Summary
Merlin explains the sorcerer's petition for autonomy to Arthur, having promised as Emrys that Arthur would grant their request.
Chapter 41 Sovereign Sorcery
As the first light of dawn seeped through the windows of his private quarters, Arthur signed off on a speech draft and turned it over upon the stack of finished papers. He sorted through the witness accounts for several upcoming trials but set them aside. Briefly skimming a proposal from a visiting dignitary, he placed it upon a different stack before reaching for the next document in the waiting pile.
Reports from Percival detailing the latest patrols and security measures around the citadel caught his eye – a few more magical incidents across the kingdom and a reminder of the ever-present need for order. Amidst the mound of responsibilities, an evolving landscape since his own coronation, Arthur's hand settled on a copy of the letter he had penned a few days ago, addressed to his people.
He read the carefully crafted words, a message meant to reach those who had suffered at the hands of magic, whose lives had been irrevocably altered by the actions of his father, Morgana and himself, and to those like him ignorant of their inner struggles.
Today, the letter would be disseminated, carrying with it his hopes that the sincerity of his words would resonate, that all the people would see the olive branch he was extending, a gesture of reconciliation and healing that perhaps many others might also see and tender to the wounded around them.
Contemplating the potential impact of his letter, Arthur's mind wandered to his brother-in-law. Would it find its way to Elyan, and if so, would it have any bearing on his actions? The thought of Elyan's possible return and Gwen's reaction to her brother's presence after all that had transpired sent a flicker of unease through Arthur's heart.
Amidst the sea of documents, a scrap of paper bearing Merlin's hurried scrawl fluttered to the floor, its presence disrupting the morning's established order and catching Arthur's eye. Retrieving the paper, the bold script stood out from the rest.
Arthur – Urgent matter. Sorcerers' council last night requested right to govern their own. Emrys advocated you would see reason. Do not make liar of me, sire. We must speak at first light.
—Merlin
Arthur's brows rose, a quizzical arch punctuating his thoughts. Sorcerers'… council…? Last night…? He scratched his forehead, grappling for meaning, then cupped his mouth in a futile attempt to contain his bewilderment.
"Sorcerers…? Governing themselves?" he spoke aloud, flipping the paper over as if the reverse side held the key to deciphering this cryptic message. "Does Merlin mean allowing them to pass judgment and mete punishment?" The implications of such a request settled in his mind like an uninvited guest. Surely, Merlin knew such authority must remain within the purview of the court and crown, Arthur reasoned, his thoughts as steadfast as the stones of the castle walls.
"What on earth is he into now?" he muttered.
A heavy sigh escaped Arthur's lips as the wonted weight of Excalibur, strapped at his hip, anchored his rising frustrations. The revelation of Merlin's secret meeting and unheard of promises would have normally set Arthur's temper ablaze – kindling for his fiery concerns. Yet, the mighty sword's presence seemed to temper his agitation, allowing greater priorities to take precedence. Whatever this nonsense entailed, it would have to wait.
The sudden burst of the doors shattered the quiet of Arthur's contemplation as Merlin blew into the room like a whirlwind, momentarily taking him aback by the abrupt intrusion. Arthur's arm froze midair, scrap in hand and ready to drop it atop the read later pile. Feeling the familiar tug of exasperated fondness, he recognized the telltale signs that some new epiphany or scheme had taken root in his friend's mind, even before words spilled forth – Merlin's scribbled cryptic note the harbinger in this instance.
"Well? What say you?" Merlin's voice blended brightness and urgency, a melody that demanded quick response. His hair, tousled by his haste, seemed to mirror the wild enthusiasm that danced in his eyes.
Arthur blinked, calmly setting the scrap down and lacing his fingers upon it, an attempt to anchor himself amidst the chaos that Merlin brought with him. "That my servants might consider waiting to be announced before entering their king's private chambers and accosting him," he replied, his words a gentle reprimand veiled in amusement.
"Apologies, sire," Merlin said with an exaggerated bow, his tone as breezy as the morning air that swirled in his wake. "Shall I prostrate before you as well?" His words carried a hint of playful defiance that had long been absent between them. Despite himself, Arthur chuckled, the moment of levity a pleasing reprieve.
"At least kneel occasionally when making outrageous demands like these," he countered with mirth. He waved the scrap of paper, the motion a silent accusation. "I only just received your note that sorcerers petitioned for autonomy last night – with Emrys' support…" His words trailed off, an unspoken question, a bridge waiting to be crossed.
"Um…yes – Emrys guaranteed you'll grant it." Merlin winced, his expression a tapestry of optimism and uncertainty.
Arthur braced his hands on the desk, his fingers drumming a staccato rhythm that echoed the disquiet in his mind. "Did he now?"
"That is..." Merlin cleared his throat, the sound no doubt a fleeting attempt to gather his thoughts, "we must discuss terms agreeable to all."
"Terms?" Arthur leaned back in his chair, thumb and fingers absently scrubbing his chin as if still unable to quite believe the credibility of the request. A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth as his gaze settled on Merlin, betraying his amusement at the notion.
