Dear Merlin,
It has been far too long since I sent a letter to you. Our arrival back home in Nemeth heralded our own celebrations and reunions, and I fear I was too swept up in the hubbub to get a proper letter to you.
How do you fare? How does Camelot? I write in the hopes that you and yours are healthy, happy, and well. Is Sir Quackenfell still suffering from his odd nest-making? Did you ever trade something else for another recipe from the midnight kitchen witch? What should one do when faced with a dragon?
Though I have lacked the energy and proper mental faculties to get a letter to you, I nonetheless have read your stories over and over again. They are an island of peace amid a sea of chaos for me recently. It would gladden me very much if you were to send another with your reply.
Now, however, I fear I still will not be able to get a proper letter to you. Nemeth's court is in chaos, and I am unsure of what to do. As I grow closer and closer to the age at which our kings traditionally abdicate their throne to an heir, the political machinations, dark intentions, and boundless ambitions of some courtiers have come to light. I have been kept busy both putting out fires and being relegated to the sidelines to engage in meaningless gossip, all while the "real" statesmen squabble over my future. It is exhausting.
I am unsure of what to do at this juncture. My mother and father, the king and queen, are pressuring me to make a decision. My courtiers are baying for blood. It seems a tournament is to take place next year with the intent of finding me a good match and advantageous suitor, and rumors have spread wildly about who is to attend. I am fending off princes nearly as horrible as Arthur used to be left and right, and hiding from their families all the while.
And throughout all of this, my headaches have not ceased. Did you happen to omit an ingredient from the recipe you forwarded? My herbalist and court physician cannot seem to recreate it suitably. I wish we lived in a world where you could simply appear here in Nemeth and show them how to do it properly.
A silly thought, I know. But still, I grow weary of being in pain and bickered over constantly without getting the chance to do any bickering myself.
Would you ever consider coming to Nemeth to bicker with me as you do with King Arthur? It seems to be a balm for his frayed nerves, and I need much the same.
Perhaps you will come to visit us at this tournament next year. I know that your adoring followers here in Nemeth's court would adore the chance to see you again, and I myself would be glad of the chance to enjoy your company once more.
I eagerly await your reply.
Most Sincerely,
Mithian
Dear Princess Mithian of Nemeth,
Heir to the Throne of Nemeth,
Duchess of Helngard,
Acclaimed and Renowned Scholar,
Accomplished Stateswoman,
Fearsome Archer,
and Sharp-Witted Orator:
I am gladdened to hear you made it to Nemeth safely. It was assuring to know that word would have been sent to King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were it otherwise, but I nonetheless found myself casting my thoughts more and more frequently to you and your party as time went on. Thank you greatly for putting my worries to rest and writing to inform me of your safe return.
I fare as well as can be expected when living in close proximity to knights and the King. The queen is ever a balm to my soul, and often saves me from their more block-headed schemes. In fact, tonight was one such instance, wherein she devised some chore to keep me from assisting them in pilfering an entire batch of cook's honey-cakes from under her nose tonight. Their ears will be red and sore for days.
Speaking of which, please enjoy the box of honey-cakes I sent along for you. I managed to get to the kitchens before they did.
The King and Queen are hale and hearty, and settling into life as monarchs quite well if the assessment of this country boy is worthy of anything. It fills me with pride to watch them reign with justice and kindness. I can only hope it strengthens and expands with time.
Sir Quackenfell is no longer stealing the first or last pages to any books, and most of those he stole were returned and the books repaired. However, he has developed a bit of an illness characterized by coughing spurts of flame. I'm looking into it.
I did, indeed, meet the old woman at midnight in the dark streets of Camelot. She gave me the recipe for the honey-cakes (enclosed), for which I gave her a length of thread from my jacket, two secrets, and the color of my grandfather's hair.
I also included another story for you here. Please read the story of the Fisher King and the Quest to the Perilous Lands. It is not as dark as the tale of the Dorocha, and will hopefully contain enough mischievous antics to keep you entertained for a little while.
As for your own court, I am sad to hear of such goings-on. Obviously they underestimate what a formidable foe and strong ally they could have in you. I have found in my own life that people are likely to underestimate those they believe to be beneath them, whether that is a servant (in my case) or a woman (in yours). Woe befall the person who underestimates you, Princess.
