Chapter Text
Part 0
The desperate echo of words reverberated, "These foes' powers are beyond us!" as she emerged from the inner chambers, panting and struggling. She had taken refuge there, conserving her magical energy, well aware of the dire circumstances that compelled her retreat.
There it stood—The Castle, a grand edifice steeped in both history and mystique. Its towering spires reached for the heavens, a symbol of the realm's power and magic. Her siblings were right there, launching a relentless assault on Merlin's Tower, attempting to breach its defenses and delve into its secrets. The situation looked dire, the walls echoing with the clamor of battle.
She knew her siblings' powers inside out; after all, she had known them since the very dawn of Creation. Their unity was a force to be reckoned with, an indomitable strength that had stood the test of time. Even with one member absent, their might was formidable, a challenge she knew they'd rise to.
"Merlin!" she yelled, her voice strained with exhaustion and urgency.
"Nari!" came the hurried reply as the wizard hurried towards her, robes flowing with purpose.
"This is all my fault," she sighed hopelessly, knowing the truth of her words. Indeed, her presence in the Tower had set this disaster in motion. If only she had sought refuge elsewhere, her comrades would not now be teetering on the brink of mortal peril. Guilt gnawed at her, an unwelcome companion in this critical hour.
Her somber thoughts were interrupted by the warm, reassuring touch of the aged wizard's hand upon her shoulder. "We're going back in time," he began gently, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation, "but I need your help."
Those were the words she desperately needed to hear. If there was a chance to make things right, to undo the ravages of this catastrophic event, she would grasp it with both hands and all her heart.
"I will do what I can," she affirmed, resolve firm in her voice.
And so, Nari of the Eternal Forest had a singular task: to infuse enough energy into the core of Merlin's Tower. Apparently, the wizard had a somewhat crazy plan, a plan that revolved around taking everyone back in time to prevent this cataclysm. It was either an audacious gamble or the work of a genius, and she'd figure out which soon enough. After all, time, for one like her, who had existed since Creation and would persist until its ultimate end, bore little significance.
Nari's exhaustion consumed her thoughts, rendering her unable to think about anything else but her present task. Previous confrontations with her siblings had left her worn and vulnerable, scars that ran deeper than any physical wound.
She had no desire to fight them; she never did, for they were her kin—cherished and missed. The stern yet caring Bellroc, the playful yet wise Skrael—each held a unique place in her heart. They were now up there in the sky, attacking the Castle with all the firepower they had.
How she yearned to have them by her side again.
No! She couldn't let her mind wander like this, not now. She had a job to do, a crucial one because if she succeeded, her friends would survive. Their safety and the preservation of their shared history rested on her shoulders.
Nari walked with wavering steps; the ground was shaking from the blows the castle was enduring in the outside battle. The stone walls trembled under the relentless barrage, a testament to the ferocity of the ongoing clash.
When she reached her destination, she paused and took a moment to appreciate the sight before her. A sphere of vibrant green energy fueled by Camelot's true essence. The Heart of Avalon, a reservoir of immense power and the linchpin of their plan.
Nari knew that Merlin's power paled in comparison to the might of her and the other Primordial Beings, yet even for a mortal, this was no ordinary feat. Merlin, despite his mortal essence, stood as a paragon of magical prowess, revered and respected by many throughout the ages.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts and focused, summoning every last bit of magical energy within her. The incantations swirled in her mind, their resonance echoing through the depths of her being.
Time travel—though not True Magic, it was close. The spell she was about to perform demanded a significant magical cost, one that she was willing to pay in order to set things right.
In a bright glow, the energy from the core combined with her own, resulting in a powerful flash of light that briefly illuminated the chamber. The intensity of the magic was palpable, a tangible force that surged through the room.
Nari grinned at her success; her task was done. Now, it was all up to Merlin. He'd take them back in time, and hopefully, they would be able to avert this disaster and reshape their destiny.
Nari began making her way towards one of the innermost rooms, her steps purposeful yet laden with the weight of fatigue. She was still an immortal being, but with so little magical energy left, she couldn't hope to survive—at least not in the same way humans viewed the term—a direct confrontation with her siblings, who were still attacking the Tower.
Another roar echoed as cannon shots pounded the magically reinforced and temporarily indestructible rock walls. The chaos outside was a tempest, an onslaught that tested the very foundation of the ancient structure.
She opened one of the doors to an inner room, and what she saw surprised her with its absurdity. Two trolls, Blinki and AAARRRGGHH!!!, and a chubby kid were desperately, and somewhat comically, trying to protect what looked like a big green rock. They were more like trying to keep it from moving all over the place, and judging by the boy's exasperated expression, this wasn't their first time attempting to control a runaway rock within the castle's confines.
Nari didn't even get a chance to smile at the ridiculousness of it all when something else caught her eye.
Another intense glow, brighter than before, was emanating from the outside. Nari recognized it instantly. It was the Sacred Sword Excalibur, now wielded by a being who once had been human. Now, a corrupted creature, far removed from the essence it once bore—the Gift that the Primordial Beings had granted to Humanity.
Her legs moved on their own, driven by a potent mix of instinct and purpose. She wasn't entirely sure what she was doing, all that occupied her mind was that glow—the twisted and malevolent light that threatened to devour all in its path.
Her legs carried her between the unsuspecting mortals and the impending blast, a barrier formed of determination and a desire to protect.
The Arcane Order's attack would have succeeded had she not summoned her shield, Svalinn, at the last moment, using the last bit of her magical strength. Svalinn, an ancient artifact infused with protective enchantments, materialized in her grasp, a last line of defense against the onslaught. But even Svalinn, mighty as it was, couldn't hold up against the force of the blast in her weakened state.
The last thing she knew was that she was falling, Svalinn disintegrating in a flash of white-green light. The voices, the companions she had considered her new friends until that very moment, were muffled by the overwhelming tumult of energy that engulfed her. Gravity took over, pulling her backwards, and she fell, unable to defy its relentless force.
In that fleeting moment of descent, her mind raced, memories and hopes intertwining like vines in a forest. She thought of the times long past, when the cosmos was but a dream in the eyes of destiny. She recalled the bonds forged with her siblings, the eons spent nurturing life across worlds, and the unbreakable connection they once shared.
All she hoped as she continued to fall was that her efforts hadn't been in vain, and that she had at least managed to protect the Trollhunter, a beacon of hope in a world besieged by darkness. Their fate hung in the balance, a delicate thread woven into the fabric of time.
With this last thought in mind, Nari of the Eternal Forest closed her eyes, embracing the uncertainty that awaited her. The rush of air and the echoes of battle gradually faded, leaving behind a profound stillness that was both calming and disquieting.
As her consciousness began to fade into the ethereal embrace of the unknown, she found solace in the knowledge that her actions, no matter how feeble they might have seemed, held the potential to alter the course of destiny. The saga was far from over; it was a mere interlude in the grand tapestry of existence. And in that interlude, hope and determination flickered like a distant star, promising a new dawn amidst the encroaching darkness.
Her descent continued, the pull of gravity a relentless force that carried her further into the depths. The surroundings blurred, merging into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, a surreal journey through the annals of existence.
