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RETURNING TO HIS ROOM after the fight with his uncle, Arthur opened his door, stepping into it as the sunlight lit up the space through the window.
That had been the first time he had ever stood up for himself in front of his uncle, and it felt unnatural to him, foreign as a drug. He was never normally allowed to speak for himself in those situations, but this had been a rare occurrence.
Arthur frowned to himself as he walked over to his window, leaning on the lip of the skirting, looking down at the people below him. He could pick out a few Knights and the shadowy forms of the Barons within the crowd. Arthur watched the Barons closely, watching the way they moved.
The largest man at the front, his men trailing behind in a cluster. It was like a wolf pack. An alpha leading his hunters to stalk their prey, only their prey was the people of Londinium.
Only a fool would believe that the Barons would be a good choice for a source of protection within a well-guarded Kingdom such as Camelot. Just as well, Ergott had to be the fool to hire them. It was only time before he realised his true mistake.
Arthur frowned at them, seeing the patrol push and shove any civilians that stepped within their proximity. His eyes glued to the Barons, he moved away from the window ledge-
“Arty! Oi!”
Arthur paused, turning back to look down at the street.
“Arty! Arthur! I see you up there!” Tristan called out from below. His arms waving above his head in a wide arc, his beaming grin able to be seen from up here. “Remember me? Your best friend?! Can you see me? Hey!”
“How could I forget the most annoying person in the Kingdom?” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be down in fifteen minutes,” he called down to Tristan, who whooped in celebration.
Muttering to himself, he moved over to his wooden cupboard, opening the double doors with ease, digging through the clothes hung up high on the overhead rack. Arthur eventually found what he was searching for; A satchel, the leather a faded brown, with frayed strips ripping off the surface. He brought out the satchel within his grasp, coughing as the dust swirled in the air around him.
Arthur walked over to his desk with the satchel in hand, opening the latches as he shuffled over to the desk. He grabbed his drink bottle from the corner of his desk, opening the satchel wide before placing the water bottle gently inside, feeling it drop down low as it hit the bottom of the bag. Beside his desk on the wall lay a towel rack; a bright white towel stood out amongst the others. Taking it off the rack, he placed it within his satchel. Arthur flung the strap over his shoulder, grabbing one last thing from his desk drawer as he left, pieces of bandages to wrap around his hands.
After grabbing his necessary supplies from his room, Arthur stepped out into the hallway, the door shutting loudly behind him as he continued along his path. Walking down the stairs to exit the Castle, Arthur suddenly felt different; that doubtful side of him slowly eased away from his thoughts. After all, he was heading to train to become a Knight of Camelot, and that was a big thing. Learning new fighting skills instead of repeating his street fighting techniques would be helpful for Arthur to defend himself from unreadable situations, especially when fighting someone like Jackseye.
Coming to the bottom of the stairs, Arthur walked into the Castle lobby, seeing a few familiar faces standing around.
“Going somewhere, are we, Arthur?” Sir Natan asked, looking over at him while leaning on the wall.
“Possibly,” Arthur answered.
“Is that a purse?” Arkan asked, raising an eyebrow at Arthur’s satchel.
“No,” Arthur replied, confused. “I’ll be back in the next two hours.”
“Don't go getting yourself into any strife, now,” Sam said from the stairs, walking over to them.
“Since when did I get into trouble?” Arthur asked.
Samqueel gave him a look, raising his brow. "From what I recall, getting shoved around in the streets with scuffed and muddy jeans at the age of ten was when your fighting career happened to become a reality," he chuckled.
“At least I know how to defend myself from an attacker. I don’t see anyone teaching me any different,” Arthur said, turning to face Samqueel.
Sam straightened his back, his mouth quirked to the left. "I suppose all you had to do was ask for a bit of guidance, but it seems you've taken the initiative to learn the whole ball game. Ergott's not going to say it, so I will; I'm proud of you for doing so."
Arthur flinched; he hadn’t heard those words in forever, it felt like. “You’re proud? Of what exactly?”
"For becoming the man you want to be."
"For standing up to your uncle," Reuben chimed in.
"For getting yourself involved for the sake of your people," Natan nodded, moving to clap his shoulder.
“For following in your father’s footsteps,” Brannagh said, giving him a soft smile.
"For taking the time to learn to fight for your Kingdom," Lorsaw said and muttered quietly, "Even if it goes against everything Ergott asks of you."
