Alaia Skyhawk: Hehe, time for some more fun with Merlin, and some serious stuff with Arthur.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Music: The Forged Seal, The Machinations of Cedric

"Whom History Won't Remember" Episode: "A Matter of State (Whom History Version)"

~(-)~

Chapter 35: A Matter of State ~Part 2~ (Destiny Version)

Riding into Ulwin itself proved to be no harder than it would have been to enter Camelot, riding a fine horse. Even if something on his face had a few of the locals giving him an odd glance, most of those he passed barely gave him a second glance.

Merlin winced and tenderly touched the scrape on his forehead, which he had gained courtesy of tripping over his own bedroll this morning and face-planting into a tree. Or rather, he'd stood up too quickly while still half asleep, wondering where he was, and tangled his feet in his bedding. Bitan had just stood there and watched him with ears forward in curiosity, before leaning his head down to nuzzle at his master. It was just as well Arthur hadn't been there to see it, or he'd have been laughing his ass off by now.

Thinking about the prince, Merlin began to grumble to himself. He'd gone to all this trouble, followed the prince here, and now the realisation had sunk in that if he tried to enter the manor to keep an eye on him then Arthur would find out... and yell at him. But if he stayed out here in the main town, when the prince was almost certainly going to spend all his time inside the manor walls, then he wouldn't be able to keep watch on him. Not that he needed to, this city was even better guarded than Camelot was, there were guards on the walls everywhere. It was fast becoming an inevitable realisation that this trip had been a complete waste of time.

Seriously, he could have stayed in Camelot and collected herbs for Gaius, gaining the excuse to slack off in the woods around the city instead of falling face first into trees... It would also have not involved him spending some of the money he'd slogged for the past few months to save up.

Arriving at the town's main inn, Merlin got down from his mount's saddle and led the creature through the archway at the side of the building's frontage. He murmured to it quietly as he did so, the words in the old tongue giving the horse its instructions.

'Behave for the stablehand, but if anyone tries to steal you, bite and kick them.'

He handed the horse over to the young man who tended the inn's stables, Bitan going with him meekly albeit with his ears pulled back. As for Merlin, he entered the rear door of the inn's common room and headed straight for the bar to his left.

"A room for one night, food and stabling for my horse, and a meal for myself please. Anything, as long as it's hot."

The woman behind the bar smiled, chuckling.

"Road weary traveller, huh?"

Merlin sighed.

"No, just wishing I hadn't bothered to travel at all. The trip's turned out to be a complete waste of time. The person I came to meet is... unavailable."

"Ah, trade trip. We see a few pass through here with the same problem. Most times the person they came to see has already moved on to Camelot."

Merlin nodded, definitely bemused.

"Well that's where I'm heading next. So maybe I'll get lucky."

He paid for the room and everything, accepting that yes, this trip had been pointless other than to confirm Arthur had been right. The chances of him getting into trouble on a simple trip like this were next to zero.

He sat himself at one of the common room tables to wait for his food, letting out another sigh of resignation.

~(-)~

He walked through the hallways of the manor, led by the silent red-headed servant who'd done little this morning besides smile like a dullard while he did his chores tending to the prince. Arthur sighed to himself, finding that being gently roused was nice but lacked the opportunities for excuses to throw things, be they his nightshirt or some random nearby object. Was he honestly admitting to himself that getting dressed and eating his breakfast this morning had been boring? Merlin certainly knew how to liven thing up, even when he didn't say something impertinent.

Arthur frowned at that thought, shaking his head. No, he would not feel guilty about leaving Merlin behind. Being without his tart remarks and, dare he say it, his cheerful manner that seemed to try make a joke out of everything, was by far preferable to that same cheeky manner humiliating him in front of Hargren.

The prince forced his mind to turn to other things, to the sealed scroll case he carried. There had been so much secrecy involved in this agreement, and given the long-standing conflict between Camelot and Cenrid he supposed that wasn't surprising. But why go to all the trouble of having Hargren be the middle man? Unless Cenrid had flat out refused to consider the deal otherwise.

He arrived at Hargren's study, the servant, Fyren, walking back the way they'd come, quite likely to resume whatever other work he had to do. Arthur just let him go, not letting it bother him. Who knew what was going on in that half-wit's mind.

He knocked lightly on the door and opened it, looking in and receiving a nod from the lord seated at the desk by the window.

"Good morning, Prince Arthur. I trust you slept well?"

