We tumbled out onto the ground floor of Merlin's tower.

Once I had my bearings, I performed a quick head count, and - somewhat shockingly - we all seemed to be there.

Minus Melehan, anyway.

That 'all' was a bit insensitive, wasn't it?

That was the second time the Saxon wizard had saved my life. I didn't think there would be a third.

It turns out that the whole 'cultivators cannot fast travel within the aura of other cultivators' was less an immutable law of the universe and more like some pretty helpful health and safety advice.

Kind of like not allowing a toddler under the influence of top-quality LSD to drive a tank through a tea shop during a Women's Institute bakesale. I mean, sure, you can do it if you want, but the outcome is likely to be reasonably sub-optimal for all concerned.

Unlike when he'd saved Arthur and me from Cedric at the end of that disastrous battle, the act of pushing a bit of group fast travelling through Aurelius's aura had caused some spectacular - if brief - consequences for everyone left behind.

He had a choice to make, my dear, and he made it without fear. Without pain. He only was holding on to a great determination to make amends as he passed. He was relieved, if anything.

"Yeah, I'm afraid that doesn't help at all, Big M. But thanks for making the effort."

"Everyone okay?" Bors was the first of us up on his feet. "Arthur? Gwin? Strange man I never, ever, ever want to face in a duel?" Various groans indicated the little party was, if not positively chipper, then alive and kicking.

"I'm fine too, by the way!"

Bois looked at me and grinned massively. "Of course you are, you little chaos monkey. You don't think I missed you jumping off a tower five hundred feet in the air, shaking that off, bulldozing your way through a war band, and then going mano a mano with Aurelius fucking Ambrosius." He clapped me on my back, fracturing at least three of my ribs. "If I had a hat - which I don’t as they make my ears look too big according to Mrs Bors - but if I did, I'd tip it to you. That shit was tight."

He appeared to be holding on to a very different memory of recent events than I did, but as I opened my mouth to disagree, he'd already moved on to grab Lancelot in a big bear hug. "And you, you big loveable ball of certain death? You are my new best friend in the whole world."

Lancelot laughed and hugged him back. "Ah, thanking you, l am!"

But I couldn't help but notice that the barbarian's attention wasn't on the hairy colossus squeezing his life out like the last smidgen of toothpaste.

It was on the woman slowly getting to her feet, helped by her husband.

"She has pretty hair,” I heard him murmur.

Fuck. What had I done?

*

After tanking my way through insane amounts of damage in and around the Dark Tower, it was thus a bit humiliating to spend the next four weeks in bed.

Whilst my alchemy scrolls were long on that science's wonders, they were a touch shorter on the epic side aspects.

Apparently, one Elixir of Wellness would land you on your arse for a few hours when its effects wore off. In the volumes I had downed them . . . well, as the Big M put it, this was one of those very limited set of circumstances where a decade-plus of massive substance misuse stood me in good stead.

Actually, what I said was that all the parts of you the toxic build-up should have scoured away were already gone. Basically, the only way I can make sense of you still being alive following such frivolous use of massively powerful chemicals is that you should already be dead.

Potato, potahto.

I still felt like absolute shit, though.

If you're worried about Lancelot? Don't be. From what I am told, he woke up the next day with a "pain in my belly", drank a few gallons of mead, and the wanker was out bear hunting with Arthur and Bors in the afternoon.

I don't want to give you the impression I was feeling a little pushed out by that ungodly sausage fest, but I was. I absolutely was.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

And I wasn't the only one feeling down about recent events.

I'm sorry I let you down, Morgan.

"I've told you repeatedly, mate, that you didn't. If you couldn't turn that guy into charcoal, then no sword in the world could."

You needed me to come through for you, and I didn't. I'm not sure I can ever forgive myself. You might as well melt me down and start again.

I don't know what was worse: having Drynwyn with performance anxiety or that he had stopped swearing.

Both were pretty weird.

I'd spent most of my convalescence trying to make up for lost learning time with Merlin.

If my interminable span in the Dark Tower's time loop had taught me anything, it was that I simply did not know enough about what I was doing. Although Merlin had been going on and on about my lack of proper foundations, I hadn't come across a problem in the Dark Ages I hadn't been able to blag my way through.

My encounter with the Bretwalda changed that, and I had promised myself that I would never be in that situation again. If the Big M was impressed by my newfound determination to be top of the cultivation class, he was good enough not to make too much about it.

