Merlin’s attention was caught by the Prince as he walked into the Great Hall. Arthur looked exhausted as he headed to the Head Table, lacking the usual confident swagger he held. The battle mag brought up his wine goblet to his lips, watching the room as he finished his wine.
Sir Lancelot strolled into the Great Hall, talking with Sir Galahad and Sir Tristan. Sir Gawain trailed behind the trio. They sat down at the table closet to the door for the Great Hall. Servants walked through the room, carrying trays of steaming meats of all kinds. The scent of roasted and smoked meat filled the room, causing a mouthwatering scent. It didn’t escape the Battle Magi’s attention when his eyes scanned the doorways, the Head of Severs scolded one of her people, a small pixie like woman who looked like she was ready to cry.
The Head of Severs, Heather if Merlin remembered correctly, was a woman of high expectations and often pushed those expectations to her crew. She was pleasant enough to be around when she was not working, but she was a slave driver when she was working.
“Looks like there will be another transfer out of the Severs, soon,” Merlin turned to Morgana who sat on his right. Morgana peered around the battle mage and saw what was happening.
She let out a sigh, replying, “Heather’s attitude is going get her replaced.” Her eyes drifted back to someone. She smiled, greatly, “Hello Arthur.”
Merlin blinked and set down his empty goblet on the table, looking up at Arthur. He gave the lad a comforting smile, “How are you doing?”
Arthur’s eyes flickered, tiredly, between the magi before he asked, “How is my father doing?”
“He has lost his voice,” Merlin commented, waving for a nearby servant for more wine. A servant appeared a moment later and refilled the magi goblet before the servant moved down to Queen Belladonna. The mage went on, “It mean we don’t have to listen to him hollering.” He picked up the refilled wine goblet and took a drink before he said, “Now, if someone would lose her voice for the foreseeable future, Camelot could peace she has not seen for a long time.”
Arthur’s eyebrow rose before his eyes darted up to his great, grandmother who waved the servant away before she took a long drink from her goblet. He turned back to Merlin, snapping in a dead tone, “That’s doesn’t answer my question, mage.”
“It’s does, boy, if you had bothered to learn anything from your history lessons,” Merlin snapped back. His eyes narrowed into a glare.
“Gentlemen,” Morgana’s voice cut in, “Please, calm down. This topic is already bad enough.”
Merlin huffed, taking another drink. Arthur didn’t reacted. Morgana was the one replied to Arthur’s question, “The fact he has lost this voice is important and very serious, my prince, it means time is counting down for him.”
Merlin noticed the remaining color drained from Arthur’s face. The mage watched as Arthur closed his eyes and composed himself before he nodded. He turned on his heel and walked over to the table where Lancelot, Tristan, Gawain, and Galahad sat, getting ready to eat.
“And you,” Morgana turned her head and glared at her former master, “Need to restrain yourself when it comes to the wine before I do.”
“As you wish, my lady,” Merlin grumbled. He sat the goblet down and ate a forkful of food. He glanced to his left where three of the four queens sat.
Queen Vivien sat at the far end, still looking pale. Her eyes were red rimmed. She stared at the Great Hall with emotionless eyes. She poked at her food and took a bit everyone in a while, but she didn’t eat much.
Sitting next to the eldest queen, Belladonna called for more wine. There was a tightness to her expression, making it unreadable. However, her eyes held a glossy storm of emotions. She ate normally like she did, but she did consumed more wine then she usually did. Merlin knew Morgana and himself would need to stay out of her way or else they may find themselves locked in the dungeons for the night.
The seat next to Belladonna was empty tonight. Clarine usually occupied that seat, but she didn’t leave the Queen’s tower. Clarine’s personal servant had informed the rest of the Ruling Family, minus Arthur, that Clarine wasn’t feeling well and decided to retire, early for the night.
Merlin couldn’t blame her. Uther was Clarine’s only son. She did have a daughter, but their relationship has been rocky since Clarine had arranged the marriage, thanks to Belladonna’s help and married her daughter off to a Lord in the northern part of the Kingdom. Clarine hadn’t heard a word from her daughter for nearly 15 years. The Princess didn’t even bother coming to Camelot for Uther’s crowning ceremony.
The High Queen’s high back chair was empty, but Kalliope was present. She wanted to sit as far away from Belladonna as she could, choosing to sit next to Morgana.
