𝕭𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝕺𝖓𝖊
𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: A high-school project gone wrong sends Astraea Aphelion fifteen centuries back in time, where she has to face a world of dragons, magic, and evil sorcerers. Luckily, she is not alone. In between hardships, she finds a...
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📍 Camelot
⏳ November, 503 AD
"Do not touch it. I had this in the water for no more than a few hours," Gaius warned Arthur as he reached for a vial with a dead flower inside. The Prince quickly recoiled, sending the elderly man an apologetic look.
After running a simple experiment with the plant, the physician and Merlin had determined that the illness was somehow spreading through water, and they were now reporting their findings to the King and Prince.
"Where is the water from?" Uther asked, his voice grave. "The pump from where the people take their daily supply," the physician replied with a pitying glance as the two royals shared worried looks. "We may have to stop the people from using it," Arthur told his father with a sad sigh. "The city can not survive without water," the King stated, looking off into the distance contemplatively.
Well, as it turns out, they can't survive with water either – though I wasn't gonna say it aloud because it would only earn me a punch from my friend. But, surely, said pump wasn't the only source, right? There had to be countless, almost untouched, bodies of water in medieval Britain. Like the pretty waterfall I'd come across one morning during a ride with Dallas. My eyes widened in realisation.
"I have an idea!" I blurted out, making all heads turn to me. "Sorry for interrupting. I'll be right back," I announced before rushing out of the throne room and did not stop running until I got to the stables. Panting, I dragged my Uncle's wagon out of its resting place and stole some of the buckets that are used to fill the horses' water troughs, then went to get Dallas, saddled him and hooked him to the wooden cart.
I figured that I would bring back as much water from the waterfall as I could. That way, the people would have something to drink without their lives being in danger. Or that's what I hoped for, anyways.
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"That's about forty litres, give or take," I spoke to Dallas as I stared at the wooden wagon parked next to the waterfall plunge pool. It now carried 10 buckets full of water. "I don't know how many people live in Camelot but I'm willing to bet this is not enough for all of them," I added with a grimace, then used the back of the sleeve of my black bomber jacket to wipe some sweat that had formed on my forehead, despite the cold November weather.
