I wasn't delighted with the way Arthur reacted to the news his wife had been kidnapped.
I'd heard he'd been struggling since his little mishap with Drynwyn, but I'd not had much of a chance to catch up with him. I'd either been out and about with Bors culling Saxons, or working on my cultivation with Merlin. In our few conversations, though, I did not notice anything to cause me concern. But, then again, I wasn't sure I should be anyone's bellwether of good mental health.
Nevertheless, I don't think I was the only one who'd expected him to snap into action immediately. Like, full-on Hulk Hogan ripping his shirt off Ultimate Mode. I'd even arranged for a borrowed horse to be saddled in expectation of a rapid deployment to the road.
Thus, the quiet nod, pained expression, and the dropping of his eyes to the floor wasn't exactly on point.
"Did you hear me, dude? Guinevere's been kidnapped." I didn't quite give it the whole dum-dum-derrrrrr, but the implication was there. My eyebrows gave it some serious welly.
"I heard you, wizard. And just how do you propose to proceed?"
I glanced at Bors. He took the hint. "Well, we were thinking we're going to want to get out there sharpish, You know? Kick ass. Take Names. Maybe some light torture." No one could quite do a 'hail-fellow-well-met' voice like a seven-foot tall, strategically shaved gorilla in plate armour. If the man's voice were any deeper, it'd be excavating the earth's core.
Arthur looked up in surprise. "You need me to come with you?"
"Mate, it's your wife. If anyone should be tooling up for this, it's you. Aren't you anxious to get her back?
"As I am sure you are aware, wizard, Princess Guinevere is more than capable of looking after herself. I would be amazed if this ... this Malageant is not already regretting his actions. I anticipate we will hear from him again shortly, begging to return her."
Sighing, I dropped into my artist's studio and called on Merlin. "I don't know what's the matter with him, Big M. We were sure he'd leap at the chance to ride to Guinevere's aid."
There's an awful lot of pain emanating from him.
"Really? I didn't know. Should I give him back the healing mana stone?"
I do not believe it is a physical pain, my dear. Arthur has taken a number of significant blows of late. He blames himself for the loss of Isca. He and his men should have been within its walls when the Saxons arrived. They were late due to a dalliance."
"But there wasn't a battle at Isca. The Saxons went full Hiroshima on its arse. What does he think he could have done? As later events have proved, he isn't especially fireproof."
Indeed. But there is nothing logical about despair. Of everyone in his life, I think you will probably appreciate that better than anyone. Arthur feels - and feels deeply - he let those people down. Then, as if that was not traumatic enough, shortly after Isca, he led his Marghekyon in a terror guerrilla campaign against the Saxon army. I hear even Sir Bors finds the weight of the deeds committed there a touch heavy for his conscience. Someone near your own time period will note that 'war is hell'. Arthur would be the first to voice his agreement.
Merlin's words made more sense than I would have liked. They reminded me that the version of Arthur I was stuck with here was not the one I'd read so much about. Camelot was not a shining beacon on the hill - at least not yet - and the Prince didn't have all the answers. Actions had consequences here, and wounds - no matter how well they were magically healed - echoed onwards.
And then we have the slaughter of most of his childhood friends whilst he lay incapacitated. He's lost men, for sure, but I don't think you quite understand the scale of the disaster that befell Britain when he was too injured to lead. If he could not forgive himself for Isca, imagine how he feels about the eradication of his Marghekyon. Then, even when fully healed and back to the peak of his powers, Tintagel would have been lost without your intervention. For a man who has always revelled in his status as the realm's saviour, I am sure that cannot have been an easy blow to accept. Thus, if you ask me what is wrong with Arthur, I must say that I am unsure where to start.
I let Merlin's words percolate around my head for a moment. "Okay. So when you put it like that, I'll admit that he's had a pretty shitty time of it."
He most certainly has. Do not get me wrong; some aspects of Arthur's personality are not especially admirable. I think how he has treated Guinevere during their marriage has been, at best, casually cruel. I have told him as much, and repeatedly, when I was alive. We both know the role the Princess will play in the rise and fall of King Arthur, and I think we can each see how the seeds for that betrayal are being sown. However, regardless of that behaviour, Arthur has ever had a strong sense of honour and duty when it comes to Britain. No matter what else he is feeling, that drive to protect the realm will always lie at his core.
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"I hear you. Honour and duty. Well, we need to wake that part of him up, don't we? Time for some tough love?"
Bearing in mind who his mother and father are, I think we can assume the Prince is well used to 'tough love.' Perhaps it would be sensible to try something a bit more subtle?
I mentally winked at the wizard. "Subtle is my middle name."
