As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, Leo's retinue set up camp by the tranquil riverbank. Marigold, having convinced her father to let her accompany them under the guise of a journey to Ironthorn, busied herself with tasks around the campsite.
"Four days until Ironthorn," Lancelot remarked, surveying the surroundings with a practiced eye. "We must make good time if we are to arrive before the princess's birthday."
Marigold approached Leo and Galahad as they sat by the river, the water glistening in the fading light.
"We should leave in the dead of night and follow the river east." She turned her head eastwards, where the Mountains of Annuvin were visible in the distance.
"Very well," said Leo, nodding. While Marigold wandered off to attend to her own tasks, Galahad leaned in closer to Leo, his expression wary.
"Are you sure about this, Leo? Venturing into the mountains at night is no small feat."
Leo met his friend's gaze, unwavering.
"As future king, I owe it to my people to explore every avenue to help them. If there's a chance we can find that enchanted cauldron in those mountains, we must take it."
"And what of the sorcerer who lives in said mountains? I asked my father about it."
Leo's eyes grew large. "You told him we were—?!"
"Obviously not." Galahad rolled his eyes. "I just told him that I'd heard stories of a sorcerer who lived there."
"And?"
"He didn't say much on the subject. Just told me that the sorcerer's name was Arawn, and that he is probably dead."
"Well," said Leo, grinning, "I suppose that makes our little detour that much easier."
Galahad nodded reluctantly. "Assuming, of course, that my father is right."
As the night fell and the campfire crackled softly, Leo and Galahad waited for the opportune moment to slip away unnoticed. Marigold returned to their side, her excitement palpable as she anticipated the adventure ahead. Under the cover of darkness, they bid farewell to the safety of their campsite and embarked on their journey eastward, following the winding path of the river towards the looming silhouette of the Annuvin mountains.
The journey was treacherous, the terrain unforgiving as they navigated through the dense foliage and jagged rocks. But Leo pressed on, driven by his determination to fulfill his duty as future king. Hours passed, and fatigue threatened to weigh them down, but Leo remained steadfast in his resolve. Galahad, ever loyal, stood by his side, offering words of encouragement to bolster their spirits. As they ascended higher into the mountains, the air grew colder, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the rugged landscape. Marigold forged ahead, her determination matching Leo's own, as they ascended the steep slopes of the towering mountains. The jagged peaks loomed overhead, casting ominous shadows as they circled their way up one mountain and crossed a rickety old wooden bridge to another, even taller peak. Leo's gaze remained fixed straight ahead, refusing to look down at the dizzying drop below. With each step, the bridge creaked and swayed beneath their weight, testing their nerve and resolve. But all three of them managed to cross the bridge, their hearts pounding with adrenaline as they reached the entrance to a dark and foreboding cave.
With swords drawn and nerves on edge, Leo, Marigold, and Galahad tentatively entered the cavern, the flickering light of their torches casting eerie shadows on the damp walls. Marigold clutched a crossbow tightly, a dagger strapped to her side, ready for whatever dangers lay ahead. As they ventured deeper into the cavern, the sound of dripping water echoed off the walls, adding to the sense of unease that hung in the air. But it was not long before they caught sight of a faint green glow emanating from within a cavernous expanse further down the tunnel. Leo motioned for his companions to stay back as he cautiously approached the source of the light. Peering around the corner, he beheld a startling sight: an old man hunched over a black cauldron, green light radiating from its depths. The cauldron filled with porridge, steam rising in wisps as the old man sat before it, spooning the hot porridge into a bowl. But Leo's curiosity quickly turned to concern as he watched the cauldron begin to overflow, porridge spilling onto the cavern floor.
The old man struggled to rise, his voice quavering as he commanded,
"Stop, cauldron."
To Leo's astonishment, the porridge vanished in an instant, leaving the cauldron empty once more. The green light flickered and died, plunging the cavern into darkness save for the faint glow of their torch. As the old man shuffled away through a tunnel opposite to their own, Leo, Galahad, and Marigold cautiously approached the cauldron, their eyes wide with wonder and awe. Marigold's excitement bubbled over as she examined the cauldron, her fingers tracing the intricate designs etched into its surface.
"It's real," she whispered in amazement, her eyes alight with wonder. "A cauldron that can conjure food from thin air."
Leo nodded in agreement, his mind racing with possibilities.
"Just imagine what we could do with such a treasure," he mused, envisioning the countless lives they could save with an endless supply of food.
Galahad remained cautious, his gaze darting nervously around the cavern.
"We must tread carefully," he cautioned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "That old man must be Arawn, the sorcerer. We must move quickly, and quietly."
Leo, Marigold, and Galahad stood around the cauldron, their hands pressed against its cold metal surface as they attempted to lift it off the ground. But despite their combined strength, the cauldron remained firmly rooted in place, its weight far too great for them to budge.
"We'll need more help," Leo suggested, his brow furrowed in frustration as he surveyed the scene before them. "We can't move this on our own."
"It would take hours to return to camp and fetch reinforcements," Galahad pointed out, his voice tinged with urgency. "By then, Arawn could wake and discover us here."
Marigold remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. Then, with a determined gleam in her eyes, she made her decision.
"We take a different path," she declared, her crossbow held at the ready as she began to walk down the tunnel that Arawn had taken earlier. Leo and Galahad exchanged looks of uncertainty before following Marigold down the dark and winding passage. As they ventured deeper into the mountain, the air grew colder and more oppressive, the darkness pressing in around them like a suffocating blanket.