In the midst of the descent, memories flashed before her eyes—a kaleidoscope of moments that defined her journey. She recalled the ancient forests where she had roamed, the tranquil meadows where she had found solace, and the mountains that had echoed with the laughter of her siblings. Those were memories etched in the tapestry of her being, fragments of a life lived across the eons.
But amidst the memories, doubts gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. Had she done enough? Could they truly change the course of destiny? The burden of doubt weighed heavy on her heart, a lingering question in the face of uncertainty.
As she tumbled through the void, she felt a strange sense of detachment—a drifting between realms. It was a sensation akin to being adrift in a vast cosmic ocean, where time and space melded into a fluid continuum. The boundaries between past, present, and future blurred, and she was left with an unsettling awareness of the infinite expanse that surrounded her.
In that moment of profound solitude, she sought solace in the memories of her siblings. Each one was unique, a tapestry of emotions and experiences woven through the eons. Bellroc, the stern yet caring, whose laughter had echoed through the halls of their ancient abode. Skrael, playful yet wise, whose wit had brightened even the darkest of days.
They were her family, her kin, and the thought of their enduring bond brought a flicker of warmth in the cold emptiness of the void. They had faced challenges together, triumphed over adversities, and stood united in the face of cosmic turmoil.
She clung to that sense of unity, drawing strength from the memories of their shared adventures. It was a reminder that, even in the face of uncertainty, they were stronger together. The echoes of their past resonated within her, a testament to the unbreakable bond that had defined their existence.
As the descent continued, she could feel the fabric of reality shift and bend, as if the very essence of existence was in flux. It was a disorienting sensation, like being caught in a whirlwind of possibilities. The tapestry of destiny was a fluid canvas, and they were but brushstrokes upon it.
Amidst the chaos of her fall, a singular thought emerged—a beacon of clarity in the maelstrom of uncertainty. It was a simple truth, one that had guided her through eons of existence: they had each other. Together, they could navigate the currents of fate, rewrite the script of destiny.
With that thought, a spark of determination ignited within her. The fall was no longer a descent into the abyss; it was a journey towards hope, towards the promise of a better future. The uncertainty that had shrouded her heart now gave way to a resolute certainty—a belief in the power of unity, in the strength of their shared purpose.
And so, as she continued her descent through the cosmic void, she embraced the unknown with newfound resolve. The journey ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges and trials, but they would face it together. The interlude was over, and the next chapter awaited, a blank page waiting to be filled with the story of their collective determination and the unyielding spirit that bound them.
As the darkness closed in around her, she whispered a silent prayer for the strength to endure, for the wisdom to chart the right path, and for the unity that would light their way through the encroaching darkness.
For in the tapestry of existence, every thread mattered, and their thread was one of hope and resilience, a beacon that would shine through the darkest of nights. The fall was just the beginning—the prelude to an epic saga that would define the fate of worlds and the destiny of the cosmos itself.
Part 1
Douxie had this gnawing, persistent feeling that fateful morning, stepping out of his apartment with Zoe, that the day was about to go belly-up. He had a knack for these things—no precogniction like Merlin, just a gut feeling that had proven right more times than he could count. And that morning, his gut was practically screaming at him to stay in bed, wrapped up in the cozy embrace of blankets.
"Here we go again," he muttered with a sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, "just a regular ol' day in Arcadia."
He glanced over at Claire and Steve, both clinging on to the eaves of one of Merlin's soaring towers, the wind whipping their hair and clothes in a frenzy. It was an unusual view from up here, and Douxie tried to appreciate the unique vantage point despite the impending sense of doom that clung to the air.
To make matters worse, Steve's incessant whining was driving him up the wall. He despised headaches, and Steve's voice wasn't helping. He wished he could just plug his ears and escape into the world of his thoughts.
In the midst of Douxie's struggle to hold on and not plummet into the unknown abyss below, an unidentified object tumbled out of the time portal, caught in a whirlwind of disarray.
"Who was that?" He heard Steve ask in a shocked voice.
He squinted to get a better look, heart skipping a beat when he saw the familiar shape. "That was..." Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut. "Oh blast it! We are in a lot of trouble," he blurted out without much thought.
"Really? I hadn't noticed!" Steve shot back, wide-eyed and dripping with sarcasm.
Caught off guard and momentarily at a loss for words, Douxie scrambled for a response, a witty retort or some semblance of reassurance. But nothing surfaced as the reality of the situation sank in, and the hopelessness of the moment left him grappling for balance both physically and mentally.
Things were spiraling out of control, and they were hurtling through the unknown at lightspeed. Plus, he had plans to hunt Mephits with Zoe that evening—plans that now seemed impossibly distant.
"Ugh, man, she's gonna have my hide for this," he thought, imagining the disappointed look on Zoe's face. He vowed to make it up to her, if they ever got out of this mess in one piece.
"C'mon, focus!" Claire's urgent call snapped him back to the moment, the raw panic in her voice shaking him from his thoughts.
"What's the plan?" she pressed, unaware of his internal struggle. Truth was, he had a plan, even if it was a risky one. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what had to be done.
"We let go!"
There was a beat of silence, a pregnant pause, as his friends absorbed the weight of his decision.
"What?!" Claire and Steve exclaimed in disbelief, their voices blending in a symphony of incredulity.
Yeah, he wasn't too thrilled about those words either. But leaving Nari stranded in the past wasn't an option, and he knew this was their only shot at making things right. He tightened his grip on Claire's hand, praying to every force out there that this would work.
"Trust me!" he urged, mustering a reassuring smile amidst the uncertainty, before taking the plunge into the time portal, the rush of wind and the disorienting swirl of colors enveloping them.
"Flying castles suck!"
Douxie was inclined to agree at the moment.
And those were the last words he heard before the chaos unfolded—a blend of Steve's distress and awe (though, honestly, it didn't take much to amaze Steve). Plummeting through a time travel vortex from a flying magical castle—definitely making it to his top 5 list. As the time portal was sealed for good, they were swallowed into the abyss of an unknown time.
And then, they were falling—falling.
Douxie blinked his eyes open and realized they were suspended above a sunlit landscape, hurtling towards what seemed like a certain plummet to their deaths. Instinctively, he sifted through the compendium of spells he had amassed over the centuries, swiftly locating the one he needed and cast the incantation.
Several rough tumbles and no doubt a few bruised ribs later, they landed in a jumble on the unforgiving grass. He could hear Steve and Claire moaning beside him.
"What just happened?" mumbled Steve, adjusting an iron helmet that had miraculously found its way onto his head. Leave it to Steve to never make any sense whatsoever.
Douxie sighed, his patience thinning. "Well, I just converted a gravity spell to slow our fall and keep us from dying. You're welcome."
"Douxie, why did you bring us here?" Claire asked, still lying on the grass on her back.
"More importantly, where is here?" Steve chimed in, struggling to rise and scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.
"Wait..." Douxie suddenly stood upright, his eyes darting around the word they had fallen into. "I saw Nari falling..." hebegan murmuring to himself. "She was... she should be here!"
Claire looked momentarily puzzled, trying to recall who Nari was before asking, "Who?"
"Nari!" he exclaimed exasperated. How was he supposed to explain who Nari was to simple sixteen year old humans? That was going to be a problem.