Karsol heard him and slapped the back of his head, Lorsaw grunting and glaring up at him.
“For always, always, protecting the people of Londinium. Even though it isn’t your duty,” Taryn said with a smirk.
"For being your own King," Carsen piped up, his voice strained. Joseph nodded in agreement, thumping his chest with a fist.
“For being our true King. Even if Ergott is the one who rules us,” Derak said, placing a hand on his back.
Samqueel smiled down at him, approval in his eyes. "We all believe in you, Arthur. The question is, what will it take to make you believe it, too?"
Arthur looked at each of the Knights around him, taking a deep breath in. “Myself," he murmured. "Proving to myself that I’m not what Ergott says I am.”
"Who do you want to be, boy?" Forlorn questioned him, folding his arms.
“What I’m destined to become, but I need to find out what it is,” Arthur said, furrowing his eyebrows lightly.
"Whoever you decide to be, we'll be here," Samqueel nodded, looking around at his men. They nodded to Arthur, exchanging grins.
Arthur nodded back at all of them, standing up tall with a small grin on his face. “It’s time to prove to Ergott that I should be the King."
Arkan grinned. "Go show the bastard you're more than just a pretty face," he joked. "Show him what you're really made of."
“I’ll do my best,” Arthur replied. “That’s if I’m not killed in the process.”
Lorsaw snorted. "Please, the whole thing basically wraps you up in armour with the squish factor of a marshmallow. Training's easier than fieldwork, I can tell you."
Taryn groaned. "Lorsaw, with the ever-so-inspiring cheer factor, you should start a cheerleading squad," he drawled.
Arthur frowned at Lorsaw, raising his eyebrow at him. “Thanks for the encouragement.”
"I'm only giving educated information-"
"Oh shush, Lorsaw," Arkan interrupted.
“Sit down, Lorsaw,” Reuben said.
"Take a few calming breaths, Lorsaw," Taryn grinned.
“Don’t be a cranky Knight today, Lorsaw,” Derak rolled his eyes.
"Have you had your morning snack yet, Lorsaw? Is that why you're so moody?" Brannagh raised a brow, smirking.
Lorsaw scowled. "No..."
“Damn it, Lorsaw!” Taryn yelled.
"You ought to go feed your face, then, Lorsaw," Karsol towered over him.
“Ms. Enid can cook you some eggs there. We all know that’s your favourite dish,” Reuben said, grinning.
"I'm allergic to eggs!" Lorsaw growled.
"No wonder why you're always refusing to eat rations," Sam muttered.
“I’m just going to go now...” Arthur muttered, slowly stepping back to exit the gates.
Arkan looked over at him. "Hey Arthur, a word of advice?"
“Sure...” Arthur said cautiously.
"Take out his left knee; you'll know who." They all rolled their eyes and groaned. It seemed a shared joke sat with them that puzzled Arthur. The hell could that mean?
“What? Who are you talking about?” Arthur asked in confusion.
"You'll know when you know, trust us," Forlorn muttered.
“Trust anyone but Arkan,” Reuben reassured.
Arkan frowned. "I have ears that work just fine, and they can hear the liquid shit pouring from your mouth," he said flatly.
“You have ears and hearing; you just use them whenever you think it’s necessary. Which is never,” Brannagh said, staring flatly at Arkan.
"At least my diet doesn't consist of just plants.”
“Don’t you judge my food,” Brannagh growled.
"What are you gonna do, nibble on me? You rabbit," Arkan maliciously grinned.
Deciding to leave them to it before he got caught up in a wrestling match he'd never escape from, Arthur quickly slipped away out of the castle.
The Knights were always either a laugh, a fight, or a terrifying thing to behold. There wasn't much in between to label them. Considering the men were capable of both taking down a dragon and beating the entire Kingdom in a drinking contest, it wasn't hard to get along with the protectors of Camelot.
Arthur stepped onto the stairs leading down to Londinium's streets, looking around the area to spot Tristan anywhere in the vicinity. The flagpoles still had one missing from the orange lion pole, Arthur remembering it with a slight shiver. Whatever became of it?
"Ah, there you are! I was starting to think you got lost in that massive boulder," Tristan grinned, standing beside him suddenly.
“How long have you been waiting for me?” Arthur asked, walking down the steps.
"About half an hour probably, according to the sun," he said, holding his hand up to the bright source. "I don't know exactly how people tell the time like that, but from what I'm guessing, you tell the time by rating on a scale of one to twelve how much it hurts your eyes to look at." He squinted at the sun.
