Tristan couldn’t believe it. Lady Freya, the mother of Sir Bardock of Ancient and Noble of House White Hall, had ordered the kidnap of this young lady. He hadn’t met the matriarch of the White Hall House when she came to court, yet, but he had heard rumors that she was just and fair; welcoming strangers into her home without a fuss; and was able to go to toe with Queen Belladonna in the sneaky conversations that the Warrior Queen was famous for having. Of course, there had been rumors of The General chasing off Lady Freya more then once because Lady Freya wouldn’t stop bugging the General about the infamous Camelot Assassin. There was something about the General was the parent of the Assassin rumor flew around for a few weeks there.
There had to be something else that Lady Tina was not telling him. He knew that. Her stance was tensed. Her eyes shifted around the area when she spoke to him. Tristan narrowed his eyes, studying the woman in front of him. He couldn’t tell what hair color she had, but her locks were knotted up and covered by drying mud. Her green eyes held the emotion he was searching for. Her eyes held a glint of suspicion, sadness, and tiredness. He half expected there would have been fear in those orbs, but Lady Tina obviously didn’t go through an experience where she ended up fearing men. However, the sadness he couldn’t explain away. She didn’t flinch when he offered his arm to her, but she didn’t take it. The tiredness, the knight reasoned, could came from a number of reasons. He glanced to the pack she carried on her back. A bedroll hung from the bottom of the bag with straps. His eyes flickered to the ground where a pile of muddy clothes lay on the sand. The pack had been full of clothes. He wondered how long she had been carrying it and if there was other nicknack's that women loved to bring with them on a trip of any kind hiding in the pockets of the bag. He decided to let it go for now.
“How about you go ahead and get cleaned up, my lady,” Tristan suggested, gesturing to the lake. Tina glanced around the lake then up at him. She chewed on her lower lip. “What is wrong, my lady?”
“Nothing,” Tina stated in an even tone. Tristan knew better then to believe that. He grew up with a couple of sisters and a handful of female cousins. She turned away and knelt beside the pile before she dug through her muddy clothes. She pulled out a pair of black pants with a strange dark blue top that had thin straps attached to it and silver threaded, blue plaid short sleeve.
Tristan never seen those type of clothes before. He knew the fashion on the far side of the sea was highly different from Camelot and the surrounding Kingdoms, but these clothes were on a whole different level of unique. He cocked his head, asking “Where are you from?”
“Vermont,” She replied. Tristan blinked. Where is Vermont? He frowned. Maybe it was a country in one of the distance kingdoms. “What about you?”
“Camelot,” Tristan answered, “Where is Vermont?”
Tina frowned, stopped digging through the muddy clothes and looked at him, saying, “In the North Eastern of the United States.” Her eyes flickered to the forest, “Where is Camelot?” Her tone held a note of confusion.
“Just a day’s walk or a half a day on horse back from here,” Tristan said. He lifted his arm and pointed in the direction of Camelot. Tina followed his arm as he pointed East. She glanced back at him before she walked behind him. He felt her hands on his shoulders before she stated, “Hold still,” and felt her weight heavy on his shoulders. He immediately brought his hands down and grabbed the back of her knees. She tensed, a soft noise escaping her, but she relaxed her legs a moment later.
“Well,” Tina’s voice sounded strained as she stared at the top of the Bell Tower and the roof of the God’s Holy Light Church, “I am definitely not in Vermont, anymore.” She shifted her weight, slightly, trying to pulled a leg out of his hands before she dropped down behind him. He allowed her other leg to drop. She moved from behind him. “So, you say I’m close to Camelot?”
“Yes, my lady,” Tristan frowned, slightly. She appeared to be shaken by the news. However, she knelt beside her bag and grabbed the clothes she had pulled out of her bag before she walked over to the lake. He turned and walked back into the woods, briefly and gathered an armful of sticks before he returned the shore of the lake, watching Tina in the water, washing her clothes, her shoulders tensed, her expression guarded. He sat down and pulled out one of his small knives before he started shaving one of the sticks. He glanced up to see Tina watching him. Her shoulders began to relaxed and her face slowly became unguarded.
Tina glanced over her shoulder as she noticed the strange man named Tristan return to the shoreline with a pile of sticks. Her thoughts turned to the knowledge he gave her. Camelot. She wasn’t far from Camelot. He couldn’t mean the Legendary Kingdom of Camelot. She let out a huff at that thought. Of course not. That Camelot was long gone, disappeared into the mists of history. However, her grandma’s voice drifted up from the various conversations she had with the older lady, growing up.
“I missed running through those halls,” her grandma’s voice held a note of longing, “The Ruling family before the Drakes knew how to party. They had dances at least once a month. They said it was to keep up morale among the people and help them out. I think Nami and I were in our teens. I know we didn’t have our coming out announcement, yet, but the knights and the military were interested in us. Something about us Armstrong women drew the men in.”
“Where did you live, grandma? It sounds like you lived in some medieval time period,” Tina had questioned.
“Something like that, dear. I lived in Camelot.” Her grandma gave her a grin, like she knew something Tina didn’t know. It used to drive Tina nuts when her grandma and great aunt Nami talked about growing up in the legendary Kingdom. She remembered wanting to visit the Castle the Famous King Arthur used to live in, but once she started to look into the British history and tried to track down the possible location for the Castle, she found out there was a good chance it never existed. She still held a shard of hope, though.
Tina blinked as she stared down at her hands, realizing she had stopped washing her yoga pants, a random pair of underwear, and shirts. She let out a huff before she went back to work, trying to clean the mud out of her clothes. She knew the yoga pants would dry a lot faster in the sun then one of her blue jeans. Plus the yoga pants would feel a lot more comfortable then a pair of jeans once cleaned without fabric softer. This was not the first time she had hand wash some of her clothes. The last time she had to do it, she just didn’t have the money to put them in the machines on campus. It was a time consuming process and something she didn’t really enjoy. It had be done in order to get a set of clean clothes.
