The Rising of Emrys

Camelot

I'm sure we are several miles away from Camelot's citadel, but it looks like we'd be upon it in a matter of steps. It looks so huge!

"Impressive, isn't it?" Owen asks.

I nod, unable to form words to express how it appears to me.

"Well, let's keep moving." Owen kicks Dresden into action, but lightly. We are close enough he probably assumes we don't need to gallop full speed to get there today. Approaching the palace is something else. There is a huge gate with guards posted on either side. Neither move as we walk our horses in.

"Owen?" I whisper.

"What?"

"Is it weird for two commoners to have horses?"

Owen is taken abback. I'm sure that's not something they thought of in their plans. "That's a good point. I'm not sure."

"Even still, we will have to find a place to stable them."

"You are right. Obviously, the King and I did not get quite this far with out plans. Our first goal was to get you out and make sure you were safe."

"So, where do we need to go? Where does my grandfather live?"

"He lives in the palace. He is the Court physician after all."

My head snaps to him. "I have.. to go into the palace."

"Well, yes," Owen says as if it's obvious.

"Can't I just stay with you in the lower town?"

"Merlin, everything will be okay." I scowl at his use of my "new" name. He dismounts in front of a grungy looking Inn/Tavern/Stables. I dismount and hand the reins over to him.

"You take care now." I can't believe this is the last time I might see him for a while. We will be living in the same town, but I don't know when the next chance will be for us to see each other.

"You also." He embraces me for a quick second. It is all we get though. The inn keeper comes out. I gather my things from Morgan, whisper good-bye to her, and make way for the palace. Many people hustle about. Other stand by their carts, trying to sell their goods. Ahead, I hear a loud commotion. I turn the corner and find myself in the castle courtyard. A boy is running with a heavy wooden target on his back. I know it's heavy because Owen has made me carry one before for training. He says I don't have enough muscle. But what sorcerer needs muscle? A large group of man stands behind just one who is trowing knives at the poor boy. He has shortish blond hair and fair skin.

The boy stumbles when a knife makes a sure thunk in the wood. The targets rolls directly to my feet. I look to the blond man. "I think the boy's had enough-"

"Do you now? And who are you?" comes his swift reply, cutting me off. He smirks slightly, arrogance in everything he does: his posture, his smile, his eyes.

I laugh once, not knowing how to respond. I've never been spoken to like that before. I'm a princess. "I'm..." Oh no. I can't tell him who I am. I'm supposed to be a commoner. "I'm Merlin."

"You're what?" he calls. "I couldn't quite hear."

Oh, if I were his princess he would be in the dungeons by now. How dare he speak to me like that. "Merlin! My name is Merlin!" I shout back. "Is that better for you?"

He approaches me slowly, with a sly smile on his face. "Oh, yes. Much better. And do you know who I am Merlin?"

"How loud do I need to speak?" I ask in a considerably loud voice. "How hard of hearing are you?"

His mouth drops open, as if no one has ever insulted him to his face before.

"And, no, I do not, sorry."