“Are you finished with your sun theory yet, or would you like a script about everything you just said?” Arthur said to him. “I mean, you could possibly make gold with scriptwriting.”
Tristan looked at him, blinking harshly. "Is that not how that works?"
Arthur looked at him. “Your choice of if it does.”
Tristan smiled slightly, looking at the satchel tucked beneath Arthur's arm. "Is it a trend to wear purses in the royal family now?" he observed.
“It’s called a satchel, not a purse,” Arthur frowned at him. “And yes, it was my father’s before he died, and of course, he left it for me.”
Tristan hummed. "What's in it?" His eyes lit up. "Do you have food?"
“A water bottle, a towel, and my wrist straps,” Arthur said. “And what makes you think I’d give you my food if I had any?”
Tristan raised his hands in a shrug, waving them slightly. "No one said you'd give it to me," he reasoned.
Arthur frowned at him with a small smirk peeking through, staring directly at him. “’Cause it’s you, you’re always looking for food,” he shook his head at him.
"Ask your uncle to lower the taxes, then maybe I could afford to buy more food than a lump of bread and some cheese."
Arthur scoffed at that suggestion. “Like he’d listen to someone else’s opinion.”
Tristan shrugged again. "Who knows? Anyway, let's go before Maria gets cornered with the normal tools in the training hall," he said joyfully, walking down the stairs.
Arthur followed behind him, keeping close as they snaked through the crowds bundled in the alleyways. The two walked down the alleyway leading towards the training grounds, townsfolk scattered all throughout the streets.
"Hopefully, somebody decided to leave the door unlocked this time," Tristan muttered to himself, rounding the corner.
“Who trains you?” Arthur asked, looking at him sideways.
Tristan stood in front of a wooden door, steel reinforcing the edges. He gripped the handle and looked through the small window in the centre of the wood. "An old guy known as Marlon," he answered and twisted the doorknob, swinging it open. "A-ha, finally."
“Since when do you train to become a Knight? You always said you wanted to be a blacksmith when we were young,” Arthur said.
"Well... there aren't many blacksmiths that are willing to take me in," he shrugged, his voice a little strained. "They all think I'd try and melt the tools or something."
Arthur looked at him, his head tilted slightly. “Who told you that one?”
He grimaced slightly. "All of them."
Arthur frowned slightly. “Right.”
Tristan walked in, leading Arthur through the long, straight hallway. Glass lined the sides of the walls, chunks of old beaten-up pieces of armour stashed in alcoves behind the panes. Iron plaques engraved with the names of Knights widely varied throughout history adorned the spaces between, some of them shinier and more recent than others.
Arthur looked around curiously, following Tristan as they moved down the hallway. A light flared in front of Tristan, his silhouette breaking through the end of the hallway into a massive room, Arthur rapidly blinking the light from his eyes.
“This isn’t what I expected,” Arthur muttered to himself, looking around the room.
A bunch of men stood scattered around the room, a few of them fighting within a drawn chalk square on the ground, hitting each other with savage blows.
Tristan looked back at him. "I mean, it's not a whole place of pain and torture, but it's not a tea party either," he shrugged.
“Tristan!” A voice called out from the sideline.
Tristan perked up, turning to the voice with a grin. "Oi, Peter," he greeted.
“Training started two hours ago,” Peter said while walking up to him. “Marlon was missing you.” The trainee looked at Arthur with calculating blue eyes, his brown hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. A nick in his eyebrow slashed on a slant through the middle over his left eye, a small scar stretching along the length.
"Apologies, I was waiting for this one to come out of the big fancy brick house," he nodded to Arthur.
“My liege,” Peter bowed weakly to Arthur.
“First time I heard that one,” Arthur’s eyebrows flicked up.
"Yeah, but you've heard 'your absolute outstanding, praise-the-Gods, golden-hearted majesty' before," Tristan huffed.
“Thank you for that overview, Tristan,” Arthur frowned lightly. Tristan held his grin in.
“He isn’t exactly wrong, you know,” Peter chimed in. “I mean, you are the King’s son, aren’t you?”
Tristan looked at Arthur funny. "You're Ergott's son now?"
“He is my uncle," he corrected. "My father was the King before Ergott took his place,” Arthur said, looking at the two men.
"But he just said the King, as in the current King...." Tristan frowned, thinking to himself. "Which means... there's a Queen too?"