Tina’s thoughts drifted back to what Tristan had said. Camelot was a day’s walk away. That shard of hope she held over the years, started to grow. She wanted to see the legendary castle, but on the other hand, the voice that hunted her spoke up, “He could be lying.”
Tina admitted that was a possibility, but she closed her eyes and felt her spirit energy. It was less rusty then a couple days ago. A confident, half smirk pulled at her lips. She trusted herself and the abilities she had cultivated years ago when she was in Japan, visiting her Great Aunt Nami.
“He is more skilled then you,” the dark side chuckled without mirth, “He could easily kill you like a bug under his boot.”
Tina cocked her head to the side. If that is what will happen, so be it. She will not back down from standing up for herself again.
“Fine. I will be the one who will tell you I told you so, worthless waste of space,” the voice held a note of smugness before it faded back into Tina’s subconsciouses. Tina rolled her eyes.
General Genesis growled. His men ran across the top of the inner wall. This was the last line of defense the forces of Camelot had. If the enemy managed to get this far into the Castle defensives, they would have trouble recovering the ground they lost. It was his job to prevent that.
“Time?” He called out as he noticed the men fell into their positions. Standing on his right, Reno held a clockwork stop timer. He looked toward the General and said, “A minute and 35 seconds.”
Genesis frowned. That would do for now. His men would be able to act faster once they knew the maneuvers and the knowledge they were under attack. He walked forward, leaving the staircase tunnel and strolled along the top of the wall. He studied how his men stood. All of them stood tall. Their heads faced the town outside the castle inner walls. Their shoulders back. Their chest stuck out in pride. In one hand, they held a hand size cannon. Nearby, a lit torch sat in the brackets, sitting at 3 feet intervals along the inner wall. The men of the Explosive Branch would have to lit, aim, and fire. Genesis smirked. The enemy wouldn’t know what would hit them. He had corrected a couple of the men’s stances, but overall, Genesis’s chest filled with a certain degree of pride as he stared down the line of his men.
He had worked hard when he was promoted to General to get his branch up to date and taught his men the proper ways to fire a bow, throw a fire bomb far as they could, and ended rebuilding his branch from the ground up after an event that left his branch barely staffed, running on a dozen men. Worst thing was they were not even properly trained when he took over. From his understanding, it had been a long while since someone with the skills necessary to run this branch, successfully, put in charge. Now, his arm of the military were known as the Explosive Unit for a reason.
Genesis nodded in approval and called out, “Remember this is your position during the Funeral Parade in 3 days time!” He walked in front a second line that held a two dozen men. All of them were highly skilled archers he had personally trained. He planned if the worst did happen during the parade, the archers would be the offensive line while the Knights would protect the Ruling Family and get them back into the safety of the castle walls. However, the archers on the Inner Wall were one line of defensive. The Generals and Lord Jack had discuss more options before the King’s moment of death. He stared out, over the village. “Lieutenant General!” He called out to Reno who stood several yards down the inner wall.
“Yes, sir,” Reno replied, turning to his General with a hand flying over his chest in a salute.
“Run through the drill three more times or until you think the men in this position has got it down,” Genesis said before he turned, heading back to the staircase tunnel. He needed to meet Bartholomew and Honor in the courtyard to go over how they were going to position men in the village and on the outer wall. “There will be another drill at sun raise tomorrow morning!” He called out. He disappeared down the tunneled staircase. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the darkness of the tunnel, but that didn’t stop him from hurrying down the stairs with ease. He took a left at the bottom of the stairs and spotted the torches lightening the hallway. He strolled out of the hallway. He narrowed his eyes against the bright light and spotted Bartholomew and Honor standing near the Castle Gate. He approached them, asking “Are you ready to go into the town?”
Genesis eyed the legion of men from Bartholomew and Honor’s troops. He could easily spot who were Honor’s men and which belong to Bartholomew’s branch. Honor followed the way of the blade - lived, breathed, and died on the blade. Bartholomew’s men were a mixed of Genesis’ branch and Honor’s. The men under Bartholomew knew how to handle explosive and swing the sword skillfully as the men under Honor’s control. The red head general knew there were other skills in the military being unused, but it was majority the fault of the Ruling Family and the laws they had put in place for the last few centuries, trying to limit the control of the magi.
“Yes,” Bartholomew stated as Honor nodded. The trio turned to the legion of men waiting for their orders. “MOVE OUT!” Bartholomew lifted an arm, spun on his left heel, and faced the castle gate.
Genesis resisted the urge to wince. Bartholomew shouted that in his ear. He turned and followed Bartholomew into the town. The sound of marching feet echoed behind him. A chill went up his spine. Genesis thought, as the three General walked over the wooden draw bridge, it almost felt like he was marching off to war. It probably didn’t help the feeling as the sound of booted feet thundered over the draw bridge. He watched as the villagers drew back. Some of them disappeared into the buildings while other pressed themselves close together, giving the military as much room as they needed, crossing over the cobblestones. He saw the fear they tried to hide on their faces. He felt the same way. He hoped the Holy Sword would chose the next King soon or that fear would spread like a wildfire.
Merlin growled as he turned in a circle. His eyes roamed over the bookcases on the far side of the desk. He already checked there, three times in fact. The books spread out over the desk and on the floor. He narrowed his eyes and placed his hands on his hips.
“Where the hell did I put those blasted notes?” His voice bounced off the walls of his study. He turned to the widow where more books lay along the wall under the windowpane. He knew the notes weren’t there. Those books weren’t about wards or any type of protection magic. They were about thread magic. It was an interesting topic to read up on, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. Normally, he would try to summon the notes… “I wish I didn’t put the wards notes on the anti-summon paper.”