The prince approached him, pausing for a moment in surprise when he noticed Hargren's other manservant seated at a smaller desk against the wall to his left. He appeared to be working his way through a pile of reports.

"Yes, I slept fine. The room you provided was more than adequate."

Hargren rose to his feet, coming around the desk and indicating the prince should come with him, noting as he did so that Arthur glanced again at the servant before following him out the door.

They set off down the hallway outside, the lord noting to the prince beside him.

"Fyren deals primarily with my chambers and my meals, but Liam I trained to be my assistant. He's served me for seven years, since he was twelve years old, and I let him deal with the domestic matters inside the manor. All other matters, and those domestic ones that need more authority to respond to, I deal with myself. It means I am not unnecessarily burdened by things I know I can trust him to sort out. That is why I had Fyren tend to you, and not him. I've been piling extra work onto him due to all the tasks involved in negotiating the agreement with Cenrid."

Arthur regarded him, honestly surprised.

"You allow a servant to have such authority?"

"And I ask you, how is entrusting such things to a man I have personally trained for the role, any worse than handing it to a nobleman whom I know only the barest information about?" He glanced at Arthur. "When someone has the skills, they should be respected for them, be they a noble or not. Why else do you think I have been able to have Ulwin prosper so well, when it has been harassed by Cenrid's forces on a regular basis for twelve years? The people of my town know I will respect hard work and loyalty, and respond accordingly with trust."

The prince could see the value in those words, nodding thoughtfully.

"Although I wonder what the nobles who live here think. What are their opinions of having a servant decide things that affect them inside the estate?"

There was a glint in Hargren's eyes.

"They have none... because they don't know about it." Arthur's startled reaction made him cough for a moment, Hargren starting to smile. "The diplomacy of ommitance is a powerful tool in getting the right people doing the right jobs, where they will benefit Ulwin the best but without offending anyone. I see no value in pandering to the pride of those nobles who reside in Ulwin, who leech off of the hard work of the commoner's who serve them. I give respect where is it earned, Prince Arthur, and that applies to the nobility as well as the commoners. I will not accept foul play of any kind by either, and everyone in Ulwin knows that."

They walked in silent for a minute or so, Arthur thinking that through before quoting something he'd learnt from Merlin.

"That seems a lot like the morals King Herwen followed. Loyalty earns respect, betrayal earns shame, and atonement earns forgiveness."

The lord actually reacted in surprise to that, raising his eyebrows.

"That is indeed the moral I follow. I'm surprised you've heard it. You father never really agreed with it, or at least never agreed it could apply to commoners as well as nobles. I believe I've never even heard him mention it, despite the respect he held for Herwen. Where did you hear it?"

Arthur remained silent for a moment, before answering with a small frown.

"My... My manservant quoted it to me not long after he came into my service. He hales from the Village of Ealdor, in Cenrid's lands. His mother served in Herwen's household a number of years before the coup."

Hargren nodded.

"It is a good moral to have. It means you can trust him to be completely loyal to you, so long as that you give reasonable loyalty in return. It must apply both ways, or it is meaningless."

"Something he persists in pushing his luck with in repeatedly pointing out in his annoying fashion."

Hearing the hint of annoyance in Arthur's tone, Hargren smiled to himself and changed the subject. They were nearing the room where the courier was waiting.

"Now, back to more important matters... I would ask that you not mention this to your father, but Cenrid was quite insistent about who he would and would not trust to deliver the signed agreement. It had to be someone he knew would be impartial, and whom Uther would not be able to send an armed guard with."

Arthur turned his head to look at him, frowning a little as they came to a stop by a guest room door.

"What do you mean by that?"

Hargren did not answer verbally, instead knocking on the door and waiting for it to open. The figure that came out was a woman in druid robes, and she nodded to the lord.

"You have the item I am to deliver?"

Hargren glanced to Arthur, whose frown only deepened when he spoke.

"She's a druid."

The druid woman regarded him calmly, no concern at all showing in her grey eyes.

"Besides certain clans, my people have a rule that forbids the killing of others. King Cenrid knows we will take no sides in this, and that Uther would certainly never seek to send an escort with one of us... He would much rather kill me." She held out a hand towards him. "The document, if you please. I would rather not linger where I am not welcome, but I will hold to my clan's agreement to act as intermediary for this exchange. Cenrid is reasonable towards my people, and leaves us be... Which is more than can be said for Camelot."

