eighteen
The news rode into Camelot at sundown in the form of a man on horseback. At the entrance to the castle, he dismounted, speaking urgently to the knights guarding the gates. After exchanging meaningful looks, one knight opened the gates, while the other escorted the man into the castle.
It was uncommon procedure for an unsolicited visit from a commoner, but this was something the King needed to hear.
A sorcerer had been found in Camelot.
Like usual, the servants found out about it first.
Gossip spread like wildfire through the castle. Before the messenger had reached the throne room, the groundsmen had told the chamberservants, who told the kitchen staff, who told the servers, who spread it along to anyone who would listen. Soon, clusters of men and women were whispering about it in every corner of the castle.
A sorcerer. A sorcerer hadn't been found in Camelot in over a decade.
King Daniel heard the news shortly after. Though he had retired to his chambers for the night, he reemerged in the Grand Hall, looking slightly disheveled.
The messenger bent his knee and told the King the story in a few rushed sentences: a woman in Henwick, a large village under Camelot's protection, had been caught using magic on her children. (At this, Daniel's nose wrinkled in utter disgust. Her own children.) She had been caught by the local guard, and they would transport her to the castle as soon as the morning made it safe to travel.
King Daniel nodded briefly and commended the messenger for his haste, offered him a safe place to stay for the night, and spent the rest of the evening pacing his quarters, stroking his beard, his mind churning.
He took no pleasure in eliminating magic users from his land. Daniel did not consider himself to be a sadistic man – merely realistic. He had seen the utter havoc magic could wreak on a kingdom, and he was determined to protect Camelot from such a fate.
He had made it clear, over and over, to his citizens, what the punishment for magic would be. Tomorrow, he would be true to his word.
George's grandmother, Sylvia, found out only a few moments later.
The young woman who had taken over George's herb-gathering duties found out from her friends at the castle, and when she dropped by Sylvia's house in the evening, she spilled the news in a rush of excited words. She missed the way Sylvia's hands clenched at the news, the way her gaze grew distant and pained. Sylvia stayed quiet and asked her assistant to leave shortly thereafter, ignoring the young woman's confused expression.
Once she was gone, Sylvia sat heavily at the table, trying to keep her hands from shaking.
She remembered the last time a sorcerer had been put to death in Camelot.
She remembered it every time she closed her eyes.
After letting a moment of dread pass by, Sylvia's concern focused in a far more particularized direction. She sighed deeply and pressed her hands into her forehead briefly.
"He's ready," she told herself. "He has to be."
The two people who most needed to hear the news were two of the last to receive it. Mostly because they were slightly drunk, and completely engrossed in a game of darts.
"He's gonna choke," Clay was saying from the table, to a group of snickering knights. "He always does. Watch."
"I'm not gonna choke," George grumbled, focusing intently on the cork dartboard hanging on the tavern wall.
YOU ARE READING
protected - dnf
Fanfiction"I don't care about anything like I care about you. Not even this kingdom. My place is with you." -- Dream is the Crown Prince and the future king. His sworn duty is to protect his kingdom from outside threats, especially from the scourge of magic. ...