Merlin turned to his chair and fell back into it. He tossed his legs up onto the desk and crossed his ankles. He interlaced his fingers on his chest. He lend back and stared up at the ceiling. He continued, “Of course, I had to be cautious. Of course, I had to create the anti-summon paper and ink. Any of my enemies and the enemies of the Kingdom would love to get their hands on those notes.” He pouted. “And I misplaced the blasted notes.” He let out a huff, annoyed at himself. “You think I would put importance on those notes then I have and placed them in the Treasury or in one of the Royal Chambers, but nope! I decided to keep them with me and I lose them.”
His eyes ran over the room. It was a mess. Books were all over the room. Stacks of papers scattered over the wooden floor. He spotted an ink well, dripping black ink onto a cloth that looked like one of his robes. He rolled his eyes. He glanced upstairs. The thought drifted through his mind. The notes could be up in his personal chambers. It was, after all, one of the most safest rooms in the kingdom, besides some of the royal chambers. He pulled his legs off the desk and planted his feet on the wooden floor. He unlaced his fingers and cupped the desk chair arms with his hands before he rose to his feet. He felt a piece of paper scouted under one of his feet causing him to stumble a bit toward the staircase, leading to his chambers.
Merlin frowned as he bounced up the stairs, watching where he placed his feet. The stairs weren’t spared in the storm of Merlin trying to find the ward notes. He poked his head up through the hole in the chamber floor and peered around the small room. Another annoyed huff escaped. He silently cursed at himself. Even his personal chambers were effected by his mission of locating the Ward Notes.
The stand beside his bed was knocked over. Water spread across the floor, coming from a tipped over medium sized barrel. The barrel sat over by a small window, just large enough for his phoenix to fly in and out when the bird got the urge to visit him. He finished climbing the stairs and walked over to the untouched bed. He sat down. He crossed one of his legs over other and placed his elbow on his knee. His right hand cupped his chin as he lend forward, studying the chamber.
“I know it has been nearly half a century since I had to renew the ward spells,” Merlin spoke out loud, “So, it is understandable I won’t be able to memorize the spells, but this is ridiculous!” He heard one of the trunks rattle near the foot of his bed. He sent a glare to it.
That was something he needed to take care of. Soon. Okay, he admitted, he would eventually take care of the creature trapped inside the trunks. He couldn’t remember what kind of creature was in it anymore. He frowned, thinking. It was a creature that could survive without food. He knew the creature roaming around castle was a bad thing. Oh well, he would remember what kind of creature it was and why it was a bad thing for the castle. He shook his head. He had to find those blasted notes. He shifted, standing up. He crossed the room when he paused as a thought struck him. The bed was not touched.
Merlin slowly turned to his bed. It was still made and somehow managed to survive the storm Merlin had created while he was looking for the ward notes. He frowned. Why was the bed untouched by magic? He tried to think if there was any spells on the bed. He was pretty sure there was a few, mainly the kind of magic that would help the person laying in it to get a better rest, a couple protection spells from any attacks, and warning based spell for the castle. He strolled over to the bed and cupped the edge of the mattress. He pulled the mattress up and peered under it. His eyes widened as he spotted the book he created for the ward spells.
“Are you stinking kidding me!?” Merlin exclaimed, “Those notes were here the entire time!” He reached for the book with a sigh. He pulled the book from its hiding space and allowed the mattress to settle back down with a thump. He started to open the book when a loose piece of parchment slipped from the bed and floated to the bed. He ignored the parchment as he flipped through the pages, looking through the information.
Relief cursing through him. A grin spread across his lips. His shoulders relaxed. Merlin couldn’t believe he forget he had placed the notes under his mattress. He should have remembered, but it had been a long time since he had to renew the spells for the wards. At least, he didn’t have to take the time to re-create the notes. It would been a pain. The last time he had to re-create the notes, it took him and Morgana nearly two weeks to do it, given the fact they had to walk back and forth between the ward stones and his study. There were a lot of wards protecting Camelot.
In the past, when he had access to more magi then just himself and Lady Morgana, he had delegated the tasks to the Magi branch of the Military. Together, they had managed to gather the information that Merlin needed before Lady Morgana and himself were able to re-charge the wards. He paused, allowing the book to settle open on the page about the ward stone on the southern side of the castle. The last time Camelot had a branch of the military for the magi was long ago, centuries in fact. It had been a century after Morgana and Merlin had managed to move the castle to its current location from Britain with the help of 250 best magi they had and lost in the powerful magical drain of the spell.
The century after the Great Move had been fruitful for the magi branch, gaining some of the most skilled magi. Morgana managed to achieve the rank of Second Commander of the Magi Branch, right under him. She was the first woman in Camelot’s History to achieve such a rank. He remembered how happy she was and how nothing could have brought her down, tackling each tasks the Ruling Family gave them. When it came time to recharge the wards, Merlin and Morgana were the only ones able to perform the spell. They were the only ones with large enough magical reserves to handle the process. After recharging the wards, their magi made sure they were taken care of and protected Camelot until they were back on their feet. However, that all changed when the rumors of a great magical purge, now a thousand years ago, started to appear and spread. Many of the magi started to make arrange to leave Camelot, but only a handful managed to escape. The rest of the hidden magical families fled the Kingdom when laws started to be drafted to limit the powers of the Magi and the Non-humans.
The battle mage shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on the past. He had to focus on the here and now. He had to recharge the wards with Morgana’s help. He couldn’t focus on the what-if’s. He knew there were a lot of things that could happen if the Battle Mage had more magi and their help in Camelot, but it didn’t matter anymore. The fact majority of the Kingdom grew up with the same view of Non-humans as their parents and grandparents did, thanks to the Houses of Drake and Black, meant the next Chosen King would have the same view and they would have the chance to tighten the laws over the Non-humans. He sighed. His gaze shifted to the parchment lying on the bed.
