Balinor's Son

Uther In Ealdor

"My Lord!" 

Uther looked to his right where Sir Callahan pointed towards smoke rising above distant trees. It was faint but a clear sign they were approaching the village. 

"We shall arrive within the hour."

Uther nodded to the knight who led his horse forward. Uther positioned his own horse in the middle of the group. Although he would have preferred to ride in front, leading the charge against sorcery, he felt more protected in the midst of his men. After all, they had just entered Cenred's kingdom. There could be attackers around any bend. 

As the horses galloped though the forest, Uther found his mind wandering. Balinor has a son... interesting. He could prove useful. Arthur's message brought no news of the man himself which meant that other tactics needed to be employed to ensure his capture. Perhaps Balinor would come out of hiding if his son was threatened. That's one use for the boy. Another was resting in the back of his mind. Arthur had asked for more men. How powerful could this boy be?  

Uther knew his son. He was brave, sure, but also brash and even hot headed at times. It wasn't like Arthur to request reinforcements, even when he needed them. It was a trait he had experienced first hand himself and a sign Arthur still had a lot to learn before he could wear the crown. 

But this boy... Uther would never admit it but he felt slightly apprehensive as his horse galloped towards this mysterious person. Unchecked, power like this was dangerous. But perhaps this boy, this power, could be harnessed? If there was one thing Uther had perfected during his time as king it was the subtle art of manipulation and control. People could be pushed around just as easily as pawns on a chess board as long as you knew how hard to push. The key to this control? Lying. Magic users may have been inhuman but they were just as susceptible to a well spun lie. Uther remembered a time he told a witch that if she wanted to keep her son, she had to give up the location of her sister. She did, and to her surprise, they all died. She, her sister, and her son. Uther had been in control of that encounter even if it appeared to the witch that Uther had given her power of choice. Sorcery was a cruel weapon, necessitating cruel combatants. But who am I kidding, Uther thought to himself. It would only be cruel if sorcerers spawned from anywhere but hell.  

---+---

When Merlin woke, the sun had already almost cleared the trees and most of the knights were already awake. They fumbled awkwardly with their armor and occasionally sent curious glances at their prince who, with his arms neatly folded, stood complacent against a tree.

"What's got you all smug?" Merlin groaned as he pushed himself up from the forest floor.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not smug, Merlin. Merely thinking." 

"I see." He looked around. "It's late. Why didn't you wake me up? You're probably all hungry." He received a few aggravated nods from the knights but notably, not one from Arthur. 

"You were tired," the Prince explained.

"Right." Taking the hint from the knights, Merlin quickly gathered the dishes and supplies he needed to make a quick breakfast. He lit a fire, with a little help from magic, and began to heat the stew prepared the previous night. Once the concoction was simmering, he began to fill the knights bowls. The men gathered around, greedily. 

Every bowl was emptied within minutes and the knights prepared to make one last trip to the village. As the group made their way across the muddy field, Arthur fell in line with his servant. 

"Merlin, there's something I should warn you about."

"What? I already know when we get home I'll have to deal with your three day old socks."