhancing his senses with a pulse of magic. He studies it closer, looking for clues and weaknesses.
Oh. Unlike with the castle shield, Merlin can glimpse the crisscrossing golden threads of this one. It's not as fine-grained as the one around the castle, not as smoothly made. Merlin sees and feels a few knots lining the intersections.
Knowing it can't hurt to try, Merlin gingerly unties one of them with a minute twitch of his finger. It unravels with ease, to the warlock's surprise. Is it truly that easy to crack a powerful shield such as this? The warlock can't fight down the small victorious smile climbing his face. He unties another knot. Then, another and another.
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Dalion's eyes widen and he jerks, straightening his arms. Everyone in court turn to stare at him.
"Don't tell me those spells are too much for you?" Jayden asks with amusement, unmindful of the volume of her voice. The shield around them ensures no sound is heard from the outside. "Lady Morgana giving you trouble?"
"One of them is —" Dalion grunts, curls his hands into fists, and pulls his arms to himself. "Scite. One of them knows how to unravel a shield!"
This time, Jayden and all the others wear bewildered faces. "And they're doing it successfully? To one of your shields?"
"Yes," Dalion grits out.
Balinor says nothing, already watching the one who's slowly but surely disassembling the shield all on his own. And doing it quite effortlessly. To say he's fascinated would be an understatement.
"How? Who is it?"
"I think it's that boy over there."
"Brown jacket, blue tunic?"
"Only one?"
Exclamations of disbelief pepper their little bubble.
"Did a full-fledge sorcerer apply?"
"No," Balinor speaks for the first time. With the boy performing spells, glimpses of his innate magic shines for all to see. However, seeing what the boy did to the scinncræfte crystals, Balinor doubts he's getting the full portrait. "His magic's too raw, too unpolished. I doubt he has apprenticed under anyone before. If he did, then his previous mentor is clearly incompetent."
Jayden frowns. "Are you saying an amateur is currently destroying Dalion's shield?"
Dalion loudly clears his throat. "Could one of you just help me? He's getting through!"
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Morgana halts her attempts, eyes reverting back to sparkling jade. She lowers her arm, gaze settling on the lone man doing magic at a different corner of the shield. Mordred shoots her a questioning glance before following her gaze. He ends his own spell with a start, mouth parting. One by one, they all turn to look at the source of the shock.
Through a golden shimmering haze, Merlin sees and feels the barrier underneath his fingertips receding bit by bit. Slowly, the holes converge and become big enough for his hand to fit. He pushes forward, untangling more threads until his whole arm has gone through. Then —
A great invisible force slams into him and propels him back. He finds himself flat on the ground, the air stolen from his lungs. The shield pulsates once, twice. The hole that was created patches over, and all watch as the barrier gets visibly thicker and stronger. The Court Sorcerer lets his arm fall back down to his side, gold fading from his eyes.
"What the hell?"
"What was that?"
"I doubt there's any chance we can destroy the shield now," one says mournfully.
"Merlin!" Theo and the others run to him as Merlin gathers his feet under him.
"That's the second time today," the warlock groans out, rubbing his back.
"How did you do that?" the dark-skinned girl — Cava? — demands, eyes wide with a mix of wonder and bafflement.
Merlin dusts off his hands. "We weren't making progress using brute force so I thought there was another way. There were, uh, knots? In the shield? I just started untangling them." The warlock sighs, glancing the now reinforced shield. He fears the knots in this one are far fewer and far more resilient. He ventures a glance at the Court Sorcerer, and Balinor cooly stares back in response.
"Knots?" Theo's voice grows a pitch higher. "You saw the knots in Lord Dalion's shield?"
"Well, I used an enhancing spell." Merlin points to his eyes for clarification.
That seems to leave them more confounded, murmuring disbelieving remarks. Merlin is similarly mystified at their surprise; don't they have sense-enhancing enchantments in this realm?
Theo stares at him like seeing him clearly for the first time. "Who are you?"