The Battle Mage knew there was not going to be any love lost between the High Queen and her King, but they had been a couple for nearly 14, going on 15 years. Merlin overheard Kalliope asking the Black Mage how she should make Uther comfortable, and she also asked the question that obviously been plaguing her mind since she had received the news earlier.
“Lady Morgana,” Kalliope asked, “What will happen to the current Ruling Family if Arthur doesn’t pull the Holy Sword out of the sheath?”
“It depends on the new King,” Morgana said, “But this is not the place to discuss this subject.”
Merlin caught from the corner of his eye as Belladonna flagged down another servant and heard her asking for more wine. He frowned, thinking. That would be her 7th glass of wine in less than an hour.
“Merlin and I will explain more tomorrow,” Morgana said to the youngest Queen, “Everyone will have time to cool down and will be able to come to terms with what is happening.”
“Yes, we will,” Merlin agreed, half-hearing the conversation before he turned to the she-mage, commenting, “’Gana, could you be a dear and keep an eye on Belladonna? She is working on her 7th glass of wine. I think she will be heading to bed soon.”
Morgana let out a low whistle, her eyes widening in shock, and muttered to Merlin, “She’s not going to be in the Great Hall much longer then. She is going need to sleep that off soon.” Merlin nodded. “Arthur is keeping an eye on her, it appears.”
Merlin’s eyes darted toward where the Prince sat. He knew the Prince was just more than angry at Morgana and him. It was not like the magi had not been doing anything in the last 1500 years. They just didn’t have any luck in looking for a counter spell for the curse. Merlin brought his goblet to his lips and drained his wine in one go.
“Maybe you should take your own advice, Merlin,” Morgana commented, eye flashing, dryly, “Go to bed before you end up doing something you will regret in the morning.”
Merlin paused as he reached for the jug of wine sitting on the table. He blinked, trying to remember how much he had to drink. He had lost count. Morgana was right. When he informed her of this, she gasped dramatically and placed a hand over her chest. Merlin slowly stood up, “Yeah, yeah, lap it up, you annoying brat.”
“Love you too, Merlin,” Morgana shot back. They shared an amused smile before Merlin walked away from the table. He bit back a slight curse as he watched the world tilted to the right as he walked toward his rooms. He managed to get halfway there when a though struck him. He needed to let the Generals and the other knights know what was going on. He nodded at himself. He changed directions and started to head to the Generals’ office.
Arthur almost collapsed into his place on the bench and started reaching out to fill his plate with the steaming chicken legs, roast beef patties and mashed potatoes. A servant appeared a second later with a goblet full of wine. He glanced up at the High Table. His eyes landed on Grandma Vi. He noted the red rimmed eyes, the unreadable expression, and the fact she barely ate her food. He noticed the too pale skin. She was trying to hide behind the mask of the Queen, but it appeared the news of his father’s future passing was hitting hard for her.
His eyes trailed over to Nana Bella. What she had said earlier echoed in his head, faintly, before he shoved it away. She was too busy drinking her wine and appeared to be getting more and more - What did Sir Draco called it? Wasted? Plastered? Arthur knew the word from Sir Draco, but he didn’t remember where the word came from and what word the dark-haired knight used.
Grandma Clarine was not at the High Table. He figured she wouldn’t be. His father was her only son. Aunt Elizabeth hadn’t been back to Camelot for year, now, and while he had letters from her on his birthday, he hadn’t heart from her in a long while and he wondered if she was alive or not.
Arthur’s eyes landed on his stepmother. She was deep in conversation with the she-mage. There was a worried expression on her face. Her eyes did some kind of sadness, but overall, she didn’t acted like the rest of the women in his family did now. He questioned if she loved his father or not.
Before Arthur could explore that idea more, Tristan’s voice rang out from Arthur’s left, making the comment, “So, Prince Arthur, how come you are not eating up with your family?”
Arthur glanced at him. The Violent Knight’s eyes held a note of concern and worry, knowing something was wrong. Arthur turned his gaze onto the other knights at the table. Most of the knights there, he had personally trained with or spent festival nights drinking with them. He had gotten to know some of them personally while there were others, he didn’t know that well or knew through his father because some of the men were known as family knights. He knew Tristan only brought the topic up due to the fact he wasn’t known to join the knights until after dinner was finished and the Ruling Family had departed from the Great Hall, but after the events in the King’s chambers, he didn’t want to be anywhere near the Magi and Nana Bella.
