A/N: So, here we are again. Let's see what Arthur has in store for us shall we?

Disclaimer: If it were mine, would I be writing this?

Chapter 9-Master of Manipulating Morons

Slowly Arthur rose to his feet, inhaling deeply before he turned sharply to face his victims. Oh yes, they were his victims, even if they had not realized it yet. What he looked like, he didn't know, but many of the onlookers shuffled back after seeing his face. Drawing in another breath he forced his expression to smooth, dredging up the calmness he felt before a good fight. His expression might have changed, but the glint in his eyes only intensified; a predator ready to pounce on his prey. If Sir Leon and Sir Boris (who had turned up just after Gaius) recognized the look, they chose wisely not to inform the trainees.

"You say that man, Merlin, was causing a disturbance in the marketplace," he began, drawing in his victims who nodded along with what he said. "What exactly was he doing?"

Sir Estern and Val looked to Orvin, the clear ringleader of this debacle, for answers. It was obvious that they had not thought this situation through. They had only wanted to teach that peasant his place. Destroying the marketplace was an unfortunate bi-product of their thoughtless revenge.

Sir Orvin cleared his throat nervously. "We were going to purchase a few items," he started, but Arthur quickly interrupted him.

"What items?"

The knight-trainee started. "Sire?"

"What items did you intend to buy, Sir Orvin?"

"Oh, uh, a knife. Um," his scrunched up his face in thought. Surely Orvin knew Arthur could tell he was making this up on the spot? "Leather bracers and a few shirts. Nothing really definite."

Arthur nodded, content to let the man dig himself a deeper hole. "So just browsing then?"

Orvin (and Val and Estern) nodded eagerly, believing that their tale was taking root. "Indeed, sire, just a bit of a break from training, you see. While in the square, we came across that peasant," Orvin spat the word and the fire in Arthur's eyes only grew hotter. Still, no one felt the urge to help the trainees, obviously hoping they would sink themselves. Which they were doing. So. Well.

"What was he doing?" the royal kept his tone even by sheer force of will.

"Yelling, cursing, throwing things. Generally making a scene, sire."

"Indeed. What did you do to intervene?"

"We intended to pull the peasant aside and force him to leave, but before we could reach him, he'd knocked a vendor to the ground and stole from him."

"What did he steal?" Calm. He had to remain calm. For Merlin.

"Sire?" And here Orvin grew nervous once more.

"What did he steal? I assume he threw it away when you pursued him as I see nothing here and I want to be able to identify the item when it is found."

"Oh, uh, I believe it was a shirt, my lord, a red one."

"And the name of the vendor he took it from?"

"I…I…" Here Orvin nearly ground to a halt. He could never have anticipated Arthur asking so many questions. But as the king-prince had learned over the years was that the devil was in the details. "I'm not certain, my lord."

"Would you know him, if you saw him?"

Orvin grasped the straw hook, line and sinker. "Yes, my lord."

Arthur paused thoughtfully, eyes roaming the crowd thoughtfully. Many of these people had witnessed what really had happened and were staring incredulously at the nobles, but were obviously too frightened to speak up. And that made Arthur wonder just how often these three had terrorized his citizens that they felt compelled to keep their silence from their prince. What he detested most, however, were the resigned looks that many wore, as if it were a foregone conclusion that the nobles would not be punished for their crime.

Oh, they would be punished. He would make certain of it.

"After he stole the red shirt, then what did you do?"

Sir Estern spoke up, "We pursued him, sire. We could not let the thievery stand."

"And the marketplace suffered because he would not surrender?"

Sir Val took his turn. "I'm afraid so, my lord. He may not look it, but he is very fast. He pulled many things in our paths to keep us from catching him," he grimaced, "I'm sorry about that, sire, but we could not let him get away with it." And Arthur hadn't known that Val could be that sneaky. Those words implied the real reasons why they had gone after Merlin while fitting within the confines of their cover story. Clever. He also had to hand it to them they all seemed generally contrite in the face of the destruction of the marketplace. The blond royal did not doubt that at least some of the mess could be contributed to Merlin for Arthur had taught him to use his surroundings to his advantage when faced with a greater foe. Even with a lesser one, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

Escape, or a beating.

"Did you at any point summon the guards?"

"No, sire. It happened so fast and, well, we thought we could handle one man."

Arthur nodded, because of course yelling for someone to get the guards was just a waste of breath. Obviously.

"You chased him to this alley?" The king-prince knew why Merlin had chosen this alley. It was supposed to lead into a sharp turn around that would likely have let him shake his pursuers. Supposed to, but it didn't yet. That changed would come about for another year or so. For now it was merely a dead end.

"Yes, sire. He chose the wrong turn at last and we stopped him here," Orvin said proudly.