“Tristan, shut your mouth,” Peter said, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Who's the Queen?" Tristan asked confusedly, ignoring Peter.
“You mean my mother or my aunt?” Arthur asked.
His eyes widened. "You have a mother?"
The room behind him fell silent, their eyes trailing a man walking towards the three. Arthur flicked his eyes to the man, and Tristan turned to look. "Oh, look, it's Marlon," he said in a high voice, glancing up at him.
“Tristan, you’re late,” Marlon growled, his voice deep and mysterious. His brown skin reflected that of Tristan's, dark eyes set in a scowl of disapproval. Long dark hair sat atop his head in a tight bun, leading across his jaw in a thick bundle.
Marlon looked over at Arthur, his eyes narrowing slightly. “A guest?” he pondered.
“Arthur,” he introduced himself.
“Oh, I know who you are, and I knew your father as well,” Marlon answered.
“You knew my father?” Arthur asked, looking at Marlon curiously.
"Of course, I knew Benjamin," he frowned. "Being a Knight doesn't come without some sort of affiliation to the royal family."
“Interesting,” Arthur said quietly.
Marlon looked him over, studying the satchel at his side. "Why have you come along today?"
Arthur removed the satchel from his body, holding it to Tristan for him to hold, who looked at it blankly. “Observation mostly,” he said. “Ergott doesn’t believe that I will be anything, so I need to prove him wrong.”
Marlon tilted his head to the side. "You don't learn from just observations, youngling," he frowned, watching Tristan take the bag.
“I won’t be joining in the fighting today, I’m afraid. I already had a run-in with the Barons the night before,” Arthur reassured.
"Nonsense," Marlon dismissed and pivoted to look to the far corner.
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t mean to disappoint, but I’m only observing today if there’s a next time, maybe. I don’t have any skills-"
"Kyan!" Marlon boomed across the hall. A man looked over at them, standing up. "Over here, now."
Tristan blinked. "You're going to verse him against Kyan?" he questioned incredulously.
Arthur looked over at Kyan, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not fighting anyone-”
Marlon turned his stare to Arthur, his eyes intense. "You're here to either train or help clean up afterwards, not sit in the corner to watch. So yes," he growled. "You will be fighting."
“I appreciate your encouragement,” Arthur said sarcastically. “But I have no intention of landing any blows to anyone today.”
"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" Marlon said back with equal fire.
Arthur looked at Tristan. “Did you know this was going to happen?”
Tristan's smile waivered, becoming nervous. "I didn't think he'd verse you against Kyan-"
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “So, you did know, just not the man I’ll be fighting?” he accused.
He chuckled nervously, touching the back of his neck.
“Who am I fighting now, Marlon? Is it Tristan again?” Kyan asked, standing beside Marlon. The trainee stood up to Marlon's shoulder, his black hair falling about his shoulders in a fluffed-up mess. His green eyes flicked to Arthur with curiosity.
Tristan's eyes widened. "I'm just going to..." he quickly dashed off to the side, heading towards a row of benches near a doorway with Arthur's bag.
Arthur looked at Tristan with a deep frown, lifting his arms up over his head. “Well, thanks for your help, Tristan," he called to him sarcastically.
Marlon glanced at Kyan, shifting his weight to one foot. "As much as I'd like to witness Tristan rolling on the mat like an upside-down turtle, I'm setting you a starter," he nodded towards Arthur.
“I told you, I’m only observing-"
"Hush!" Marlon snapped, his voice echoing in the room. Arthur blinked at him. Was everyone here as rude as this, Marlon?
“Shouldn’t be too hard. He doesn’t look like a fighter to me,” Kyan said with a faint smirk.
“I can fight,” Arthur growled. Who do they think they are, talking to a royal like that?
“Show us then, your highness,” Kyan mocked.
Marlon moved towards a chalk outline, Kyan following him loyally. The other trainees looked over and gathered to watch, many recognising Arthur. Arthur narrowed his eyes, reluctantly turning to follow the two over to the outlined square, looking at the onlookers.
"In the square, feet at nine and four, begin on my word," Marlon ordered, standing at the edge. Kyan shifted his feet to the right position, his arms loose at his sides.
“I don’t want to fight you,” Arthur said softly, moving inside the square. He shifted his feet to copy Kyan, his muscles bunching.
"It's not a fight, Arthur," Kyan smirked, curling his fists. "It's a test."
