Chapter 09: Beacon of Might

It had been years since Artur had last been to the Castle of Ancient Kings, almost a whole decade, but the old fortress seemed immune to the whims of time. Perhaps there was more ivy encroaching on the walls, maybe a stone or two had fallen down from the tower crowns, but to this eyes, it looked exactly the same.

They still had at least another hour before they got there — a whole valley to cross and some steep parts on the hill they'd climb, but he now felt more at home than he had since the Federation Ships had first reached Camelot, weeks before. It was as if his own blood sang in happiness after seeing the structure.

Those were idly musings, he knew — poetics and emotions, which had no place in a warrior's mind — but it felt true enough that it comforted him. The horses were tired and had barely been fed since their owners had died, and they, too, would need to find themselves food — hunting or gathering — if they meant to eat that day. With this in mind, he brought them all to a halt at the edge of the open valley.

"Behold the first hour of our proud line," he told his sister, imitating his father's tone for her benefit. It made her laugh, and the sound was a welcome change from the pale skin tone and unfocused eyes she had been showing more often then not since they had entered the farmhouse. He pointed towards it, and she assented to him with her head.

"Impressive," she said, her tone teasing. "If a little old-fashioned."

Compared to the sort of structure that she would be used to see in Coruscant and even the unending skyscrapers favoured by most worlds, there was no way that she could have seen it differently.

"Let's stop for a moment — the horses need to rest and eat, and so do we. There are still at least four hours before the sun sets and our allies won't arrive until tomorrow either way."

"Come, Merlin, help me with the horses," Nimueh said, and the boy hopped from Arthur's mount with more grace than he would have expected.

"We have rations," Morgana offered, but Arthur shock his head, declining.

"Best to save them for another moment — we may need them yet. I'll hunt us some food."

The two padawans eyed him, doubted clear in their posture and, sure, he only had his sword and shield with him, not the best tools to catch animals. Still, he had more than enough experience with the wild that he'd be able to fashion a trap from the things he could find in the woods alone — and he told them so before walking away.

Finding the perfect spot to position his deadly apparel, Arthur cleaned his mind of all thoughts but the task at hand. He worried not about his knights and whether they had met the others, not about his people, whose freedom had been stolen, not about the perils ahead or strategies he might use to conquer them. His whole mind was on the business of acquiring them food.

When he returned, one hour later, he had four rabbits to show. Unlike his friends, the Jedi seemed perfectly at ease with his disappearance. Normally, he would be received with exclamations of concern by his peers, but not from them. They were, Merlin included, sitting perfectly still on the ground, deep on meditation.

"I've never been gone so long without someone saying something about it!" He exclaimed as he approached them, his prey in hand.

"We sensed no danger," Mordred explained, his face perfectly impassive; very different from what Arthur had seen the day before.

"Fear not," completed Nimueh, her usual smirk back. "Had even the slightest hint of it came, we'd be by your side in a second — and long before anyone or anything else."

They shared one of the rabbits for their midday meal, drinking clear and fresh water Nimueh and Merlin had procured from the river where they had watered the horses. Soon enough, they were back to the saddle.

"You look anxious," Merlin said, from where he sat in front of Arthur.

"I am," he confirmed, unashamed. "The fate of my whole planet rests on my decisions alone."

"I see it," the boy said, and Arthur could hear his frown. "It's like when I run a race and I know I can lose but I can't let the pod be heavily damaged or mom and I will have to pay for it — Kanen would punish us for every part that needed to be replaced or fixed, even though it is an old pod, I was the one doing the fixing, and most parts we had to spare in the shop."

Arthur grimaced at that — he couldn't even begin to imagine how hard life for Merlin had been before they came long — how much worse if must be for his mother and Will now that he was gone; Merlin's loss adding up to their many sufferings.

Merlin had spoken, in his house, of becoming a Jedi and freeing all slaves, little knowing that there wasn't much they could really do about it. At that moment, Arthur understood his reasoning even better, and wished to be able to do something about it.

