Merlyn's Only Hope

The Labyrinth of Gedref P3

Upon his return to Camelot, Arthur had almost instantaneously been summoned to the store room by his father. He wasn't stupid enough to think that this was anything but a bad sign, however, some small part of him clung to the hope that, miraculously, all of the grains would have been restored. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

"What is it? What's happening?" he exclaimed loudly, rushing into the dim room, staring wide-eyed at the blackened grain. His father knelt down, taking a handful of the vile corn and letting it fall through his fingers, as if hoping, somehow, that the action would make it edible.

"All our remaining supplies have rotted. Every last grain." Uther stood, his face the very picture of despair. Even as he left, Arthur remained rooted to the spot, unable to look away from what marked the starvation of his kingdom.

∆

"I know Arthur's stubborn and pigheaded," Merlyn sat across from Gaius in their quarters, eying her breakfast in distaste. "And annoying, but he cares about his people more than he cares about himself. He will not forgive himself for making his people suffer."

Gaius sighed. "You must make sure that he doesn't do anything rash." he advised, picking up their breakfast beetle from his plate.

"The mood he's in, I'm not sure what he'll do." Merlyn followed suit, wishing that she'd kept some of the rat stew. Suddenly, it seemed far more appealing.

"Ready?" Gaius asked the worried servant.

"You're sure they're not poisonous?" the witch questioned, trying to be a little light-hearted, but failing miserably. She squinted at her bug, hoping it would suddenly turn into something delectable. An apple, perhaps. Even some dry bread.

"Quite certain. They say they taste like chicken." The physician went to take a bite of the creature's head, but stopped, evidently just as reluctant. "Unless we're to starve, we must hope that they're right."

Merlyn wanted to ask who they was, but refrained, choosing instead to bite off part of the beetle, wincing at the crunching sound it made as she bit through the shell. She chewed slowly.

"This tastes nothing like chicken." she glared at her mentor, but he said nothing, biting into his own bug, silently telling her to finish the creature, despite the foul taste.

∆

Arthur had been waiting for his father for a few minutes, his hand resting on the back of the throne. He listened to footsteps slap against the wooden floor down the corridor, recognising them as the king's. He turned to the door, watching his father march through it, aged by the occurrences of the past few days.

"There are some supplies left in the palace stores. We are distributing them to the people, but there isn't enough to live on. They will not survive for long."

Uther nodded his head solemnly, trying not to shift uneasily on his feet. Whatever he had to say, he knew that Arthur wouldn't approve.

"Then you must stop distributing food to the people." he finally spoke, his eyes resting on anything that wasn't the flabbergasted prince.

"They will starve." Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. His father had no right to choose who deserved to survive the famine. He was playing God, not king.

"We must conserve the food we have for our army."

"We cannot let our people go without food." Arthur argued, more so than he had ever dared to in his life. He normally left this kind of verbal outburst to Morgana, but this was far more important that a druid boy or an execution, this was the deaths of thousands of innocent people, civilians who trusted their king to look after them, not abandon them in times of need. What was the point of rulers without people to rule?