It also interests me the commonality between King Arthur and yourself in your way of thinking. It is true that you are limited in your actions somewhat as a royal. Tradition and expectations and ritual enshroud your position. So much so that you both allow it, from time to time, to obscure your own vision of the future, your own surety of self, so fully that you are convinced into a feeling of helplessness. But it need not be this way. Who makes tradition? Who sets expectations?
Need I remind you that you are a princess? A strong woman with a good heart and a sound mind? It seems to me as if you may have temporarily allowed those around you to make you forget who you are. If ever you need a reminder, Princess Mithian, of who you are and how others should see you, simply reread how I address my letters to you.
You accused me once of being deferent to you in title alone, and speaking like a diplomat. But, in truth, I am not. I am speaking to you like I speak to Guinevere. I treat you as I treat Arthur in my less brash moments. My respect for you is genuine, and my belief in you whole-hearted. I write to you in this manner because you are Mithian, Princess of Nemeth. Because you are an acclaimed scholar and an accomplished stateswoman and a fearsome archer and a sharp-witted orator. I write with such care and feeling, princess, because I look at you and see the great queen you will become, ruling with equanimity, kindness, and justice under the banner of Albion.
Perhaps the time has come for you to remind your court of exactly who you are.
Though I do hope you are victorious in your efforts to stave off the wrong, prattish princes, and calm your courtiers, and find a man who loves you for who you are and not the crown on your head, I sincerely hope that Nemeth throws a tournament next year anyway, if only so I can attend to Arthur during a visit to your country and once again have the chance to delight in your presence, no matter how distant.
Your humble servant,
Merlin
(Postscript: I did nothing out of the ordinary to your headache potion. Perhaps ensure your physician is not boiling the mixture for too long. Over-boiling can dull its effects.)
Dear Merlin,
Wisest Advisor in Albion,
Servant of King Arthur,
Skilled Physician,
and Friend:
You were entirely correct in your scolding of me. I must thank you, whole-heartedly, for your kind words to me and your glowing report of my character. In fact, I keep your letter in my pocket to show to any courtiers who question my capabilities. Perhaps I will wave it in their face next time.
Matters have calmed here in Nemeth, and it is in no small part thanks to you and your words of wisdom to me. Politicking never much suited me, but I suit it just fine. And while I am loath to flaunt my title and status to servants and attendants and the like, it is quite satisfying to watch a councilor shrivel in their seat when I insist they use my full titles when addressing me.
A reminder of who I am, if you will.
Even my mother and father have lessened their pressure on me. In fact, I have been lauded over supper recently for being so attentive and engaged during council sessions. It is dreary and boring, but important, and as good an opportunity as any to establish now what kind of ruler I will be.
You are an interesting man, Merlin. King Arthur has truly benefited from your presence and counsel. When I first met him as a child, I thought him spoiled and unkind. Then again, during our brief courtship, he seemed little improved. But now, he is a magnanimous ruler and a good man. I think he owes that in no small part to you.
Advisor to monarchs, friend to royalty, brother to knights, mentor to servants. How many other things are you?
Is Sir Quackenfell still coughing fire? Have you traded any more esoteric items for recipes? Do you have any more stories to send your friend in need of good humor and comfort? Are your king and queen in good health?
How are you, Merlin? Does Arthur treat you well, and have you dined with Gwen lately? Is Gaius working you ragged, and have you written to your mother recently? Pray, tell me of your life in Camelot, my friend. With every day that passes, my memories of my time spent in Camelot grow fonder, and I find myself missing terribly the days and nights I spent in your home.
I eagerly await your reply.
Most sincerely,
Mithian
Dear Princess Mithian,
Though you do not need it and did not ask for it, I applaud and commend your successful efforts to reign in your court. I am proud that you have found such a clever way to exert your influence as you are able. It must be delightful to watch those old cowhides wither in their seats.
I thank you profusely for your kind words, princess. It is easy to be wise and thoughtful when all I must do is remind you of how spectacular you are.
The same goes for advising Arthur (but he is less spectacular, and so requires more work). You were quite right in your last letter: Arthur was and is a prat, and a royal one at that. But he is a good man and a good king, and sometimes, like all of us, he just needs a reminder of that.
After having had the pleasure of sharing in your company and watching you debate and negotiate and navigate the waters of a foreign court so adeptly, I know that you, too, are a good person, and that you will be a good queen.
Sir Quackenfell is no longer coughing fire. He is, however, walking straight through stone walls rather than into them as usual. I am looking into it.