Hatred bloomed in his chest. His eyes darted over the oath he once took for King Arthur I of House Pendragon. A growl rumbled in his chest. A faint magical breeze drift in the room. His dark blue robes’ hem rose to his knees and rippled. There were times where he hated the fact he took the oath to Arthur of House Pendragon. Arthur had made an lifetime oath an requirement after some of the magi rebelled and joined the Death Mage, but whenever the Holy Sword changed hands, the magi had to renew the oath. Over the years, Merlin watched many of his fellow non-humans and magi find their mates and had offspring. The joy Merlin had witness on their faces when they experienced some of the milestones they set for themselves - marriage or mating ceremony, the discovery of the female partner with child, childbirth, and other joys. The Battle Mage sighed. Some part of him still wanted that. He lifted his head and stared out of his chamber window, toward the Queen’s Tower where Morgana lived.
Morgana, he knew, had a chance to have that, but in the end, she had to give it up due to the various laws for the non-humans and the fact her love died on the battlefield. He remembered she had talked about leaving Camelot once the King had passed and she had been relieved of the oath. She talked about traveling to the far West with her Knight and wanted to start over. Plans changed. She had mourned for months after she had received the news of the death of the one she had loved.
Merlin exhaled, heavily. He let out of his anger. The faint breeze faded away, allowing his robes to settle back around his ankles. He shook his head. He had to meet Morgana, soon. He waved his left hand and summoned magic, sending it out into the room. He watched the magic went to work. The water barrel righted itself and water lifted from the floor and the soaked papers, drifted back into the barrel. The scattered papers lifted into the air and shuffled into a pile before the pile drifted over to the nightstand. The Nightstand bounced up from its side and rocked on its feet then stopped. The pile of papers landed on it. The books strewn around the room flew back to the bookcase, in particular order. Merlin’s right eye twitched as he noticed that small detail. His shoulders slumped. He would worry about putting the books back in the correct order when he had time.
He strolled over the stairs, descending the steps. He waved his hand. The books in the study snapped shut and bounced through the air until the books landed in the various bookcases. The discarded robe floated up as the ink well jumped from the floor to the desk. The black ink spot on the robe vanished. Merlin knew the ink reappeared in the ink well. He watched the room repaired itself. He turned his head. His eyes widened. He ducked under a whistling kettle. He blinked as he straightened up. He wasn’t aware he had a kettle in his study, still. He thought he had returned it to the kitchen, months ago. He frowned, watching the kettle settle on the hook by the fireplace. He had been wondering where that kettle disappear when the Head Cook Sanji gave him a death glare when he inquired for another one. He shrugged. Now, he knew where the kettle was. Maybe he should return it to the kitchens and get a new one. A thought occurred to him as he strolled across the study. He hoped the Head Cook wouldn’t kill him if that kettle had any damage to it or had some funny stuff growing on it.
He smirked at that thought. It would be amusing if the Head Cook Sanji did try to kill him. It would be a change of pace around Camelot. Maybe he should do that after the funeral. His imagination went down that path of Sanji chasing him around the castle with a butcher knife in one hand, cursing the battle mage as Merlin just laughed, leading the cook through the various hallways of the castle. He let out a chuckle as an amused smirk pulled at his lips. He strolled over to the study door and opened it. He glanced over his shoulder as the study finished righting itself. He nodded, feeling somewhat proud of his good work. He walked through the door and silently hoped that little magic spell won’t come back and bit him in the ass. He needed all of his magical reserves for the re-charging of the wards. He allowed the door shut behind him as he went to meet Morgana in the Southern Courtyard.
Tina held her now clean yoga pants, a blue tank top, and a silvery blue button up shirt, thinking. She glanced over to Tristan, weighing the pros and cons of what she wanted to ask. She waded out of the lake. Her bare feet pushed into the warm sand. She carried her now clean clothes over to a large rock she had spotted and draped them on it. She heard a low hissing sound as the wet clothes landed on the obviously hot rock. She cracked a small smile. The yoga pants won’t take long to dry in the direct sunlight. She didn’t know about her blue tank top or button up shirt, but she would take what she could.
Stolen story; please report.
She turned, leaving the rock. It felt weird, feeling the warm sand under her feet, squeezing between her toes. She usually didn’t visit the beach until she went to college. The college she went to was located in a coast town. Her ex visited the beach when the weather was hot during the summer break, but he argued against her going, claiming that she couldn’t keep her grades up, she didn’t need to go any where. She had argued against that, plenty of times.
Tina pushed those thoughts away. He belonged in the past, even though, the past started - what was it? How many days, now? It didn’t matter, anymore. He was not coming after her. She couldn’t rely on him again - never again. She needed to start moving on.
She reached her bag and knelt down beside it. She winced as she grabbed her muddy clothes and shoved them into the bag. She needed to find a washer and a dryer soon. She got the feeling she would be hand washing her clothes, soon. She glanced up at the handsome man nearby and asked, “Tristan, I have a weird question for you.”
“What is it, my lady,” Tristan gave his full attention to her, pausing in shaving a bumpy stick down to a smooth finish.
“What is the date?” She asked, causally. Her stomach bunched up in nerves. It had been something bothering her. Camelot…Unless there was a town or city called Camelot and she never heard of it, there was not a ‘Camelot’ in the present day. There was only way to find out.
“Which date do you want?” Tristan asked.
Tina slowly turned with a frown. “What do you mean which date? I was under the impression there was only one date.”
“Not here in Avalon,” The man replied, “We have the Year of Our Lord and Avalon Dates.”
“What’s the difference?” The red head woman questioned.
“Well,” he set down the stick and the knife onto his lap and rubbed his chin, “The Year of Our Lord is referring how many years since Jesus Christ was born while Avalon Year tells us how many years since The United Kingdoms of Camelot separated from the outside world.”
Tina blinked. That explanation brought up more questions then answers. She spoke, “Well, let’s go with the Year of Our Lord date.” She knew that one, but the United Kingdom of Camelot, she thought she could take a wild guess at it. From the legend, King Arthur managed to united the various Kingdoms under one King during his lifetime. Beyond that, she didn’t have a clue what else it could mean. The phrase ‘The Outside World’ could be a reference to the Human World, where she came from, since she was aware of the Spirit World and the Demon World. How this world fit into the diagram she picture, she didn’t know. She took a breath, waiting for Tristan’s answer.