Unfortunately, after that debacle of the shield almost tearing, Clar decides she has been idling long enough. She marches towards the buckets and replenish her goblet with red-colored liquid.
"Look," she addresses the people in her own group, raising her cup and grabbing everyone's attention. "If we fill our goblets right now, they can't sabotage it, and, on the very slim chance they do manage to destroy the shield, there won't be any of this dose left!"
It takes a while for Clar's words to sink in but when it did, several applicants scurry to the third pail, brandishing their crimson-banded goblets. Even three of the five originally on Merlin's group fill their respective chalices. Soon, the bucket with the highest dose contains barely enough for eight cups.
"Great." The baker's daughter throws her hands up after watching the whole thing. "Not only did we waste a lot of time with that attempt —" She sharply gesticulates at the floating hourglass. More than half of its contents have emptied out at the bottom. " — we are now out of options."
"We should've just pleaded with them," one grumbles.
Theo scratches his head irritably. "And I told you this test wouldn't make sense if that was the proper solution." He appraises the barrier. "Though, given how the Court Sorcerer himself strengthened the shield, I don't think destroying it is the right way either. They can't be expecting us to do advanced magic." He levels Merlin with a calculating look.
"I'm sorry," Merlin blurts out with a guilty wince, seeing as he's the one who suggested breaking the shield.
Theo shrugs. "It was a pretty good idea at the time." He runs a hand through his hair. "All right, there must be something here on our side that will help us. Let's look for it."
Short on time, no one in their group thought to question Theo's authority or order. They scramble away to comply, scrutinizing every crevice and part of the soil. Even as they busy themselves, Merlin can still feel wary eyes at his back. Fortunately, being short on also means no one has the time to further interrogate Merlin and probe deeper.
Right, no more sense-enhancing enchantments or intervening with any lord's spells. Merlin rubs his neck, feeling a tad annoyed. The attention pricks him uncomfortably; one wrong move and someone watching may just figure out he doesn't belong. Why is it so hard to remain inconspicuous in this world? Merlin does it so easily in his, defeating plenty of magical creatures and magic-users without garnering suspicion or any kind of attention. Well, he did have Arthur take the credit for half of them so perhaps that's why he's having a difficult time now.
Suddenly, Merlin recalls that Prince Arthur has actually watched the whole ordeal. His head snaps up but the opaque shield hinders his view of the prince. Right. Regardless of his earlier feelings on the matter, Merlin feels an overflowing desire to see Prince Arthur's reaction right now. Is the prince a tiny bit impressed by the magic he performed? Maybe even a little bit amazed? Merlin would oftentimes imagine Arthur's reception to the warlock when he finally reveal his magic — after the king impossibly gets over the evilness of sorcery, the betrayal of his closest friend, and all the lies, that is.
"What are you doing, dazing about?" Slender fingers locks Merlin's wrist in an iron grip, disrupting his rather depressing line of thought. Merlin splutters as the baker's daughter drags him none-too-gently. "Just because you nearly destroyed that shield doesn't mean you get to slack off. Help me search here." She brings him to the two long tables of food remains, the area that decided their fate.
Right, this is no time to be distracted. He determinedly lifts up dirty dishes and looking below them, studying every spec of dust. He needs to pass this test or he won't be getting into the castle. Elise bends down to check under the tables while three more people begin rummaging with them.
"Ugh, I can't believe I'm going to get eliminated less than an hour into the exam," a boy with a sharp chin whines as he waddles through the leftovers.
"I wished I could have eaten more of this," another replies, poking at a piece of juicy pork. After a moment of thought, he pops it into his mouth.
Merlin moves on to the kegs of ale. He opens up a barrel and find that it is still half full of dark violet liquid. Can something be hiding underneath? He draws a deep breath, roll up the sleeves in one arm, and plunges his hand into the still cold brew.
"Do you think they'll eliminate him even if he fails this test?"
"Lord Balinor hadn't made any exceptions before."