Marlon nodded. "Begin!"
Arthur flicked his eyes to Marlon. “You just want to see me get hurt-”
His sentence was clipped short as a sharp pain lanced through his chest, making him stagger back. Arthur held his chest as the pain dashed across where Kyan struck him.
Kyan danced back, shifting his shoulders. "Now that I've got your attention," he grinned. "Maybe you'll learn to watch your opponent."
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, getting himself ready for Kyan’s next blow. The bastard doesn't know who he's messing with.
Kyan's feet shifted, and his fist rocketed towards Arthur's shoulder, his other hand shot towards his jaw. Arthur grabbed his outstretched arms, folding them back into his chest before pushing him back fiercely.
Kyan gained his footing easily, grinning at him. "There, a small glimmer of fight," he observed. "What else you got?"
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, turning himself to face him. “You really want to try me?”
Kyan shrugged casually. "If you insist," he said lightly.
Arthur glared at him, shifting his feet. “I’d prefer to observe," he growled.
Kyan smirked at Arthur, pacing to circle around him like a vulture, watching Arthur with calculating eyes. His fists bunched, ready to strike. Arthur looked over at the onlookers, spotting Maria moving amongst the crowd towards Tristan, carrying a tray of food.
“What’s Arthur doing?” she asked, looking at Tristan on the bench.
“Getting the shit beaten from him by Kyan,” he said simply, eyeing the sandwiches.
“I thought he was observing?” Maria commented to Marlon, unconsciously moving the platter towards Tristan. Tristan's eyes widened, his hand snaking up slowly towards the sandwiches.
“You don’t learn anything from observations, Maria,” Marlon remarked, folding his arms. “This’ll teach him better than the sidelines ever will."
“By hurting him even more?” Maria looked at him flatly, turning to face him. Tristan looked at her with a frown, dropping his hand from the air. “The Barons already landed a few hits on him; didn’t you see his eye?”
“The Barons aren’t ones to mess with,” Peter said, looking at her sideways. “I thought he would've known that."
Maria frowned at Peter, turning back to Arthur and Kyan in front of them. Kyan stepped over to Arthur, swinging at him wildly from all different angles, landing a shot on his ribcage and shoving Arthur back. Arthur stumbled to the ground, landing with a loud grunt, his shoulder barking in pain. Kyan looked around at a few of the onlookers, giving them smirks, and they cheered for him. Arthur slowly pushed himself up off the ground, feeling a bruise already forming on his rib. Kyan looked back over at Arthur, his eyebrows raised cockily.
“Still want some more, do ya?” Kyan asked, watching Arthur get up from the ground.
“You’d be surprised,” Arthur returned, wincing as he stood to his feet.
“You’ve had your fun. Now you can return to your other activities,” Kyan jived, sneering.
“The fight will not stop until one of you yields,” Marlon said. “Continue, now.”
“With all respect, you’re all trained fighters. The only training I’ve had was street fighting, not whatever multitude of training you do here,” Arthur said, looking around the room. “I’m sure you all don’t want to see your ‘future King’ be beaten senseless.”
Marlon looked at him flatly. "Status doesn't matter in the training hall. Just so long as you're here to become a Knight, you're as equal to the person next to you," he growled. "Now stop finding excuses to sit out and man up!"
Arthur turned back to face Kyan, scowling in annoyance, and grunted, Kyan's fist connecting with his jaw. Arthur collapsed to the ground, his face connecting with the stone flooring with a thud. He coughed, groaning as he slowly rose back up.
"Had enough yet?" Kyan teased, standing over him.
Arthur narrowed his eyes, quickly wrapping his leg around Kyan’s ankles, sending him to the ground. He grunted and lashed his boot towards him, flailing almost uselessly. Arthur stood up from the floor, taking off his coat before chucking it to the side. Arthur rubbed his jaw, wincing at the pain as a red mark formed where Kyan hit him. Arthur narrowed his eyes at Kyan, looking down at him on the floor where he just was. How does that feel?
Kyan growled, standing up. Arthur returned a small smirk, circling around Kyan; their roles switched almost simultaneously. Marlon showed off a small grin, watching Arthur with interest.
Arthur pounced on Kyan, landing a hit on his chest, the impact making his breath whoosh out of his mouth with a grunt as Arthur barged him with his shoulder. Kyan stumbled back, his footing unsteady. Seeing an opening, Arthur punched the side of his head, rocketing him to the floor.