I did, indeed, get something from the old woman at midnight, but it was not a recipe. Instead, we made a different kind of trade. She gave me a carving of a falcon in flight, and I gave her a story, the feather in my cap, and the first word of the next book I read. I included the carving with my missive, as in my mind the princess who bears the crest with a falcon should carry it with her, too. A reminder of who you are, if you will. Forgive its crude nature–apparently the old woman is more of a baker than a whittler.
Another story is enclosed. It tells the tale of how I met Sir Gwaine. I think you may like this one–full of both adventure and mischief.
I am well, princess, and in good health. Arthur treats me as well as always, and Gwen and I kick him out for a private "servants' dinner" once a week. Gaius is keeping me busy and looks after me as best he can. Sitting next to me is more parchment to send a missive to my mother in Ealdor. Thank you for the reminder.
Life in Camelot continues. We have received word that Morgana has been seen just over our border in Essetir. It is worrying news, but nothing new, and nothing Camelot cannot weather.
How are you? How fares Nemeth and Sybil, little Henry and his mother Octavia, Lord Rian and Sir Fred? How are Roderick and Greta? Are they married yet? How are your parents, the king and queen? Pray, tell me, my friend, how you fare so far away. I pray that you are safe and well, Princess Mithian. I too, miss terribly the company of the contingent from Nemeth, and the days you spent here.
I dearly wish for your reply.
Your humble servant,
Merlin
Dear Merlin,
It troubles me to hear these rumors of Morgana in Essetir. Their king is a wily man, beholden to power alone, and though it has put within me a growing dread, I cannot say I am surprised.
King Arthur is surely going out himself to patrol the border, though I know you must wish he would choose a different course of action. And surely you are to follow him, though you know this must be against the wishes of your family and most of your friends.
I must confess some anxiety at the thought of you and Camelot's king going to face Morgana unaided. It should be a comforting thought that the king remains in your care and that you remain in his, but nonetheless I feel somewhat restless here in Nemeth not knowing what is happening.
How is Guinevere faring? It must be difficult, juggling all the goings-on of the kingdom when watching her husband and her knights leave on patrol. I will write to her, and King Arthur as well, and offer what help Nemeth can provide.
I hope these rumors are just that: rumors. It is my ardent wish that you go back to looking after poor Sir Quackenfell and making trades with old women at midnight for wonderful things rather than riding out to face Morgana.
Thank you for the falcon. It sounds as if it were hard-won. But please, do not try to cheapen such a lovely and thoughtful gift. It sits on my desk, watching over me as I study and read and write reports.
I quite enjoyed the story about meeting Sir Gwaine. Do you get into tavern brawls often?
It makes my heart joyful that you and Queen Guinevere have continued your friendship despite both your busy schedules. You both deserve the best of friends, and I can think of no other two quite as well suited as the pair of you.
I am well, healthy and exhausted from too many items packed into my schedule. But life proceeds, and every day I make a little more headway in my court. Sybil is well, but exhausted, too. You know well the tiresome nature of serving a royal. In your honor, I have taken to giving her an extra day in addition to the day of rest per week. It seems to have brightened her disposition immensely.
In her place on those two days is now Greta, who is indeed now engaged to be married to Roderick. They are both downright, insufferably in love about the whole thing. I have been graciously invited to attend the ceremony, which I will of course do.
Henry and Octavia eagerly await all your letters detailing the misadventures of yourself and Sir Quackenfell. I am impressed to learn from them that you have added the donkey, rabbit, and unicorn to your coterie. Where, pray tell, do you keep all these animals?
My parents fare as well as I do, and are happy with the agreements and contracts drawn up between Arthur and I, more so as winter closes in and trade routes stay open and roads between our nations maintained.
The infrastructure clause in the mutual aid agreement was a stroke of genius, Merlin. Our men are being incentivized away from banditry and our merchants have never been safer nor more comfortable on the roads. And this is simply the beginning.
Please write soon, so I am assured of your king's and your own continued safety. I eagerly await your reply.
Most sincerely,
Mithian
(Postscript: Enclosed are gloves, one pair designed to protect against Nemeth's cold months and the other undergloves for more formal events. They should serve you well in Camelot and as you go in search of the dark witch. And before you protest, I did not commission nor buy them. I met an old man on the streets of Nemeth at midnight, and he gave them to me in exchange for a grasshopper's laugh, three lies, and a wrinkle on my face.)
Dear Princess Mithian,
The rumors of Morgana in Essetir grow, and reports of her amassing some men at the border increase and number and specificity as more time passes. You are correct that King Arthur is sending out patrols, and joins as many of them personally as he is able. You are correct that I am going along.