"Oh! You mean that little girl that fell before us?" Steve asked, suddenly remembering who Douxie was talking about.
Well at least one of them remembered what Nari looked like now.
"Yes!" He exclaimed, turning and walking towards Steve who had picked himself up. "Has any one of you seen her?" He asked them again, hoping for an affirmative answer. But, as fate would have it, luck had abandoned him for the day.
"N-no... When I opened my eyes, all I saw was you," Claire stated, rising and gazing upwards at the now empty sky.
"But... she was right in front of us," Douxie said, a lingering perplexity clouding his expression. He was deeply worried about her. Sure, she possessed godlike powers, but the thought of her being lost or worse, harmed, gnawed at him. He couldn't allow that to happen under his watch. "How could she just vanish?"
"I don't know.," Claire whispered.
"Talking about not finding things..." Steve interjected, wildly waving his hands in the air. "Douxie, where's the flying castle?"
He looked up again. "Oh, fuzz buckets."
"Well, it would appear," Douxie began, a sense of foreboding accompanying his words, "We've had ourselves a temporal accident..."
Claire looked at him, confusion and worry on her face. "Which means?
"It means: we're lost in time." The gravity of the situation settled instantly in them. They exchanged glances, a silent pact forming among them—they had faced formidable challenges before, but this, this was an entirely different league.
Then a familiar voice rang out, a voice Douxie recognized all too well. "What manner of sorcery is this?" questioned the Royal Knight facing him.
Douxie gazed momentarily at the figure before him. "Sir Lancelot, um..."
Unbeknownst to him, peculiar noises emanated from behind, presumably due to Steve's antics.
Lancelot, not one to wait, spoke first. "Wait, aren't you Merlin's errand boy?"
"Apprentice," Douxie corrected, a hint of annoyance coloring his voice.
"He's like an angel, man..." Steve muttered, his eyes wide in admiration of the Knight.
This is getting ridiculous...
"What brings you to the forests near the village?" inquired the Knight, his sword still drawn but now slightly inclined toward the ground, recognizing Douxie.
Douxie struggled to find the right words. "Well, uh... we-"
However, Steve had different plans it seemed. "We fell from the sky!"
"What?" came the bewildered chorus from some of the other Knights.
Claire sharply turned towards Steve. "Steve, shut up!" she hissed, but her directive seemed to fall on deaf ears as Steve continued to gawk at Lancelot.
"Excuse my friend here, Sir Lancelot," Douxie interjected before Steve could further complicate matters. "You see... he is the village fool."
The other knights noticeably relaxed at that statement. Claire tried not to raise her eyes, and Steve... well, he seemed unfazed. "There is one in every village..."
Steve's eyes gleamed again. "Oh me! I'm just an insolent knight! All state champ, Sir Steve of Palchukia!"
Douxie almost facepalmed. "See what I mean?"
"I see it well," Sir Lancelot said, paying the "village idiot" no mind. He then turned to the only other member yet to be introduced. "And who is this young Lady?"
"She is... Lady Claire of the House of Nuñez," Douxie introduced.
Claire waved with an embarrassed smile on her face.
"And why are they here?"
Think! Think fast!
"Uh... I've been recruiting them for the war!"
"You recruited a young Lady and the village Idiot?" inquired Lancelot, sporting an unimpressed expression and a raised eyebrow.
"So it seems..." Douxie mumbled, scratching his head and surveying the duo. What a sad sight they were.
Suddenly Claire seemed to process Lancelot's statement and raised her head, staring directly at the knight. "Hey! What do you mean by-"
Douxie instinctively lunged in her direction, whispering urgently. "Hush, Claire please..."
Claire shot him a glare, but Douxie understood her plight. After all, women in the 12th century were confined to certain roles. However, they couldn't afford a confrontation at the moment.
fortunately, or rather unfortunately, Steve chimed in. "So where is this Nari?"
He couldn't have asked a worse question... "No, Steve-"
"Who?" Lancelot interrupted, raising his sword once more. "Someone else got lost in the forest?"
Before Douxie could intervene, Steve had already spoken. "Yeah! You see, she was with us when we fell from the sky," he explained, gesticulating widely, "and when we awoke, she was gone!"
Sir. Lancelot and the other knighs stared at them with wide eyes.
Douxie offered a sheepish smile, placing a hand over Steve's mouth. "Please, pay no heed to the fool's words. He is just-"
"No!" Lancelot exclaimed, slamming his hand against his armored chest. "If someone is lost within these woods, the Knights of the Noble Crown shall find them!" He raised his sword triumphantly, pivoting. "Follow me, my fellow knights!"
As the other knights moved with a clanking symphony of metal and iron, they followed their leader into the woods, splitting into smaller groups to search the forest. Douxie firmly gripped Steve and Claire by their arms, pulling them towards the knights, keeping pace with them.
"Do you have any idea of what you've done?" Douxie exclaimed, almost shouting as he hurried to the front of Lancelot's group, intent on finding Nari before any of the knights did. Steve and Claire still trailed behind him, their faces a mix of confusion and concern.
"What?" Steve retorted, his tone tinged with annoyance as he matched Douxie's fast pace. "They can help us if your friend is still around here-"
"No, you don't understand..." Of course, he couldn't understand. How could Steve or Claire comprehend Nari's true nature? Douxie mused, trying to calm the adrenaline rush. He took a deep breath and continued, "If they find Nari... things are not gonna end well."
Concerned by Douxie's expression, Claire stepped beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, attempting to capture his attention and stopping him mid-step. "What do you mean?"
Douxie, now halted, turned around to face the confused gazes of the two young students. "In this era, trolls and magical creatures are still hunted."
Steve found this perplexing. "What? But why?"
"The witch hunts," muttered Claire after a moment.
Douxie nodded. "Partly... It's..." He sighed again. "It's a long story. The point is that they mustn't harm Nari."
"But, who is she?" Steve asked, now actively attempting to locate Nari after Douxie's explanation. A newfound determination and concern flashed in Steve's eyes, possibly remorse for drawing the knights' attention to her. "She doesn't look like a typical troll." He commented as he stuck his head inside a random bush, shaking his head when he didn't find anyone there except a family of squirrels. When he emerged back from the bush, he rummaged through his hair, extracting several red berries.
"That's because she isn't a troll," Douxie said, swatting the berries away.
Steve glared at him.
Douxie continued to follow the knights in front of them, ignoring steve' annoyance.
"Those are poisonous..." Claire pointed out, pulling Steve away from the potentially dangerous berries. As she rejoined Douxie, she asked, "So, what is she?"
"She-" Before he could explain, a new voice startled them all.
"Sir Lancelot! I've found someone!"
Douxie, Steve, and Claire turned, witnessing one of the knights completely inside a bush they had evidently missed, peering at something on the ground.
"C'mon, let's go!" Claire tugged at the boys' sleaves.
The boys maneuvered to get closer before the other knights did, dodging elbows and pushing their way through. When they arrived, they found a small, motionless creature curled up on the ground.
Oh no... Douxie thought, This is bad. This is really bad. What do I do now?
One of the knights raised his sword, preparing to strike. "What kind of creature is that?"