“Because I can’t stand being any near the magi, right now,” Arthur spatted, his expression darkened, before he shoved a fork full of food into his mouth. He glared at his food and grabbed his goblet of wine, drinking heavily from it.
“Oh,” the knight spoke, “Why is that?”
Arthur shallowed, remembering his father was lying upstairs, dying. That battle mage had claimed telling anyone about the curse on the Holy Sword would cause panic. Right now, that news getting out was something he didn’t need nor want to deal with. He opened his mouth, but he glanced around the crowded Great Hall, before he finally said, “Tell you guys later, when there is not so many ears.”
Tristan raised his eyebrows. Gawain muttered loud enough for the table to hear, “Oh, boy.” Galahad paused in eating his food. There were several others within ear shot and they turned to each other with worried looks.
“Should I gather the other Knights of the Round Table?” Lancelot asked, taking a bit of his food as he waited for an answer.
Arthur thought about that as he ate another fork full of food. It might sound better if it came from him instead of the Battle Mage or the Black Mage. Granted he didn’t know all the details of the Holy Sword, but he would try to explain the best of what he knew. If the Knights of the Round Table were aware, they would be able to help keep the peace when - if - Arthur and his family were asked to leave by the new King or worst, killed by the orders of the new King. However, if the Holy Sword chooses one of the Knights to be King, Arthur and his family might be safe from harm. He could work a deal with the Knight -turned - King where his family was safe, and he would help the new King out.
“Yes, I think that would be wise,” He finally said, “We will meet in the Knight’s Meeting Room in an hour.” He glanced up toward the High Table. Nana Bella tried to stand but she fell back into her chair hard, and the chair tipped backwards before slamming back down on all fours. “Well, she is taking the news well.” He muttered to Lancelot. He set his silverware back on the table and stood up before he hurried over to Nana Bella. He didn’t need to know Lancelot was a second behind him.
Lancelot stared at the closed door, leading to Queen Belladonna’s chambers in the Queen’s tower. It had been a long walk from the Great Hall to the tower, taking nearly twice as long as it normally did. The Warrior Queen had broken her own rule and got really drunk by the time Arthur and Lancelot managed to escort her from the Great Hall.
He frowned, thinking about what she had said during their walk to the Queen’s Tower.
“My poor Artie,” she muttered, “He won’t be King!” She slurred her word together as she went on, “All of my plans are ruined.”
There was a series of slurred words that Lancelot couldn’t make out. It was something to deal with that annoying long rumor about the Holy Sword being Cursed, following the broken end of the line.
Lancelot lend against the wall of Belladonna’s Hall of the Queen’s Tower, frowning. His eyes swept the hall, noticing the colors of Dark Green trimmed in black. He spotted the House emblem of House Noir on a tapestry hanging a floor to ceiling window then the symbol of the Drake House on another.
Lancelot waited, running a hand through his hair. The entire Ruling Family had been acting strange since they appeared for dinner. He knew something had happen while they were with the King. He just didn’t know what, but he did hear about the fight between all four Queens from a castle guard and that the magi were involved somehow. The door opened to the tower and Arthur stepped out. His prince shut the door to the Queens’ tower and turned to the Knight. Lancelot finally asked the burning question, “So, what was all that about?”
Arthur sighed, looking a bit older than his twenty-four years. He commented, “She had too much to drink.” He walked past Lancelot.
The knight made the comparison the Prince was preparing to walk into the most important battle of his life. It was strange to see it. Usually, the Prince had a confident swagger, but now, his shoulders were held back and tensed. His eyes stormed with emotions. His walking pace was barely under control. A fist swung by his side, opened, and closed as the prince tried to use some of the energy. “We are taking Dad’s illness hard.”
They both knew that statement was just an excuse.
“If the King was just ill,” Lancelot stated, “You guys won’t be acting this way.” He followed the Crowned Prince, “And Queen Belladonna would not have said anything about Camelot’s demise.” Arthur didn’t reply. Lancelot reached and grabbed Arthur’s arm, continuing, “Is there something more to this that the Knights need to know about?”