Arthur glanced to Hargren, who nodded, and pulled the scroll case from inside his jacket. The druid woman accepted it, slipped it inside her robe, and then left in the escort of the guard who had been in the room with her.

As soon as she was out of sight, Arthur turned to Hargren in near disbelief.

"You let a druid in here? My father would be furious if he knew about this. Even if they are peaceful."

Hargren seemed unperturbed, simply folding his arms across his chest. Even if Arthur did not see the reason of this, he knew he would say nothing of it to Uther.

"Which is why I omitted it from my report to him. Would you rather I refuse the requested courier, and leave Camelot still at war? The Druid's do not take sides."

"But they advocate the use of magic."

Hargren's tone was firm.

"Her clan agreed to do this only because it brings an end to the fighting along the border. The Druids are also advocates of peace, and will help foster it where they can regardless of the opinions the people involved have of them. Now, I believe it is time we move on to deal with the other matter for which you are here. Fyren should have informed Chief Trainer Yale to expect us."

He walked away in the same direction the druid woman had gone, forcing Arthur to follow him. But the prince was far too lost in thought to be offended by the way the lord had just stepped on his opposition. The 'diplomacy of ommitance' seemed to be something the Lord did in his correspondence with Uther as well, but far from being concerned by that, Arthur strangely found himself admiring Hargren for it. It took a lot of courage to risk working outside the absolute bounds of the law, and yet the lord doing that was what had enabled this truce accord to go through. He had chosen to be flexible with his people and his view on applying the law, and as a result had created this prospering hub of trade, gained the respect of Bayard and enabled the treaty with Mercia, and had now used that treaty and yet more subtle bending of rules to get truce with Cenrid, a man confirmed to hate Uther with a vengeance.

It staggered the mind, but it had worked, and there was a lesson to be learnt from it... Compromise doesn't make you weak, rather it proved you were strong enough to set aside your views for the welfare of your people, and not care what others might think of you. Hargren was strong man, with a sharp mind. Had he not sworn loyalty to Uther, he would have made an exemplary and powerful king. And that was another thought to shake Arthur, that despite that, Hargren was perfectly happy to continue merely as the Steward of the Ulwin Province.

Did his father, the king, know just how valuable an ally he had in this man?

He was so deep in thought, he never noticed the occasional glances back that Hargren directed at him. The two of them were soon exiting the manor and crossing the grounds, to pass through the gate in the wooden palisade that surrounded the area where the horses were kept. That was the point when Arthur found himself completely distracted from his previous thoughts, his expression becoming one of great interest when he saw the many fenced pastures inside this part of the estate.

There were horses of a mixture of ages in them, from foals and their mothers, to yearlings, to nearly trained three-year-olds. All of them were in fine condition, and upon stopping beside the packed earthen training coral he had to admire the way the chief trainer handled them.

The man rode over on the horse he'd been working with, bareback and with no bridle. The horse obeyed his every nudge on its ribs, or tug on its mane, and the sight of that effortless control honestly made Arthur feel a touch envious. This man was a master with these animals.

"Hale there, My Lord, Prince Arthur. Fyren told me you'd be coming, so I've put the horses we'll be sending to Camelot into the fourth holding pen for your inspection."

He bowed in his seat astride the horse, Hargren giving him a nod before turning to the prince beside him.

"Yale is the one who has the final say on if a horse is ready for sale, and is the man who has refined the method we use to train them."

Yale had now slid down from the horse's back, ducking through the fence around the coral. He started to walk along the track towards a block of stables, Hargren following and Arthur of course doing likewise while the trainer began to talk.

"It was hard work, but worth it. The horses we're training now are the finest to come out of here in about twenty five years." He glanced back to the two nobles following him, speaking specifically to the prince. "May I ask how that gelding Lord Tarven took to you is faring? He was probably the only awkward one I've ever trained."

Arthur actually looked a bit bemused.

"'Awkward' would be putting it mildly. That gelding bites any and all people but two of the stablehands and his rider, my manservant... Who then decided to name the thing 'Bitan', because it sounds like 'bitten'."

Yale raised his eyebrows, cracking a wry smile.

"Sounds like he's in good hands then. That horse needs a rider with a sense of humour, in case it decides to act up."

Arthur was frowning a little now, at the casual way Yale had been talking to him. Spotting it, Hargren spoke quietly in an aside.