Another knight attempted to approach, but Douxie sprang into action, shielding Nari and spreading his arms. "Don't hurt her!"
"What is the matter with you, boy?" came Lancelot's voice as he advanced towards them, sword raised.
"She is not a threat!" Douxie shouted, standing firm in front of his friend.
Sir Lancelot was unyielding, shoving Douxie aside with a gloved hand on his collar. Douxie crashed onto the ground, his head spinning from the sudden movement, then he looked up at the man.
"King Arthur banished trolls from this land. This intruder must be dealt with!"
"No!" Claire exclaimed, sprinting forward but getting grabbed by one of the other knights.
It seemed that all was lost—the sword was descending toward the defenseless creature. Douxie couldn't use his magic outside the castle without Merlin's presence; he would be executed for using magic. Douxie closed his eyes, not wanting to witness the inevitable. However, the ensuing crunch wasn't one he recognized from witnessing countless battles throughout his long life. It wasn't the usual sound of living flesh being cut by a sword.
Douxie opened his eyes and what he saw left him in awe.
Steve Palchuk stood, hands raised, clutching the sword on both sides of the blade, keeping it in place, away from Nari. He was shielding the defenseless creature, using his hands and body as a barrier. "But that isn't a troll!" Douxie heard Steve exclaim, his voice quivering from the pain in his hands, blood now trickling down his arms.
"Stand aside!" Lancelot demanded, attempting to raise his sword, but Steve stood his ground.
"He speaks the truth! Don't you see, my Lord!" Douxie attempted to explain, seizing this chance that Steve had provided. He wouldn't waste this opportunity.
Meanwhile, Nari of the Eternal Forest remained unconscious, oblivious to the events unfolding around her.
In a burst of anger, Lancelot yanked the sword forcefully, causing more harm to Steve's palms. The teen, unable to endure the pain any longer, had to release the sword. "Enough of this nonsense! This trespassing troll shall perish!"
Claire, who had been observing and pondering a solution until now, stepped forward and confidently spoke. "Don't you see that the sun isn't harming her?"
This statement made Lancelot pause. In confusion, he examined the creature at his feet. Douxie could see the knight deep in thought, as if he had never encountered a magical creature besides wizards that didn't burn under the sun. And in fact, that was the case. From what Douxie could recall, Lancelot and the inhabitants of Camelot had yet to encounter magical creatures beyond trolls.
One of the knights approached his superior. "My Lord, it seems the foreigners are correct," he said, gesturing toward them.
"Sir Lancelot, the King's orders are to eliminate any trespassing trolls," another knight interjected, approaching the creature, "but she isn't a troll."
"That," Lancelot said, pointing towards the ground, "still is a magical creature," Lancelot stated, sheathing his sword. "We shall take it to Camelot and let the king decide its' fate," he directed his knights to take the creature with them and transport her to Camelot.
Douxie noticed Claire wanted to stop them, but now he was the one placing his hand on her shoulder to pacify her. "We will save her."
"But..."
"We don't leave our own behind," Douxie reassured her.
After a few moments, Claire seemed to decide she trusted him and nodded.
Douxie then heard Steve, still seated on the ground, moan as he cradled his hands.
Douxie took a few steps towards him and gently took his hands, turning them around and inspecting his wounds. They weren't deep, but he was sure they hurt a lot. Douxie activated his bracelet, his back still facing the knights, and sought out one of the few healing spells he had managed to learn during the years. He waved his hand over the wounds.
Everything glowed a phosphorescent blue for a second, and then the wounds began to heal.
Steve sighed in relief. "Thanks, man."
"How did you do it?" Douxie asked, letting the spell complete its job.
Steve tilted his head to the side. "Do what?"
"Stop Lancelot," Claire clarified for Douxie, having guessed what his question was about.
"I-I don't know," Steve hesitated for a second, seemingly trying to find the right words to describe what had happened. "I just saw an opportunity and took it."
"You were brilliant," Douxie said, smiling. After the spell had healed the boy's wounds, he helped Steve up. "Oh, no no, don't wipe away the blood," he rushed to stop him, and at Steve looked puzzled as he explained. "If they see the blood, they won't think about the wounds having healed. You know... I'm not supposed to use magic outside of the castle."
Steve nodded in understanding. "Alright."
The three friends exchanged a quick glance before they started walking towards Camelot, preceded by the knights.
Needless to say, Douxie had a terrible feeling about all this. None of this had ever happened in the past, of course.
He raised his head towards the sky, judging from the position of the sun; it was about noon. Usually, at this hour, his past self would be milking the slor. The very thought of the creature's milk made him feel queasy.
But a thought came back to his mind. None of this should have happened!
They were actually in the past. One minor alteration could change their timeline forever. But... Nari hadn't been captured the first time, and certainly, Claire and Steve were not supposed to be in this era.
Douxie wanted to clench his hands in his hair, hoping an idea would forcefully pop into his head.
What if only their presence here had already changed everything they knew as the future?
It was with these thoughts in mind that Douxie walked with his friends towards what he had once considered the way home, his head full of doubts and his heart burdened by uncertainty.
Part 2
"So... this is truly the Camelot of the 12th century?" Claire voiced her astonishment, though Douxie had already clarified the time period. For ordinary humans like them, a temporal accident of this magnitude was beyond belief.
"Yes," Douxie affirmed, offering a reassuring smile at Claire's bewildered expression.
"It's Friday!"
Douxie and Claire swiveled simultaneously to regard the boy playfully dubbed the Village Idiot. Douxie found himself more perplexed than anything else. "Uh... what?"
Steve sighed, as if the answer were obvious, responding, "The final movie of Sally Go-Back is due today! I was supposed to watch it with Da... I mean Coach Lawrence."
Unable to contain his curiosity, Douxie inquired, "You and Coach Lawrence watch Sally Go-Back? Also, it might have been Friday half an hour ago before we fell into the portal, but now it's surely not Friday."
"Are we truly discussing this?" Claire interjected, exasperation etched across her youthful visage.
"I concur, Claire," Douxie acknowledged, scratching his head, "and here I presumed Steve was more of a Gun Robot Friday-night enthusiast."
"Did you guys miss the part where we fell from a flying castle into the 12th century through a time travel portal?" Claire inquired, and in unison, Douxie and Steve redirected their attention toward her. "There's no Wi-Fi connection here!" she stated, as if addressing actual children.
Douxie seemed to grasp her point, but Steve asked, "So... no messages?"
Claire turned and scrutinized the other boy. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response..."
"Well, it's not the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Steve shrugged.
"Same here," Claire concurred, following Steve and Douxie as they ambled on, passing more taverns and shops while making their way to King Arthur's castle, "you weren't there when Toby's Grandma gave him an extra pair of underwear."
Both Douxie and Steve found themselves gawking at the girl beside them, dumbstruck.
"It's a long story, and no, I'm not elaborating on it."
As she declared this, Steve lowered the finger he had raised to inquire about Toby's underwear.
Amid Douxie's laughter, a voice jolted him to a sudden halt.
"Where do you think you are going, Hisirdoux?"
The older boy whirled around, standing rigid with his arms by his sides. "Master Merlin!"