But this was for later — if he ever lived to act on it. Now he needed to save his own people. Straightening his back, he rode ahead.

Leon hadn't known what to expect when he came to the Ancient King's Castle — a war council, a band of refugees, whatever. But he knew he hadn't expected to walk into Arthur sparring with Mordred — blade against lightsaber — Morgana and Nimueh were training as well, but his eyes were glued to Arthur's movements around the padawan. Instead of his usual sharp precision, he was using a more fluid style that was just as deadly. He moved closer than before and further away too. The padawan turned off his blade before Arthur had even noticed Leon's arrival, stepping easily out of Arthur's hit and bowing his back, ending the duel.

"Sir Leon," he said, with a small nod. Arthur spun around in the same moment, and strode towards him, clapping his back with familiarity.

"Leon!" He exclaimed, with a content smile and sweat on his forehead, that soon was replaced by a frown. "Lancelot and Guinevere…?"

"Gathering us food for dinner," he eased the King's mind quickly.

"Good — so, tell me, how are my people?"

Leon gave him a detailed account of how evacuation had been done, how many losses had been counted during the time he had been away; their provisions in the cave and their communications with the Lords that were responsible for the outlying villages. Some messengers — such as Owain — had not yet returned, then again, frozen Ismere was so far away that without communications that, having to abstain from the fastest ways of travelling to avoid being caught, Leon hadn't expected him to return with news of his dealings, but only with Lord Euchdag and his troops.

The seal with the kingdom had been left in Gwen's capable hands, and she had put it too good use; sending missives bearing the mark of Arthur's kingship along with the riders, telling the Lords that their levies should be summoned to protect their holdings while warriors, pilots and archers would march to fight under the King's banner at the Citadel. She had scheduled their rendezvous to a fortnight after the invasion — three days hence. Either by pure coincidence or strategical knowledge shared, meant that Leon and Gwen had decided to amass the troops exactly in same place as Arthur was. Indeed, almost all preparations to leave had already been made by the time Lancelot arrived with Arthur's summons.

The king seemed well pleased with their actions, and in turn had explained to him how they had managed to escape and all that had happened in his time away. Leon was consternated by his decision to make a move against Chancellor Annis, but if it meant that Senator Uther would become the next Supreme Chancellor, it might indeed prove to be a good change for them.

Being seven years older than Arthur, Leon had been knighted and first rose through ranks to become part of the King's Personal Guard under Uther's regime. He believed he knew the man well enough, and while Uther had his flaws as much as any other person, his loyalty to Camelot could never be faulted. He had made a strong king and later a persuasive senator, even if he hadn't been raised to be either. That he was a powerful a warlord had surprised nobody, for this had been his calling and his fate from early age; from what Leon's father had said.

They were still exchanging news by the time Lance and Gwen arrived and, forgetting all decorum, she had thrown herself at Arthur, her arms enveloping his neck, clinging to him as if she expected him to fade as a hologram. For a second, Arthur seemed surprised, before he held her back, hands on her waist, his head resting against her neck in a way that made his nose be half-buried in her hair.

It was a tender moment, and some might even read it as more than it was — as clearly was the case of his stupid and noble friend Lancelot, who didn't ever made his feelings towards Guinevere clear in fear she truly loved the King in a romantic fashion. It seemed that the Jedi as well as the mysterious young boy that now accompanied them were thinking something along the same lines. It was, also, a distinctively false impression, as he knew so well.

"I was so worried!" She chided, letting go of him and drying the tears that had fallen from her eyes. "I feared they would blast you out of the sky!"

"I'm not so easy to kill," he calmed her, caressing her cheek. "Now, there are a few people I'd like you to meet."