"He doesn't look like the fighting type," he said. Arthur smirked at him, curling his finger in a come hither.
Kyan launched at Arthur from the ground, swinging towards his ribs. Arthur’s eyes flashed, deflecting the blow with his forearm.
Again, too easy. He launched his hand to grab Kyan's arm to twist it behind his back, pinning him. Kyan yelled in pain, struggling.
"What was that about this being a test, Kyan?" Arthur drawled. Kyan seethed, trying to pull his wrist from his grip.
"Little known thing about me; I know how to pass my challenges," Arthur grinned cockily, gripping him tighter.
Pain rocketed through Arthur's foot, and he yelled, Kyan's arm yanking free from his loosened grip, shoving him back with a shove from his shoulders. Arthur hopped on one foot for a moment, the pain subsiding slowly.
Kyan spun around to face him, his fist shooting at Arthur's temple. He ducked in time to avoid a headache but was too slow to dodge the second swing to his right shoulder. Arthur grunted, pain shooting up his neck, putting his hand against his shoulder.
Tristan looked at Marlon with a concerned expression, seeing his small grin growing wider with amusement.
Kyan used his hesitation to kick Arthur in the thigh, a loud thud echoing across the hall. Arthur yelled in pain, gripping his thigh with his hand, the throbbing pain immeasurable. Kyan watched as Arthur knelt to the ground, smirking at him from over Arthur's head.
"You should've studied harder for this test, I'm afraid," he growled, a venomous grin on his face. Before Arthur knew it, he was on the ground just outside of the chalk line, Maria's cry echoing through his head as he blacked out.
Stirring awake from a dreamless sleep, Arthur groaned, his entire body barking in pain. His eyes squinted open, finding himself in a bed surrounded by brick walls and other beds aligned in order. Arthur sighed, sitting himself up hesitantly on the bed, his body aching with every move.
“To say the least, I am impressed with your skillset,” Marlon said, sitting on a chair beside him. “For a so-called ‘street fighter,’ you held your ground quite well."
“Why did you make me fight a Knight in training?” Arthur groaned, rubbing his head.
“So I could decide if I let you join or not,” Marlon said. “Watching you watching others wouldn't have been any help in the decision.”
“Observation would’ve allowed me to learn my targets better,” Arthur said, looking over at him. “Who was that man I was fighting anyway?”
“Kyan Bors, he’s one of our newest trainees,” Marlon said. “You’re lucky I didn’t put you up against Dagonet.”
“Dagonet?” Arthur asked, an eyebrow raised. “An odd name for a man, don't you think?”
Marlon frowned at Arthur. “Peter Dagonet,” he corrected.
The blue-eyed boy from earlier flicked his head at the name. “Seems like everyone has unusual names these days,” Arthur said, groaning as he shifted against the pillow.
“I’d say,” Marlon looked at Arthur sideways. “What brought you here to train?” he asked.
Arthur glanced at him. “Ergott has been holding me back for as long as I can remember; it was time I proved him wrong."
“Why come here with no clue of our process?” Marlon asked. “Your father had some sort of knowledge of what to do.”
“I’m nothing like my father,” Arthur replied with a small frown. “He was the one and only King of Camelot."
“I’m sure you’ve seen the murals around Londinium,” Marlon said as flat as his stare. “Question is, do you believe in what the murals foretell?” he questioned.
Arthur mirrored Marlon. “You mean the murals of me being the ‘Born King’? Yes, I have seen them. And even if they were true, I couldn’t house that responsibility.”
"Well, how would you know if you've never tried?"
That stumped Arthur. “I’ve never been given the choice."
Marlon shook his head. "Choices aren't given," he growled. "They're taken."
“What would be the point anyway? My uncle wouldn’t allow me to try and learn to take on that responsibility,” Arthur said bitterly. “I’m lucky I’m even in this building."
Marlon stood up, looking towards the door. "Then you damn well better make the use of your time while you've got it," he dismissed, walking towards the door.
“What was he like?” Arthur asked, watching him leave.
Marlon paused, pivoting halfway and looking down. "Brave, selfless, a true leader and King to his people," he muttered.
Arthur got up from his bed, limping over to the paused Marlon. “People tell me I’m like him, that I’m selfless like him. But I’m nothing like him."
Marlon looked at him, distant memories flicking emotions across his face in a blur. "Then you insult your father by saying so."