"I entrusted you with the task of milking the Slor at least an hour ago," the aged wizard remarked as he approached the trio. "You've managed not to succeed in milking the Slor for one hour, I must say, you've outdone yourself."
Douxie chuckled awkwardly. "Thanks?"
Merlin waved a dismissive hand. "Enough distractions. Just go and- who are they?"
"Oh!" Douxie exclaimed, eyeing the other two. "They're-"
Douxie began to explain, but Steve interjected, excitement gleaming in his eyes. "We are Knights for the war, Sir Wizard Extraordinaire."
Douxie facepalmed.
"It's Merlin," the master wizard corrected.
"Sir. Wizard Merlin Extraordinaire." Steve grinned, oblivious to Douxie's glare and Merlin's bemused stare.
After that, Douxie turned to Claire and whispered, "He's not even doing this on purpose, is he?"
Claire simply shrugged. "He's always like this."
"Sir Lancelot tasked your errand boy with showing us around," Steve chimed in as he proceeded, taking the wrong turn. Douxie had to follow, grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt and steering him in the correct direction.
"Well, my errand boy can give you a tour," Merlin chimed with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "starting with the Slor."
Douxie sighed. "I'm still here..."
"We know."
Only then did Merlin's words fully register with the boy. "Starting with- but, Master!"
Merlin turned towards him, paying no heed to Douxie's imploring gaze. "No 'buts,' Hisirdoux. Now go."
The boy let out an exasperated sigh, firmly gripping Claire and Steve by their sleeves, practically dragging them toward the stalls where the Slor was last seen. If he had to endure this annoyance, at least Claire and Steve should bear witness.
"Errand boy?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow at Steve's choice of words.
Steve, as nonchalant as ever, just shrugged. But the term "errand boy" stung Douxie, reminding him of his status as a wizard's apprentice. Even in this time, where his magical abilities were restricted, it still bothered him.
While Steve mindlessly scratched at his still bloodstained hands, Claire approached Douxie, her expression questioning. "Where do you reckon they're taking Nari?"
"If I still know Sir Lancelot, he'll take her directly to the King," Douxie remarked, casting a wary eye toward the knight a few meters ahead of them. However, to his surprise, instead of heading toward the main entrance of Arthur's palace, Lancelot and his men took a left turn, descending into a section of the castle rarely touched by sunlight. "No, wait. They're taking her to the dungeons."
Claire frowned. "They're just going to imprison her?"
Steve, displaying his usual nonchalance, chimed in, "Still better than the alternative," his tone light, recalling how Lancelot had initially sought to kill Nari on sight and rubbing his hands on his sleeve, staining his blue shirt red.
"Isn't this a good thing?" Claire asked, noticing Douxie's troubled expression.
"Good thing?" Douxie repeated, gazing at Claire and then Steve, his brown eyes widening with anxiety. "This is a disaster! We shouldn't even be here!" he exclaimed.
"I know, but how hard can it be?" Steve shrugged, not fully grasping the gravity of the situation. "We just need to get Nari out, and that's it."
"That's not it!" Douxie responded, his exasperation mounting. "You don't understand; we're in a lot of trouble as it is."
Steve waved his hands dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, all that wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey... stuff, we get it."
Douxie sighed. How was he even supposed to begin explaining everything the Arcane Order did and still does for humanity? "No, you can't even begin to 'get it,' and by the way, was that a Doctor Who quote?"
Steve grinned. "I'm a big fan."
Claire rolled her eyes. "Ugh... boys."
"So, want to tell us why all this is a disaster?" Steve asked, picking up his pace to catch up with Douxie and Claire. "Sure, we're kind of tourists in Medieval Camelot, but if we got here, we can also get back to our time."
Douxie began explaining, taking pity on the other two, but then he became suddenly aware of the stares from nearby people who had overheard Steve's words. Douxie couldn't really fault them, Steve's voice was on another whole level of decibels—which hadn't been discovered yet as of now. Douxie needed to be cautious; these people would think of him as mad. They already knew he was a "witch"; no need to add to their confusion. "There are too many people here. Let's just get to the stalls; I'll explain everything on the way."
As the three teenagers—two teenagers and a nine-year-old wizard apprentice—made their way toward the stalls, Douxie began explaining in hushed tones. "Nari is a member of the Arcane Order."
Steve scratched his head.
Claire blinked rapidly, her way of indicating she was trying to remember something. Apparently, she didn't succeed, so she asked, "Never heard of this Arcane Order before."
"Of course you haven't," Douxie replied, as they moved closer to the stalls. "It's not common knowledge for normal humans like you. The Arcane Order is essentially comprised of three Gods."
Claire frowned. "Gods?"
"Yes, ancient sorcerers who created everything in the universe."
At this, Claire and Steve gazed at him, their faces reflecting astonishment. After a brief pause, Steve inquired, "So, this Nari I saw falling with us through the time portal, that little girl," he added, gesturing at about the height of the little Goddess, "she's a God?"
"Exactly," Douxie confirmed, veering to the left and beckoning for Claire and Steve to hurry and follow him. "Remember those two other Sorcerers we encountered earlier?"
"The two weirdos attacking Merlin's flying castle?" Steve questioned, a quizzical eyebrow raised.
"Yes, Skrael of the North Wind and Bellroc, Keeper of the Flame. They're the other two members of the Arcane Order."
"And, if I'm understanding correctly, they attacked us because they want to wipe out humanity?" Claire inquired as the trio finally reached the stalls.
Douxie paused in front of the stall, their destination reached. "It's a tad more complex than that," Douxie commented, wincing as he removed the wooden lid of a wine barrel, which he had often used as a shield during his apprenticeship in this era. "Nari mentioned that they lost faith in humanity due to the damage we've inflicted upon the planet."
As he was about to step into the stall, Claire halted him. "You mean, all the pollution and extreme weather changes?"
Douxie sighed. "Yes, Nari and her siblings entrusted us with this planet. We ruined it, and now, well..."
"Now they're angry?" Steve offered.
"Yeah," Douxie agreed. That was essentially how he'd feel towards humans in the same situation as the Arcane Order.
Steve waved his hands in the air. Douxie still saw confusion in his brown eyes, but that was to be expected after such a revelation. "Okay, so we've got a bunch of Gods who want to harm us... but this Eternal Forest Lady, she's on our side, right?"
"Yeah," Douxie nodded as he ventured toward the stall again, clutching his makeshift shield tightly. He really didn't want to do this. "Skrael and Bellroc want her back with them, or maybe I should say wanted... will want?" Another headache was coming... he could feel it. "We're in the past, so everything that was happening in Arcadia in the 21st century is..." he tried to find the right word to describe the situation, "stalled."
Claire's dark brown eyes widened in understanding. "You mean, now that we're in the past, the future might not be the same as the one we came from?"
"Exactly."
He stood there, grappling with the weight of the revelations, acutely aware of the profound shock it had cast upon his two friends, as well as upon himself. Their future, after all, was his own as well.
"Douxie?"
Claire's voice cut through his reverie, prompting him to shift his attention towards her. She and Steve were watching him, silently. "Yes?"
"What exactly are you doing?" she asked, gesturing towards the wooden shield he clutched.