But do not fret, princess. The king is in safe hands, as is Camelot. We have faced Morgana before and know how she works. She is preparing now, and so are we.
I still do look after Sir Quackenfell. He is no longer walking through walls, but he is now speaking riddles in a language I cannot understand. I am looking into it. As for his friends, they are well, but a bit cramped living in my room above Gaius's workspace.
I have not, unfortunately, seen the old woman recently, and so have no more to report on that front for the time being.
I do not, in fact, get into tavern brawls often. Please do keep in mind, however, that my bar for such things is Sir Gwaine, and the story I described was a regular Tuesday night for him. On that note, please enjoy the enclosed story. It describes the night that the Round Table was formed. I wish that it gives you some hope in our capabilities in these uncertain times.
I am so happy to hear of Greta and Roderick's upcoming nuptials. Would you be so kind as to provide their address so I may send them a personal congratulations and a gift?
It also delights me that Sybil has been granted an extra day off in my honor. Do you call it Merlinsday? Because I think you should–it has a nice ring to it.
Please keep me updated on your family and our friends in Nemeth. It is a bright spot in my day when a letter from you arrives.
And please do not ascribe the infrastructure clause to me. I simply rambled through stories about the times that Arthur and I have been caught by bandits on the roads near borders. You and Arthur came up with that gem, Princess Mithian. And it is simply the beginning.
I sincerely hope for a reply. I am off on another patrol, this one even longer than the rest, and it would ease my heart to arrive home to a letter detailing your good health and high spirits.
Your humble servant,
Merlin
(Postcript: Thank you ever so much for the gift of the gloves. They sound as if they were hard-won, and are of high quality. Please pass your compliments along to the old man for me.)
Dear Merlin,
I want to write to you about all the events here in Nemeth as you requested, but it all feels hollow when I am unsure of your safety and that of Camelot's King.
Though it feels silly to admit, for you have kept up correspondence so faithfully and enjoyably for these past few months, but I doubt you truly know what your friendship means to me. If I were to hear you were hurt while I parade through these castle halls and sleep safely in my chambers, I do not know what I would do. I only know that I would feel miserable.
Please find enclosed Greta and Henry's address of the home in the upper town that will be theirs upon marriage, per your request.
Please be safe, and write very soon.
Most sincerely,
Mithian
Dear Merlin,
It has been a month since I sent my last letter and I have not received a reply. Did I cause some offense? If so, I sincerely apologize. I simply wish to hear how you and Camelot fare.
Please write soon. I eagerly await your reply.
Most sincerely,
Mithian
Dear Queen Guinevere,
I sincerely hope this letter finds you and yours well. I have heard tell of Morgana patrolling the border between Essetir and Camelot, and I fear for the safety and wellness of my friends back home. How fares your husband the king and his court? How are his loyal servants, the knights of the Round Table, Gaius, and Merlin?
I very much look forward to your swift reply.
Sincerely,
Princess Mithian
Dear Princess Mithian,
Your letter finds us in Camelot well. There was a skirmish at the border between some of Morgana's forces and Camelot's own, but the tide was turned swiftly, and the witch turned away from us once more.
How fares your king and queen, your country, and yourself? I must admit, I miss our walks through the garden and private dinners. Your company was most pleasant, and I hope to have occasion to visit again soon.
Yours in friendship,
Queen Guinevere
Dear Queen Guinevere,
It is happy news that Morgana is once again turned away from your lands. Camelot's strength is truly unsurpassed, as is the tenacity and fearsomeness of her king, and the strength and compassion of her queen.
I must confess, Queen Guinevere, that some in Nemeth express worry at not receiving news of the physician's assistant, Merlin. There has been some shared correspondence over the past few months between members of my envoy and the physician's assistant, and his responses are typically prompt. Yet I have not heard from him in close to two months. Please see fit to provide an update, as the contingent of friends he developed within my staff beg me constantly to report on his well being.
My parents and their kingdom fare well, as do I. Thank you for kindly asking after them.
Sincerely,
Princess Mithian
Dear Princess Mithian,
I sincerely apologize for the oversight in my last letter. As for Merlin, please take no offense at his lack of a reply. There exists good reason for his delay in a response, which I will explain as succinctly as I can for his friends in Nemeth.
During the patrol with Arthur, which turned into a skirmish with Morgana, Merlin was struck by her with what we later learned was a cursed blade…