"And how soon before my crown ends up in druid hands?" Arthur's words, as ridiculous as they sounded, carried a challenge and a warning woven into one that required no answer. Merlin opened his mouth as if he could offer a reasonable response, but Arthur held up a palm, silencing the unspoken. "Merlin, are you mad?"
"I… don't think so." he replied, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. "Though Emrys might be a bit touched."
Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation as Merlin beamed with excitement, rushing to sit in the chair before Arthur's desk, his enthusiasm a bright flame that refused to be extinguished.
"You should have been there, Arthur! It was incredible – magical leaders from all across Camelot had assembled in Nemeton. Alator the Catha and druid Master Iseldir – the power vibrating the very air! I felt like a forest sprite stumbling upon the Fair Folk! Only these were witches, warlocks, sorcerers – an amazing array! A gathering of many factions! Your new physician was there, Arthur – Master Ruadan – still so impressive and frightening! And so was Mistress Zenobia! Oh!" he exclaimed, eyes wide.
Merlin's words painted a disjointed picture, cascading from his mouth like a roaring waterfall, each detail a deluge of wonder. Arthur's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in confusion, the jumbled account a maze skirting the crux of the matter. He was sure of one thing: Merlin was serious about the sorcerers' petition, and as he raved on, Arthur diverted his glance. The strain of doubt started to nag at the back of his mind not over considering the request itself – that notion seemed utterly unthinkable as it were – but what granting it could potentially unleash.
As Arthur returned his gaze to him, Merlin's animation had tempered slightly, his energy settling like leaves after a gust of wind. Leaning back in his chair and arms at rest, Arthur laced fingers across his stomach, a posture of contemplation as Merlin's torrent of words ebbed.
"But not all welcomed Emrys' call for patience and unity under your vision, Arthur. Some still harbor hatred too deep – a chasm, I fear, that words alone cannot bridge. Like Mistress Zenobia – bitterness consumes her, that one. I'm not sure I convinced her. But I could tell that many others don't feel the same, their hearts more open to the possibility of change. They were listening—really listening!"
Merlin sprang to his feet suddenly, startling Arthur to sit upright. He began pacing the room, his hands waving like flags in the wind, each gesture a declaration of his fervor. "You should have seen me! Emrys argued that in exchange for self-governance, the council would stop the defiance of their ilk. Judge and punish them as internal affairs. Oh! There's so much potential!"
Merlin turned earnest eyes upon him, his gaze shining with its customary beacon of hope. "They may even help heal the wounds of people harmed by magic – those like Elyan. I don't know how, but by granting them authority over magical crimes and disputes, they would feel as if they truly are a part of us, that you are sincere in your words concerning cooperation. I promised them. This could be a chance to build lasting trust and restore order."
Arthur leaned forward, fingers still laced, an inward sigh resounding. Restoring order was indeed paramount, especially with recent incidents straining his forces. Yet Merlin's proposal felt discordant with that very aim.
"First, Merlin," Arthur replied, the calm of his voice so far from the roiling in his gut. "In regards to Elyan and those like him, I was under the assumption that my letter addressed to the people would start the healing process. Second, I had also assumed that we'd agreed to set our unification endeavors aside for a time – this would include our relations with the sorcerers, I believe – notwithstanding Emrys' appointment later today as a court official, thereby displaying the trust and cooperation that you speak of. Third, extending autonomy was not what I had in mind to entrust good will between the crown and magic users – far from it, as a matter record." His words were measured, each syllable a careful attempt to balance the scales of diplomacy and ire, a feat he had not achieved with Gwaine some days prior. Arthur moistened his lips, scratched the edge of his brow.
"You do not know what you ask, what is at stake, Merlin. We venture down a treacherous path if we pursue this course – we jeopardize losing a great measure of control. And there are other potential risks that we cannot possibly foresee."
"But there are benefits for both sides that we can see! And those we have yet to discover!" Merlin's words tumbled out in a rush, a river of possibilities that threatened to sweep them both away. "Arthur—"
Arthur silenced him with a stern gaze, his jaw feathering as he fought to quell the frustration that sparked beneath his skin. "I wasn't finished," he said, his voice sharp and unyielding as their eyes locked, his final point demanding to be addressed. Sometimes Merlin overstepped his bounds, Arthur knew, and at those times required reminders of his station – even if it was just the two of them behind closed doors.
"Lastly, you made a grandiose promise – on my behalf! – with sorcerers in a clandestine meeting." His voice was a controlled storm, the thunder of his rage barely restrained. He had no desire to extinguish the flames of Merlin's enthusiasm or tarnish the nobility of his intentions. The fact that his friend had convened with sorcerers did not perturb him; rather, it was Merlin's tendency to allow his emotions to eclipse reason, at times exacerbating the situation that ignited Arthur's vexation. The petition Merlin sought carried monumental consequences, colliding with current efforts, presenting ramifications that he seemed unwilling or unable to acknowledge.