“May 17, 2049,” He replied with a frown, “Why?”
Tina stopped, looking at the wet sand in front of her. She managed to get all of her muddy clothes into the bag. She needed to get the clothes she was wearing into the bag then all of her dirty clothes would be in the bag. However, his answer to her question about the date, relief wash through her. The month and year were correct as far as she last knew, but she somehow lost… she did the quick math…13 days. Her eyes widened in surprise. How the hell? Did she somehow travel back nearly two weeks into the past? If it was true, how would that be even possible? She knew there had to be a logical and scientific explanation for that. There had to be! It could be something simple. However, a part of her whisper, the side she had buried when she made that decision 6 years ago, ‘why does everything need to have a scientific explanation? A society’s magic is another’s science like Thor said.’
“No reason,” Tina finally spoke, “I was forced to leave my home nearly three days ago.” She shifted and grabbed her bathing supplies. She grabbed the mesh bag she kept in the bag for times like this. She slowly stood up. She winced as her knees posted the action before she glanced at Tristan. She wanted to get cleaned up, but there was no place in the lake she could take a bath, privately. She would be in Tristan’s and anyone who visited the lake sight as she bathed. She didn’t know if the mud managed to get under her clothes, but that didn’t really matter. She need to get cleaned up. God only knew what was in the mud. She was going to strip out of the muddy clothes and get into the water, naked. The only man she ever stripped to her birthday suit in front of was her ex.
“What is it?” Tristan asked from where he sat. His eyes seemed to penetrate her defenses, seeing straight through her. She was unnerved by it.
Tina’s internal conflict was written on her face. Her stomach rolled at the thought she was willingly put herself in the situation where she will be extremely vulnerable. She steeled herself before she asked, in an even tone. “Will you stand guard while I bathe?”
Tristan’s eyebrows shot up. That was the last question he was expecting her to ask. Faintly amused, she could tell it from his shocked expression.
“I mean if you don’t want to, I understand —” Tina started to say as she rubbed her left arm with her right hand, feeling unsure, but Tristan cut her off, “Do you trust me that much to guard you while you bathe?”
“No, I don’t,” she replied. She straightened up, facing the mysterious man. Her eyes glued to him. A hand cupped her hip as she went on, “I trust you to watch my back while I can’t properly defend myself if we are attacked and besides, I will have my rapier with me while I am in the water.” She shifted her gaze as she reached for her sword where it was sticking out of the sand. The sheath and the hilt was covered by mud. “I need to clean it.” She frowned. She hoped the sword wouldn’t rust because she decided to take with her when she bathed in the lake. “So,” she turned her attention back to Tristan, “what’s your answer?”
Tristan smirked at her, saying, “Of course, I will stand guard while you bathe, my lady.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Tina reached up and grabbed the collar of her shirt. She paused and glanced at Tristan before she commented, “I am not a ‘Lady’. I really doubt any of the Ladies you have dealt with are willingly to do this.” She arched her back as she lifted her muddy shirt over her head and dropped it onto her bag. She reached for the button of her jeans and undid it before she unzipped the zipper and pushed her jeans down. She grunted as she felt the jeans sticking to her legs. She wiggled her hips as the jeans refused to let go and ended up falling to the sand, struggling to get out of her jeans. A series of curse words escape her mouth. She managed to pull her left leg out and kicked the jeans off her other leg. She grinned brightly at the accomplishment. She dropped the pants onto her bag. She climbed back to her feet.
Tina glanced over at Tristan. She fought back the urge to laugh. He stared at her with a pair of wide eyes and opened mouth expression. She stood up on her feet and slipped the muddy sword over her shoulder, adjusting the strap to settle between her breasts and on her shoulder. She turned to Tristan and crossed the few feet, separating them. She bent over in front of him and brought a finger to his jaw, smiling. She commented, sweetly, “You will want to close your mouth. You might catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that, Tristan.” She spun on her right heel and walked away.
She reached the rock and slipped off her undergarments. She tossed the dirty garments to her bag and grabbed the mesh bath bag. She risked a glance toward Tristan. His mouth was shut, but he stared at her with an expression she had never before. It was his eyes that caught her attention. There was a hunger in his eyes with something else. She couldn’t identify what she felt upon seeing that. A balloon appeared in her chest. Her heart pounded in its cage. She tried to fight the feeling continue to balloon. Her ex never looked at her with that expression. Tying the mesh bag to her waist, she hurried over to the lake and waded in. She couldn’t let those feelings to go her head. She reasoned that any hot blooded male would have that expression if he saw a woman stripping right in front of him and walked off. Tina turned her attention to the water. It was cold. She should have expected it. It was still early spring. Goosebumps rose over her body. She shivered as the chilly water rose up her legs and to her hips. She felt a weight lift off her left hip. The mesh bag floated on the water. She took a deep breath and fold her legs, disappearing into the water.
Merlin walked across the castle grounds, listening to the sounds that came from daily life at the castle. In the distance, marching feet echoed as the Generals went through the process of placing troops and running drills. He rose his gaze to the inner wall and spotted Reno, the Second in Command of the Explosive Branch, directed the men. The mage heard Reno’s voice, “Let’s try that again, boys! You are getting better! Let’s shave off a few more seconds to the time!”
