Chapter Text
The clash of steel against steel rang out above the shouts of the crowd. Sir Daniel advanced, and Arthur blocked. Once, twice, three times in a row Arthur made no attempt to attack, instead allowing his opponent to guide the fight.
The crowd cheered and gasped at all the right moments, mesmerised by what surely seemed to be a dire battle for dominance. But Merlin smiled to himself, knowing that, despite appearances, at no point during this fight had Arthur conceded control to his opponent. He would allow this young knight his chance in the spotlight, but he would not allow him a victory.
Sure enough, moments later, Merlin saw Arthur’s eyes flash with an instant resolve. He advanced with two quick thrusts, knocking Sir Daniel to the ground, and just like that the tournament was over.
Logically, Merlin knew these tournaments were actually rather a pointless waste of time and resources. The participants joined with high hopes of winning trophies and accolades, but in reality they had little chance of success. Arthur had the benefits of intense training from the time he could walk and the best, most expensive equipment, which gave him quite an unfair advantage over any opponent.
However, when the crowd was cheering and Arthur’s face was shining with triumphant joy, Merlin couldn’t help feeling he would burst with pride as he watched his prince wave to his people and accept his trophy.
“Well? What did you think?” Arthur asked Merlin breathlessly in his tent later as Merlin carefully removed each piece of armour.
“Not too bad.” Merlin tugged at the straps to loosen Arthur’s pauldron. “I thought Sir Daniel’s technique was excellent. He almost had you until his foot slipped in the dirt.”
There was no need for Arthur to know how proud Merlin was, however. His head was large enough already, thank you very much.
Merlin expected Arthur to get defensive at his compliment of Sir Daniel or at the very least to tease Merlin about his lack of knowledge when it came to sword fighting, but instead Arthur’s shoulders slumped with a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Daniel has improved since the last time we fought, and it was probably just… I should make sure he has proper soles on his boots before we need him to fight in the field again.”
All light had left Arthur’s face and his melancholy pricked Merlin’s conscience, making him feel guilty for teasing his friend. Arthur had debated whether to hold this tournament in the first place. It was part of an annual festival celebrating the end of the summer harvest season, a two day long festival that brought farmers to the city from the surrounding villages to set up booths selling berries and beans and all the fruits and vegetables the people would not get to sample again until the following summer.
During the festival, a tournament was held to showcase the knights of Camelot, both as entertainment and to reassure the farmers before the coming winter months that their safety and security was a top priority.
But this year, after defeating Morgana’s immortal army, Arthur was hesitant to hold the annual celebration. Many of the knights would be unavailable to fight in the tournament as they were out scouring the countryside in search of Morgana and Morgause. And the king would not be able to make an appearance, since his mental state was somewhat altered after Morgana had tried to take over his kingdom, revealing to all that she was Uther’s daughter and, even more shocking, that she had magic.
In the end, Gaius had convinced Arthur that the people needed to see that, even though their king had not been seen outside the castle for several months, Camelot was still mighty as always and the people and their lands were secure. So, Arthur had reluctantly agreed to continue the tradition. Arthur had spent the last few months worrying about Morgana’s next move, but during this tournament, Arthur almost seemed to have forgotten the troubles that had weighed him down for weeks.
But the look on his face now told Merlin the distraction was only temporary and Arthur still felt every bit of his new responsibilities as both prince and acting king.
Arthur’s crashing return to reality was the last thing Merlin wanted, so he tried to backtrack. “Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about Daniel’s boots. His little slip in the dirt will provide him a nice excuse when he tells his version of the fight tonight at the tavern, but deep down, he’ll know there was no way he could have beaten you.” Merlin bumped Arthur’s shoulder before unbuckling his vambrace. “His technique may have improved, but everyone knows he’s nowhere near your equal.”
Arthur grunted with a half-smile, as if he recognised Merlin’s attempt to reassure him for what it was, but a bit of warmth seemed to have returned to his countenance at least.
“I should probably take a walk through the stalls the farmers have set up, to let them know their work is appreciated. Send word to the kitchens to have one of the cooks and a few kitchen boys come along to help me purchase a nice selection of produce.”
“Of course.” Merlin gathered the armour, pleased with Arthur’s plan. He knew how much it would mean to the farmers to have the prince himself show his approval of their hard work by personally selecting produce for his and his court’s meals. Uther had always sent the head chef to browse the stalls but had never bothered to walk through the town amongst the people himself.
This decision of Arthur’s to show his direct support to his people, even more than his success in the tournament, made Merlin’s chest swell with pride for his prince. He could not contain his grin as he started toward the exit of the tent, arms loaded with heavy armour. He felt Arthur come up behind him and turned sideways to let him exit the tent first.
As he glanced at Merlin’s proudly grinning face, Arthur rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Merlin. It’s not like I’ve pulled a villager from a fire. I’m just buying a few vegetables.”
