Chapter 3

King Vortigern

Foolish brother, taking his army against me had proven to be his undoing. Now there he lay on the dirt of the battlefield, a corpse, unable to secure his right to rule all of England.

"What have you been thinking, raising his army against me? Did he think that my attack on the Romans and their efforts to rebuild control over the island would have weakened me, or was there something else that I had been unaware of?" It didn't matter, not really. He had taken his army against mine, and my mercenaries had won in the long run. The Anglos, Saxons, and Jutes had worked as an effective weapon against his efforts to push deep into my country, providing them with land that worked out well. Yes, it was only temporary, for if my plans came to their proper conclusion, it wouldn't matter what these Germans did on the land, as it would be returned to the realm of chaos in which it belonged.

The civilized world, the one without magic, must be pushed back, and with the proper rituals here on this island, it could be done. But it would take time to muster the energy and power and to make sure that all possible threats to that operation were dealt with.

The Irish raiders that my brother had been dealing with were of no concern for that operation. They would come, and they would die. Perhaps they would take land from the Welsh, but it didn't matter; those mountain folk didn't have the strength nor the ability to stretch their hand out and seize the power of England.

I was somewhat concerned about the Pictish raiders from the north. They had become generally well-organized and possibly had allies with some of the Irish raiders my brother had been dealing with. But till this day, perhaps now that my brother was no longer in control over the northern kingdom, I would be able to cut a deal or do something. After all, their ways were close to what I wanted: letting them spread their chaos to the South into the northern kingdom, allowing my mercenaries to fight them here and there, playing those factions against each other, and I would have the ability to be left alone to continue to work on my project to bring the chaos of magic back to this lovely land and turn it into a realm of monsters.

Shaking my head, I looked up from the road I was riding on with my horse. We were making our way North as fast as we could. With the king dead, I needed to secure the kingdom under my control, unify said kingdom so that no one could stand in my way, and remove the one brat, my kingly brother had managed, his daughter, Morgan le Fay.

I had heard she was a talented mage. It would be a shame to lose her, but she, in her own way, was another deviation from the plan. Sure, letting her live could be useful, but it could also be a flaw, one I could not let exist. So the daughter, Miss Morgan le Fay, must die, or at least be forced to flee into the wilderness of the North. There, I would not have to worry about her.

The Picts would deal with her in time.

"Sir, there's something on the road," came the voice of my general, Heremod, one of my mercenary commanders, but not my main one. He had returned with the majority of the army that had been left after the battle with the former King of the northern areas of Romano Britain.

"I will admit, though we had won, you've done a good job devastating the army," and I was being a bit pragmatic, trying to get to their castle before something interrupted a successful victory. I had a feeling though, as the general spoke up, that something had already been put in my way.

Looking forward, I saw that the road in front of me, which went through a small forest, had been blocked. Standing there was an old man in front of said blockage made of carts and other random assortment.

"Merlin," I called as I rode forward, stopping a few feet in front of him before saying, "It's been too long, old man."

The old druid looked up from where he was leaning against his staff, his face hidden by an overarching hat, his beard preventing me from seeing most of them.

"Too long indeed, King of the Britons. Or is it King of the Saxons? I hear such terrible tales about your kingdom, you know."

I leaned forward, amused by the statement, before saying, "King of the Saxons, King of the Britons, King of England; it's all that matters, a title I will show you in half as I take the crown from my fallen brother."

"A title you wish to hold, yes," Merlin said with a nod before leaning forward. "But I'm afraid that's one you will not take with you today."

"Oh, and why is that? From my understanding, my brother had no direct heir, but his daughter, 14 years of age, was too young to run the kingdom. I'm quite inexperienced in the whole matter. She should just surrender the kingdom to me now and spare herself the fate that comes to those who are conquered."

Merlin smiled before saying, "You and what army? From my understanding, the Anglo-Saxon army that marched with you against King Uthur's army was thoroughly devastated in the fighting."

"Parlor tricks to cause mass devastation and cause a riot, it doesn't matter in the end. I slew him, his army collapsed, and now it is no longer a functioning force. The kingdom is mine, for the heir is but a child and unable to wield a weapon to stop me."

Merlin left before saying, "The heir, you know about, is unable to wield a weapon."

"What are you talking about, Merlin?" I asked with consternation.

Merlin stepped aside, smacking his staff on the road, causing the two wagons that blocked it to roll off to either side, revealing a large stone with a sword sticking out of it—my brother's sword, the one he'd always carried in every battle until the one he decided to take today. I had been confused when I hadn't seen it, but I had not thought too heavily on it.