"No applicant has ever done something like that to Lord Dalion's shield before."
Merlin pulls his arm back and flicks away the droplets of ale. He sighs in disappointment, finding nothing. He opens another barrel, and a great amount of water greets him. The water is clear enough to see the bottom. Merlin sighs again. He can see clearly that there is also absolutely nothing in it but pure plain tasteless —
The solution, when it comes, hits Merlin like an earthquake. He glances at the two colorless liquids on their side, then, at the three barrels of water before him. He goes over the wording of Balinor's instructions again.
"If you drink a cupful, you can neutralize its effects . . . Liquid of your choice . . . You can drink two cups . . ." Merlin mumbles, becoming more certain by the second.
He lifts his head up, eyes darting to the hourglass. They have barely a few minutes left. He needs to move fast.
First, he has to block the other side's view of them. He ponders on it for a short while, searching for potential spells he can use. He picks the first viable spell that pops into his mind.
"Ic her aciege ænne windræs! Færblæd wawe!"
Immediately, a large whirlwind spirals into existence beside the shield, its top almost touching the dome ceiling of the milky shield. It traces a back-and-forth path in the lining of the barrier, kicking off chunks of soil from the ground. Applicants hurriedly back away from the sharp winds, covering their eyes and mouth.
Merlin guiltily performs another air spell, ensuring the dusts head toward the shield and not anywhere else. After a few seconds, the constant whirlwind swirls enough dirt in the air to hide them from the other side's sight.
The applicants goggle at the display. Theo turns wide blue eyes to Merlin. "All right, are you even an applicant? Are you part of the test?"
"What? No." Merlin hastily beckons the others to gather. "Hurry! I know what we have to do."
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"Who on earth is that boy!?"
"He said his name is Merlin," Balinor replies, not taking his eyes off the gathered applicants.
He hears papers rustling as his companions search for the name among the documents.
Jayden hums approvingly. "White Level. No previous mentor."
"Knows only about fifty spells? And one of them is a powerful air enchantment?" Mavin looks extremely confused and baffled.
"What kind of beginner's grimoire teaches that?"
Balinor ignores their mutterings, lost in his own thoughts. The boy, Merlin, is clearly someone worthy of a White Level status, and more. How is it that he has heard nothing of this Merlin before now? Surely someone with his capability would have a reputation equal to Lady Morgana's?
The Court Sorcerer watches as the circle of applicants loosens after an emphatic discussion. They all dash to and fro with their respective goblets to execute a plan, giving the strong whirlwind a wide berth.
Despite all of the unanswered questions, a smirk quirks his lips.
It seems they've figured it out.
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"Well," is all Mordred can say as he stares at the intimidating whirlwind dashing back and forth with great speed. Frankly, the druid is a little bit thankful for the shield now. With the tornado filling the air with dust and making quite a gut-wrenching whooshing sound, they are oblivious as to what's happening on the other side.
His very first impression of Merlin as an ordinary uncoordinated magicless man is truly far off the mark.
"Impressive." For some reason Mordred cannot fathom, delight colors both Lady Morgana's tone and expression in the face of the ruckus Merlin all too easily summoned.
All the other applicants on their side look slightly frightened or, at the very least, disconcerted.
"Cava! Cava!" one of the people with green-stained fingers, calls out, banging desperately at the shield.
"They're fine," Mordred attempts to reassure, setting a hand on the other's shoulder.
The boy roughly shakes him away, anger contorting his features. "How would you know? They have someone dangerous with them there right now!"
Which is true but Mordred doesn't think there's any malice to Merlin's actions right now. Before the druid can offer more assurances, someone beat him to it.
"I doubt he has anything to gain by hurting them," Lady Morgana's calm and practical tone pierces through their conversation. "This — " Here, she gestures at the whirlwind. " — is for their own benefit. Clearly, they're planning something they don't want us to know."