Seeing that brought a pang to his chest. Memories rose from the sands of time, reminding him when Arthur the First died and how uncertain things were until the next Chosen King was selected. It was this way every time the Holy Sword changed hands. There were times where this uncertain time ended in bloodshed and destruction of old treaties. The most recent was 20 years ago now. King Peter had been slain on the battlefield against a rebellion and the Holy Sword didn’t chose any member of the Ruling Family of House Drake. Merlin and Morgana had race back to the castle, ahead of the military, and tried to find the next Chosen King among the Court. They didn’t found the next King. Merlin frowned as a faded memory rose. The color of red and a crying of a kid stood out in the memory most before it drifted away and he forgot about the memory. Blinking, he reached the castle gate. He couldn’t remember what he was thinking about. He stood there with a hand on his hip and the other hand under his chin. It was something to do with the military. Yeah, he thought that was it.
He remembered the time when Camelot had its own branch of magi, willingly to defend the Kingdom from magical enemies. He was the General of that branch. Morgana was his second. One of the most skilled War Magi Merlin had seen in a few generations, Richard Lion Heart, was the third in command. Merlin did offer the position to Richard when the battle mage was forming the branch, but the war mage turned it down, saying, it was too much paperwork and his skills laid on the battlefield. Richard did suggest that Morgana take the position. However, Merlin’s thoughts were cut as Morgana’s voice rang out behind him, “Merlin!”
The Battle Mage stopped and turned to her, watching her hurried over. He blinked in surprise. He had walked past her without seeing her. He hadn’t done that in a long time. He didn’t realize he was that caught up in his thoughts about everything going on and how much things had changed over the years.
“What took you so long,” She asked, catching up at him. Smiling at her, Merlin offered his arm to Morgana. He didn’t response right away as she slipped her arm through his. They walked, crossing over the wooden drawbridge before they passed the guard towers on either side of the drawbridge and stepped onto the cobblestones of the town.
“I had to find my notes,” he said, finally. He heard one of the Generals before he spotted General Bartholomew giving out orders to the Blade Branch of the military, pointing at a squad of troops then jerked his hand up at the corner of a building. The squad disappeared into an alley and reappeared a minute later, moving into position, on top of the building. “I misplaced them from the last time we had to renew the protection spells,” he explained.
“Did you check under your mattress,” Morgana asked, innocently.
“Yes,” Merlin replied with a nod. He guided the Black Mage to the right, starting to travel along Smith Avenue.
“Was that before or after you destroyed your room?” Morgana questioned. Merlin paused and turned his head to look down at her. Just how did she know that. Did she stand outside one of the windows and watched him like she did one time when she was his student or did she peered on him through one of the opened flames she had in her rooms. It wouldn’t have surprised him in a way. She was mischievous like that. It won’t surprise him that she possible already knew the location of his notes. Nor if she placed the notes there herself. Some of her antics were amusing as well as frustrating. He enjoyed her antics as long as they weren’t directed toward him.
“Neither,” He stated with a sniff and started, walking again, half dragging the woman. However, it send his former student into a fit of giggles. He waited for her stop her girlish giggling. “I knew right where I had placed them.” He glanced toward one of the buildings that line the side of the road. He smelled the scent of freshly baked bread drifted through the air. His eyes darted around until he spotted a bakery nearby. His stomach rumbled slightly. He hadn’t eaten since that morning before he left his rooms to attend the meeting in the King’s chambers. “Are you hungry, my lady?”
“Hmm, changing the subject, Merlin,” Morgana smirked at him. Her blue eyes twinkled with mischievous glee, “Yes, I am.” She looked in the same direction as Merlin and spotted the same bakery that Merlin saw. “I think I would like a couple blueberry muffins.”
“What an excellent choice,” Merlin said, guiding her over to the bakery. “I’ll pay.”
“Good,” she replied, “I forgot my change purse back in my rooms.” Merlin rolled his eyes. Like he would make her pay for any food while they were out. She continued, “I didn’t think we were going to be stopping anywhere for a snack.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said, stopping in front of bakery front. He glanced toward a large glass window. He saw tilted shelves filled with different types of breads. Most of them he recognized, but couldn’t name. Beyond the glass, the lobby area of the bakery will filled with people waiting to be waited on, in a long line. “It could be a while,” he warned. Morgana nodded. He shrugged before he walked into the bakery with a bell ringing as he opened the door and went inside, leaving the she-mage outside.
A bell rang out as Merlin entered the bakery. He immediately paused, just inside the doorway. The door bounced against his backside briefly before it rested against him. His eyes roamed over the long line of people. A faint ripple of amusement darted through him as he spotted several ladies of the Court standing in line in front or behind several lower class women. It wasn’t unusual to see the different classes mingle together in this bakery. After all, it was one of the more popular bakeries in Camelot, ran by Joseph Baker and his family, because they had managed to create an unique muffin called strawberry cheesecake muffins.
Merlin knew the rest of the Bakers’ Guild were itching to get their hands on the recipe for this Strawberry Cheesecake Muffins, but Joseph refused to give it out to the rest of the Guild, citing he created it and he was going to keep the recipe as a Family secret. That knowledge sent the rest of Baker Guild into plotting. It was common knowledge that Joseph had three daughters and four sons, all in training to be Bakers, but none of them had marriage contracts.
‘Yet,’ Merlin thought as he watched the eldest daughter ran back and forth between the counter and the kitchen, carrying trays of various baked goods. She was a pretty young lady with flowing golden brown hair. It didn’t take a blind man to figure out that any man would be lucky to marry her. However, the Battle Mage didn’t know if Joseph would allow her to marry another Baker or not. The second eldest daughter, appearing to be in her mid-teen years, grinned brightly at each customer as they placed their order and paid for it. She was another beauty, about to blossom. Joseph was a lucky father to have two daughters who were beautiful.
The door opened up behind Merlin. He glanced over his shoulder out of habit to see a tan skinned man with a sharp nose and blue-black hair, curling around his ears, standing in the doorway. The newcomer’s bright blue eyes narrowed in annoyance and frustration as he saw the line. Merlin heard him mutter a sharp curse before he went on, complaining about not having time to waste and wanting to ask for Joseph’s permission to marry his daughter. Merlin raised an eyebrow at that. He glanced back over his shoulder to see the man walking away as the door shut.
