Author's notes: Do you know that feeling when all of a sudden you just stumble upon a title that suits the premise far better? No… oh, well, it happened to me. Usually the right title hits me half way through a story. So, this is early days, but this is it. Manifest. Don't worry, I will not change it again.

A big warm hug to all my reviewers! You guys are wonderful, and make me want to write more. To be honest I never expected this much interest in my first Merlin fic, so I want to thank you, thank all who alerted and faved, and all those pm'ing me! So, on to chapter 4. Now, is the last of the 'building-the-plot-line' chapters. Which, unfortunately also means it's sort of an in between chapter. I rewrote this a LOT! After the beta-work! So all mistakes are mine. Thank you Strut for your comments, betawork and suggestions!. Now, let's get on with it, so that afterwards we can move on to the good stuff!

Chapter 4

"Fordwin Wamm," Merlin whispered, then quickly looked over his shoulder, making sure Arthur hadn't heard him. He'd meant to do this last night, but had been so tired that he didn't even remember dropping the scrolls on the table, let alone him hitting his bed. Forewarned against using magic, he only dared do so now because he was in Gaius' chamber, picking up the plans while Arthur waited outside.

"Come on, Merlin! I don't have all day!"

A smile cracked his lips at Arthur's impatient shout. The prince stood just outside the door, obviously not having seen anything.

"One moment!" He rolled out the parchments, making sure that after having them dried out over night, his magic had gotten rid of any left over mud ruining the ink. As dry as a crisp, the scrolls looked properly cleaned.

He turned to hand them over to his friend, who looked upon them with suspicion. Apparently satisfied with the state the scrolls were in, Arthur headed down the corridor.

"Why thank you, Merlin. Oh, that's okay, I'm happy to oblige," Merlin muttered under his breath before following him. Arthur was to meet with the overseer again, this time on the top of what was left of the western battlements. After that, Merlin still needed to clean the prince's chambers, and polish his armour. All of which needed to be done before he was to head over to the council chambers at noon. The sun's bright light reflected sharply off Camelot's white walls, causing him to squint as they crossed the main square.

Arthur made his way toward the western defences, and from there took the stone steps hugging the wall. "When we get up top, watch your footing," his friend stopped and turned. "Parts of the wall are still unstable. It would be just like you to trip, and dislodge the whole thing."

"I highly doubt that's possible." Merlin blurted out, knowing full well that as Camelot's first knight, Arthur was aware of the castle's defences. "The castle wall's twenty five feet thick"

Arthur shot him a puzzled expression. "I'm just saying, be careful."

"If this is your way of telling me you're worried, why don't you just say so?" He snapped. "I know I'm clumsy at times. I don't need you to rub it in."

Arthur stopped. The condescending grin on his face warring with a tired expression. "What?"

Merlin immediately regretted his words. First of all because he was suppose to be careful, and second because Arthur didn't deserve this. Still, no use in taking back his words now. "You heard me."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but instead of giving him the expected slap on the head, his expression softened. "This is about Morgana, isn't it?"

A pang of loss he had no right to feel worked its way up to his throat. Despite being thick-headed, Arthur did tend to pick up on his distress, which is why Merlin withdrew when he wasn't sure he could keep up his subservient appearance. But he didn't deserve his worry, couldn't tell Arthur that, of course. Still, if he lied now, Merlin knew he would lose some sort of battle he was fighting, so he pressed his lips together and looked away, not able to bear the grief he saw reflected in his friend's eyes. He hated to feel so convoluted, so detached.

A shout from above saved him from having to answer.

"Sire!"

Merlin craned his head to see the overseer -a sturdy bald man in his thirties- standing on top of the stairs, drawing Arthur's attention.

"You'd better come and see this."

"Just… be careful," Arthur hissed over his shoulder, not waiting for an acknowledgement he knew would never come. Merlin's unexpected loss of temper upset him more than he cared to admit. For somebody like Merlin, who'd led a sheltered life, and was carefree by nature, it was clear the last few days had pulled the rug from under his feet. Arthur hated to see him like this, and for a moment wished he could have spared Merlin recent events. A small voice inside told him that it hadn't been his choice to make, but he squashed it. Merlin just had to learn how to cope in his own way. So for now, he let go of the enigma that was his servant and hurried his way up top.

"What is it, Leoned?"

The normally level headed overseer looked ill at ease. "I will show you, My Lord."

Leoned led them over the intact portion of the battlements until the ground fell away into a gaping hole the size of a gateway. Arthur stopped short of a ragged edge, where stones were blackened due to dragon's continues barrage. "You're saying the damage is too extensive?"