"You had already met Leon, my first knight;" Arthur said, turning to the party from the capital, and Leon leaned his head forward, acknowledging them. "And, of course, you're all familiar with Lancelot — my best warrior, protector and man in general; the one in my right hand" Arthur smiled towards him, all charm turned on, and Lance bowed in acknowledgement of his words. "Now I'll present you to the sensibility to Leon's sense, the de facto ruler of the Lower Town, the chatelaine of my castle and my left hand; Guinevere."

Gwen blushed immediately and shook her head, in fake annoyance.

"I'm no ruler, I merely serve at your pleasure — and that of the people," turning towards the outsiders, she curtsied. "Masters — it is an honour."

"Allow me to introduce them properly," he said, tucking her hand in his elbow and walking closer to them. Gwen had the ability to make a gentleman out of Arthur, which was both annoying and funny at times. "This is Master Nimueh, an experienced Guardian of the Jedi Order, who fought with my father during the Albion Wars." Gwen smiled, but the Master Jedi's face moved just the tiniest bit upwards in one of the sides. "And Mordred, her padawan and an exquisite swordsman." The boy's face was equally smooth, betraying nothing but a neutral acceptance of Gwen. "This is Merlin — he is a better pilot than even Elyan and already something of a legend in pod racing."

"So young!" Gwen exclaimed, and the boy frowned at her for a moment before his face became serious.

"I'm in disguise," the kid explained, his voice low.

Gwen clearly wondered at it for a moment, and it was always funny to watch her when she made — or thought she had made — a faux pas because her face glowed red and she kept stammering, hoping to fix her blunder. Then Arthur laughed at the comment, shaking his head fondly at the boy, before moving on.

"And last, but definitely not least, Guinevere, it is my honour to introduce you to Her Royal Highness Princess Morgana Pendragon of Camelot, holder of a Consular Padawan position in the Jedi order and, from what I've heard, just about to be promoted."

"Clearly, my dear brother has a serious issue with giving people titles they don't hold," Morgana conspired with Gwen, and the second woman giggled.

"I am beyond honoured either way," she curtsied again. "We've all heard great things about you."

Morgana snorted and shook her head, but their conversation was cut short by Percival's arrival, with Elyan in tow. The Captain of Pilots had a deep cut over his eyebrow and a split lip, but those were all the marks he brought from his confrontation with the Trade Federation's troops. They were minor injuries, but Gwen fussed over her brother either way, while he filled them in into the developments he had witnessed. The damage in his face had been caused by fallen debris when the Trade Federation had shot into the tower he had been using to aim at their ships, and no droids had found him in his hide out.

Arthur allowed it to go on for a while, before he cleared his throat.

"Let's take this to somewhere better," he said, walking inside another chamber. They all followed, unsure about what Arthur was looking for, until he stopped in one of the chambers and smiled at seemingly nothing. The king walked forward, and held the corner of a sheet before he pulled it out. Under it, they could see a wide round table, divided equally in ten parts. Each place held a its own markings in the language of the old kings, and it was beautifully adorned. There was a whole in the middle, but it didn't detract from it's look. Upon each division there was a chair, equally carved in wood. Arthur walked around it, until the stopped in front of one of the chairs, facing them all.

"Come and join me," he requested, and they approached, unsure of what to do. "This table belonged to the ancient kings of Camelot;" he said, looking at each one of them. "They believed in equality and balance in all things, and that was what led them to join the Republic, because even if Camelot's always been a Monarchy, our values and those of the republic are one and the same. So, it seems fitting that we revive this tradition now. Without each of you, we would not be here — and our resistance would not be possible. My people have suffered for too long. In three days, I make my bid to rescue them. Are any around this table who will join me?"

There could have been no question of it, not before and certainly not then, but it was a beautiful gesture, giving them the chance to back down, to protect themselves. It was yet another symbol of the equality and the bond they had always said were the foundation of the Knights of Camelot — and with this, he was pledging his honour into guaranteeing that, even as a King, he would not accept differentiations between them.

Coming to seat at his right hand, as was his honour, Lancelot was the first to speak.

