Chapter 6

It was—odd, at first, with truth laid bare between them. The knowledge that Merlin had more destructive power at his fingertips than any knight felt like it should be unsettling, especially since nothing had really changed in how they treated each other, at least not in public.

In Arthur's quarters, though, the Prince listened a little more obviously, smiled with less reservation, and allowed the fact that he did regard Merlin as something other than a simple servant show, just a bit.

Although, Arthur supposed, it would be obvious to anyone who bothered to look. Surely the knights knew, as no normal servant would be tasked with the care of armor and weapons, but Arthur carefully kept a tone of casual distain whenever Merlin complained. If he was a little less demanding with his list of chores… well, it was easily explained by a sense of debt owed. Merlin had nearly died to save him, after all.

The oddness didn't last long, though, Merlin being ridiculously easy to get used to. Even if his new method of waking Arthur generally involved bedcovers being yanked away while Merlin himself was out of immediate retaliation-range.

Arthur would have been slightly more annoyed with that if he hadn't been able to make up for any morning indignities on the training field where Merlin couldn't use magic.

He did actually have Merlin practice with the slingshot, and—while the peasant's weapon would give Merlin a bit more cover for his abilities, the weapon itself required more space to wield than bow or sword, which was a concern they would have to address sooner or later. Arthur also steadfastly refused to admit (aloud) that Merlin was actually good with the thing.

The knights weren't quite so reserved, especially after Gavin got dared to try it out and ended up launching the stone—still in the sling—behind himself where they clanged off Arthur's shield twenty feet away, knocking it over from where it had been leaning against a post.

Gavin twisted around, trying to puzzle out how he'd managed that.

Merlin wasn't able to hide the smile as he went over to gather the leather strap, stone and all.

Arthur shook his head, "Well, now we know not to let knights play with that," he stated wryly.

That got a good-natured round of laughter and Gavin grinned, "How do you do that, Merlin? You've been hitting every target we name and I can't even tell how to get the stone out of the sling!"

Merlin re-settled the stone into the sling and spun it, more slowly than he usually did. "You need to let go of one of the ends, not both, and only when the stone is aimed at what you're trying to hit. It's not as easy as it looks." He demonstrated, the slower spin meaning the stone landed in the grass instead of launching across the field. "If you've never used one, it's better not to spin it too fast until you get used to how it works, and to practice a fair distance from anyone you don't want to hit."

Gavin laughed again, moving to clap Merlin on the shoulder, "I think I'll leave that particular weapon to you. It may not look like much, but I'd hate to get hit by one of those stones! You've dented the jousting targets."

"And you dented my shield," Arthur pointed out, going over to examine the pock in the steel. "It'll need a blacksmith to fix."

Gavin suddenly looked nervous, "Sorry, sire…"

Arthur waved off the apology, "Well, Merlin, it looks like you have an errand to run. Gavin can train with me today."

Merlin managed to wince and look gleeful at the same time. "Yes, sire!" he scampered over to gather up the damaged shield and cast a pitying glance at the uneasy knight, "Good luck, Sir Gavin."

Arthur grinned, snagging a mace from the nearest weapon rack and giving it an experimental spin.

"I think I'll need it," the knight gulped, raising his shield.

xxxx

Once Merlin was well and truly out of sight, Arthur stopped holding back so much, drawing his blows only enough not to maim the knight. Gavin was going to have a lot of bruises, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to care.

He had tried not to think about it, tried to set it aside, but the knowledge burned in his thoughts. Magic. Merlin. Geas. Cursed fate—Merlin might as well be a slave, for all the choice he'd been given, and there was nothing Arthur could do about it. And venting this kind of frustration on Merlin's scrawny frame just seemed like a bad idea, so he'd taken the chance to send the servant off and vent against a more sturdy target.

"Yield!" Gavin yelped even as he fell backwards, landing in a sprawl with his shield spinning off to the side, leather strap broken.

Arthur re-angled his strike with a burst of effort—maces were slow, but heavy and hard to redirect mid-swing. What would have been an overhand hit to the shield had the leather not snapped ended up being a down-and-side hit to the ground, burying the mace-head in soft earth.

Gavin blew out a breath, wide-eyed, and took the hand Arthur offered him. He staggered a bit after he was back on his feet, "Ow," he groaned, testing his shield-arm and letting his own mace (which he hadn't had the chance to use) fall to the ground. "I think I just got a lot more respect for your manservant, Sire. You hit hard."