"It's not the damage that worries me. It's what we've found underneath." Leoned nodded for Arthur to take a look.

Great, as if he hadn't have enough to deal with.

"Be careful." That wasn't sarcasm.

Belying the earlier tension in his voice when he lost his temper, Merlin now sounded remarkably strong, ready to jump after him should the wall give way. Not that this would accomplish anything. Arthur flicked an eye in his direction, acknowledging he'd heard.

"We've checked, Sire," Leoned said behind him. "The wall is safe on this end."

After taking a few steps forward, Arthur peeked down to survey the damage. The gap's circumference looked like the jagged edges of a torn piece of parchment. As if a giant had come and wrenched the top half off of the wall with such ease that it had broken huge stones in two, leaving what was left of the destroyed wall sharp etched, and very dangerous. Shifting his attention toward the wall's insides, he was taken aback to find it wasn't just blocks of charred rock he was seeing.

"What are those?" Standing beside him, Merlin looked down.

Arthur would have jumped at Merlin creeping up on him like that had the horrific sight beneath him not taken his breath away.

Merlin's unease reflected his own. "That looks like-"

"-bodies," Arthur finished, standing back. At least half a dozen of them were pressed inside a slit deep in the wall. All that was left of them, were their dried out husks, and the rags they'd worn. He'd seen enough, though. He was too well educated in Camelot's history not to know who they'd been.

"Yes, but their clothes," Merlin whispered.

"I know." Arthur had hoped to keep this from him, but should have known that Merlin probably worked it out before he did. "They're servants. All of them."

"I've known of some of the atrocities going on from before your father took over Camelot, Sire." Gaius stated, having joined them on top of the battlements at Arthur's summons. "But these unfortunate souls must have been put there when the citadel was first built."

"I've been taught some of the castle's history," Arthur said subdued in the wake of their find. "Back in those days it wasn't unusual for a victor to kill off the entire staff of the one they'd defeated."

"You think they were still alive?" Merlin asked quietly.

Gaius nodded "They probably died of suffocation. That's why their clothes are so perfectly preserved. The space they were in was practically air tight."

"There could be more of them," Merlin pointed out.

"More of them?" Arthur stared at him, but all he got in return was his servant lifting his eyebrows. "Merlin, please. I'm not in the mood for your usual prattle. What do you mean?"

"Well. You know… in other parts of the wall."

Trust Merlin to think of that. Appalled, Arthur shifted his gaze to the wall. "I really cannot go around and look for them." He took in the full length of their defences. "We're supposed to rebuild the walls, not break them down. We'll be far too vulnerable to an invading army." Not to mention to this all powerful sorcerer Tagan's looking for. A chill ran down his spine. They never did find out who released the dragon. Could it be that this sorcerer had already made his move? That he had been making moves for a long time now?

"Be that as it may, Sire," Gaius pulled him out of his thoughts. "We need to do something about the bodies down there."

"I'll have them removed," Arthur sighed. "They'll be given a decent burial before reconstruction begins. It's the least we can do for them."

The thin piece of wood in her hand was but half an arm long. Mathylda treasured the spindle with its intricate carvings all along its rim. While the round protrusion in the middle kept the thread from running down the spool, its slightly wider tip was sharp edged and converged in a point. She ran her fingers down the carvings. Empty of thread, this spindle was the perfect disciplining tool. She'd been using it for ages and it had never failed her. Standing by the window in her chambers, she pressed the tool to her lips. "What do you think?

"You were right." Tagan stood behind her, fingers dipped in a small chest he'd put on the table. "He's here."

She turned to face him. "I take it you already know where to look?"

"I've done my rounds. The boy servants are our best bet." Tagan closed the lid. "We have to proceed with caution though. This creature has been here for a long time. He'll not fall into our trap likely."

"Then how?"

"What would cause you to lose your concentration, Mathylda? What would make you fall back on your instinct?"

She thought it over. "Hunger, thirst, fatigue, depravation, hurt."

He nodded. "We'll start there, start small. We'll wear him out one step at the time. Before long he'll tire, and then all it takes is one little mistake."

"Oh, don't worry," she smiled, holding the spindle up to the light in order to fully appreciate its beauty. This tool had been in her family for years. "I know exactly how to achieve your goal."

TBC

A/N: So, next time, the fun begins, for us that is, not for Merlin…

(Edit: Thank you ONC for pointing out that little detail. I don't normally change things afterwards, but I did change that line.)