We stayed on the hill for a couple of days.

Merlin had explained that the world of the Fae had a time-dilation effect that meant we'd not been away from home as long as it felt like we had. It wasn't as strong as my Artist's Studio, but it still meant there was not really as much impetus to rush onward as might have been thought.

This was pretty good news, as our small force had taken quite a mauling.

I'd got a bit blase about taking fairly catastrophic wounds - I mean, I reckon I'd died at least once on this journey already - so I needed to remind myself that this was the Dark Ages and anything more serious than a splinter had the potential to be life-threatening.

Arthur had forbidden me from sharing out any more of my elixirs to the men of the other kingdoms - to be fair, my dear, they are one of the great treasures of the kingdom - and short of me giving every wounded spearman a turn with Melehan's Curing Rock, I needed to leave everyone to heal up from the battle as best as they could.

The only time I stepped in - Arthur could go fuck himself - was when I caught that look on a cutter's face that said, 'Not worth the effort.'

It was Owain's men I worried most about. They'd been beasted by the Shriket and had been in the heart of the worst of the Hobgoblin's attacks. I was pleased to see the old poacher, Burford, still numbered amongst the living, but from the fifty elite warriors the King of Gwent had brought with him on this quest, only eight still remained.

"My son is going to be so pissed," Owain told me cheerfully, taking a massive bite out of a deer leg.

"How so?" I was doing my best to bind a massive cut in his leg to hide the fact I'd given him another one of my Rare elixirs.

"He told me this would be a fool's errand. I agreed, but as I'm not dead yet, I'm the one who decides what Gwent does, not him. If he'd not been so against it, I'd probably have stayed warm and safe in my castle. Fuck, that hurts."

"Sorry." It had been a long time since I'd taken a first aid course at school. "But he'll be pleased you're still alive, surely?"

"Not a bit of it. Cheeky sod packed my retinue with his own bastards." Owain drew his Santa Claus face closer to mine. "Not a one of them still with us, I'd have you know. Some loud voices often raised in support of his fucking ideas, all silent now. Poor him."

It was not the first time I realised that he might look like a jolly grandfather, but Owain of Gwent had quite the Machiavellian core running through him.

"So, what's the next disaster Arthur has planned for us?" Beric, on the other hand, was happy to wear his inner wanker on his face.

"I don't know, mate. From where I'm standing, I'm on the side of the king uniting the kingdoms by taking the fight to the goblins. I'm sure you could view that as a 'disaster', but only if you wanted the Saxons to win."

"Please tell me you just accused me of treason."

"I think I was focusing more on my king's awesome performance in the field of battle, which, from memory, everyone hailed as 'game-changing' leadership. I don't think I mentioned you at all."

We stared at each other for a moment. "You think you're clever, don't you?"

"Mate, if you knew anything about me, you'd know 'clever' is the last thing I think I am. What I do think is that you're looking suspiciously pristine considering the life-or-death struggle we've just been through, and I'm sure as fuck I've not been slipping you any elixirs. You know, if you want your men not to chant another king's name, you might want to draw that sword once in a while. The boys don't tend to go all doe-eyed over panty-wetters."

My dear . . .

I knew I'd gone too far. There was just something about his face that made me want to spit venom at him. That, and I couldn't help but feel indignant that the vast majority of his men still seemed to be fighting fit. Owain was down to a handful - even if he seemed pretty pleased with that outcome. Our numbers were in the low thirties, and even Mark and Corys had taken some fairly brutal losses. In the spirit of openness, I should note that the reduction in Mark's forces was due to the whole 'knife in the back' thing that, curiously, no one seemed interested in talking about.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

On the other hand, Beric was now in possession of the single biggest force in our alliance.

The silence was quite awkward. All around us, men had fallen quiet as we snarled at each other, waiting to see what the king would do.

Will you just get on with it and fuck him or fry him. I'm bored of all the foreplay.

Beric's eyes widened at the voice that boomed from behind my back. I'd taken to wearing Drynwyn Witcher-style again, conscious that I probably needed its eyes - or what passed for its eyes, I could never work that out - watching my back. I reached behind me and drew the sword with a flourish.