Arthur limped over to him. “How can I be the man my father was? When I’m not even given the chance to do anything for this Kingdom?”
Marlon's stare became solid, his back straightening. "You make your own chance," he snapped. "You get up off your ass, go out there into the big scary world, and you prove yourself to your people. Benjamin gained the favour of his people by paving his own path to lead Camelot alone. Go pick up the shovel and start digging your own trail for once."
Arthur looked at him; his eyes widened as he took in Marlon’s words. He had never been talked to like that before, and maybe Marlon was right; he needed to give himself a chance to do something for himself rather than let Ergott step all over him.
“Marlon!” Peter yelled from down the hallway.
Marlon turned to the hallway, dragging his eyes away from Arthur. "What is it?" he demanded.
“Some visitors are outside. Are you expecting anyone?” Peter asked.
Marlon sighed through his nose. "Not particularly," he mumbled.
“They said it’s urgent,” Peter said, walking around the corner. “Safety inspection, the guy doesn’t look too pleased."
“Didn’t know Camelot had safety inspections now,” Kyan scoffed, standing beside Peter.
Marlon's eyes narrowed. "They don't," he rumbled, moving past the men down the hallway.
Arthur limped after Marlon, the two others following closely behind. Something was wrong, and it surely had something to do with the Barons. It was the only explanation Arthur could think of.
Marlon peered through the small window on the door. "Who's there?" he commanded.
“Open on up there,” a man said. “Just doing an inspection."
"You've never needed to before; why now? Identify yourself," Marlon growled.
“Rohin Jackseye,” he said. “Go on now, open it up. The inspection will take five or so minutes; better save us both the hassle.”
“Shit,” Arthur whispered, backing away from the door with a limp.
Marlon's eyes flashed. "Rohin?" he said with astonishment, reaching to open the door.
“You know him?” Arthur asked Marlon, raising an eyebrow.
He looked at Arthur. "Old friend turned sour," he said.
“Open the door now,” Jackseye said, knocking on the door.
"Peter," he growled.
Peter nodded, looking over at Arthur and the others. “Follow me, you two,” he walked past them, heading down a second hallway.
“Where are you taking us now?” Arthur asked cautiously.
“To play hide and seek from the Barons,” Peter said sarcastically, leading them down the hallway.
"Can I get some context here?" Kyan piped up.
“No,” Arthur and Peter said, frowning slightly.
“Tristan! Maria!” Peter yelled, looking around for them.
“Knowing Tristan, he’s probably harbouring all the food he lays his eyes on,” Arthur said, smirking to himself.
Tristan poked his head around from the kitchen doorway with a mouthful of food, chocolate covering his mouth. "What?" he said, muffled, chewing.
“What did I tell you? Harbouring the food,” Arthur smirked.
“Get your ass out of the kitchen and follow me,” Peter commanded.
Tristan swallowed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and following after him. "Where are we going?" he questioned in a high voice.
“Jackseye and the Barons found us,” Arthur said, his expression and voice changing to a more serious tone. “Where’s Maria?”
Tristan shrugged. "Got caught up with the tools, like I said," he said in a bored tone.
“Where can I find her?” Arthur asked, looking at him sternly.
"Probably in the stay room."
“Kyan, go and look for her,” Peter commanded.
"On it," Kyan nodded and ran across the hallway towards a far door.
“You two, this way,” Peter said, nodding down the hallway.
Arthur followed his thigh throbbing in pain as he limped, feeling the pressure on his leg strain his bruise. Tristan scampered behind, looking longingly at the kitchen.
Marlon opened the door, looking Jackseye up and down, his lip curling. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up back in Camelot," he sniffed.
“Good to see you too, Jonathan,” Jackseye said, stepping into the building. “Looks like you haven’t changed much."
"You got yourself a new decoration, it seems," he said flatly, looking at his eye.
“That’s what happens when you let a traitor get the best of you,” Jackseye said, scouring around the interior, the Barons following behind him.
Marlon blocked off the Barons’ path, looking down at them with a frown.
“Don’t be rude to your guests there, Jonathan. Let them pass," Jackseye scowled.
"Uninvited guests," he snapped.
Rohin turned to him, his hands folded behind his back. “You too had no idea of our arrival, didn’t you?”
"If I had known, I would've prepared the kettle," he said snarkily.
“Goes to show how much attention you really give to important circumstances,” Jackseye smirked.
"You mustn't have been important enough to be given my full attention," Marlon bit.