Arthur twisted on his heel. Lancelot immediately took a couple steps back. The two men didn’t say anything as they stared each other in the eye. Lancelot watched the storm of emotions in the Prince’s blue eyes. The knight had half expected the prince to attack him in a manner like Arthur did with the straw dummies, mere hours earlier. Whatever was going on it, it was not limited to the fact the king could be dying. There was something bigger going on and it was eating away at Arthur.
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“Yes, there is more to the story then anyone realizes,” Arthur started. His voice sounded strained. “This is not the place to discuss it.” He turned away, heading to the Knight Tower.
The prince stormed away, and Lancelot couldn’t fight the gut feeling that things were going to change. If that change would be a good or a bad thing remain to be seen. He followed Arthur to the Knight’s Tower. Either way, he vowed to stand by Arthur’s side in the coming weeks, no matter what happens.
Morgana stared at the fire as it flickered back and forth. She had returned to her chambers after making sure the rest of the Queens made it back to their chambers, safely. She did checked on Queen Clarine and saw Queen Clarine had been staring out of the window with a lost expression on her face, but other than that, she appeared to be fine. Morgana blinked, becoming hypnotized by the roaring flames. She didn’t know how long she sat there as she watched the fire, dancing back and forth, flickering one way then….
Red hair flew out as the figure with the green eyes spun before the eyes narrowed, emotions flashing through the orbs - sadness, confusion, anger, pain - and the orbs disappeared behind the eyelids as tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Why?’ her voice sounded emotional as her eyes. Morgana couldn’t hear the reply, but she could tell it was not a good one as the figure fell to her knees, sobbing and the She-Mage watched as something fell to the ground inches away from her knees. She peered closer and gasped, softly. It was a heart - shattered.
Morgana suddenly lifted her head and saw darkness creep closer, closing to the figure threatening to engulf her. Horror filled her veins as the darkness took various forms through the darkness she could not identify, before it settled on a dark robed figure, stepping forward to the kneeling figure with sad green eyes. However, the darkness paused, a few steps away from the figure.
The Mage walked to face the figure and saw a spark of light in a small piece of the shattered heart. The light slowly spread over the shattered heart and up the crying figure covering her in a thin layer of light, glowing faintly.
The Dark Robed figure let out a low chuckle and retreated, waiting. A faint whispering drifted over the silence. The figure curled up into a ball within the layer of light. The light would flicker in and out of existence as the barely audible voice sounded.
Morgana blinked, coming to herself. She lend forward, curling up into a tight ball, in one of her plush chairs. She didn’t know what the dark figure was saying, but she just knew it was degrading, depressing, and she felt hopelessness slowly spread through her veins. She muttered a warming charm as a chill went up her spine. She never experienced a chill like that before and never wanted to again. She pushed herself out of the plush chair and hurried over to the roaring fireplace. She laid as close as she dared without catching on fire, trying to get warmed up. She shivered on the hearth. She didn’t dare to look into the fire.
“WHAT?” Tristan roared, hands slapping against the top of the table, his legs pushing back his chair, hard. The chair tipped over and landed with a thud that echoed in the meeting chambers for the Knights. He stared at the Prince with a pair of wide hazel nut eyes and opened mouth, panting hard. “You must be joking, Arthur.” The bowman stood at the far end of the long meeting table. His expression twisted into one of outrage. “What about this possibility of you not becoming King?
Arthur released another sigh. He just finished explaining the curse and the spell on the Holy Sword to the Knights of Camelot. They had reacted just as he thought they would. Various forms of outrage colored the knights’ faces.
“The Holy Sword chooses the King,” The prince repeated, “Merlin, a long time ago, placed a spell on it -”
“Why?” Galahad, sitting on Arthur’s left, fifth chair down the line, asked. His storm colored eyes pieced Arthur as the knights waited for the answer.
“King Arthur, the First, requested I do so,” a voice spoke up from behind Tristan. Tristan spun on his heel, withdrawing his bow and an arrow, and had the bow up with the arrow notched before the words disappeared into the silence. Merlin’s eyes flickered toward Tristan. The rest of the knight like Tristan, rushing to their feet and withdrawing their preferred weapon. “For personal reasons, I will not disclose.”
“Why not?” Gawain growled, lips pulled back, bearing his teeth. Anger colored his expression.
“Simply?” Merlin smirked at the Knights. He brought his arms up, crossing them over his chest, “I don’t remember.” He paused, allowing the words to echo, “And it is really none of your business.”