That was strange, Merlin mused, it wasn’t every day that someone got discourage by a line of folks wanting to buy treats. Maybe the young man would try again later. Merlin would hate to admit, but he needed some drama in his life beside the Royal drama brewing up at the Castle, the kind that doesn’t get him killed or imprisoned. He blinked, coming out of his thoughts. The line moved forward and Merlin stepped forward, keeping up with the line.
“I heard The Spice Oven has created a new recipe for a muffin and a loaf of bread,” one of the ladies waiting in line commented, “I think it is called Spiced Bananas.”
“It sounds interesting,” another woman commented, looking at the first lady with an interested look. Merlin noticed they had the same nose and mused if they were related distinctly like cousins. “Perhaps we should head over there after we get done here.”
“Sure,” the first woman agreed as they walked forward to the counter and placed their order. “I would like a Blueberry Muffin, Strawberry Cheesecake Muffin and a Strawberry cupcake, please and thank you.”
“Sure,” the Baker Daughter replied, “It will be four silver.” She turned away and gathered the ordered baked goods as the ladies dug through their purses for their coins.
Merlin frowned, thinking about the Spice Oven, as he waited for his turn. It was an unique bakery, run by the Meadowspice Family. He didn’t remember when they appeared within Camelot, but he was pretty sure they came to the Village, thanks to the White Hall House. Something about a connection between the two families. The Battle Mage was sure a good portion of the businesses within the Camelot Village was thanks to the White Hall House and their sponsorships.
There were a few families who held that kind of power within the Kingdom. The Drake Family, The Black Family, The Stark Family, The Ravenshield Family, The Hound Family, and The Fletcher Family were just a handful that came to mind. Most of them had an ancestor who were Chosen as King of Camelot. Many of them still held positions at the Round Table as Knights of the Kingdom. However, there were a few families who died off because they either abused their power like the Whitelock Family and The Gibson Family or wasn’t able to pass on their bloodline, just like the Pendragon Family.
Granted Morgana was a Pendragon, but Merlin didn’t know if she could create life anymore. If she did get married, any of her children would be forced to take on their father’s name instead of the Pendragon Name. Of course, it would depend on the Husband and if he was willingly to become a Pendragon instead. There were too many possible.
“Hello, Lord Merlin, how are you, today,” the Baker Daughter grinned at him as the ladies left the counter.
Merlin blinked, coming out of his thoughts about families and how much power they held over the years. He smiled at the Daughter, replying, “I’m alright. What about you?”
“I’m good,” the Baker Daughter answered in a cheery tone. “Marianna has been busy, trying to drive off a name of suitors. Most of them are after our recipes and act like they really don’t care for her. If she managed to find someone who cared for her more then trying to get the recipes, I don’t know if Father would allow her to marry him.” She sighed. “Hopefully, he will. Maybe there will be some hope for me when I start looking for a potential husband.”
Merlin chuckled before he replied, “I’m sure she will find someone like that and your father won’t be able to deny her the ability to marry him.”
“Rosalind!” Joseph Baker snapped as he walked through the door frame. “Stop the simple chitchatting and take his order. Lord Merlin is a busy man. You are busy as well. We have a line out the door.” He walked by her, carrying a large tray of freshly baked bread.
“Yes, Father,” Rosalind straightened up as her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “What would you like to have, today, Lord Merlin?”
“I will take two of the Blueberry muffins and two of the Strawberry Muffins,” Merlin replied.
“It will be two silvers,” Rosalind replied and rushed off to grab the ordered muffins. Merlin reached into his coin bag at his hip and pulled out two silver coins before he placed them on the counter. She returned and wrapped the muffins in a large parchment paper. She manipulated the parchment paper into a bag and handed it over to Merlin. “Have an excellent day, Lord Merlin!”
“You too, Miss Rosalind,” Merlin smiled at her and left the Bakery.
A couple hours later, Tina sighed with a smile, rolling her shoulders. She felt a lot better after getting all that mud off her body and hair. She almost didn’t want to get out of the water. She knew, however, she had been in the lake too long. She slowly swam toward the coastline. She thought about what has happen to her.
She was in Camelot, or at least according to Tristan. Could she really take him at his word when he claimed that? She couldn’t afford to take things at face value like she once did. She glanced toward Tristan. She smirked as she realized that he had turned around, facing the forest instead of the lake. She didn’t know she had that affect on him. She probably shouldn’t have stripped like she did in front of him. Her ex would have join her and talked, even begged a couple times, her into having sex. She half expected Tristan to walked after and talk her into having some fun in the water, but at the same time, she experienced a sense of relief that he didn’t. She didn’t remember the last time she did something so daring in front of a man and was not expected to ‘put out’.
She felt her feet immediately covered by sand as she walked over to the rock and climbed onto it. She laid on her front and checked her clothes. Her yoga pants and underwear was dry. She grinned. She would be putting those on when she was finally dried.
“So, Tristan,” She called out, “You said Camelot was nearby, right.” She knew he claimed it was, but she wanted to double check. “I’m on the rock so you can turn around if you want to. Tell about it.”
“Yes,” Tristan replied. He turned his head and saw her. He turned the rest of his body and gathered his stick he shaved. “What do you want to know about the Kingdom?”
“Who is the King?” She asked.
“Uther, Tenth of his name, of House Drake,” Tristan stated, “Son of Luke, son of Micheal.” He looked up at Tina. “You really don’t know anything about Camelot.”
“No, I don’t,” Tina said, bending her knees and kicking the air above her as she thought about the mythical Kingdom, “I thought Camelot was apart of a legend.” She watched as Tristan’s lips twitched and she continued, “I had heard of stories about the Knights of the Round Table, the Mighty King Arthur, the Gentle Queen Guinevere, the magical prowess of Merlin, and so many other stories. I kinda want to know which ones are true.”