He pushed past Merlin, feigning annoyance, but Merlin could not help noticing Arthur’s pleased smirk and the slight colour rising in his cheeks. All the way back to the castle, Merlin’s heart glowed with pleasure at the thought of the generous and considerate king he hoped one day to serve.
******
“I’m sorry, but Camelot simply cannot spare the resources to help your village with the harvest at the moment.”
Merlin could see the tension in Arthur’s clenched jaw and raised shoulders. He would be an absolute misery to deal with tonight after a whole day of sitting in the throne room listening to one plea after another from local farmers either requesting help bringing in an unexpectedly large harvest or asking for additional security against bandits looting their crops.
Arthur wanted desperately to be able to help his people, but these requests were ones he simply could not fulfil. No king could. Merlin began to see why Uther would not even hear such requests. Ugh… agreeing with Uther made him shudder.
As Percival escorted one group of farmers out and Gwaine escorted another group of petitioners in, Merlin made a mental note to request that Cook prepare a tray for Arthur’s dinner, preferably with his favourite pudding for dessert. After a whole day of hearing petitions, most of which he could not resolve, Merlin knew Arthur would be in no mood to eat in the dining room. And the other diners would probably rather be spared from his grizzly company that evening as well.
The first petitioner of the group stepped forward and bowed. Merlin noticed the young man was shaking slightly, clearly nervous about speaking to the prince. He stumbled over his words at first, but Arthur gave him a reassuring smile which seemed to help.
“I come from a small village called Bellmare which is on the very outskirts of Camelot’s lands, so I understand if you are unable to help us, but we are desperate, my lord. Some evil that can only be magic has been attacking our village and the surrounding lands.”
Arthur sat forward in his seat, suddenly interested. “What makes you believe magic is involved?”
“It began a week ago. Every night as we slept a force would demolish great swaths of farmland. At first we believed an army must have swept through to cause such destruction. But it continued for three nights. Each morning we would awaken to find that another farmer’s fields or orchards had been wiped out.”
“What do you mean wiped out?” Arthur wondered. “Was someone stealing the harvest?”
“No, my lord.” The villager shook his head, eyes wide. “The fields were trampled. The fruit and the vegetables were smashed into the earth along with the plants and the trees they grew on.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed and he turned his gaze to Sir Leon who stood to the side of the throne platform. “Our scouts throughout the kingdom have not reported the movement of any armies large enough to cause such destruction, have they?”
“No, sire.” Leon gave a single, firm shake of his head. “We have received no such reports.”
Arthur returned his attention to the young man before him. “You said these attacks happened overnight. After the first attacks, did your village post any sentries in the fields at night?”
“We did, my lord.”
“And?” Arthur prompted him to continue.
“We received conflicting reports from our sentries.” The villager cringed and seemed hesitant to explain.
Now Arthur pursed his lips in frustration. Merlin could tell he was starting to get suspicious of this young man and his odd account of events. “What were their reports? I cannot help you if you are not honest with me.”
Merlin smiled. Arthur was using his most firm, authoritative voice, the one that never failed to get him results. Even Merlin was not immune to that particular tone of voice.
The villager lowered his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, steadying himself. Then he looked back up, not quite meeting Arthur’s gaze. “Each night most of the sentries saw nothing. It was as if whatever was causing the destruction knew they were watching and avoided those locations. But over the course of a week, three of them did witness...” He furrowed his brow. “Something out of the ordinary.”
Arthur stood and walked toward the young man. He was beginning to lose his patience, and several members of his court started shifting around uncomfortably. By this point, Arthur’s father would have had this petitioner removed for being so evasive.
Placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder, Arthur dipped his head to catch his eyes. “Tell me what those three men saw.” His voice was gentle now, back to reassuring. “I have witnessed unimaginable horrors performed by the hands of those who use magic. No matter how unbelievable their tales are, I need to hear the truth if we have any hope of helping the people of your village.”
Swallowing hard, the young villager nodded. “One of the sentries said a shadow came over the land, and the moon and the stars disappeared. In the darkness, he heard the trunks of trees being snapped as if they were mere twigs, but he could not see anything. When the light returned, an entire section of the forest had been levelled to the ground.”
Merlin heard a few gasps around the room, but Arthur held his gaze and gave no indication of shock or disbelief, so the young man continued.
“Another said an unearthly wail filled the air, and raindrops poured from a cloudless sky. But though the night air was cool, the rain was warm and stung his eyes, blurring his vision so he could not see until after the storm was over. When his vision cleared again, the berry patch he was guarding had been flattened. The fallen rain blended with the crushed strawberries to make pools of what looked to him like blood.”
The villager shuddered, but again, Arthur gave no reaction. In a low voice, he simply asked, “And the third witness?”
Closing his eyes, the young man lowered his head and, almost whispering, admitted, “I was the third witness.”
Merlin’s heart lurched. Of course. This young man, who couldn’t be more than seventeen years old, must have seen something so frightening, so unbelievable that he was afraid to speak it in front of the court, even to request help for his friends and his family.