“Weren’t you told?” Jackseye asked, walking up to him slowly. “The Barons are now here to protect Camelot, perhaps a replacement for your Knights, maybe a new business wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he smirked faintly, standing right in front of him at eye level.
Marlon looked at him in disgust. "You truly believe your guild will overtake Camelot without some sort of resistance?"
“Ask the King yourself,” Jackseye said.
As he followed Peter down the hallway, Arthur overheard the conversation between the two, stopping in place to listen carefully. Tristan bumped into his back, shoving him forward slightly. Arthur gave him a stern look, his facial expression angered and annoyed.
"Whoops," Tristan murmured, smiling apologetically.
“Luckily for you, I’ve had enough fighting for one day. Otherwise, I would beat you senseless right here,” Arthur frowned at him.
"No, you wouldn't," Tristan waved his hand dismissively in the air, watching him with a bit of nervousness.
Arthur stared at him flatly, with an eyebrow raised.
"You wouldn't, right?"
“Shove me again, and we’ll find out,” Arthur said, smirking lightly at him.
"You're smiling, which means no," Tristan grinned and stepped around him.
Arthur fake lunged, roaring at him. Tristan yelped in fright, darting after Peter. Arthur shook his head at Tristan, returning to listen to the ongoing conversation between Jackseye and Marlon with interest.
"I'm not asking for the 'King's' opinion," Marlon snapped.
“You should, Jonathan,” Jackseye said. “He could put you into order."
"Order? Last time I witnessed a Baron in Camelot, the order went right out the window," he barked. "What in your right mind thinks this time will be any different?"
“You best believe that something is going to happen sooner or later, my dear friend,” Jackseye said softly. “You won’t just be a Knight trainer.”
Marlon tilted his head to the side, lowering his head with a scowl. "If you're so inclined to take over the Kingdom, why inform your enemies of your plans? I would have thought you'd know better, considering you were once a Commander."
Jackseye looked over at him with a sudden grin. "Oh, that isn't what I'm planning. It's what's going to happen, whether you like it or not," he said, smirking slightly at him.
Marlon's nostrils flared. "What exactly are you here to inspect?" he spat.
“Where is he?” Jackseye asked, looking around.
"Where is who?" Marlon said flatly. "There are many 'he's' here."
“Don’t play dumb now, Jonathan,” Jackseye said with annoyance. “Arthur, I overheard him and the Knights of the Roundtable discussing that he will attempt to become a Knight of Camelot."
Marlon's face didn't change. "Benjamin's son hasn't shown up today," he shrugged. "Perhaps he chickened out."
“Are you seriously going to lie to the King's men?” Jackseye asked, frowning at him deeply.
Marlon's eyes bore into him. "You call yourself that out of the pain and suffering of others," he growled. "You do not wear that title around me. I am well aware of your wavering loyalty. So, call me a liar, but know, I will not call you anything but a traitor."
“I’m impressed, Jonathan. Has your English improved?” Jackseye asked with a grin.
Marlon's mood flared, and he grabbed Jackseye's collar. "Either learn to shut your trap right now and get the job done you were sent to do by your King or keep talking, and I throw you and your black cloaks out to the stones," he snarled. "Your choice."
The Barons behind Marlon drew their swords, pointing their blades at his head. Jackseye looked at him, amused by Marlon’s sudden outburst. Marlon glanced at the Barons in the corners of his eyes, his scowl deepening. Jackseye raised his brows in mock surprise, looking at the Barons over Marlon's shoulder.
“I wouldn’t go any further, Sir,” Jackseye smirked.
Sir? Arthur’s eyes widened, the conversation getting more interesting by the second, placing new thoughts and questions in Arthur’s mind.
Tristan turned back around the corner, staring at Arthur with raised brows. "Are you coming?" he asked.
Arthur looked forward at Tristan, nodding at him before limping over to him.
"I can go as far as I like while on my ground," Marlon hissed.
Jackseye removed Marlon’s hand from his collar, staring at him with a deadpan expression. “You people in Londinium better watch yourselves, aye?”
Marlon pulled his hand away from him roughly. "This is our Kingdom; you cannot change that no matter what you think."
“I beg to differ,” Jackseye scowled, walking past him to exit the building, the Barons following closely behind.
Marlon watched them go. "Don't expect such a warm welcome the next time you show up here again," he said lightly, closing the door and sliding the lock into place.