Opening my eyes, I returned to reality. Only a few seconds had passed. "Listen to me, you sack of shit. Your wife, the woman you have spent a decade screwing around on, has been kidnapped. It's time to break the habit of a lifetime, remove your head from your arse, and look after her for once. This isn't a job you delegate to a lacky while you fuck a milkmaid. Your wife, the Princess of Britain, is missing. The people need to see that when the chips are down, the Once and Future King wipes away his whiney tears, pulls on his big boy pants and takes care of business. You hear me, you fucking wet-wipe?"
By any chance, is your first name 'Not Remotely.'
*
Say what you like - and Merlin certainly said plenty - my words appeared to have the desired effect. After staring at me for a few moments, his eye twitched, and Arthur summoned a servant.
"Please inform the King I will shortly be leaving the castle to pursue Guinevere's kidnappers. I will keep him informed of my progress. Someone must inform King Leodegrance that his daughter is missing. As time is pressing, I would appreciate it if my father would do that in my stead."
With that, the Prince turned on his heels and walked away. Bors and I hurried to follow him. "My Lord, where do you plan to start?"
Arthur held out a piece of paper to the big man but did not stop walking. Bors took it and read the note aloud.
To Arthur, the so-called 'Prince of the Britons',
Revel in your turmoil, for I, Malageant, have spirited your beloved Guinevere into a realm shrouded in darkness. She now resides within the Castle of Shadows, a place known only to me. To reclaim her, you must undertake a quest. Here are the dire stages you must traverse:
The Forest of Enchantment
Venture into the mystic Forest of Enchantment, where reality blurs and illusions abound. Here, you shall encounter mysterious guides and perplexing challenges. Seek the wisdom of a mystical hermit whose cryptic advice will set you on your path.
The Perilous Bridge of Reflections
Cross the Perilous Bridge of Reflections, a structure that distorts reality and tests your self-image. Confront the reflection of your truest self and conquer the inner demons that assail you. Only then may you proceed.
The Castle of Shadows
Arrive at the foreboding Castle of Shadows, where Guinevere's captivity is shrouded in mystery. Battle sinister adversaries and confront the dark secrets that bind her to this place. Only through courage, sacrifice, and unwavering determination can you hope to rescue her from this accursed fortress.
Time slips through your grasp, Arthur, and Guinevere's fate hangs by the thinnest thread. Succeed in these trials, and you may yet hold her in your arms once more. Falter and darkness shall claim you both.
With ominous intent,
Malageant
As Bors read out the note, I couldn't help but wince. I'd offered to write the ransom note, but Guinevere had insisted. It seemed her prose was a touch heavy on the schlocky melodrama.
From the look on his face, Bors agreed. "So, my Lord, our destination is the Forest of Enchantment?"
Arthur did not answer, and in a few minutes, we found ourselves in the stables. I frowned to see that Llameri was already saddled, Wynebgwrthucher strapped to the saddle bag, and Drynwyn in a scabbard on the other side. It looked like Arthur had already prepped to ride.
That thought had barely registered when the Prince's hand was on my throat, and I was lifted two feet off the ground and pinned to the wall.
"I know you have not been in this realm long, wizard. So you are getting your one and only pass from me. I am not your friend. I am not your whimsical sidekick. And I am not a minor character in the rich tapestry of your exciting saga. I am Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King of Britain. My destiny is written in the stars, and my name will echo through the ages. At my birth, Merlin himself prophesied that the very heavens would bend to my will. And I have dedicated my whole life to that goal. Do not presume that you have some special place at my side because you once saved my life. You are not Merlin. That man bounced me on his knee and counselled me through some of my darkest moments. Bors has stood at my shoulder more times than I can count, and has earned my trust a million times over. What is more, he is now one of my last remaining links to childhood. I have a closer kinship with my fucking horse than I feel for a random Celt that turned up at the precise moment my life fell apart. If you ever speak to me in such a way again, it will be the last time you ever say anything at all. Do we have an understanding?"
Funny thing, it's pretty difficult to access your Qi when someone has you by your throat. For the first time since I'd arrived in the Dark Ages, I felt absolutely helpless. My vision began to darken.
"I asked you a question, Celt."
I was dimly aware that Bors was there, trying to break Arthur's grip. The fact that the giant made no impression added to the rapidly increasing list of things I was reassessing about the Prince.
On the edge of passing out, and with great difficulty, I gave a little nod, and, with a final squeeze, Arthur dropped me to the floor. I sucked in as much oxygen as I could, cycling Qi to repair the significant damage the Prince had caused.
I recognise that it would be cheap and unnecessary to say 'I told you so' in this situation, so I won't. Imagine instead that I'm smiling smugly and ruefully shaking my head.
Damn. That was fucking brutal. So, I guess you're his bitch now?
I chose to ignore them both.