Arthur growled under his breath the usefulness of the mage and brought the attention of the Knights back onto him, “Anyway, sit down, gentlemen, and I will continued to explain what I know.” The prince watched as the most loyal knight to his father put away his bow and arrow back into the quiver and slowly sat back down. “The Holy Sword’s spell chooses the Next King, but that is not the only thing the Holy Sword does. There is another spell on the Sword - a curse.” He paused. His chest tightened, remembering the state his father was in. All because of Magic. His father was right about magic being evil. He would be enforcing the laws on all forms of magic if he was made King. “This spell curses the wielder, our King, to a shorten life of 10 years after pulling the Holy Sword out of its sheath.”
None of the Knights said a word as Arthur allowed that piece of information to sink in. He knew they would figure it out. He went on, “We cannot let the fact the Holy Sword has a curse on it get out to the people.” He chewed on his lower lip before he went on, “If we did, and the Holy Sword did not chooses me to be the next king, it would be chaos. Nobody would want the Holy Sword. While Camelot was without a King, our enemies would amass and try to destroy Camelot. Like what happen nearly 16 years ago, during the time of the Kingless Kingdom.”
The knights winced. They all remembered that time. Camelot had been nearly overrun by her enemies, some of those enemies had been knocking on the draw bridges for days. Majority of the current Knights were just kids or teens who didn’t know if today their last day was or not and their families were either torn apart by death or managed to get behind the castle walls. For many, it was one of their reasons why they became Knights. Arthur, himself, remembered that time. He had been only 8 when The Holy Sword didn’t choose the next King for 6 months.
“So far,” Merlin broke into the conversation, turning the conversation problem at hand, “The Lady Morgana and I have not been able to find a counter spell to break the curse. It means it is literally a lifetime commitment and whoever pulls the Holy Sword has about 10 years to get their affairs in order, that include any family commits. For example, finding a wife and having children.” The Mage paused, running his eyes over the knights, “We have been trying for the last 1500 years to break the curse and we have no luck. However, it does not mean we have stopped trying to break the curse.”
There was silence in the room as the Knights silently processed what the Prince and the Mage were saying. It was not long before one of the Knights, Draco, spoke up, “So, you are saying if Prince Arthur can’t pull the Holy Sword out of the sheath, we will be given a chance to do so.”
“Yes,” Merlin stated.
“And if we survive the various battles that we know are coming, we will be killed by this curse in 10 years,” Draco asked, flickering a piece of his black hair of his face. His stormy gray eyes darted between his prince and the Battle Mage.
“Yes,” the Mage repeated, “May I make a suggestion?”
Arthur sat back down in the chair with a glare at the man in the doorway. He didn’t know why Merl- the Battle Mage even made an appearance in the Knights tower in the first place. Even though, he felt somewhat glad the Battle Mage did. Let the Battle Mage answer the knights’ questions and deal with the consequences. He wouldn’t argue that he felt a spark of curiosity of what Merlin - the Battle Mage - could suggest to them.
“While anyone of you have a chance of pulling the Holy Sword out of the sheath, if you are the one do so,” Merlin started, “I would get my affairs in order as fast as possible that way if you are chosen…”
Tristan watched as the Battle Mage peered at the knights sitting at the table. He, personally, couldn’t believe the man he looked up to for so long was on his death bed. What made it worst was a curse that was killing him. Tristan needed a strong drink.
“Because you will be highly busy for the next few months, dealing the back log of Court Requests, learning how to rule the Kingdom…” Merlin went on.
Absent minded, Tristan made the connections over what had been happening for the past few months. He knew the high pile of Court Requests that back logged to three, nearly four months ago. Now, he thought about it, the King stopped holding Court about that time because the King was ill. He glanced up to the Prince. He could only imagine what Arthur was feeling, knowing there was a chance he may not be chosen to rule the Kingdom like his father before him.
“Some of you will need to learn the current and lesser-known laws and traditions that Queen Belladonna insists on following,” Merlin continued, “There will be a lot of more I will add to the learning list later depending on if you are chosen or not.”