"Milking the Slor," he replied absentmindedly.
Silence lingered for a few seconds.
Steve and Claire continued to watch him, the implications sinking in. Steve, however, ventured closer, prodding his arm with a still red-ish finger. "You're still here."
"I know!" He pushed open the stall doors and a putrid stench assaulted his senses, almost making him retch. "Ugh..." He attempted to step inside, but after a few seconds, he darted out. "No no no... I'm not doing this," then he turned. "Hey, Steve!"
The other boy turned towards him.
"Wanna give milking the Slor a try?"
"Yeah!"
"Do you know how—" Douxie began, but Steve cut him off with an air of confidence.
"Don't worry. I've milked Bessie a bunch of times before. I'm a seasoned pro," he declared, thumping his chest.
Claire rolled her eyes. "Bessie?"
"I thought I already told you," Steve mumbled, launching into an elaborate recounting. "Alright, so a few weeks ago, my space girlfriend and I were kidnapped by these weird aliens and—"
Douxie opted to tune out as Steve delved into his tale. He turned to Claire, Steve's relentless banter fading into the background. "He's got a space girlfriend?"
Claire could only nod, a bit bewildered. "And apparently, a cow too."
"Leave it to Steve to make no sense whatsoever," Douxie muttered, observing the boy as he ventured into the stall.
A few seconds later, a squelchy sound echoed, accompanied by Steve's horrified yelp.
And... with that, the Slor claimed another unwitting victim. The whole scenario seemed both bizarre and absurd, adding to the already surreal nature of their circumstances.
Steve emerged from the Slor stall, struggling with the barrel of blue milk now on the floor, with a mix of triumph and exasperation on his face. Douxie struggled to stifle his laughter. He knew firsthand the struggle of milking a Slor, especially this particular one. After a few seconds of watching Steve, Claire cleared her throat and asked, "Anyway... how do we go back?"
Yes, that was indeed a crucial question. Douxie already had an idea of how to return, but he had a sinking feeling it wouldn't be as simple as their arrival had been. Their luck had run thin for the day. "The time map. We can use it to get back to our time and see if our actions have altered anything," he explained. "It should be in Merlin's laboratory."
Steve, regaining some strength, deposited the barrel at Douxie's feet, sporting a triumphant grin despite the blue stains on his face. "Then let's go get it."
Easier said than done.
"No. First, we need to free Nari. Follow me," Douxie instructed, beginning to make his way towards the dungeons. He couldn't afford to delay any longer; if she woke up... he dreaded what could happen.
"Douxie!" Claire called out after him. "Where are we going?"
"To the dungeons," he replied over his shoulder.
"Uh, isn't the 'see if anything we did changed the future' part more important than freeing Forest Lady?" Steve asked, stumbling on the stairs, an atrocius smell emanating from his hands and shirt.
Douxie needed to use magic to clean him; otherwise, the stench wouldn't fade anytime soon. He knew from experience that regular soap couldn't eliminate the smell. However, there was no time to take care of it now, so he pushed the thought aside and continued, with the other two teenagers in tow.
"I mean, it's not cool that she's imprisoned, but from what I've heard, the king only wants to execute trolls, and Nari is definitely not a troll," Steve argued, grabbing a clothespin lying around and applying it to his nose with a relieved sigh.
As they turned the final corner, they found themselves in front of the dark stairs leading to the dungeons, guarded by three sentinels.
The guards leaned against the corner, peering out one above the other, lazily observing the dungeon entrance. Two were half asleep, sitting awkwardly on their chairs, while the third rested against the wall, disinterestedly watching two cats squabble over fallen bread crumbs.
"Douxie?" Claire whispered.
He waved a hand in her direction, signaling for silence, and cast a Disillusionment Charm that took the form of a shiny blue mouse. The cats spotted it and scrambled over each other to reach it. Douxie smirked, guiding the mouse towards the drowsy guards. The cats swarmed them within seconds, sparking pandemonium.
In the ensuing chaos, Douxie gestured for the others to follow him and they descended the stairs. However, he had to grab Steve's shirt, who had taken out his phone and begun recording the hapless guards battling hungry cats, and pulling him downstairs. "I'll explain later. Come on, Steve."
Once inside, Douxie illuminated the area with a phosphorescent blue light coming from his hand, a sharp contrast to the dungeons' darkness.
As they ventured forth, they could see, thanks to Douxie's light, that most cells were occupied by magical creatures, large and small. Many were trolls, wearied and defeated. Douxie felt a surge of empathy; he couldn't stand by and watch these creatures be condemned just like that.
They searched for a few minutes before finding her.
"Guys, over here," Claire announced, pointing towards a smaller cell.
Douxie approached the cell, guided by Claire's voiec. He saw her, lying on the ground, her normally enchanting eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. "Thank goodness she's still unconscious!"
"Douxie, you're not making any sense," Claire complained as she knelt down to examine the little Goddess, peering through the metal bars, Steve following her movements with his eyes for a moment.
Steve then drew nearer. "I had a concussion once. It was no fun..."
"What does this have to do with anything?" Claire asked almost in an exasperated tone.
"I'm saying maybe that's why Forest Lady isn't awake yet. You know... concussion?"
"Hey guys, quiet," Douxie hushed them, turning around and raising a finger to his lips. "I need to do this without making any noise; we might alert the guards." He proceeded to illuminate the cell bars with a phosphorescent yellow light, preparing to cast a diagnostic spell to ascertain Nari's condition. After that...
"Hey! What are you doing down here?"
Startled, Douxie lost concentration, his magic ceasing to flow outward. They turned to see the three guards, now at the top of the stairs, holding lanterns that cast light into the dungeon.
"How did they find us? My Disillusionment spell—" his thoughts raced too quickly for his tongue to form coherent words, and he started to activate his bracelet to check his active spells.
"We followed the smell," deadpanned one of the guards, walking towards the intruders.
"That..." Douxie was momentarily at a loss for words. "That actually checks out."
"You milked the Slor, didn't you?" another one chimed in, pinching his nose with a grimace.
"It was horrible..." Steve lamented, casting his eyes down onto his ruined shirt. One of the guards took hold of his arms and dragged him towards the stairs. "Hey! Let go, dude!"
"Wait, where are you taking us?" Claire inquired, her and Douxie being also pulled up the stairs towards the outside world by the collars of their shirts. Douxie stole a glance at Nari; she was still unconscious and oblivious to everything that was happening around her.
But for how long? Was the only question that pressed against Douxie's thoughts like a hammer.
"To the king," stated the guard holding Douxie, his the metal chest plate pressing uncomfortably against the wizard's back. "You tried to free these monsters. You are charged with treason."
The three exchanged wide-eyed looks.
This was not going well... at all.
"Oh Fuzz Buckets." Douxie scrambled to think of a plan to get them out of this situation. He knew they had to act fast to avoid any further trouble. A feeling was suddenly crushing everything though, Douxie knew it well. Failure. He had failed them all.