"Your brother has many things, many good, many bad, but he was one thing I can say with some maturity," Merlin said, "a proper King of his people." He stepped forward and whacked the side of the sword with his staff, saying, "He has willed in his will that a true king can only take the northern kingdom as his kingdom if he can draw this sword from this stone, and I have applied the magic to the sword as his will declared. So then, Vortigern, are you the true king of England? Then give it a good try, pull the sword from the stone and prove it."

"Ridiculous, Merlin," I said, shaking my head. "I am the new king of the northern provinces. Drawing the sword from the stone is a ridiculous approximation; power goes to those who wield it through might."

"Hmm, perhaps, King of the Anglos, perhaps," Merlin mused, "but you are such a noted learner of the old ways. I think you would realize that if you do not draw this sword from the stone, there's no way for you to accomplish your goals."

I looked at him in confusion before anger rose up as I realized his ploy. He had already spread rumors of this sword or told people of it, which meant that if I didn't draw the sword from the stone, every vassal of the former king would consider me not the proper King, which meant without control over these regions, I'd have a stock of enemies that were always just on my border not acknowledging my control over the region.

I dismounted from the horse, jumping onto the left side, looking at Merlin with anger before approaching the blade, saying, "Let me guess, amongst the magics you've incurred on this, is something that would seal a pact, a bit of fortune telling."

Merlin smiled before leaning forward, a gleam in his eye that I could just barely see under his hat, "Only the true king of England can pull this sword from the stone. If you are not the true king of England, then you cannot pull the sword from the stone. The Britons will know that truth, the English—I wonder how long your Kingdom can hold itself together with the rumors of that truth going around it."

"Ridiculous statements," I said with a wave of my hand. "The king of England is the one who holds the power. If you're trying to prevent me from taking the North, it may slow me down, but I am the proper King."

"If you are so sure of that, try and pull the sword from the stone. There is no trickery here; it would be only you who are prevented from wielding it. Only the one who was destined to be the king of England can pull this sword."

"Well, that is my destiny," I said matter-of-factly. "But I know your tricks." I stepped forward, put my hand on the weapon, and tried to pull. Not a single movement. Shaking my head, I turned it back onto him and said, "Wonderful, it didn't move. I guess I'm not the proper King of England. I guess I can't just now ride down this road and kill the daughter of my brother and proclaim myself King of England."

Merlin smiled, and I didn't like that as he tapped the sword, saying, "But you could, though she's not down the road. I've already taken care of the king's royal family. They're somewhere safe. Now, you can go and burn that castle to the ground, and tomorrow, this Stone and this sword will be there in the center of it, waiting for the proper King."

"A King that will never come because I am the proper King," I declared, walking back to my horse and pulling myself back on board, planning to go ahead with my burning the castle down anyways.

I turned to look at him, leaning forward and saying, 'You know, very interesting. You don't say that they will slay me in that statement, old man. Do you not see what happens when I meet this so-called proper King?'"

"Not everything is clear to me as some things, Vortigern. Not everything is as clear to you as you think just because you've experimented with things beneath London."

"That sounds like a no. I don't know what's coming. Fine then, find your true king. Send them to London when they're ready, and I will murder them as they come. I'm sure you'll send many in the end. Prove myself to be the true king by taking that sword from their corpse and wielding it for myself."

"You may try, Vortigern. You may try. The fates will decide, though—the fate of England, the people of Britain, the Anglos you've brought in to replace them, the Saxons who grow in number with every year, the Picts of the north, the Irish, or the distant island. There are many forces out there who will decide the fate of the world. You are just one, though I do acknowledge a powerful one."

"Ha! When my plans come together, Merlin, I will come for you last. I want you to see your failure play out before I make you pay for what you have done."

With that, I pulled my horse and rode around to him and the giant stone, heading towards the castle my brother intended on burning to the ground, as I stated, and making sure that the family was not just hiding somewhere.

Artoria

North we went; that's the best way to describe the current situation. Rain was falling, the roads were muddy, the conditions were absolutely horrendous, but north we went because every knight within 300 square miles had been invited to the castle that once belonged to my father for one simple reason: to show if they were the proper and true king of England.

Apparently, some stone had been driven into the ground there with a sword in it that was being magically kept there by some curse or whatnot.

My way of convincing was to show who was the proper heir of the nation, understandable though not much I could really do in that situation.

We were heading north at a brisk pace. We had crossed through Roman-controlled territory into the Romano-Britain Kingdom under King Vortigern.