Something inside Tristan snapped. He had witness the King rule the Kingdom with an iron fist when it came to Magic Wielders but was kind to those who didn’t and asked for help when they needed it. Tristan had enough. He stood up and stormed out of the meeting room. None of the Knights called out to him as he left. He needed to get away from the Battle Mage before he decided to put an arrow in the Mage’ skull. He didn’t believe the Mage when he claimed there was no counter curse to what was happening to the King. They had 1500 years to discover the counter curse, but they hadn’t. That was utter bullshit in his mind. He crossed the common room of the Knights’ Tower before he disappeared down the hallway, leading to the knights’ chambers, climbed the spiral staircase to the third floor and slammed the door to his chamber open and shut.
Retrieving his travel bag, he had no destination in mind. He held it in one hand as he looked at it. He never unpacked the before day when he returned to Camelot from a short quest. He grabbed an extra bundle of arrows before he left the Tower. He hurried across the courtyard to the stables. He grabbed his horse. He barely stopped moving as he noticed the stars sparkling in the sky above as he left Camelot. He spotted another Knight - Sir Draco from the house colors and the symbol, riding ahead of him. He knew that Draco was probably heading back to his family’s estate to discuss what was happening to the King with his family. There were just some things you can’t put down on paper. It was obvious to Tristan that this was one of those things for Sir Draco. From what he knew of the dark-haired knight, Tristan knew Draco didn’t have a long ride ahead of him. His father’s lands were close by, nearly a half day’s ride on horseback.
The Violent Knight nudged his horse, and it was not long before he was riding next to Draco. They didn’t say a word as they traveled through the sleeping village and acknowledged the village’s guards for the night before they left the outer wall of the Castle. Draco continued his way up the road, pushing his horse into a gallop while Tristan guided his horse to the forest, knowing he would ride for a while before making camp. There had to be some news of a counter curse. He just had to check with his old contacts about it. There would be a chance they would know, considering what kind of circles they ran. He didn’t bother looking back at the Castle as he left. Sir Tristan would return when the King died, or he had the counter curse in hand.
Thinking back to her vision, Morgana couldn’t shake the feeling that the Darkness would show itself, but she didn’t know when. She knew that part would bug her until she figured it out. She shoved it to the back of her mind. She glanced out of her balcony doors. It was a calm night, despite what was going on within the walls of the Castle. She walked over to the doors and opened them. She felt the chilly breeze wash over her and some movement caught her attention.
Walking onto her balcony, she turned her attention to the courtyard and saw Sir Tristan and Sir Draco. They were leaving Camelot. She couldn’t help but wonder who else would leave, even though, she hoped no else would leave. She knew it was going to happen. It always did when the Throne changed hands to a new family.
She turned away and headed to her fireplace. She knelt beside it and grabbed a couple more logs before she tossed it into the flames. She felt warm wash over her and stood up, tightening her thick robe around her. May still had chilly nights. Too chilly in Morgana’s opinion. She hoped it would warm up at night, soon. She stood up and hoped more knights didn’t leave through the night. She knew Merlin had gone and tried to explain what was going on to them the best he could. There was a chance it wasn’t enough. Hopefully, the departing Knights just needed time to think and come to terms with what was going to happen. God knew Morgana had to every time it happened.
Sir Bardock, Lord of the White Hall Estate, left the meeting room of the Knights tower and headed to his room on the third floor of the tower. He couldn’t believe that the King he served for the last 10 years was dying of a curse that the Magi could not break. However, it did sound familiar. Maybe it was something he once read in his family historical books. He knew he had several ancestors that became King of Camelot over the many centuries that the kingdom had existed. He frowned, trying to remember some of his historical lessons. He shook his head. He apparently needed to make a trip back to the Estate to get that information. His lovely wife always had the viewpoint that you could trust what someone said at face value, but double check on the facts.
Sighing, he reached his room and stepped into it. He blinked, spotting his twin sons, sitting his private room. Their heads bent close together, deep in a whispered conversation about something. Bardock thought it could be another prank they were going to try to pull on another unsuspecting noble or knight. He didn’t know how many times the twins had gotten into trouble. He really needed to do something about them before they lost the chance to become Knights. He silently closed the door and crept up behind them. He had fully intended to scare them, but the topic of the conversation caught his attention.
“What if grandma said was true?” Vincent or was it Victor asked. Usually, Bardock could tell which one was Vincent or Victor, something not many knew. However, after getting the news about the King and the unknown future ahead of the entire kingdom, his mind felt scrambled.