"You've taught me values of being a knight, a code by which a man would live his life," and, indeed, Lancelot had been the first of them to be fully trained and approved by Arthur alone, against Uther's wishes, for he had not approved the knighting of man that were not of noble blood. "To fight with honour for justice, freedom and all that is good. I believe in the world that you've been trying to build."

Arthur lowered his head, accepting his pledge. Surprisingly, Morgana was the next to walk, taking the place at his left, that would normally be reserved for Gwen — although no one would question her right to sit there, giving up her title or not.

"It's not the path I've chosen to walk, but not one I can turn my back to either, and I wouldn't miss it for the world." She teased, and he smiled at her. He opened up his arms, putting one around his sister, and they shared an awkward hug — Leon did not doubt it was the first time they'd done it, perhaps may even be the last.

"You know the answer," said Gwen, sitting herself next to Lancelot, and Arthur, still standing, shared a trusting look with her.

Leon could not, for his honour, wait any longer than that.

"I've fought alongside you many times," he said, walking next to their lost princess. "I've trained you, and watched you — from a squire to a knight, from knight to prince, from prince to King — and I am extremely proud of the man you've become." He felt his face heating for speaking so openly of it, but at least he had a beard to hide it. Arthur had no such protection, and lowered his eyes. "There is no one I would rather die for, Sire."

Arthur just nodded at his words, but it was written in his face how thankful he was for what he had said.

"Even though I was a nobody, a commoner, you were willing to lay down your life for me, Arthur. You believed in me, and gave me a purpose when others turned their back. This is my chance to repay you in kind."

Elyan sat next to his sister, and the two of them traded smiles. Percival came next.

"Your enemies are my enemies," he reminded the King, sitting to Leon's left.

Arthur looked at the three remaining people, before he spoke again.

"I know you have your own loyalties, and serve powers that are not temporal, but it would mean much to me if you accepted a place in my table, and advised us to the best of our capacities."

Mordred was the first to step ahead, a smile in his face.

"Arthur, the bond we share is more important than the power we yield," Arthur smiled at him, making Leon wonder just how much it meant.

Nimueh acquiesced to his request with her head.

"I have fought for Camelot before, and I am ready to do it again. My mission is to protect you — and if to do it, I must join you in this battle, so I will."

She sat next to Elyan, leaving one empty space. The young boy Arthur had introduced as Merlin kept on standing.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, just as a matter of form. It was not as if a child as young as Merlin would turn the tide of the battle.

"I don't really fancy it!" He said, his eyes crinkling from amusement.

"You don't have a choice, Merlin," the King said, hilarity clear in his tone.

"Ok then," the boy said, shrugging and sitting down. "But I'm not to fight, I'm to watch them and learn," he said, with a serious nod towards Master Nimueh, and they all laughed.

"It is only the support of your heart that I ask for," Arthur said, and the two of them smiled at each other.

"That you will always have, prat!" Although the words might not be their finest, it was clear in the child's eyes a sort of adoration that Arthur could so easily provoke in people.

"I want to thank you all for staying loyal to me in Camelot's hour of need," he said, solemn. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a war to plan."

Three days passed faster than Mordred might have expected. Each day brought fresh troops, trickling in small groups, coming in secret to the castle. The ruins he had first entered seemed transformed by the sheer amount of people that were around. It bode well for Camelot, even if it made meditating harder.

They all had received their cues: Gwen was to stay behind with a few of the people, setting up an infirmary for those who got injured in combat. Percival was to lead the van, while the different lords would follow him. Archers would come first, their electric arrows probably would deactivate hordes of droids, and, if shot precisely and fast enough, might even hold back some of the Droidekas.

Elyan, Lancelot, Leon and Arthur with the rest of their original party would infiltrate the Citadel through the same escape tunnels that the people had used to run away from the Trade Federation. Their first stop was to be the main hangar of the palace, where, according to Elyan, most of their pilots were being held prisoner. Once they were free, they'd quickly run to their fighter crafts under Elyan's lead, and leave to try and destroy the ship that controlled the droids in land. From there, they'd follow to the throne room, where it was likely that Vice-Roy Alined would be, and arrest him for his crimes; as a Consular, it would be in Morgana's hands to handle him once he had been subdued and try and find a way to reconcile the two warring parties.