Normally, there were guards there, but the Romans were defeated, and the Romano-Britain Kingdom had been defeated, which meant it was sort of falling into chaos.

Without the guards from the Roman garrisons and the Romans holding the area, banditry was on the rise. We had to fight off three or four attacks as we crossed northwards towards the territories that were Sheltered by the mountains of Wales, which was an even worse situation as Irish raiders who had taken up residence as kings of Wales were coming out of those mountains to cause problems in the land once controlled by my father and now controlled by the king of the Romano-Britons. Well, "controlled" was a stretch.

Yeah, looking at the map, it was possible to say the extent of Romano-Britain's control had fallen off quite a bit.

At one point, it nearly reached the mountains of Wales, and now it probably was more focused on the areas around London from what I was seeing as we made our way north.

It was quite apparent that the war had diminished the power of the Saxon lords underneath the king of England. They were gathering more power; that was obvious. They were also starting to immigrate into these regions, occupying them permanently, building their own hill forts, and so on.

England was being colonized; that's the only way you could look at it. Between the English Thanes breaking off from underneath the Romano-Britain Kingdom to forge their own smaller fiefdoms within his land, to the Irish pushing out of the mountains into this region, both sides were fighting each other, keeping it chaotic and most likely causing distress to the civilian population. And I still had to go even further north, to my father's kingdom. The heart of it was more in, I think, what would be considered Northumbria or York's territory. It was hard to say, but I didn't know English geography like the back of my hand. I'd been more of a fan of World War II history, not the Viking era or any other medieval period.

If I had, I could have probably given a better location. The most I knew was those general regions and general directions, and that whatever control had once been held in this region seemed to be breaking down fast. Perhaps the king of England, as he fancied himself now, as Merlin had reported to me in a dream, was not as in control of the situation as he thought, as it all seemed to be falling apart.

Or perhaps he wanted the chaos. If everyone was fighting each other, eroding everyone else's power base, he could fortify his home region of Londinium, build up for whatever efforts to try and rebuild his kingdom from there.

I would have to think on this. I would have to think on many of the king's motives going forward. After all, he was now my opponent in this political arena. No matter how it ended up going, he and I would have to have a showdown over the fate of this kingdom. As I could try and run, but the fact that I was heading to my father's burnt-out castle told me that he had gone through efforts to hunt down anyone he believed could be a threat to his rule, which means if it ever came out that I was who I was, I was doomed. And without a power base, well, what could I do?

Thankfully, his little plan to spring chaos in the wilderness around his main kingdom actually served me in the long run. Creating disorder like this meant that people would be looking for someone to rebuild the order. If I were to get myself declared king, the true king, and start gathering forces, well, then that meant I was well on the way to rebuilding the kingdom.

Sure, it would take time, but with the amount of chaos going on, all I needed to do was find a place that I could turn into a fortress, that I could use to build the forces I needed. Some place that was wild and uncapped, and yet I could easily put control over.

I stopped on my horse for a moment to look west at the mountains of Wales. It wasn't an insane idea. The Irish and the Welsh there could serve as good soldiers in the coming war.

Then I tossed the idea away. Sure, a mountain fortress sounds like a great plan if you have control over the mountains. But in order to gain control of those mountains, I would either need to be extremely lucky with swaying the lords of those mountains to my side or gather an army. And I'm pretty sure I didn't want to waste gathering an army on invading Wales specifically, since I needed that army to invade London. Every troop I lost fighting the kingdom of Wales, or whatever they call themselves, or many petty kingdoms within Wales, was another troop that I wouldn't have to fight the so-called King of England.

"Artoria," the voice of Kay calling drew me from my thoughts as he pulled his horse next to mine. "What's on your mind?"

I shook my head before saying, "Nothing much, just thinking about the kingdom as a whole."

"Okay," he nodded before saying, "Good thoughts, I think. Considering where we're heading, we have an unknown future ahead of us. It seems like..." shaking his head, he then continued, "I still can't believe the king of the northern Britons failed. The men of the north are a noble lot, wild and untamed, but noble nonetheless. They should have been able to put together forces strong enough to defeat his brother."

I sighed before saying, "The plan never survives contact with the enemy. To assume that whatever plan they had was going to work is to assume oneself perfect, and no one is ever perfect." Flicking my reins, I trotted forward.

"Okay," flicking his own reins as we moved on, trying to catch up to Sir Ector who was leading the way. There were several other pages and retainers within our column, but for the most part, the important people were at the front: me, Kay, and our father, the others made up the rear column that was slowly catching up. I figured it was more defended, though, and didn't have to worry about some of the things we would have to worry about as the tip of the spear in this march north.