"What do you say, big boy? It's been so long that my standards are almost subterranean. I'm easy to go, either way."

Ɛolgef was suddenly at his king's side and leading him away with talk of urgent business. I held the pose momentarily - because I am all about the drama - before resheathing the blade.

I think you may well have just put the final nail in the coffin of British unity there, my dear.

"Call me cynical, Big M, but I don't feel that me being a gobby twat is going to make much difference to that equation. If Arthur gets the anti-wizard sword, I don't see anyone doing anything other than bending the knee faster than a nymphomaniac in a brothel."

Tasteless simile, my dear.

"That depends on what the dude's been eating, Big M."

I turned to see if I could spot Mark or Corys anywhere, but, as usual, if they were out and about, they were avoiding me. I briefly wondered if I was worried about that but then filed the concern away. If Arthur got the sword, we were golden. If anyone else got their hands on it, we were fucked.

It was good to have such clarity in my life.

"Why didn't we just do this quest ourselves?"

Sorry, my dear?

"For Caeldfwch. The stakes here are fucking ridiculous. If any one of these guys can negate me, Arthur's fucked. He just becomes a guy with slightly fewer men than any of his allies."

It took me a moment to realise the noise in my head was Merlin laughing.

You've developed quite the healthy ego in the short time I have known you, my dear. It was not so long ago I found you wrestling with a wolf and being fifty-fifty about whether you could be bothered to live much longer. Now, you are apparently the whole ball game as to whether King Arthur keeps his throne. Should I be genuflecting?

I think even my ears blushed. "You know what I mean. Without cultivator support, Arthur cannot hold a British alliance together."

My dear, do not get me wrong. You are critical - in my stead - to the rise of Camelot. However, do not forget that I was at Uther's side when he first achieved the unification of these kingdoms and was pronounced Pendragon. Did I help? Absolutely. But there is no doubt that the kings would have rejected him if they did not think he had the power - on his own terms - to rule. I could have raised each and every one of their lands to the ground without thinking twice, but that was still not the reason they fell into line.

"No?" I couldn't help but think Merlin was soft-selling the terror in which he had been held a little.

No. And this time, the voice was firm. Rulers do not need to be loved, but neither do they need to be feared outrageously. When Uther was acclaimed as the Pendragon, for sure there was one eye on me, but it was on his own merits that they cheered his name. This quest will have been worth it, even if Arthur cannot claim Caeldfwch. You heard the men during our battle with the goblins. He is proving, in a way none of the other kings can, that he is the true leader of the British. The fact he has a cultivator at his side that can change the very landscape of a battle and a champion who has single-handedly slain two mythical monsters . . .

"I mean, I definitely loosened the lid on the Shriket."

Of course you did, my dear, he continued smoothly, but the point still holds. You and Lancelot are terrifying, and you choose to serve Arthur. You would be surprised by how persuasive that will be in encouraging others to use our banner.

"So, we'd still see this as a win if Beric claims Caeldfwch?"

Of course not. We'd have Lancelot chop him into kindling and take the sword from his cold, dead hands.

"But . . ."

Because that is what you do when you are the one in charge. We would not do it because we do not think we can carry water without you and your somewhat limited range of Qi techniques - as impressive as your impression of a snake was - but because Arthur is, unquestionably, The Man. And no one gets to mess with that.

"The Once and Future King."

There we go. I knew we'd get on the same page. If you want to keep your timeline intact and your sister well, we ensure that the Pendragon flag flies above Tintagel. Sure, for that, it'll help a lot for Arthur to have a mighty wizard by his side and Caeldfwch in his grip, but those are secondary considerations. I know that man can pull all of this together. You must have felt the same during the battle?

I thought back to when Arthur's charge broke the first goblin army. There was something about that moment that made even me forget my issues with the bald adulterer. I could even see what people meant when they said things like, "I'd do anything for that man."

I opened my mouth to say something pithy about how I wouldn't do that, which doubtless would be wasted on a Meatloaf ignorant audience when I was rather rudely interrupted.

By the arrival of the Fae.