At last, they emerged into another cavernous expanse, dimly lit by flickering torchlight. In the corner of the cavern, an old man lay sleeping in a tattered bed, his breath coming in shallow, wheezing gasps. Leo felt his heart pounding in his chest as he approached the bed, his sword held tightly in his trembling hand. Marigold's crossbow was trained on the sleeping figure, her finger poised on the trigger.
With a sudden jolt, the old man stirred, his eyes snapping open as he sat up in bed. Before any of them could react, a powerful force slammed into them, sending them flying backwards to crash against the stone walls of the cavern. As Leo struggled to catch his breath, he looked up to see the old man standing before them, his eyes ablaze with power. Arawn, the sorcerer of the mountains, regarded them with a mixture of curiosity and contempt.
"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice echoing off the cavern walls.
Leo rose to his feet, his heart pounding with fear and determination.
"We only seek your cauldron," he explained, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Locksley is in the grip of famine, and your cauldron could provide the sustenance needed to feed our starving people."
Arawn studied Leo for a moment, before he threw his head and laughter filled the cavern. It was a cold and mocking sound that sent shivers down Leo's spine.
"It was the common-folk of Richilde who drove me to seek refuge in these mountains, boy," he sneered. "Why should I help those who cast me out?"
Marigold, her patience wearing thin, stepped forward, her crossbow raised in defiance.
"Because it's the right thing to do," she declared, her voice ringing out with conviction. "No one should suffer while you hoard your power for yourself."
But Arawn simply waved his hand dismissively, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his lips. In an instant, Leo, Marigold, and Galahad found themselves pinned against the cavern wall, their limbs immobilized by an unseen force.
"My next bowl of porridge shall taste sweeter with the knowledge that the commoners are starving to death," he said, a mad grin spreading across his face and distorting his wrinkled features. When Arawn closed the fingers of his raised hand, Leo suddenly felt pain beyond anything he had ever experienced before. He, along with Galahad and Marigold, writhed in agony as Arawn's dark magic coursed through their bodies, every nerve ablaze. Their screams echoed off the walls of the cavern, drowned out by Arawn's maniacal laughter as he reveled in their suffering.
Leo's vision began to blur, darkness creeping in at the edges as he fought to stay conscious. Just when he thought he could bear the torment no longer, he saw a shadowy figure dart into the cavern, a flash of steel glinting in the dim torchlight. There was a scrape of metal against leather, a sickening cutting noise, and then the thud of Arawn's lifeless body hitting the ground. Leo's limbs suddenly felt free, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap, his knees scraping against the cold stone floor.
As Leo struggled to regain his bearings, he saw Sir Lancelot looming over Arawn's corpse, his sword still dripping with dark blood.
Galahad cried out in disbelief,
"Father?"
Lancelot's expression was grim as he turned to face his son.
"I have never been more disappointed in you than I am on this night," he said.
With a nod from Lancelot, several knights approached Leo, Galahad, and Marigold, helping them to their feet and leading them out of the mountains to safety. They emerged into the cool night air, the moon casting an eerie glow over the rugged landscape.
At the foot of the mountains, Lancelot led a group of knights back up the slopes, returning with a wagon bearing the black cauldron that had caused so much chaos. Leo's eyes were drawn to the strange pattern engraved on the side of the cauldron, a twisted visage that seemed to leer back at him with malevolent intent.
"Was that face always there?" Leo asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but Galahad could only shrug in response, his face pale and drawn.
Lancelot turned to Marigold, his expression grave.
"You will return to Locksley with the cauldron," he instructed, his voice firm. "You will be escorted home by three knights."
As Marigold rode off with her escort, the cauldron on the wagon trailing behind them, Lancelot turned his attention to Leo and Galahad.
"You will travel with me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Leo, you will be confined to your carriage for the rest of this journey, guarded day and night. Galahad, you are forbidden from journeying with the prince. You will travel at the back of the retinue."
Leo felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
The remainder of the journey to Ironthorn passed in a blur of monotony and discomfort for Leo. Confined to the carriage under the watchful eye of his guards, he found himself longing for the freedom of the open road and the camaraderie of his companions. But there was no escaping the confines of the carriage, not with Sir Lancelot's stern orders ringing in his ears. Leo's meals were delivered to him in the carriage, simple fare that did little to lift his spirits. He ate in silence, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on the road the only sound to break the stillness of the carriage.
When nature called, Leo was allowed a brief respite from the confines of the carriage, but even this small reprieve came with its own indignities. Two armed guards accompanied him whenever he ventured into the woods, their watchful eyes tracking his every move as he relieved himself behind a thicket of trees. Leo couldn't help but feel a flush of embarrassment at the intrusion, a stark reminder of his diminished status.
Throughout the journey, Leo saw no sign of Galahad, the absence of his friend weighing heavily on his heart. He wondered what had become of him, if he too was being held under strict guard or if he had been granted some measure of freedom. The uncertainty gnawed at Leo's mind, a constant reminder of the rift that had formed between them.
Days stretched into weeks as the carriage trundled along the winding roads, the landscape passing by in a blur of greenery and distant horizons. Leo counted the passing landmarks with a growing sense of anticipation, each one bringing him closer to his destination.
And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity of confinement, Leo caught sight of the metallic spikes of Ironthorn in the distance. A surge of relief washed over him as the palace came into view, its imposing silhouette a welcome sight after days spent cooped up in the carriage. Soon, he would be free from the confines of the carriage, free to walk the halls of his mother's palace once more and resume his duties as prince of the realm. Prince Leopold settled back in his seat, his gaze fixed on Ironthorn.