Leon was pretending to still be asleep while Mordred played with his hair when Sigune came in, loudly slamming the door open. Leon jolted to wakefulness, the movement flinging the cover over Mordred, who grumbled grouchily.
Outside, the sky showed no sign of dawn. Sigune panted in the doorway as if she had run across the entire castle.
"Sir Knight," she said, "Gaius sends for you; it's an emergency. Come quick!"
Within a few seconds, Leon found his trousers and boots, and followed Sigune toward the physicians' quarters. An emergency summons from Gaius meant one thing: a knight had been wounded.
Mordred followed not far behind.
Leon stormed in to find Gaius and Merlin fussing over a patient. The old physician leaned over his patient and inspected a growth on his hand while Merlin rummaged through their cupboards for salves or potions.
"What's going on?" asked Leon.
"Ah, Sir Leon," greeted Gaius, too calm for Leon's taste, "Easier to show than explain. Come see."
He waved Leon over.
Leon and Mordred approached the bed where someone lay still. They wore a knight's armour, though parts of it now lay heaped beside the cot. Wherever Leon could see skin, dark tendrils, resembling veins or roots, tore in and out of bloated, red flesh. A thick, pulsing vein wrapped from the nape of his neck and through an ear. A thin one sewed the right eye shut while swelling overtook the left. Leon could not even discern the colour of the man's irises. Odd dents deformed the armour; the veins must have covered the man's entire body.
He was too disfigured for Leon to recognize. Was he even conscious?
"Is he still... alive?" he asked, fighting down his discomfort.
"For now, but we must reverse the effect as quickly as possible."
Mordred walked around the knight. He inspected a vein passing through the man's scalp.
"This is certainly magic," he said, "but I don't recognize it."
"We're not sure kind it is," chimed in Merlin, bringing the jars he had been looking for to Gaius. "Sigune saw him collapse near the western flanking tower. We were hoping you could tell us who was patrolling the area to identify them."
Cold crept up Leon's spine.
"Mordred," he said, "wasn't that supposed to be your path last night?"
Leon didn't want to imagine Mordred as the victim of such a curse.
When Mordred's gaze shifter from the wounded knight to meet Leon's, Leon saw something brewing behind those blue eyes that could not name.
"Sir Griflet replaced me. This must be him."
Griflet, a knight a few years older than Leon, came to Camelot to be knighted later than most. His lands bordered Odin's kingdom and neared a magical mercenary outpost. As a young man, the surrounding danger had inspired him to mount a guard for his home land.
Griflet's guard had earned him a fearsome reputation and a host of enemies. Arthur had gladly knighted him.
"This looks like foul play," said Leon. "Griflet's reputation makes him a popular target. The mercenary's guild may have come for revenge again."
"It could also be a personal grudge," interjected Mordred. "We need to consider Lady Eilir or," his eyes fluttered to the servant hovering by the door, "Sigune."
Sigune stiffened.
"I would never..." she said.
"Sigune brought him here," said Gaius without pausing his work, "She would not have bothered if she wished him dead."
Mordred conceded the point.
"Then perhaps Lady Eilir," he said.
"Sir Griflet might not have been the intended target," said Merlin. "Outdated intel would have placed Caridoc or Mordred in Griflet's place. I know nothing about Caridoc's enemies, but Mordred has plenty."
He didn't say her name, but they heard it all the same. Morgana. The suspicion was fair. Morgana was infamously vindictive, but Leon did not believe she wished harm to Mordred after reading her letters. Morgana rather seemed like she wanted to kill everyone except Mordred.
Mordred looked stricken at the thought of Morgana attacking him.
"She wouldn't," he said.
Merlin looked unconvinced.
"It doesn't have to be her. Anyone within her ranks could have taken offense to you leaving," insisted Merlin. "You have many enemies."
Clouds gathered behind Mordred's eyes.
"Like you?" he asked, a challenge in his tone. Leon was uncertain whether he meant that Merlin had enemies or if Merlin was Mordred's.
"Like me," confirmed Merlin.
They could not afford to waste time on this tangent and Leon needed to their focus if they wanted to save Griflet's life.
"Killing a man is terrible, but relatively simple to achieve," he said. "An unexpected knife, arrow or sword would have sufficed. By the parapet, a shove would have sent him falling to his death. Why use a complicated spell? The timing cannot be a coincidence. Someone has purposefully orchestrated a magical attack on a knight the day Arthur is opening negotiations to legalize magic."
Merlin pursed his lips.
"Someone wants magic to stay illegal, and they're using magic to ensure it."
But what kind of sorcerer would want that?
"Why would a sorcerer want magic to stay banned? They could lead easier lives."
"Coin," said Mordred, "The rarity and risk of practicing magic means that sorcerers can charge exhorbitantly for magical services. Power, as well. Many people rely on Camelot's laws to attract sorcerers to their service. If magic was legal, Morgana's base of followers would dwindle and desertion would be easier for Lot's sorcerer-soldiers."
