After an officer finds an unconscious boy dressed in medieval clothing and discovers he has no memories of where he came from, she decides to take him under her wing. She realizes quickly, however, that medieval clothing is not the only thing that m...
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My first impression of the interior of the castle: Huge. The maze of corridors seemed to be never ending, and eventually I lost count of how many doors we passed. We walked by a few servants, guards, and courtiers on the way that regarded us with shocked looks but said nothing. I guessed they knew Ben and Lancelot and trusted them enough not to ask any questions. Other than them, we saw no one.
Breathtaking tapestries lined the walls of the corridors with various designs etched into their gleaming coats. They mostly depicted scenes of knights marching into battle. In other corridors, banners hung from the high ceiling. All of them were a bright red and portrayed a golden lion arched on its hind legs, its mouth opened wide as if preparing to roar. If I remembered correctly, this was the Pendragon crest, marking the royalty of king Arthur's ancestors. I remembered vaguely Shortt describing it to us in class one day along with many other boring crests of medieval royal families.
After what seemed like an hour of walking, we turned a corner and stopped at the first doors on the right hand side which were apparently Alex's chambers. "Now go change into some decent clothes," Ben ordered, "We'll wait here until you're finished. Then we will continue on to the Great Hall."
Alex nodded and slipped into his room. I stood there a little awkwardly with my head down, until a sudden thought occurred to me and I looked up. "Wait, where does Merlin live―or I guess I live, exactly?"
"Here in the castle," Lancelot informed me, "Your chambers are actually right across from Arthur's." He pointed over to a set of doors on the other side of the corridor.
I frowned at him. "But why does Merlin live here? Doesn't he have family?"
The two of them exchanged looks and they shifted their feet uncomfortably. I could interpret that look immediately. Lancelot was staring at Ben imploringly, as if he wanted to beg, Please don't make me tell him...There was a long pause before Ben answered me. "Merlin...your village was destroyed in a fire almost a year ago. There were no survivors...except for you," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Why was Merlin the only survivor?"
"Merlin, it doesn't matter right now," Lancelot intervened quickly.
"Why was Merlin the only survivor?" I repeated.
Both Ben and Lancelot gazed at me uncertainly until Ben stepped forward and rested a hand on my shoulder. "Because...because you started the fire, yourself."
I stared at him. "I don't know about Merlin, but I would never do anything like that."
Ben shook his head vigorously, his eyes wide. "No, no! That isn't what I meant! It was an accident. You only used magic because you had to. Bandits had come to ransack your village and you tried to use magic to stop them...but you somehow triggered a fire, I don't know how. Then Arthur came and found you, and you've lived here ever since."