"I have a rule regarding Yale. Inside this area, he is in charge, and if he asks me to do something along the lines of standing aside or moving out of the way of the horses, I do it. Outside this area, he obeys me. This is his domain, and he had more knowledge about the horses than I do. Outside, it is I who have the greater knowledge, about politics and running the province. So the respect goes both ways."

Catching the implication about the moral quoted earlier, Arthur mutely nodded in acceptance. This was Hargren's province, and he did things his way, even if it seemed strange to him.

They soon reached the holding pen that Yale had spoken of, Hargren's manservant, Fyren, sat watching them from a crate nearby. All thoughts about strangeness soon faded though, when the trainer brought each of the fifteen horses in the pen over for him to look at one-by-one.

He began to ask questions about them, Yale answering enthusiastically and with clear pride in his work and his charges. In the space of half an hour he completely forgot he was talking to a commoner, instead accepting that he was talking to a man who was a master at what he did, and deserved the respect for it.

Ok, so maybe Hargren's ways weren't that strange. In fact, in some ways they were starting to make a lot of sense. Why shouldn't a commoner who is good at their profession, be respected for their skill at that role?

Behind him, unnoticed, Hargren had walked a short distance away to talk to an innocuous man in a plain shirt. A gesture to Fyren had brought him over as well, before the servant briskly walked away to be followed shortly after by the man.

The lord now approached the prince again, placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this, but I'm afraid something has come up. There has been a sorcerer working inside Ulwin the past week, using magic to break into warehouses and steal things. I have just been informed that he has been caught, and that the executioner is ready... As the son of Camelot's king, it would be appropriate for you to witness this on his behalf."

The relaxed mood shattered, Arthur followed him out of the training facility, feeling uncomfortable for some reason. He'd never been bothered by executions before, so why all of a sudden did it bother him now?

~(-)~

Sitting at the table, rattling his fingers on its surface in boredom, Merlin was seriously contemplating taking a walk around town. But every time that idea came to mind, it was quashed by the realisation that if Arthur happened to go on a tour or something outside the manor, he might be spotted... Which mean he had to stay inside the inn, bored out of his mind.

The warlock let out a long sigh, now contemplating going up to his rented room and stewing in silence in there instead of down here in the common room. But then, if he did that then he wouldn't be able to listen to the regulars who came here to drink. It was still only mid morning, so things wouldn't liven up until after noon, but even so there had been a couple of interesting stories told already within his earshot.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a tug on his sleeve, looking to his side in surprise to find a familiar face staring down at him with an absent and cheerful grin... It was Fyren, that half-wit manservant that had been with Sir Tarven a few months back.

"Um, can I help you?"

Fyren just tilted his head, blinking in a childlike fashion, before grabbing Merlin's arm and tugging him out of the common room and into the rear yard... while the locals just shook their heads in amusement at the antics of 'Hargren's half-wit'. They then went back to what they were doing without another thought.

Outside though, in an out-of-view corner, there were a great deal of thoughts as Fyren dropped the half-wit act and grinned at the young man he'd backed against the wall in the yard.

"Hello again, Merlin. As you may remember, I'm Fyren. I'm one of Lord Hargren's manservants. I've been sent to let you know, that while your loyalty is admirable, you didn't really need to follow Prince Arthur here."

Merlin stared at him with a sinking feeling. The 'half-wit' thing had been an act?

"You remember me?"

Fyren chuckled.

"Heh, I only play dumb when it suits me... Whatever did you do with that dog statue I helped you 'borrow'?"

Merlin began to splutter, his mind going around in panicked circles.

"I didn't steal it, I swear! I put it back... and it's... complicated."

Fyren's grin widened, and he had a wicked glint in his eyes.

"If that's how you want it. We have a lot of people up in the manor who have been to Camelot recently. A couple of them recognised you when you rode into town this morning."

"Does Arthur know I'm here?"

Hearing the dread in Merlin's tone, the other servant shook his head.

"No, he doesn't, and it's going to stay that way." He leaned in, taking a closer look at the scrape and bruise on Merlin's head. "It wasn't part of my instructions, but I think that should be looked at. The prince will question how you got it as it is, without risking it becoming infected. Come with me."

Merlin found himself immediately grabbed by the arm again, and towed out of the inn's yard and down the street in the direction of the manor, not sure how to react to all this. He was really wishing he'd decided to stay in Camelot.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, poor Merlin. Once again, for more insight into the scenes, and the things I've hinted at in the background, check out Part 2 of this in Whom History Won't Remember for the stuff from Fyren, Liam, Hargren, and Nellan's PoVs :)