Nimueh and Mordred's order had been clear — protect Arthur and find his mystery attacker — therefore they wouldn't leave him for a second, unless the Sith showed up again.

It was a solid plan, but Mordred was still surprised at how smooth was their arrival to the palace. It was just their luck that nobody had thought of locking the pilots down the dungeons, or they'd have to cross the courtyard with them, leaving them much more exposed to the invaders. The tunnels left them just two corridors from the main hangar, and with the appearance of their main force in the field in front of the Citadel, those weren't being patrolled.

They were at the door when Nimueh turned around, eyeing Merlin critically. She had tried to leave him in the Ancient Castle with them, but the boy's was as stubborn as the Master, and had followed them through the tunnels, and by the time they found him, they were so far into their path that there was no choice but to let him tag along.

"Once we get inside, you'll find a safe place to hide and stay there."

"Sure," he said, but Mordred doubted that he'd follow this order.

She pointed a finger at him, sternly.

"Stay there!"

There was a tiny hint of compulsion in her voice, a power that was always doubtful to work in the strong minded, but either because of it or because he now truly feared to displease her, the fight seemed to go out of him.

"I will."

Arthur pressed the doors open, and Mordred and Morgana assumed their places, leading the group. It was clear the battle droids were both alarmed by the first sounds of the fight outside, and by their sudden appearance. Their clear Jedi robes made them falter for a second, and it was all they needed. Springing from behind them in a sudden movement, Leon and Lancelot made twin cuts with their swords, throwing away their weapons.

"Find cover," he heard Nimueh urge, before her lightsaber came on. Following her lead, Mordred and Morgana did the same.

Mordred cut the first droid to come at him in two, before reflecting the shot from another back at him. For a moment, he could see nothing but the moves he needed to make to survive, keenly aware of Morgana's continuous slashing and Nimueh's talented work on his other side. The rest of them seemed to be doing equally well, and there was no sign of Merlin, which probably was a good thing.

"To your ships!" Elyan yelled to his charges, and the battle droids were too focused on them to stop the pilots and droids from reaching them. Just one of the pilots was shot, and that was a tragedy, surely, but not such a big one as to foil their plans. Mordred made a small prayer to the Force to receive him well, but kept moving, fighting, trying to guarantee their escape.

The first ships begun to levitate and leave the hangar, but it meant nothing but that the command realised something more than the battle outside was happening, and they deployed more droids to come their way. Mordred had no time to look around while he kept on fighting them.

Eventually, there were no more droids.

Arthur turned, looking at them.

"Time to go to the throne room," he announced, and Nimueh nodded.

All fighters had left now, save for one in the very back. From the cockpit, a small head appeared, calling them.

"Wait for me!" Merlin said, eager, but Nimueh shook her head.

"Stay here - you'll be safe."

"But —" he tried, and she shook her head.

"Just stay in the cockpit."

They walked towards the exit, the Jedi in the back of the group now. They were almost at the door when it opened itself before they could reach it. On the other side, was the very reason for their coming to Camelot.

The man in front of them was dressed in black from head to toe, his head completely shaved and his whole skin tattooed in strips of black and red. The right side of his face seemed to have melted, falling down in drapes, almost wrinkled although the other side gave away how young he was.

"We'll handle this," said Nimueh, pushing ahead of them, Mordred and Morgana on her sides. "Morgana, go with them."

He could feel his friend's annoyance in this, but she complied.

"We can take the servant's hallways," Leon said, and they started to move to the left of the room.

The Sith didn't take notice of them, taking off his hood instead. The two of them repeated the movement, freeing themselves from the extra cloth.

This was the battle they had come for.