Leon feared he was right, but he didn't want to assume hastily. For now, they needed to see what they could do for Griflet.
"How can we help you, Gaius?" asked Leon.
Gaius waved to his bookshelf.
"My medical journals hide a collection of magical tomes between them. Help Merlin research Griflet's affliction. Mordred, you are familiar with druid diagnostic spells?"
Mordred nodded.
"Then please," he waved over Griflet, "whatever you can find will help."
Several hours later, once night gave way to morning, Leon and Merlin were still flicking through books detailing horrible curses and potions when Arthur slammed the door open. The sound startled Mordred—who had been waving a dim glow over Griflet—who aborted his spell to inspect his nails.
"What happened?" Arthur demanded to know. He looked around for Gaius, but the old man had left for the Lower Town for an unexpected birth, leaving Griflet in Merlin's hands.
From behind him, Sigune, who had gone to fetch him, drifted back into the room with her brow in a worried crease. Unexpectedly, Melrose trailed behind her.
"Sire, please, your manservant-" he begged, but Arthur's patience had worn thin.
"One more word and I will have you in the stocks. Get out at once."
Melrose wisely swallowed his words and stepped out. His appearance made Leon feel as if he had forgotten something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Without preamble, Merlin gave Arthur a run-down of Griflet's condition. While he did, Griflet's breathing quickened and he shuffled on the cot. The commotion must have woken him. Arthur noticed first.
"Sir Griflet." He paced his voice at a soothing tempo. Placing a steadying hand on his knight's shoulder, he asked: "How are you feeling?"
Thankfully, Griflet's mouth was relatively untouched by the veins, but the hoarsness of his voice was undeniable.
"Sire..." he croaked, "Like... trampled by... Wild...ren,"
Arthur laughed for Griflet's benefit. It only highlighted the worry in the king's features.
"Right. What happened? Were you attacked?"
"Not attacked. Wine..."
Arthur blanched.
"From Sigune?"
Griflet tried to nod, but winced and thought better of it.
"Yes..." he said.
"Do you know what kind of poison this is?"
"No..."
Realizing that Griflet could offer no more information, Arthur motioned for a gathering at the table. Merlin found his usual seat while Arthur slid onto the bench and Mordred quietly joined at Merlin's other side.
Arthur's eyes were wide with churning thoughts.
"You know what happened," prompted Leon.
Arthur pressed his lips together.
"Last night, Merlin prepared a wine skin for me. I meant it as a gift for Mordred's first night shift, to make the last hours in the cold more bearable. Sigune occasionally stays nights in the castle, including last night, so I sent her a few hours before sunlight. I didn't want him drunk during all his shift, after all."
Arthur's eyes slid to Merlin.
"Did you check the wine for poison?" he asked.
"I always do," replied Merlin. "It was fine when I left it on the table."
"Then the only people who could have touched it are myself, Sigune, Guinevere or... Melrose," said Arthur.
"Melrose?" wondered Leon. "What was Melrose doing in your chambers so late?"
Arthur sighed.
"He waited until I dismissed Merlin to come lecture me against trusting sorcerers, rambled about Merlin enchanting me, and so on."
"Lord Melrose and I get along," said Mordred. "Why would he try to poison me?"
While Leon tried to wrap his head around how his very magical druid lover could get on with Melrose, of all people, a thought came to him.
"Not poison," he said, "Antidote."
"What are you on about?" said Arthur.
"Melrose couldn't have known the wine skin was for Mordred and likely presumed Merlin had prepared it for you. Am I wrong?"
Arthur considered.
"Actually, I told him it was for me when he asked about it. There are... enough rumours of favouritism for Mordred going around, I think."
Mordred had the nerve to smile contentedly, the smug little git.
"Then," said Leon, "if Melrose had some reason to believe the wine to be enchanted, he would need a magical antidote to counteract the spell. That's how magic works, right?"
Merlin nodded.
"Surely he wouldn't try something so risky on a hunch," interjected Arthur, "even if he thought I was under the influence of magic, it could be a spell or a poultice."
"Oh," said Merlin slowly, "I have a confession to make."
"What did you do?" asked Arthur.
"So, checking for poison in the kitchens takes a while. It's at the other end of the castle, you know, and I was tired. I had a long day. I wanted to get to bed soon."
"And?" said Arthur.
"And a spell to detect poison takes like five seconds. So I cast it in the alcove by the royal chambers, found nothing and came back."
"And Melrose saw you," said Arthur, looking distinctly unimpressed.
"Probably, yes," said Merlin, "But this is good! Now we know that we've been looking in the wrong books. There aren't that many magical antidotes." He picked up a book from the shelf that he started paging through quickly. "Not if you don't know what you're working against and Melrose doesn't- Here we are!"
The four of them crowded around the open book.
"'Blanchefleur's Theriac,'" read Merlin, "'is an archaic cure-all for magical ailments that sucks the magic out of the patient with a root-like magical system that withdraws once the magic is removed. May affect a sorcerer's magical reserves."