“If we did have another sister, and if she was coming to home,” Victor or maybe it was Vincent started, “Dad would have told us about her a long time.”
“Vin,” the first one spoke, Victor, started, “Think about it. There must be a reason why Father never told us if we had another sister.”
Bardock froze. Questions darted across his mind. He frowned. How did they found out about their sister?
“If so, why did grandma sent us a letter about her visiting us?” Vincent asked, “Why didn’t dad tell us himself?”
He sighed. Only his mother could figure out a way behind his back and spill family secrets to other family members, causing from the other side of the kingdom. He did have three daughters. One of them, Natalie, was living at the Estate with his mother, instead of being with him in Camelot. This living arrangement was done since he was in the process of training his two sons to be knights, but his eldest son was working as one of the Generals and his lovely wife had the other two girls. What his wife was teaching his other two daughters, he didn’t have a clue. It had been nearly 15 years since he had seen his beautiful wife. His sons continued to discuss the reasoning behind not being included in the family secret. This secret had a very small circle of those who knew the reasons. He shook his head. This was not the first time his mother decided to muddle with his affairs. She never did like the fact he ended up marrying the most secretive woman in the Kingdom.
“May I see this letter that your grandmother sent you?” Bardock spoke up. He felt a spark of amusement as he fought back a smirk when the Twins jumped in surprise. One of them let out a squeak of surprise before Vincent spun to face him. Vincent’s eyes widened in surprise. Victor gulped loudly as he looked over his shoulder, but he stood up and reached the space between himself and Bardock before he held out the letter.
My dearest grandsons,
I’m hope this reaches you in good health and I have some excellent news to you tell you. In a few days, your sister, Valentina, will be joining for a short visit. I am already preparing the Estate with Natalie’s help. I do hope you, boys, and your father will be home soon to greet your sister.
Lots of Love,
Grandmother
His heart stopped. The Lady Matriarch had informed his sons about one of their sisters. He wanted to let out another sigh. What was that saying his wife used to say? If it’s not one thing, it’s another. He did informed his mother, a few years ago when his eldest was supposed to travel and stay with them, the reason why she didn’t. His mother had ranted about that it was his daughter’s place to find a match for herself, that it was his responsibility, and so on. He had tuned her out after that point. Now, why would his mother be sending a letter to his sons about his daughter visiting? He frowned, thinking.
“Father,” One of the boys spoke up, “Do we have another sister?”
“Yes,” Bardock huffed, “She is not only your sister, but she is the third of your set.” He waited to see if one of his two present sons understood that part.
“Third of a set?” Vincent echoed.
“We are triplets?!” Victor made the connection, looking at his father in amazement.
“Holy crap!” they chorused, looking at each other in awe before they rested their eyes on him.
“Where is she?”
“When is she coming home?”
“Why haven’t we heard of her before?”
“Is she a spy just like mom?”
Bardock did let out another laugh and walked over to the chair, close to the fire. He sat down in it and blinked at his sons. He held up a hand to stop the flow of questions from the two and explained, “Yes, you two are part of triplets. Your sister has been living with your mother for the past 20 years. She was supposed to come home with your mom and Natalie’s twin when you three turned 18, but she fell in love, started to have a relationship with the man who capture her heart, and wasn’t informed of the situation. As for the the spy business, I don’t know. According the letters your mom and I have exchanged over the years, Valentina - that’s your sister’s name - is trained in archery and has dealt with the more dangerous non-humans.” The two boys…Bardock couldn’t call them boys anymore. They were in the middle of their second decade of life. The two young men hung onto his every word. “As result, Tina doesn’t know about us nor remember us.”
“Why?” Vincent whined.
“Family Secret,” Bardock stated in a final tone. He went on, “And recently, that relationship failed. Your mother sent me a letter about Tina a couple weeks ago, explaining what happen. Tina is hurting and has done nothing but stayed in bed since she returned back home.” He glanced at the letter in his hands. “I have no idea why she would be traveling to the Estate, right now, when she is no condition to do so.” There had to be something more to this letter then meets the eye. Bardock knew that. However, there was no other way to figure out then to travel home and confront his mother about her letter. “Pack your bags. We need to head home. I will inform Genesis.”