"He didn't come quietly I take it." Great dragons it was hard to be casual about this when all he kept picturing was punching that smirk off Orvin's face.

"No, sire." The three echoed together.

"And what we saw was you subduing him?"

The three men nodded. Behind them, Sir Boris and Sir Karns (who had arrived midway through the story) were gawking at them in frank disbelief. Arthur could sympathize because it was a terrible lie that would crumble at any moment. Please, please, please let him never have been so gullible as to believe the drivel that these idiots were spewing, please. Merlin was a much better liar than them! Granted, he had more practice, but still!

Eyes still on the crowd, Arthur spotted Leon who had disappeared around the middle of their alibi (lies, all lies) and at his elbow was someone very useful. The blond royal waited patiently until Leon maneuvered them through the crowd, fading back just as the man became visible.

"Is there anyone you see here that would fit the vendor from your story?" Arthur asked, trying so very hard not to smirk. The three trainees gazed out over the crowd, but it was Estern who pegged him first.

"That's him, my lord! He stole from that man there!" he declared, pointing at the vendor.

Arthur motioned to the dark-haired man who shuffled forward, basket clutched in his arms. "You would swear before your king that this is the man that Merlin stole from? The one who sells shirts?"

Each of them nodded, though Val was somewhat reluctant, perhaps sensing a rat. Smarter than he looked then. Second thoughts being had? Too bloody late for that!

"Your name?" Arthur questioned, doing his best to seem ignorant.

"Len, my lord."

"And Len you are a vendor in our marketplace? For how long?"

"Yes, sire, goin' on fifteen years."

"And, Len," here he paused because oh, a sprung trap was such a sweet thing to witness. He felt like one of his dogs on the scent of blood—idiot blood. "Have you at any point in those fifteen years ever sold shirts?"

The older man shook his head, a suppressed smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "No, my lord. I sell herbs."

Any murmuring in the crowd abruptly ceased as the onlookers absorbed this new information before exploding anew. Some were beginning to see the net that the prince-king was drawing around the nobles, using their own words to weave the trap. Sir Boris and Karns, half a step ahead of the rest, maneuvered themselves with in grabbing distance of the imbeciles in case they decided to do something stupid.

Well, more stupid.

Sir Orvin, Val, and Estern gaped at the man, obviously not expecting that answer. Had they honestly expected that man to lie to his prince? Great kings of old, they had, Arthur realized for their expressions were completely genuine. What had they been doing when the blond royal wasn't looking? Nothing too much this week as Arthur had attempted to keep an eye on them so they did not get too far out of line. Whatever was going on had been happening far longer than that.

No more. Arthur would make sure of that.

"And did Merlin visit your stall?" The king-prince knew that he had, but the accused didn't know that. Which was the point.

"Yes, sire. I have his basket here," Len raised it slightly. "He was purchasing sorrel and feverfew."

"And yet I see a red shirt in that basket," Arthur pointed out.

"It was already there when he came to my stall, my lord. It is quite worn and matched the one he was wearing. He was using it to cover the herbs." The vendor raised the aforementioned shirt and indeed it was just as he described it. The blond royal knew that it was Merlin's spare shirt and could in no way be mistaken for a new item.

"Th-there must be s-some mistake!" Sir Orvin protested and Arthur, constraints worn to the breaking point, snapped.

"The mistake, Sir Orvin, is your certainty that I would believe the lies you were spouting!" he hissed. The force of his anger, released from its confines, seemed an almost tangible thing, filling the alleyway until it seemed everyone might suffocate from it.

"But—but we are telling the truth, sire!" Sir Estern tried, pitiful though it was.

"Then why did we arrive to find you beating Merlin half-no-nearly to death?" Arthur wanted to know.

"He-he was fighting back! We were trying to bring him in!" Sir Orvin insisted.

Blue eyes narrowed and a mocking smirk crawled over the royal's face. "So a commoner, with no military training nearly outwit and beat three knight-trainees in a fight? And he was outnumbered?" Sir Boris and Karns did nothing to conceal their snickers when the three accused men grew tomato red. "Perhaps I should see to his training when he heals and then have him train all of you since his skills are so superior!"

"But he's just a peasant!" Sir Estern exclaimed.

"Ah, so now we reach the real reason why you nearly destroyed the marketplace and treated a man like he was a murdering bandit!" Even when Merlin had insulted him during their (first) first meeting, Arthur had been outraged, and wanted to teach him a lesson but he'd known where to draw the line. He had challenged (and forced) Merlin to fight him, knowing he would win, but determined to have a little fun. Even though he was living his life over again (he hoped, still wondering) he desperately wished that he could go back and slap his younger self upside the head. He knew he had been an arrogant asshole, but, faced with these three dunderheads, he could honestly say that he had never been as bad as them. He had never beaten a man nearly to death over some slight of honor.