Arthur frowned at the words.
"Then why are they still there? There's no magic for them the roots to find."
Merlin shook his head.
"There's no curse and no magical reserves, but life force is magic, too. It's literally sucking the life out of him."
"Then what can we do?" asked Leon.
"Magic, Sir Leon."
Merlin made for the cupboard, pulled out a cup and filled it with water from the pitcher. He whispered something under his breath and his eyes flashed a familiar colour: gold.
Then, as if he did this every day, Merlin brought the drink to Sir Griflet. He brought the cup to Griflet's mouth, only for Griflet to turn away from it. It looked distinctly painful to turn his neck.
"Sorcerer..." he croaked out with enough vitriol to make his meaning understood. He must have been able to see more than Leon had initially assumed.
Arthur rushed back to his knight.
"It will help you," he told Griflet.
"Won't..."
"You're dying, Griflet," said Arthur.
"Better... magic..."
Merlin carefully schooled his face, as if the man wasn't insulting him to his face. By Leon, Mordred had a similar expression.
"What would you have me tell your wife?" asked Arthur.
Griflet's wife, Eilir. Leon had forgotten to send someone to tell her about her husband's condition. He knew he had been forgetting something. She was going to skin him alive.
Merlin set the cup down on the tray next to the cot.
"Then I will not force it on you," he said, and Griflet relaxed.
"Why not?" asked Arthur, rather outraged.
"I won't force anyone to do anything they do not wish to," said Merlin.
"Then I will."
Arthur reached for the cup, but Merlin batted his hand away.
"I am the king," said Arthur, "And I want to save my knight. The cure is right there."
"This is my magic. I will not force my magic on anyone. Do not mistake me for Nimueh. Nor for Morgana."
While they squabbled, Sigune, who had been hovering by the door, moved.
"Ceolwaerc!" she shouted and Griflet jolted. He started seizing on the cot and Merlin held him to keep him from hurting himself. After a few moments, the seizing stopped and the roots slowly began shrinking away. Before long, they had vanished entirely and Griflet was left in Merlin's arms, looking as he usually did, if paler.
The knight shoved Merlin off. The young physician let him go without protest. Griflet looked at Sigune with confusion and hurt.
"You... all this time?" he asked, searching her face for answers.
"I didn't- I wanted-" she stammered, "I-I-I..."
Giving up on words, she ran out of the room, making the door clang as she went.
"Sigune," called Griflet, "Wait!"
And he ran after her without seeming to mind that he was half-dressed.
"Well," said Arthur, not seeming to know what to do with himself. "I'll just... go. And I will see you all at council soon. Except for you, Mordred. It's the stocks for you."
Leon blinked.
"What? Why?" he asked.
"For blackmailing Sir Griflet."
Leon was due in the council chamber in just a few minutes, but he wouldn't miss this for anything.
Mordred was stuck in the stocks, his neck and wrists trapped by the thick plank of wood.
The children were delighted to throw beets at his head and, if Mordred's small smile was anything to go by, he was delighted to see Leon.
He looked up at Leon, who kept a fair distance to avoid getting hit by beets.
"The view is better from the other side," said Mordred as way of greeting.
"You're incorrigible," said Leon fondly. "Enjoying yourself?"
"I'd say my morning has been delightful," he said, catching a beet with his teeth and spitting it onto the ground before continuing, "I get to entertain the children and I got to see my lover show off how clever he is. It's very compelling; did you know?"
"Is it now?" said Leon, entertained by how casually Mordred tolerated his humiliating position. He dodged beets and chatted more gracefully than Leon thought reasonable. It was annoyingly compelling.
"Quite," said Mordred, "But it made me wonder, clever as you are..."
"Yes?" prompted Leon.
"...how haven't you noticed Emrys yet?"
"I barely know the old man."
Mordred's eyes danced with a secret that made Leon suspicious.
"You lied about Emrys' identity, didn't you?" he said.
"Dragoon was... a compromise," replied Mordred. "Dragoon is Emrys; that is completely true. Yet, it is not the complete truth. I won't lie to the king, but will not betray Emrys. It is," he dodged another beet, "an adequate compromise."
"You're being cryptic on purpose now," accused Leon.
"What I mean to say is that I suspect Emrys of influencing Camelot to avoid notice. However, I am certain Emrys would despise the notion. I think... he's done it instinctively to protect himself and I don't think he's noticed."
Leon watched him flick bits of rotten vegetable out of his curls.
"You think all of Camelot is under a spell from a god? How can we break something like that?"
"Break it?" Mordred scoffed. "I certainly don't have the power to do that. And why would I? This is hilarious. I only mean to warn you because, if I am correct, then you might notice Emrys if he does something remarkable enough. It could be jarring, but don't panic."
"You think something could happen today," realized Leon.
"I do," said Mordred. "You need to stay cool-headed if it does."
"You think—no, you know—that Emrys is actually at the Round Table," continued Leon.
"He always is," said Mordred. "That was the first thing I told you about Emrys, remember?"