Arthur shrugged, declining to comment as he pulled his mace back out of the ground, brushing dirt and bits of grass from it. He was less—restless, seemed a good word, but no less frustrated. Now, though, the frustration was almost tired. Resigned.

"Get Gaius to check that elbow," he instructed, watching how still the knight was holding his shield-arm, "and make sure to keep an eye on the straps on your shield. If one snaps in the middle of battle, you'll probably end up dead."

"Yes, Sire," Gavin made to pick up his equipment and hissed as he jostled his elbow.

Arthur stopped him, "I'll get your things to the armory. You can pick them up later."

The relief on the knight's face was unmistakable. "Thank you, Sire. I'll go to Gaius."

Arthur nodded dismissal and gathered up the damaged shield and both maces, heading across the field towards the armory. He might as well get some of those tax reports sorted while he waited for Merlin to get back.

He needed to talk to Gaius, but considering the topic… best to wait. He could only imagine the trouble he'd stir up if any of the knights overheard.

xxxx

Merlin was completely lacking Arthur's misgivings—in fact, he was oblivious to them. The dent in the shield was minor when it came to size, not even as wide as Merlin's wrist, but it was fairly deep.

Merlin had learned (from Arthur, and not with words) that such dents could and would catch spear and/or lance tips easily. When driven with enough force, a polearm could dent the metal of an undamaged shield—or piece through a weakened section that caught the force rather than deflected it. Even if the weapon didn't hit whoever was holding the shield when that happened, having a heavy weapon-shaft dragging at a shield rendered the supposed defense worse than useless, hampering movement significantly until one could free one's arm.

With that knowledge, Merlin didn't even question Arthur's sending him off and instead was grateful for the reprieve. He waved and smiled and returned greetings as the townspeople who recognized him (which was most of them, by that point) said hello or teased him for his propensity to end up in the stocks.

When he got to the smithy, he ducked around the front and waved to catch Gwen's father's attention. The man nodded slightly to acknowledge his presence and continued to hammer the metal in front of him, shaping what looked like the head of a shovel.

Several minutes passed before the blacksmith deemed his project complete and dropped the shovel-blade into the large barrel of water at his side and turned his attention to his customer. "Hello, there… Merlin, right? Guinevere speaks highly of you, and I thank you for trying to protect her from Uther. Nevertheless, I'd know what your intentions are towards my daughter."

Merlin blinked, "What?"

The blacksmith glowered, "I've heard you're in love with my daughter. Is this true?"

"Oh, that," Merlin flushed, "No. Arthur told court that to keep his father from killing me. She's a dear friend, but I'm not in love with her."

Then man's expression softened, "Right, then. I'm Tom, and since you're clearly not here for permission to court…"

Merlin blinked again, then brightened, "Right! Arthur's shield—" he turned to pick it up from where he'd leaned it against the low fence separating the smithy from the market proper, "—one of the knights tried my slingshot and, while his power was impressive, his aim was a bit off."

Tom took the shield and raised both eyebrows as he examined the damage, "Are those rock chips in there?"

"Erm, probably?"

"Right. Well, this will take some doing. I can have it ready tomorrow, but this is a very impressive dent."

"So… I should come back tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll have it ready by about this time tomorrow. Meanwhile, you go do whatever it is you do for the prince, aside from carting his shields to blacksmiths."

Merlin grinned, "Alright, then, Tom. Thank you. And—how much will this cost?"

Tom looked at the dent again and grimaced a bit. "I'd say a silver. Those rock chips are going to be a hell of a time. Might be easier to make a new one, but it'd take longer and cost more, what with the price of good steel."

Merlin nodded, "Right. See you tomorrow, then."

Tom waved Merlin off, already grumbling about what he needed to do as he set the shield on the workbench before pulling the shovel-blade out of the quenching barrel.

Merlin shrugged and left him to it, heading back through the marketplace towards the castle. He had a prince to serve.

(The knowledge that the prince in question knew his most carefully kept secret filled his customary grin with joy.)

xxxx

Fair warning: it'll probably be a while before this gets updated again unless I have a stroke of combined excessive inspiration and luck. Time looks like it's going to be in short supply for a few weeks at least.