The boy called Fi bites his lower lip in worry, fists still on the shield. He ceases his panic-stricken shouts but does not look comforted in any way. Lady Morgana's argument is reasonable but Mordred knows the heart rarely listens to reason.
Clar snorts in disbelief, indicating she has been eavesdropping. Morgana lifts an elegant brow. "Lady Clarisse, how are you still underestimating them despite all this?"
A flicker of doubt enters Clar's green eyes before she puffs out her chest. "They're just peasants."
A realization lights up Morgana's face. "Oh. That they are." Her gleaming eyes slide to the Court Sorcerer. "How clever." She fights down a chuckle. "A test of luck indeed." She cares not to elaborate, making Mordred incredibly curious.
Mordred observes her as she walks to one of the pails, and bends down to finally fill her chalice. She notices the druid's attention, and offers an amused smile. "We better get our goblets filled. Time is about to run out."
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"Go, Merlin! Go, Mordred! Go, go, go!" Selly's cheers without restraint, his chants being drowned out by hundreds of other voices. Kelly chirps continuously, jumping up and down on Selly's lap.
Tom, having arrived with Kelly just as the exam was beginning, attempts to calm them both down. "You'll lose your voice, Selly. Lower it a little bit."
Levi pays them little mind, more focused on the happenings inside the shielded dome. This year's a little bit more exciting. His leafy eyes glide to the dark-haired young man directing the others to act while also having enough focus to maintain the dynamic tornado. Levi leans back on his seat, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. Who would have thought someone so unassuming and almost unremarkable could do something of this caliber? Levi certainly didn't.
"How clever."
Levi's eyes snap open and turn to the brunette sitting upright beside him. Has he always been there? Levi recalls a rather fetching voluptuous woman in that spot, one he has been planning to recite his amazing recruiting spiel to. Tch, the boy must have squeezed in while Levi was distracted.
The brunette turns to him, mouth stretching into a wide excited grin. "Merlin's so clever and so amazing, isn't he?"
Levi tilts his head. "You know him?" From what Levi has gathered, Merlin is new in Camelot and has brought along no companions.
The brunette pushes his glasses up, which made his emerald eyes childishly bigger. "We met before the exam started! Wait, you know him too? How'd you meet him?" He says all in one breath, leaning forward.
"We met at the tavern just this morning," Levi answers, seeing no harm in being honest. Ah, just hearing the word makes him yearn for a good long drink.
"The tavern? So early in the morning?" The brunette blinks slowly. "That's a very weird place to meet."
Levi cocks a brow. "I'm glad you think so." He gives the brunette a deliberate once-over. Hmm, much too young to recruit. Also, the brunette looks like the type to get into trouble and not even know it. Levi is not about to invite someone like that into his respectable establishment.
"Can I ask you a favor?" The brunette blurts out, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and directing his pupils down. "I don't see very well even with my glasses. And I'm really confused with all them running around. Is there any chance you can describe what's happening? If it's not too much trouble!"
Levi shrugs. "Sure." Doing so might also help him organize his thoughts about this whole matter. "Right now, the people on the left side of the grounds are . . ."
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Just before the last grain of sand in the hourglass trickles down, Merlin disperses his spells with a sharp wave of one arm.
Half a second later, the Court Sorcerer and Lord Dalion crumble the middling shield. The dust settles in less than a minute, and both sides finally have a clear view of each other.
"Applicants, raise your goblets," Balinor commands.
All of them comply, lifting their cups above their heads. The court's magic-users checks and finds each goblet already filled. One of the nobles in the right group peers into the other side's buckets. The first pail, once possessing a great amount of the weakest dose, now barely contains a single drop. The second bucket remains unchanged. Clar and others of the same ilk notices the same thing; smugness emanates from them in waves. Most of the applicants in the left group, meanwhile, shift nervously. A chosen few put on a steadfast front.
Balinor nods approvingly, seeing no cup empty. "Very good." He gestures at the right group, reminding them of their freedom to choose who to swap drinks with.