"N-no, that's not…"

"The reason? I think it is. I think that you felt that I, your prince, failed to punish him properly so you decided to take it upon yourselves to dole out what you thought he deserved for calling you out on your atrocious behavior." Arthur had gone quiet, thoughtful; his anger a low simmer instead of a frothing boil. "You felt yourselves above the authority of your prince, who chose an appropriate punishment, because you thought you knew better." Estern and Orvin kept shaking their heads in denial even though they knew the game was up while Val glared at the ground. "Did you ever wonder why I didn't choose anything harsher? Yes, Merlin spoke out of turn, but he did so, protecting my manservant whom you three boneheads were trying to injure."

"We weren't trying to hurt him," Val said sullenly, not looking up from the ground.

"Then torture! You terrorized a man for fun and when another man, commoner or not, tried to stop you, you beat him nearly to death."

Neither of the three bothered to speak up in their defense any longer. Arthur itched to snatch them up and beat them senseless and perhaps he would, if he ever allowed them on the training grounds again (unlikely), but now was not the time. Now was to give them a punishment that would work towards fixing what they had broken, literally, in many cases.

"Sir Leon, Sir Boris and Sir Karns, I would request your services in this matter."

The three knights inclined their heads. "Of course, sire," Sir Leon confirmed.

"These three dunderheads are to clean up the marketplace on their own. After they do so, they are to check with each and every vendor that was affected in their little escapade and find the total cost of their destruction. It will be their duty to offer recompense." Arthur glared at the man when they dared to open their mouths to express their outrage. "Once that is complete, they are to be escorted to the dungeons where they shall cool their heels for a time. When I'm ready to release them, they will find themselves occupying the stocks," Arthur offered them a triumphant smirk, "just like a peasant."

"It will be done, sire," Leon said with entirely too much satisfaction, but the blond royal could hardly blame him. Each knight latched on to a trainee, dragging him roughly through the oddly silent crowd. The king-prince drew in a breath and forced himself to hold it for a ten count before releasing it. That wasn't the punishment he truly wished to visit upon those men. What he really desired was a few rounds on the training grounds with the twits, but beating men to death was frowned upon by most, even if it was deserved. For now his ruling would stand, damn whatever his father would think. He would make him understand; he would make him see.

More evidence. He'd wanted more evidence that these men were not knights of Camelot material. He'd gotten it alright.

But at what cost?

"Sire?" Len's, the herb vendor, voice broke through his musings, tugging him back to the present.

The blond royal turned to the man who had not strayed far from his side to see him holding out Merlin's basket. "I wasn't certain…shall I take this to the court physician, sire?"

Arthur plucked the basket from the man's grasp, tucking it under his elbow. "I shall do so myself," he promised. After a moment's hesitation, the prince-king clapped the man on the shoulder. "Thank you, for what you did. That took courage. Not many would have defied a noble like that."

The vendor ducked his head before bowing deeply to the royal. "And not many nobles would have stuck up for a peasant," he returned before melting into the dispersing crowd.

Arthur stood, frozen by the man's words. Len was right, not many nobles would stand up to see that the "commoners" were treated fairly. The liberties taken upon the poor class had made him uncomfortable when he was a young prince, and only had become worse as he had grown older. By the time Merlin had come along, he'd hidden that indecisiveness behind an arrogant façade (well, mostly a façade, he'd been fairly arrogant). Merlin had soundly knocked him out of that thinking and even when he'd fought tooth and nail to keep his masks, the warlock just wouldn't allow it.

Idiot. His idiot, but still an idiot.

He couldn't wait to tell Merlin just what—Merlin!

Clutching the basket tighter, Arthur set off at a dead run back to the castle. He couldn't believe that…just how much of an idiot… how could he have for one second forgotten that he didn't know what was happening with Merlin? He needed, needed to know how Merlin was now that those simpletons were dealt with.

The gods help anyone who stood in his way.

End Ch. 9

A/N: And I know, we were all hoping for something worse, but Arthur is confined by the restraints of his father who cares more about the nobles than the commoners. Arthur is going to be chafing under his father's rule because he has been king and has been allowed to do things his way. We'll see what he can do about it. It was fun though, to let those dunderheads hang themselves though. And to Wisperwind's question, I debated long and hard about that and finally decided that no, it won't be, but they are going to be touchy-feely, obsessed with each other because frankly, if I were them, and I died and came back, I would be out of whack for a looong time. I might later go back and write an offshoot which is Merthur, but that will have to come after this badboy!

As always, I hunger for your reviews!