As I came to a trot next to Sir Ector, he looked over at me before saying, "Any messages from Merlin, Arthur?"

I shook my head before saying, "He only really sends messages while I sleep. I don't think he's going to break that tradition anytime soon."

Sir Ector shrugged before saying, "If things were normal, I'm sure he wouldn't, but things are not normal. Chaos is reigning across the countryside. One of the two kings of Britain is dead. I would expect him to try and contact you, and to try and tell you something, or at least give you a general idea of what's going on up north. Maybe warn us of any traps that may be waiting for us."

I nodded before saying, "Makes sense. Though we can assume then that if he has not sent a message to us, then theoretically there are no traps." Sir Ector nodded before saying, "Or he's dead, but that's the least likely. Old man can't die that easy."

"Old man?" I said in confusion, looking at him. Only since the early night always seemed somewhere in his thirties at best.

"Yes, the old wizard," Sir Ector said matter-of-factly, with a shrug. "Doesn't that's what he appears to you as?"

I shook my head, which got him to tilt his. "Well, I know he's got mysteries beyond mysteries. It's possible that he has another appearance he shows you. Heck, I've heard stories that make me wonder exactly if Merlin is human sometimes."

"What kind of stories?" I asked, which only got a shake of his head. "Arthur, you're not old enough to know. That's all I can say on that matter."

I shook my head, not a fan of not being allowed need-to-know information, but suffering through it nonetheless. Obviously, he wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't plan to tell me at some point. He wouldn't even hint at such stories unless he wanted to tell them but had reasons not to, so most likely when I reached the age of learning such stories, he would tell me. So, no reason to push too hard. Instead, I looked down the road at the next bend.

"Huh?" I blinked.

I could just barely see the next bend, and it looked like there was some sort of blockage in the road: trees pushed down over it. I raised my hand and pointed, saying, "Something's up."

Sir Ector and Sir Kay immediately looked over at where my finger was and saw the blockage. Kay immediately went for his sword, and Sir Ector strode forward a few steps, looking at the edges of the road before saying, "It's a bandit trap. Some poor fool thinks they can take out people on the road and take their money."

I nodded before saying, "What should we do?"

"A trap only works if the person going into it doesn't know it exists," Sir Ector said, drawing his own blade and riding forward at a steady pace. "We should clear the roads of these bandits while we have the chance, and while we're at it, get you some combat experience beyond the theoretical."

Without hesitation, I drew my blade and chased after Sir Kay and Sir Ector as we rode at a good pace towards the blockage. Sir Ector immediately turned and jumped the blockage, landing on the other side with his blade free and ready to swipe at anything that came out.

Nothing came, but an arrow flew from the woods, which Sir Kay deftly blocked, preventing it from hitting my horse.

"What was that, the game you're going to play? Should have just come from the woods to tell us to surrender, is it?" Sir Ector said, dismounting and popping his helmet on, drawing his blade and marching towards the woods.

"Well, I've got bad news for you, Archer. I'm proficient in killing your kind," I called out.

"No, you're not," a voice called back before another shot was fired. Sir Ector cut the arrow in half mid-air with his blade, causing it to bounce off harmlessly.

"Okay, maybe you are," came the voice before I heard sounds like running. About half a dozen bandits charged out of the forest, wearing barely any armor and dark shaded clothing. They drew blades that looked more at home in a rust pile than in an actual fight.

"Give us everything you have that's worth anything! We outnumber you two to one!" one of them called, holding up a rather large hammer.

Sir Ector looked at them, then at us, and said, "I count two to one, correct? But I count three knights and six brigands. As far as I'm aware, six brigands only make up maybe one knight?"

"Why, you bastard!" the hammer-wielding bandit said, charging at Sir Ector, who simply stepped to the side and smashed him in the back of the head with the pommel of his blade. Two other brigands charged him, trying to take advantage of the slight turn he had to make to make that attack with the back of his pommel, but Sir Kay was faster on his horse, riding forward and hitting both of them with his mount, causing them to roll off to the left and right. I rode forward at this point, my own blade pointed at the three.

"Do yourselves a favor, drop your weapons and surrender. We've so far not killed any of you, but that's just by luck. We have superior arms and would rather not have your souls' fate on our conscience," I said.

A guy holding what looked like a rug beater, colored up above his head before saying, "Down with the traitorous knights and their noble way!" Then he screamed and charged directly at me.

