August 20th, 2014 - The Prat of Camelot

AUTHOR: Zeplerfer

August 20th, 2014 - The Prat of Camelot

Arthur's eyes widened as he passed through the gates of Camelot. He'd never seem so many people in one place before. He craned his neck to take in all the sights—in the market he could see farmers selling livestock as children pelted criminals in the stocks with rotten vegetables—but he continued walking towards the brightly colored tents at the center of town.

Each year, Camelot hosted a spring tournament, drawing knights from all across the land. Arthur was no knight, but he'd heard that skilled peasants could enter the competition and win prizes.

"It costs 12 shillings to register," the man behind the table informed Arthur. He glanced at Arthur's clothes disapprovingly, clearly believing that Arthur lacked the funds to enter. He was right, damn him, but the look still made Arthur glare and stomp away. It would take a servant a month to earn that much money, so he had no way to raise the funds before the tournament began.

"Don't have the money to enter?" a voice asked smugly. Arthur turned to see a blond, well-dressed young man staring at him with a cocky expression. He looked like a lordling with too much time and money on his hands, too handsome for his own good, easily bored, and searching for a victim to harass. Arthur hated him instantly.

"I don't see how it's any of your business," Arthur crisply retorted.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" the young man asked with a teasing grin.

"I know who you are," Arthur replied. He watched as satisfaction suffused the other man's face and then he picked the best moment to twist the metaphorical knife. "You're a prat."

The young man laughed. "Just thought I'd offer to help."

"Really? What do you propose?" Arthur asked. He had never been the lucky sort, but it certainly would be nice if a wealthy benefactor chose to aid him in his moment of need.

"You take three shots with your longbow from 100 yards. If you hit the bullseye, I'll pay your entry fee. If you lose, you work as my servant for a month. My last one just left. I could use a new one."

"Deal," Arthur immediately agreed. He was an excellent shot, so the money was as good as his. They shook hands.

"My name's Alfred, by the way."

Arthur absent-mindedly replied with his own name, as he assessed the archery targets placed on the field for practice. They had smaller bullseyes than the ones he had used for practice, but he was used to hitting further targets, so it wouldn't be a problem. Arthur set down his pack, strung his long bow, and selected an arrow.

"You don't waste time, do you?" Alfred asked, standing just behind Arthur as he watched him prepare. His grin grew more irritating by the second.

"Be quiet," Arthur demanded. He needed silence and focus for his best shot. Eyes glued to the target, Arthur pulled back the string and took a deep breath. Just as he prepared to loose the arrow, Alfred leapt up behind him and shouted. Arthur jerked and his arrow went wide of the mark. He spun around and scowled. "What are you doing?" he shouted.

"You never said I couldn't yell when you tried to aim," Alfred replied nonchalantly with his same infuriating grin. "Don't you think it'd be noisy during battle?"

Arthur glared and prepared another arrow. This time, he was ready for Alfred's shout. He was not ready for the push that almost knocked him to his knees. The second arrow didn't even hit the target. Arthur climbed to his feet and scowled as he stared down the aggravating young lord.

"Never said I couldn't push," Alfred replied. His grin reached diabolical levels.

Fuming, Arthur faced the target one last time. As he heard Alfred shift behind him, he spun and used his bow to knock the young lord off his feet. Arthur fired the arrow and scored a direct bullseye. With a triumphant look, he turned to face the young man. "I believe victory is mine," he coolly replied. He expected to see anger or disappointment on Alfred's face. He did not expect the look of amused chagrin.

"Don't resist," Alfred advised, still sitting on the ground from where he had fallen. "And don't worry, I'll come get you out as soon as I can."

"I won fair and square," Arthur protested. "You can't renege on our agreement just because you—" His angry rant ended abruptly as a guard knocked him to the ground. Still shocked, he didn't resist as another guard roughly tied his arms behind his back. They lifted him to his feet and marched him away from the archery grounds. Arthur protested, but could not make them see that this was all a terrible misunderstanding.

As they locked him into the stocks, the guards finally informed Arthur that hitting his royal highness Prince Alfred carried a month sentence in the stocks.

The jerk who had taunted him on the archery field and played fast and loose with his agreement was a member of the royal family. Arthur groaned. Suddenly his current predicament made a great deal more sense. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Although Alfred was an aggravating and dislikable human being, at least he kept his word. Unfortunately, he arrived at the stocks after a group of unruly children pelted Arthur with rotten tomatoes and wilted lettuce. As Alfred approached, the people stopped throwing fruit. Arthur was grateful for the brief respite.

"Good news! The guards agreed that you could serve your sentence as my servant instead of in the stocks," the prince declared cheerfully.

Arthur scowled. It was easy for Alfred to be happy—he was going to get what he wanted, even though he had lost the bet. "Can't you just pardon people?" he complained.

"If I did that, people would lose their respect for the law," Alfred replied smoothly. It sounded like he was quoting one of his tutors. "Still, I think you'll find it's a good deal. One month in the castle is definitely better than the stocks."

It was a close call. Alfred was a smug, annoying, insufferable git. But rotten fruit hurt when it smacked him in the face. Arthur sighed as he spotted the children holding eggs with a nasty gleam in their eyes. "All right, fine," he agreed.

Alfred gestured for the guards to release Arthur from the stocks. Arthur rubbed his wrists and tried to clean off as much of the vegetable gunk as he could. As he followed the prince back to the castle, he wondered if he had made the right choice after all. Either way, it looked like he was stuck with a rotten egg.