Part 3
Merlin, lost in the intricate web of time's passage, found it a daunting endeavor to measure the expanse of days and nights he had dedicated to the creation of the Amulet of Daylight. The incessant flow of weeks seamlessly transitioned into months, yet the elusive moment of completing the Amulet of Daylight remained hopelessly distant. Whenever the King summoned him, inquiring about the weapon that bore the weight of their salvation, Merlin would respond with the unwavering assurance of, "Very soon, my King."
However, the king could discern the veiled truth behind Merlin's words. In the shared glances between them, there was an unspoken understanding. The King undoubtedly knew that Merlin, the most powerful wizard of their era, wasn't telling the whole truth. In reality, the chosen configuration stood incomplete or incompatible—Merlin grappled with understanding which. He stood at the threshold of achievement and failure, on the verge of uniting all the pieces, yet that pivotal missing link remained maddeningly elusive, hindering the completion of the weapon.
One radiant morning of May, Merlin stood within the sanctuary of his laboratory, pieces of metal scattered all around his worktable, and Merlin balanced on the precipice of yet another nervous breakdown. Given his foul mood, increasingly prone to volatility of late, this proved an inopportune moment to succumb to panic; preserving focus remained paramount.
As Merlin prepared to cast a levitation spell upon the scattered metal shards, a minor disturbance resonated outside the confines of his laboratory. Quick footsteps and anxious murmurs announced the arrival of a familiar figure—Hisirdoux, young and determined, burdened by a precarious stack of books. "Good morning, Master. I brought—"
"Hush, Hisirdoux," Merlin interjected, a frustated sigh escaping him as the once-floating green-glowing pieces fell for what felt like the umpteenth upon the circular wooden table beside the window. "I must concentrate, and all your chattering distracts me," he remarked, idly scratching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes momentarily.
In the periphery of his consciousness, he noticed Hisirdoux's sigh and the boy's journey toward the central table of the room. Merlin observed the books scattered on the floor outside the lab, silently empathizing it with a look towards his incompetent apprentice. He moved to assist the young wizard, only narrowly evading an impending flurry of books—a fortunate evasion, in Douxie's case. They bore a dark blue luminescence, propelled into the room with significant velocity.
"Did you see that, Master?" Hisirdoux exclaimed, the books swaying precariously in his hands as he navigated the room. Merlin stationed himself nearby, ready to catch either the books or his apprentice, in case of an imminent fall of either of them.
Noting Merlin's pointed glare, the boy carefully placed the remaining books on the central table and offered a defeated murmur, "Apologies, Master."
"Hisirdoux, you have diverted my attention for long enough," Merlin stated, moving toward the secondary table where he had been working, seating himself once more. While he usually worked on his feet, the hours of fruitless attempts had left him weary and tired. There was no need to further exhaust himself. A thought then dawned on him. "Have you attended to the Slor?"
Simultaneously, Hisirdoux arranged the books, starting the process of organizing them in the library, wincing at the mere mention of the creature's name. "Not yet, Master, I was—"
"You have not, haven't you?" Merlin nearly yelled. "It has been at least two hours, Hisirdoux!" he exclaimed, recalling when he had asked his apprentice that same morning.
"W-What?" Hisirdoux seemed unusually flustered. "Two hours? But I—"
"Enough of this, Hisirdoux," Merlin interjected, striving not to grow more exasperated. This entire situation proved distracting, and he could ill-afford further loosing time.
As he refocused on the matter at hand, he scarcely noticed the boy hastily exiting the room, only to return minutes later, panting and resting his arms on the table.
"Well, Master... there is a minor complication..." Hisirdoux began.
Merlin did not lift his head. Navigating Hisirdoux's mishaps while immersed in his work was a familiar aspect of their routine. "The Slor... it's... it has been attended to..."
At this, Merlin heard the boy fall silent. He raised his head, the greying strands of hair falling over his forehead. "Then where is the Slor's juice?" A realization struck him. "Did you break the jar again?"
"No, no," the boy shook his head. "It's just that the Slor has already been milked, but- I can't find the jar... I don't-"
The Master Wizard merely stared at his apprentice. "You can't find the jar?" Merlin spoke those words very calmly, one by one. "And why is that, pray tell?"
"I-I... don't know," Hisirdoux stammered, looking bewildered.
"I don't have time for this, Hisirdoux," the Wizard said, shaking his head and reclaiming his seat beside his working table. "The king entrusted me with a task, and I must complete it. Cease attempting feeble excuses and just go. You'll be finished in no time."
"But, Master, I'm not lying—"
With a resounding bang, the door flung open, and a stout, mustachioed man staggered in, struggling with armor that was evidently too tight for him. "Merlin! I mean—Sir Merlin... Sir Wizard..."
Said wizard, now leaning against the back of his chair, sighed and realized he would accomplish nothing this morning. He might as well lend an ear to this other interruption as well. "Yes, yes, what is it, Galahad?"
"We have a situation," Galahad paused, turning his head to the right. "Wait, is that...?"
"What?" Merlin inquired.
"Your errant boy?" Galahad pointed toward the boy, who now held a few books in his left hand and was shelving one with his other hand.
"Apprentice..." Merlin heard Hisirdoux mutter, exasperated.
"Yes, that would be him," Merlin confirmed.
"But I could have sworn I saw him..." Galahad rubbed his eyes and stared intensely, almost incredulously, at the boy. "He was being taken to the king."
Now Merlin was thoroughly confounded, an unusual occurrence. "The king?"
"Yes, charged with treason."
"Treason?!" Hisirdoux yelped, losing his grip on the books, which came crashing to the ground for the second time that morning. "I-I'm right here, Master! I wasn't... treason... I didn't..." The boy began to babble incoherently, the books forgotten on the wooden floor.
Merlin rose from his seat and, with assured steps, approached the boy, placing a placating hand on his shoulder. Hisirdoux raised his head, scared hazel eyes meeting the calm, aged blue gaze of the wizard. "Calm yourself. Stay here," Merlin then turned towards the armoured man. "Galahad, keep watch over the boy and ensure no one sees him. I'll speak with the King."
"Yes, Merlin," Galahad saluted, standing by Hisirdoux's side.
"Master Merlin, I didn't..." Hisirdoux started, the words struggling to find their way.
Merlin, now standing by the door, turned around. "Hush, Hisirdoux. I need to understand the situation before getting mad at you. Be a dutiful apprentice and remain here. Do you understand?"
Hisirdoux nodded. "Yes, Master."
Merlin acknowledged Hisirdoux with a subtle inclination of his head, parting the heavy wooden door of his laboratory. The ancient oak yielded reluctantly, granting access to a cavernous hallway adorned with flickering torches that danced and cast long, quivering shadows on the rugged stone walls. The wizard moved through this corridor, its walls steeped in history, each brick echoing whispers of battles fought and decisions made.
As he journeyed towards the King's hall, a sense of urgency imbued his every step, the scents of polished wood and beeswax mingling in the air, reminiscent of times when the kingdom was steeped in prosperity. He passed by an array of guards stationed stoically, their armor glistening under the torchlight, their eyes watching him, yet ultimately seeing nothing more than the robes and mantle of the Castle's revered sorcerer.
He finally arrived at the grand antechamber. The towering double doors stood sentinel, embossed with regal crests and embellished with intricate carvings, bearing witness to an age of chivalry. Merlin took a moment to gather his resolve, his breath steadying, before he pushed the massive doors open. The ensuing creak seemed to reverberate through the expanse of the castle, a herald to the unfolding drama within.