Vincent slowly stood up and grabbed Victor by the arm and dragged him out of the room. Bardock started to pack. He knew there was a chance that, his eldest son, Genesis was may not able to leave Camelot. His oldest son was one of the Three Generals for the army of Camelot and depending on if the other two Generals were in Camelot will depend on Genesis be able to leave or not.
Genesis wanted nothing more than to fall into his bed after the day he had. He had been training his men since dawn. He still had to deal with the various reports. There was one that was brought to his attention. It was about a missing shipment of black powder. He had personally ordered the shipment from the Smith Family. The Smith Family was one of the smallest vessel families that lived under the protection of the Ancient and Noble House of White Hall and often gave the General a discount whenever he ordered his supplies from the family.
If Genesis remembered, correctly, this was the third large shipment he had ordered, and it went missing on the road.
He reached out to the stack of reports on the table in front of him. He shuffled through the stack. He spotted several requests for personal leave for whatever reason: the stock report. He paused on that report.
If what Merlin said was true, Genesis needed to double or triple the stock for Camelot. He knew they were experiencing a shortage on supplies. It was one of the things that the Kingdom faced over 20 years when Camelot didn’t have a king for six months. He sighed. He moved onto the other reports and saw requests and recommended various promotions. He knew those wouldn’t be looked at by the Ruling Family any time soon.
There were a few reports about an increasement of travel for the non-humans through the Dead-End Forest, but no capture or new enslavements. He rubbed his tired face with a hand and at his burning eyes. He yawned, widely, as he stepped into his room. The moment the door shut behind him, he allowed his shoulders to slump, and his footsteps became shuffled as he walked to the couch. He fell onto it, ungracefully, and kicked off his tall combat boots. He sighed loudly as his feet felt cooler. He wiggled his toes, enjoying the freedom not wearing shoes brought.
‘Might need to get a new pair of boots,’ He thought as he relaxed on the comfortable couch. He slowly closed his eyes and jerked awake when a knock echoed through the room. He groaned in a low tone, “Go away!”
The door opened and someone stepped in before the sound of the door shutting caused Genesis to screw up his face in irritation. He pushed up himself into a sitting position and glared over the back of the couch. His father stood there with a bemused expression. He let out a huff and blinked away tears as he yawned widely. He flopped back down onto the couch.
“Really, Genesis,” Sir Bardock commented.
“My room, my rules,” Genesis shot back, loudly, though his voice was muffled by the pillow. His irritation grew as he sensed that Bardock didn’t move. “What’s wrong, old man?”
“Old? I can still run circles around your young ass, boy,” Bardock said, “Your grandmother made contact with your sister.”
Genesis froze, thinking there was no way that his father meant his younger sister. He voiced, “Tina?”
“Yup,” the older man replied, “I don’t know all the details, but she sent a letter to the boys about her coming to visit.”
“When?” Genesis’ throat tightened. It had been so long since he had seen Tina. Tina, Vincent, and Victor were five years old when Genesis last saw her, hug her, and picked on her. After his mother left, she took Tina with her, claiming some bullshit reason about needing to vanish with Tina to protect her. He sat up, throwing an arm over the back of the couch, staring up at his father. He felt like that little boy asking when his mom would be home with Tina.
“Soon,” Bardock answered, “Sometime this week.” For all the things that were Holy, Genesis knew he couldn’t leave. When he voiced that, his father simply said, “I understand that Gen.” A paused silence fell between father and son before his father went on, “The boys and I will be leaving in a short while.”
“I will try to come as soon as I can,” Genesis promised. His mind raced. He knew the other two Generals would try to help him out, but between the three of them, they were strapped for help. King Uther had promised to find another two or three Generals to help them out, but that was before he fell sick.
“I know you will,” Bardock said. He turned to the door and headed to it. “I will tell Prince Arthur before I leave with the boys.”
Genesis nodded, before he asked, “Is it true? What the Battle Mage said about the King? And the Prince?” he looked toward his father. The older man paused, hand extending to the doorknob. The General heard the Knight sighed the reply and his shoulders slumped.
Genesis heard the door open and shut behind his father. He couldn’t believe the King was dying from this incurable illness. He knew things would be going to be difficult for the foreseeable future. It was just another thing he would have to handle as a General. He frowned, glancing around his room. Where did that bottle of whiskey he got as a gift last week for his anniversary becoming a General? He thought it was about time he cracked that open and had a tall one.