“Queen Guinevere?” Tristan scoffed, “There was no Queen ever named that.” He went on, “There have been many generations of Knights who have served at the Round Table since King Arthur the First lived. I happened to be one of them.” His chest extended out a bit at that.
“Really! That is so cool,” Tina’s eyes widened. Tristan was a member of the Round Table and his family had been serving the Kingdom for generations. “Who else is a member of the Round Table?”
Tristan smiled at that, stating, “There are at least 75 different knights have either served or are serving as a member of the Round Table, still living in Camelot.” Tina watched as something flickered over Tristan’s face. “Tina, love -” he started. He rose to his feet. Love? Tina frowned. Why the hell he did address her as that? She closed her eyes and took a breath. He didn’t have a right to call her that. He didn’t know her from Eve. She pushed those thoughts away as he finished, “Get dressed.” He met her eyes as he walked over and Tina slowly pushed into a sitting sideways position before he glanced toward the forest, meaningfully.
Tina grabbed her undergarments and slipped her underwear on then checked her bra. It was still wet. “Tristan, could you be a dear and placed this in my bag,” she handed him the wet garment. He grabbed it and hurried over to the bag, causally, “I can’t wait until we get to Camelot, dear. You should really give me a private tour of the Castle.” She slipped her pants over her feet as she tried not to look like she was activity looking along the edge of the tree line. Her mind raced. What could be out there that spooked Tristan?
“I would love to, love,” Tristan said. Tina managed to slip her pants over her hips and grabbed her blue tank top, putting it on. “You don’t know what it means to me that you are willingly to travel to Camelot to live with me.”
“You have informed me that multiply times, dear,” Tina smirked as she grabbed her button t-shirt and slipped it on her shoulders. She twisted around to face Tristan who stood on the other side of the rock. He held up his hands for her. She scouted until she felt gravity start to hold and Tristan grabbed her hips as she reached down to his shoulders. She noticed he had placed her bag onto his bag and her bow and quiver of arrows on one arm as he helped her down. She spotted her hiking boots by his feet. “I can’t wait to explore Camelot for myself, to see what you have talked about.”
“You will love the flower garden,” Tristan said with a flirty grin, but his eyes held a warning. She knelt down and whipped the bottom on her feet against the other pant leg before she slipped her boot on and tied the laces tight against her ankle. “Perhaps the library as well.”
Tina didn’t bother acting when she heard that, exclaiming in delight, “Camelot has a library! How big is it? What kind of books does it have?” She bounced in excitement, giving her full attention to Tristan.
The Knight opened his mouth then tackled her to the ground. She felt her eyes widen to the side of dinner plates, her breath caught in her throat, and she watched an arrow flew in the space where they stood.
General Genesis yawned as he walked back to the castle, heading along Main Street. He couldn’t wait to go to bed. However, he knew he still needed to do a few things before he did. He heard the bell tower ring out the hour as he walked.
One Bell echoed through the town.
Two Bell sounded as Genesis crossed the street.
Three Bell blared.
Four Bell rang out then slowly faded away.
He sighed. It was only 4 o’clock. He took a deep breath and smelt something delicious in the air and he rounded a corner as the sound of the one of the town’s criers yelled out, “News about the King! News about the King! The King Is Dead! Long Live the King!”
Genesis felt his heart skipped a beat at the announcement. Like he could forget that kind of news. Even though he did try. He walked pass a group of people standing around the town crier. He wished there was some other way to deliver urgent news then hiring people to stand at important street corner and yell about the news. He rubbed his temple. He approached a tavern where the delicious scent was coming from and ducked into the doorway.
It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust as one of the serving girls waved him over to a table and asked, “Would ya like today’s special?”
“Yes, please,” Genesis stated as he settled down into his seat. He didn’t bothering ordering a drink, knowing that a barrel of mead would be given to him as well as the food.
“I will be right back,” the serving girl said. He nodded and glanced around, hearing the patrons discussed the news of the King’s death.
“I can’t believe the King is dead,” someone said.
“—It explains why the armies of Mercy are gathering near the southeast border,” another spoke. Genesis frozen. That was not good news.
“Yeah,” a third spoke, “Just the other day I saw some of the non-humans moving through the Dead End Forest - Goblins, Orcs, and Bugbears…thought about putting a hunting party and bag some of the non-human…you know, for extra coin.”
“That is a good idea,” the second spoke, “Those annoying Fawns are getting restless from the countless portals along Mercy border.”
“Why would those forest rats care about the Mercy border?”
“Well, I overheard when I came across a camp of them, Mercy is gathering up the non-humans for some reason and a lot of them are never seen again.”
“Probably they ended up in those massive graves that the Mercy guards have been talking about.”
The serving girl placed a plate filled with the delicious smelling meal and set a mug of mead. Genesis glanced up and gave the serving girl a nod of thanks. He ate his meal and continued to listen to the conversations going on around him. There were a few merchants complained the taxes they are being charged for crossing into Mercy and how Mercy seemed to be preparing for war. That brought a frown to Genesis’ face. He needed to check with the Spy master if Mercy was going to be a threat or not. He knew as long Mercy didn’t cause any conflict within the border of the Camelot’s Kingdom borders, the military wouldn’t acted. However, it would be nice to know if they needed to prepare just in case.
On the other hand, the news of Mercy having mass graves and disappearing non-humans sounded concerning. Genesis lend against the back of the chair, sipping on the mug of mead, thinking. He knew the Mercy Kingdom didn’t have any mages at their beck and call like Camelot had Merlin and Morgana, but Mercy Kingdom did have scientists and had more advance science program then Camelot. He sighed. That possible problem could wait until after the next King was chosen and was able to get settled in. He had enough on his plate. He stood up. A serving girl appeared and held out a hand for him. He deposited a gold coin into her palm. “Keep the change,” He stated as her eyes widened.
“Thank you, General,” she called out as he walked away from the table and stepped out into the evening sunlight. He made his way back up to the castle, planning to go to his room and crash.