Merlin glanced away, his lips pressed in a thin line, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Arthur watched his shoulders droop, the disappointment in Merlin's eyes flickering like candle flames buffeted by the harsh winds of reality. A pang of guilt twisted in Arthur's gut, his friend's crestfallen manner sparking sympathy and forcing him to wonder how much hope the other sorcerers had invested in Emrys' promises.
Would Merlin's integrity be diminished if he failed to deliver on this crucial endeavor? The thought ignited a new worry over the delicate balance of trust between Emrys and the magical community – a trust that had led to his appointment as court wizard in the first place. Pinching the bridge of his nose, a futile attempt to find the words to soften the blow, not only for Merlin's sake but for his as well, Arthur knew that the final decision would rest squarely upon his shoulders and would have far-reaching implications for Camelot's future.
Arthur sighed deeply, clasping his fingers together on the desktop once more. "I need time, Merlin – many discussions with the circle and council. This matter cannot be taken lightly or decided hastily. I cannot make any promises at this juncture." The words rang with pragmatic caution, tempering Arthur's realistic approach with his severe rebuff.
"But let them know their request will be given sincere consideration," Arthur added, his tone gentler now. "Work with Geoffrey and Galahad on your proposal so that we have a clear understanding of what needs to be deliberated. Perhaps, start considering which sorcerers would be best for us to consult during this process as well."
Merlin's optimism resurfaced like a sturdy blossom thriving in winter's bitter bite. He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes alight with a flicker of renewed hope. "Thank you, Arthur."
"Now, better get ready, Emrys," Arthur said. "Gwen and I will see you in court later."
As Merlin departed, tension threaded Arthur's shoulders taut as cured leather, that habitual yet unwelcome companion bringing along its usual stresses. The impending trial and this unexpected sorcerers' petition bore down on him, twin burdens that threatened to overwhelm. He dragged a hand across his brow, as if the gesture could somehow ease the tempestuous sea of thoughts that churned relentlessly in his mind.
The proposal for sorcerer self-governance loomed before him, casting a shadow even over the grave matter of Lord Badawi's trial of treason and sedition. It presented yet another fork in the road, a path that could either lead to a new era of cooperation or send Camelot stumbling into the chaos of the unknown. Arthur could not perceive the potential Merlin spoke of – a distant promise that benefited both sides – the way to reach it obscured in a surrounding fog of doubt.
As he gingerly massaged a temple, Arthur's eyes drifted close, the hope that had illuminated Merlin pushed forward in his thoughts. That infectious enthusiasm had so often drawn him into Merlin's optimistic vision even if his own doubts threatened to overshadow it. The man possessed a rare gift, the ability to inspire belief in the improbable, to make the impossible seem within reach. Perhaps, with careful navigation, they could find a well-reasoned compromise that satisfied all parties.
Arthur glanced at Merlin's scrap of paper, the bold lettering speaking out, clamoring to be heard. He shook the imagery away as he exhaled a small sigh, knowing that idealism alone could not guide his decision. Rationality must be his compass, his advisors the map that would help him navigate this uncharted territory. Every perspective must be weighed, every angle considered, before he could chart a course forward. The future harmony of Camelot rested upon his ability to strike a delicate balance between caution and hope, control and trust – his sword hand poised between the petition's embrace and its denial. It was a daunting task, like traversing a narrow path along the edge of a precipice, with peril lurking on either side.
For now, Arthur resolved to approach this challenge one step at a time. Drafting initial governance terms could take months, perhaps up to a year, but it would provide a solid foundation, a starting point from which to build. Through thoughtful deliberation and open dialogue, perhaps they could discover the elusive harmony between safety and freedom – a fragile stability based on a delicate balance. It would require constant attention and adjustment.
Alarms tolled in his head, hands unconsciously balling into white-knuckled fists. To even consider such a monumental change filled Arthur with trepidation. Deep down, he wasn't sure he truly wanted to entertain something so drastically reshaping the realm's governance – removing power from him and the judicial court. Laying any groundwork toward sorcerer autonomy felt like traversing a knife's edge. Could he risk putting a single brick in place upon a path he wasn't sure he wanted to travel down?
Releasing a long, weighted breath, Arthur forced those worrisome thoughts aside, determined to focus on current urgent matters. He reached for the stack of trial testimonies, jaw setting as parchment crinkled loudly in his firm grip. Eyes scanned the pages, but the words blurred, his mind unable to fully escape a disquieting sense that everything surrounding him now tread that same perilous ledge – a precarious balance between order and chaos, trust and fear, sorcerers' vows and the warrior's blade.
What had started as a seemingly straightforward change to help unite the kingdom was rapidly spiraling into much murkier ethical and governing territory than Arthur had anticipated. The weight of managing magic's reintroduction while also being pressured for further radical reforms like this sorcerer autonomy was having an immense personal toll on him.
For the first time, doubt crept in on whether allowing magic's return had truly been the wisest course for his kingdom.