It turned out I could do an awful lot of remedial cultivation during a month of bed rest.

My alchemy improved a fair bit during this time, too. As I'd thought, brewing up in a Treasure of Britain significantly upped my game, and I was starting to learn some pretty interesting things.

I never really saw the point in alchemy, Merlin said sniffily. There are natural treasures in the world that do everything you can dream of. It has always been my opinion that spending your time looking for them is better than trying to make inferior versions of your own.

"You're just bitter because no one liked you enough to give you a magic Cauldron as a ‘thank you‘, aren't you?"

Am I jealous that Morgan Le Fey - the original Morgan Le Fey. That wild cat from the nether pit of hell that once tried to raise the seas to swallow the world - never felt the need to show me some gratitude? No. No, I am not.

"You know, in most of the stories I've read, you are quite the hot and heavy couple over the years?"

Don't believe everything you read.

"What, so you never were tempted to dip your wick? Play Find the Wand? Delve the Qi? Butter some parsnips. Plunge the-"

I think I preferred it when I was in Melehen's head. He had a nice line in moody silences that you could learn quite a lot from. Are you ever planning on stopping?

"Probably. I wasn't sure where that one was going, to be honest. But seriously, did you know her way back when?"

There was a pause.

I wasn't always the most powerful cultivator in the land.

“Stop!"

Do you want the story, or do you want to be . . . you?

“You know, I'd love it if I could do both."

Well, tough. It is not a long story, but it is probably instructive for you to know it. There were a number of us who all came into our power at the same time. Morgana was one; I was another. It was long ago and a very different time. I may not have been the righteous man who - well, not stands before you today, but you know what I'm getting at. Essentially, my dear, if you think I am difficult now, you should have seen what I was like end before a millennia or so smoothed out my edges.

There was a tone to his voice that encouraged me not to interrupt.

Cultivators are encouraged to fight to test themselves against others. Mostly, this can be done in a spirit of learning. However, occasionally, accidents happen. And when they do, the spoils go to the victor.

I took a moment to think through his words. "I envisage a Highlander, 'There Can Be Only One' situation here."

Then you wouldn't be too far from the truth.

"So, you became the biggest, baddest spellcaster by, what, murdering all your friends?"

There was another long pause.

There are certainly some versions of what happened back then that would not argue against that being the truth.

"What about your version?"

Merlin sighed with lungs he no longer had.

I was young and powerful, and I did not trust anyone. Least of all, Morgana. I don't think either of us would come out too well from a detailed examination of our actions back then. But, my dear, it is not ancient history that needs to concern us.

I sat up a little in my bed, knocking alchemy scrolls to the floor. "Aurelius?"

Indeed. He was no cultivator when I knew him. It is not unheard of for traumatic events to unlock latent potential, but there is no way he could have reached - he paused - I'm going to say the words 'Bellatrix Lestrange' for the sake of speeding things up, and I hope we all understand what I mean and that no more needs to be said about it."

"My lips are sealed, Big M."

Good. Well, there is simply no version of linear progression by which he could have reached the level of cultivation required to challenge me.

"Dude, he didn't challenge you. He killed you. Without you knowing. My man got himself some skills."

The point still holds, my dear. The man has clearly used every trick in the cultivating handbook to reach his current cultivation level. And he has had years and years to do so.

I let that thought percolate through my mind for a moment. "So, what do we do?"

As recent events have made abundantly clear, you cannot hope to challenge him yet. But, and this is where we have some good news, he will be experiencing the same issue that plagued me in my later years—progression at the higher levels is complex. He is probably as strong as he will be for hundreds of years. You've got a wide-open future of development ahead of you.

"Am I understanding that the 'good news' take here is that our opponent is so far advanced compared to us that he can't actually get all that much stronger?

If you put it like that, it sounds so much bleaker, right? But for clarity, he absolutely can get stronger. Insanely so. But the more important question is whether he will do so in our timespan to do something about him before he kills us all? No, probably not.

"Can't imagine why I thought things were bleak. I am going to need to put in insane amounts of hard work here, aren't I, Big M?"

You absolutely are, Little M.

"Nah, I don't think that's going to stick."

I'll see how it goes.

I missed the opportunity to argue because a servant had appeared at my door.

I had an audience with King Uther ahead of me.