Fi hurries to Cava, inquiring about her health. The brown-skinned girl answers his questions dutifully while rolling her eyes. Fi switches their goblets, giving Cava a sapphire-colored drink and receiving a colorless one. The girl gives him a fond smile in return. She casually leans in to Fi and mumble something only he can hear.
Mordred and Morgana find themselves heading in the same direction — or rather, the same person. They halt just in time to avoid bumping into each other. They gaze pointedly at one another, lifting their chins and almost glaring.
"Um." Merlin looks between them, half-afraid they'll suddenly hex each other in front of him.
Morgana glances at the contents of Mordred's cup, and the druid does the same to hers. Both hold blue liquid. After a beat, Morgana smoothly steps away. She offers her own goblet to the Elise, who's standing just to Merlin's left. Mordred holds out his own to the warlock.
Both Merlin and Elise tug their respective givers closer.
"Don't drink anything else," Merlin says lowly, accepting Mordred's goblet and replacing it with his own.
The druid blinks rapidly in confusion, wrapping his fingers around the blue-banded chalice.
"B - Lord Balinor didn't say you must drink two cups, only that you can. Don't drink anything else," the warlock repeats. He tries to make his expression as sincere as possible. "Trust me, just this once. And — " Merlin carefully shakes the goblet in his grip, and favors the druid with a grateful grin. " — thank you. " The warlock pulls away just quick enough not to be suspicious.
"After swapping your goblets, you must go back to your assigned places," the Court Sorcerer spurs them when he observes them taking too long.
The druid shoots Merlin an inquiring look but decides not to voice out his questions. After a few minutes, the applicants are divided into two once more. The right group holds blue-banded goblets while left grips red-banded ones.
Balinor twists his wrist, eyes on the hourglass. A third of the sand streams up to the top chamber and stays in place.
"Drink. Your hair must remain the same color until the time ends." Balinor releases the spell on the hourglass and the sand dribbles down seamlessly once more.
Theo smiles humorlessly, allowing a hint of nervousness to slip into his features. "Well, here's to hoping this works." In a move similar to a toast, he tips his goblet at those in the same predicament as him. Then, without hesitation, he gulps down its contents.
Merlin swallows audibly. Here goes nothing, he thinks as he does the same.
The rest follows, ingesting every drop of their swapped goblet. The court checks again if every applicant has emptied their cups.
After finishing the drink, Clar hurries to their second pail and gulps down a cup of the yellow potion. She knows the other group could have only given them the mildest dose, and the second highest dose should neutralize its effects. Most nobles emulate her actions, drinking a cupful of the same dose. In fact, out of the twenty-six, only eight remain rooted on the spot — Mordred, Morgana, Fi, one other peasant, one nobleman and three noblewomen.
As Clar looks up, however, she notes that not a single applicant from the opposing group has made a move to drink another cup. She frowns, straightening from her crouch and dropping the chalice to the ground now that she no longer has use for it.
"What are they up to?" the noblewoman next to Clar mutter with a small sneer.
"Wait, shouldn't their hair be changing color by now?"
Clar blinks rapidly. That's right; the highest dose only takes a few seconds to work.
"Oh, thank the Goddess," Elise sighs out, twirling her still brown hair with one finger.
"Still like an old man's?" Theo asks of Merlin somberly, pointing at his own hair.
A laugh escapes the warlock's lips, his chest loosening with relief. "Yes, still like an old man's."
"And yours is still black." Theo's grin is large, bright and no little bit satisfied as his head swivel to the opposing group. "Now, we wait."
And wait they do. Fortunately, they don't have to wait long. The results of their plan manifest less than a minute later.
Clar, with her silky blonde locks, shows the first signs. The roots of her hair begins exhibiting a darker hue. The color quickly spreads, seeping insidiously until every strand turns a bright and violent purple. She yelps, tugging at her hair in disbelief.