I blocked it with my blade before slashing the rug beater in half, causing the man to look on in horror for a moment before my boot hit him in the face hard. There was a rather painful crunch, and then he fell over, knocked out and bleeding from the nose profusely. Obviously, he had overestimated his abilities.

"I did not sign up for this," one of the two remaining guys said before running off into the woods, the other looking after him as he held the pitchfork. He looked back at the three of us, Sir Ector approaching him with his blade ready to strike him down, and said, "Damn the King of England!" Then he tossed his pitchfork at Sir Ector, who blocked it with his blade as the bandit ran off into the woods.

"What a waste of time," Sir Kay said as he dismounted from his horse.

I did the same, asking, "Are you all right, Sir Ector?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. These old bones aren't going to be any trouble over a little scrap like that," he said matter-of-factly, turning to look at the debris on the road. "All right, let's clear it off. The wagons will probably be here by the time we're done, and I'll make it safe for us to continue our push north."

I nodded my head before approaching the wood, expecting a bit of heavy lifting in my future, only to see an old man now sitting on the wood, holding his staff at an angle while his head was hidden by a hat, with a beard on his face obscuring any features.

"Hello," I said, confused, as the other knights turned to look.

"Hello, good sir," the man said, sounding ancient. "I've been traveling south for many days. I've just happened to notice this fight going on. Do any of you happen to have any food or water you can spare?"

I raised an eyebrow at that, the voice sounding ancient but familiar, and getting a suspect idea of who this might be just based on their clothing, even though it didn't match the description. Turning, I walked over to my horse and took off the wooden canister full of water, walking back and offering it to the man as I said, "There you go, Merlin."

"Thank you," he said, reaching for my water flask, looking up at me before smiling.

"You saw through me that quickly, strange," he stood up, his robes falling away as well as his hat, the beard floating away as if it had been smoke frozen in time, revealing the younger Merlin I had seen very often in my dreams, as he gave a bow. "An honor to meet you, young Arthur. I did not foresee you having the ability to see through my disguise."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Sir Ector mentioned you as an old man earlier, and I've heard one or two tales about how someone may appear as a beggar to judge another person's motives in the past."

"Hmm, well then, I'd say my test has failed completely since you figured out who I was the moment I appeared."

"You did just sort of appear after a fight out of nowhere. It kind of limits the options of people who could do that," Sir Kay said from the background, getting a chuckle from Merlin.

"That's true. I was in a bit of a rush. If I had had the time to set up, I would have done it down the road away from this, but by the sounds of it, you were going to stop here for the night, probably, so I needed to get on with the whole joining your party thing, after all."

"Joining our party?" Sir Ector said, walking forward. "You seem younger than the last time I saw you, Merlin. Feeling a bit self-conscious about your crow's feet?"

Merlin laughed before saying, "Well, I just am doing what needs to be done for the kingdom of England to survive."

"You need to appear young for the kingdom of England to survive?" Sir Kay said, sounding skeptical, which got an annoyed look from Merlin.

"No, I need to join your party to make sure the Kingdom of England survives. I need to appear young because I am young. I only appear old in order to have some continuity. After all, I've been around for a long time."

"So you appear old to fit in with society's expectation of a druid, but you're actually young, and you have a very long lifespan," I said, which got a nod from Merlin.

"You see, she gets it," Merlin said, nodding.

"I'm a man even though I am not because society expects the next king to be a prince, not a princess."

"Correct," Merlin said with a nod.

"How do I know that this is your actual form though, I wonder?"

"What?" Merlin said, tilting his head.

"I mean, you're a wizard of some report. You obviously hide your identity to most people. Who's to say you're not hiding your identity again in front of me?"

"Ha, then I'm using too much thought. Try not to be so deep in thought, young Arthur. You are on a quest to unite the kingdom. You can worry later about your allies once it's united."

"Hmm," I looked at him with a skeptical eye before nodding. "We will deal with this discussion again at another time."

"Wonderful. Now, if you don't mind, I could get ourselves a little bit of a camp going while we wait for your wagon chain to arrive. Is that all right?"

"That's fine, Merlin," Sir Ector said, waving as he got to work lifting one of the logs out of the road.

"Wonderful," Merlin said, tapping his staff, and magic flashed across the area. The logs trembled and then danced out of the road, forming around a nearby tree to form a small log cabin. Not fully built, it was only the roof and a low wall, with four posts holding up the roof. Many other roots and tree debris formed around it, forming impromptu ceilings between the logs, making them sturdy walls that could keep out some of the cold.

"Show off," Sir Ector said, which only got a chuckle from Merlin.