Had he been reporting to the king of Camelot, this young man would have been yelled at and intimidated into submission and then sent away with no assurance of help. Uther would have sent an army to wipe out the magical threat, even if that meant taking out the village along with it.
But luckily for this young man and for his village, he was not petitioning Uther. And Arthur, who snapped at Merlin six or seven times a day, and who used to bicker incessantly with Morgana, and who had been known to lose his temper and hurl an unbalanced sword across the practise field, was unfailingly patient and understanding when one of his subjects was frightened and needed his help.
Arthur stepped closer, wrapping his arm around the young man’s shoulder and lowering his voice. “What’s your name?”
“Henry.” The boy glanced up at Arthur and seemed to gather a little courage from the fact that the prince was so interested in what he had to say.
With a reassuring smile, Arthur prompted, “And what did you see that night, Henry?”
Henry spoke so quietly that Merlin wasn’t sure anyone other than him and Arthur and possibly Leon could hear. “The mountain that separates our village from the Kingdom of Caerleon...” He tilted his head to meet Arthur’s eyes and whispered, “Moved.”
******
“Gaius!” Merlin burst into the physician’s chambers. “I need a travel bag with medication and bandages. Arthur is leading a group of knights to Bellmare, near Caerleon. Some magical force is—”
Merlin stopped in his rush to gather supplies as he noticed Gaius crouched beside his bed tending a patient. He set down the bag he had picked up and walked slowly to Gaius’s side. A woman he recognised as a shopkeeper from the lower city was lying on the bed, pale and shivering, but covered with sweat.
“Gaius? What is it?” Merlin had read in one of Gaius’s medical books about a disease known as sweating sickness. He hoped this woman was not suffering from that, as the disease was often fatal and thought to be highly contagious.
“She has a severe fever.” Gaius held a damp cloth to the woman’s forehead. “I have not yet discovered its cause. What were you saying as you came in? Is Arthur going somewhere?”
“Yes.” Merlin dipped a bowl of water from the bucket he had filled and brought into their chamber that morning. He knelt down on the opposite side of the bed from where Gaius sat and took the cloth to freshen it with cool water. “A young man asked for help protecting his village from what may be a magical force that is destroying their farmlands and forests.”
Merlin took over tending the woman’s fever while Gaius got up to prepare an herbal remedy. He explained to Gaius everything Henry had told them that morning. “He believed he saw the mountain that stands beside their village come to life and move across the fields. The moon was new and clouds covered the stars, so in the darkness, he wasn’t able to see anything but a large shadow, but he described the mountain passing before his eyes and the field he was guarding being flattened. By morning, however, the mountain was back in its usual spot, looking exactly the same as it had for as long as anyone could remember.”
Gaius frowned. “I know of no spell that can actually move the earth, but if it is true, that would be powerful magic indeed.”
“Well, Arthur is determined to discover the source of this destruction, whether it is magic or another kingdom’s army. He wants to leave this afternoon.” Merlin refreshed the cloth one more time and then left it resting on the feverish woman’s forehead as he returned to his task of packing supplies for the trip.
“Does he think Morgana might be involved?” Gaius walked to his supply shelf and began sorting through various bottles of dried herbs.
“He hasn’t mentioned her name, but I can tell he’s worried it might be her.”
Merlin’s stomach knotted with guilt every time he thought about Morgana. He felt somewhat to blame for her current destructive path. After all, he had known for more than a year that she had magic and was feeling frightened and alone, and he let her continue feeling that way, even though he could have helped. He could have showed her that magic was not all evil. He shook his head and closed the lid of the case he had packed. There was nothing he could do to change things now. All he could do was help Arthur protect the people of Camelot from her and her magic.
“Oh dear,” Gaius was mumbling as he moved the bottles around. “I’m all out of coriander, and I need it to treat her fever.” He turned to face Merlin. “There’s a few coriander plants growing just beyond the walls on the north side of the castle. Would you run out and fetch a bundle of leaves for me, Merlin?”
“Now?” Merlin was surprised at Gaius’s request. “Arthur will be ready to leave any minute. I already packed his things and sent them down to the stables. I just came to get these supplies on my way to prepare the horses in the courtyard.”
“Well, I need the coriander to bring down her fever. It won’t take long if you hurry.”
Merlin looked back at the woman who had dislodged the damp cloth as she tossed her head back and forth, most likely suffering from vivid dreams brought on by the fever. He wanted to help her, and he knew the exact location of the coriander bush Gaius mentioned, but even if he ran it would take almost half an hour to pick the herbs, bring them to Gaius and meet the traveling party in the courtyard.
“Merlin?” Gaius prompted as he returned to his stool beside the bed where the woman was now beginning to whimper in pain.
Should Merlin fetch the coriander for Gaius and risk making Arthur and the knights wait for him? Go to Chapter 2.
Should Merlin tell Gaius to find someone else to fetch the herbs and risk the woman’s fever getting worse? Go to Chapter 3.