The same process happens to eighteen of the applicants, all of them belonging to the right group. Cries of incredulity fill the air as their hair change into different shades of violet. Morgana's grin is wide and almost unlady-like as she watches everyone around her panic. Mordred's smile is a little bit more restrained. Their hair and the hair of six others in their group are the only ones that remain unchanged.
"Yes!" A woman behind Merlin punches the air.
Theo claps Merlin on the back. "Brilliant!" Merlin cannot stamp down the big grin climbing his face. He can't quite believe it worked.
"How!?" They all clamor for an explanation.
A noblewoman huffs, patting down her still ginger hair. "Isn't it obvious? If you had just taken the time to think, you wouldn't have been fooled."
"Who switched goblets with her?" Elise asks around with a frown.
"I did. She gave me the highest dose and I didn't tell her anything. I think she just figured it out on her own," a young man whispers harshly.
"They gave us water," the noblewoman drawls out. All give a surprise start at her words. "The exact instructions were: we can fill our goblets with any liquid of our choice. Making us drink water ensures that if we drink any dose of the potion, our hair will change color since there's nothing to neutralize."
"B - But where did the contents of that first bucket go?" The nobles search for any wet spot on the left side of the grounds to indicate where the other group spilled it.
This time, Morgana decides to elaborate, eyes glinting with amusement. "They drank it themselves, of course."
Understanding dawns on Mordred's features. "Whatever dose we give them will cancel out the effects of the potion they drank earlier."
Now, Merlin feels less proud of himself. Is it truly that easy to guess the solution? It took them almost half-an-hour to solve it!
The court watches as the last grain of sand once again fall to the bottom of the hourglass. Clar and many others fume silently, their faces nearly matching the color of their hair. Some adorn despondent expressions, ruffling their purple-hued locks.
"I thought this was the test of luck," one grumbles before pelting out a deep sigh.
"It is indeed the test of your luck," the Court Sorcerer interjects, causing all heads to snap to him. "And what you do with it." His hazel eyes darts to Clar. "Will you become complacent when you know you have the advantage? Are you willing to lend a hand to those without?" His gaze glides to Merlin. "Will you give up when it seems like the odds are against you? Are you adept enough to find a way?" He places his hands behind him, one eyebrow raised. "We at court don't care about your birthright. We believe it should not define you," he says, gaze sliding from one applicant to another. "Apprentices worthy of us cannot be complacent nor overconfident. Apprentices worthy of us must be stubborn and resourceful. The purpose of this test is to see which one of you fit these criteria."
Theo gapes. "And here I thought they were just measuring our wit."
Admiration blossoms deep in Merlin's breasts as he stares at his not-father. Pride lights up his entire being, a hint of tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He remembers how he felt when his father agreed to help Camelot with its dragon problem, and the exact same feeling inhabits him at that moment. He wonders whether his own father had similar ideals as this counterpart.
The shield around the court's magic-users dissipates as the Court Sorcerer claps his hands once. "I suppose that concludes our first test."
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A/N:
"Ha! You should have thought of that before you became peasants!" – Yzma, The Emperor's New Groove (2000)
Well, I hope you all enjoyed! I feel like this chapter is a make-or-break one. I've been trying to reach this chapter since prologue, and I'm just so happy my muse has let me. And nooooow, I think it has burned itself out.
Sense-enhancing: Merlin used spells such as these in The Dark Tower (S05E06) to find the, uh, Dark Tower. Actually, I think he has used something similar to this before but I can't remember any specific instances in any of the episodes.
Whirlwind Spell: Merlin used this spell in A Servant of Two Masters (S04E06) to battle with Morgana.
Thank you so much for all the favorites, follows (180!), kudos (WTF, 700!?), bookmarks (150!?), and all those encouraging and lovely comments! They are the light in my darkest days ^_^
Check my profile/bio to see my progress on the next chapter (if there is any lol)! More BAMF moments to come (hopefully)! And more Prince Arthur (hopefully)!
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Happy New Year, everyone! I hope our respective New Year's resolutions last for at least 2 months!
~ Vividpast