Within the opulent hall, the court convened, a tableau of power and intrigue. King Arthur, seated upon the throne adorned with jewels and ornate tapestry, held court. The flickering torches cast moving patterns of light and shadow across the vaulted ceiling, adding to the air of solemnity. Lancelot, a steadfast figure of valor, stood by the king's side, the shimmering armor emphasizing his dedication and loyalty.
Merlin's sharp eyes quickly found Hisirdoux, standing with an unmistakable air of unease amongst the young nobles. His brows furrowed, trying to discern the nuances of the situation. He had to tread carefully, for he sensed that more than met the eye was at play. It was paramount to shield Hisirdoux, his loyal apprentice, from further scrutiny and allegations.
Addressing the assembly, Merlin chose his words with caution. "Here stand the accused, my Lord," Sir Lancelot declared, breaking the tense silence.
King Arthur leaned forward, his piercing gaze scrutinizing the trio before him. "Treason, among all charges?"
Merlin considered the gravity of the accusation, his mind racing to fathom the true nature of the situation. "I understand how damning this may seem, my King. However, appearances can be deceptive," he interjected, hoping to steer the discourse toward a resolution, all while safeguarding Hisirdoux from unwarranted condemnation.
"Silence, when the King speaks!" Lancelot's authoritative voice resonated, reprimanding the young apprentice. The chamber held its collective breath, awaiting Merlin's next move.
It was at this juncture that Merlin chose to intervene. "Hisirdoux!" he exclaimed, seeking to catch his apprentice's gaze and offer reassurance amidst the rising tension.
The King's eyes shifted toward Merlin, a flicker of recognition reflecting within. "Merlin? Do you recognize these alleged traitors?"
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Merlin affirmed, approaching the trio. He offered a respectful bow, signifying his unwavering loyalty. "One of them seems to possess an uncanny talent for finding himself entangled in the wrong circumstances at the wrong time," he added, subtly hinting at Hisirdoux's predicament. A gasp from Hisirdoux affirmed Merlin's suspicion, yet he chose to let the moment unfold, allowing his apprentice the chance to confess the misunderstanding.
"So it appears," the King responded, reassured by the presence of his venerable Wizard.
"Did I not instruct you to attend to the Slor?" Merlin gently reprimanded, subtly redirecting the focus toward a task that required immediate attention. He hoped that by engaging the King in a different matter, he could discern the true essence of this enigma and protect Hisirdoux from unjust accusations.
In the realm of Merlin's sanctum, where secrets and ancient knowledge held their own silence, the air trembled with charged emotion. Hisirdoux stood before his master, his youthful visage marked by a blend of determination and uncertainty. Within those expressive eyes lay a subtle hint of transformation, strands of his hair now adorned with ethereal shades of blue, embodying a change that was more than superficial. This was a Hisirdoux that Merlin had never encountered before.
The solemnity of the moment was soon disrupted by the sudden intrusion of Sir Lancelot, the resonance of his armor commanding attention as he strode purposefully into the chamber. His accusation, laden with weight, hung in the air, fracturing the tranquility of the space. "Your apprentice, Merlin, is under arrest with the charge of treason against our revered King Arthur," he proclaimed, the words echoing through the room like a somber knell.
Merlin, the sagacious and venerable wizard, could not readily accept such an accusation. With a dismissive wave, he sought to deflect the allegations. "He is but a boy," he asserted, attempting to downplay the severity of the accusation that threatened to sever the bond of loyalty that bound master and apprentice.
However, the tempestuous tempest of accusations was not easily stilled. The King, Arthur, with an authoritative presence befitting his crown, intervened forcefully. A mighty strike upon the armrest of his throne marked his resolve, and his voice, resonant and commanding, cut through the tension that hung like a storm cloud. "Merlin, these children were found in the dungeon, attempting to free the troll creatures."
The revelation struck Merlin with astonishment, his brows arching in disbelief. He urgently needed to quell this rising storm of misunderstanding. A hasty gesture toward Hisirdoux, the apprentice with oddly positioned feet, emphasized his point. "Break them free? Have you seen my apprentice? He has feet for hands," he exclaimed in a fervent bid to highlight the absurdity of the situation.
Sir Lancelot remained unconvinced, skepticism etched on his features, a blade ready to cut through falsehoods. He pressed on, seeking the truth beneath the surface. "This doesn't begin to explain why he was found in the dungeons with these two children," he challenged, unwavering in his duty to protect the realm.
A moment of resolute courage emerged as Hisirdoux, with raised hand and unwavering gaze, asked for the floor. King Arthur granted the young apprentice permission to speak. "As I informed Sir Lancelot," Hisirdoux began, his tone measured and articulate, "I had sought to recruit these two for the war effort." He gestured gracefully towards the companions by his side, introducing Sir Steve of Palchukia and Lady Claire of the House of Nuñez.
A wave of revelation washed over the court as the truth emerged from the shadows. Lady Claire, gathering her courage, voiced their predicament. "No, my Lord. We simply lost our way," she affirmed, her words a plea for understanding.
In a moment of candor, Sir Steve added, "Indeed! We did not intend to stumble upon your dungeon, sire."
The Throne room fell silent, the weight of understanding sinking in. Their intentions, once shrouded in suspicion, now stood revealed as mere misadventure. The atmosphere shifted, leaving a space for resolution to take root amidst the hallowed halls of Merlin's domain.
Hisirdoux released a weighted sigh, a manifestation of his fatigue and exasperation in this bewildering circumstance. "Pay no heed, my Lord. He's but a village simpleton," he offered, seeking to downplay the confounding presence of his inexplicable doppelgänger.
Observant as ever, Merlin caught a fleeting flicker of unease crossing the King's visage. Seizing the moment, he retreated a few measured steps towards his young apprentice, extending a steadying hand to rest upon the boy's shoulder. Although Hisirdoux wriggled in discomfort, attempting to break free, Merlin's grip remained firm, a symbol of constancy amid the escalating complexity of the situation.
"In light of the resolution, we shall take our leave," Merlin declared, a gracious intent to gracefully extract themselves from this courtly entanglement evident in his words.
Yet, King Arthur's authoritative voice resonated, momentarily halting their departure. "Hold a moment, Merlin."
With a resigned grimace, Merlin faced the King, his bearing reflective of his respect for the throne. Arthur, the epitome of authority, rose from his seat, his sword held with purpose, directed respectfully towards the ground. A reminder of their pact - Merlin's commitment to guide and control Arthur's sister and her unruly magic - hung in the air, a palpable warning of their precarious position.
"I harbor no ill intent, my Lord," Merlin replied promptly, a respectful bow underscoring his loyalty, hoping to assuage any lingering doubts.
"Very well, you may proceed," Arthur pronounced, his words a reprieve, lifting the weight of suspicion from Merlin's heart. With a relieved sigh, he resumed his grasp on Hisirdoux's shoulder, guiding him towards the exit, trailed by their bewildering companions.
"Master," Hisirdoux began, only to be silenced by a stern whisper from Merlin, intended to remain unheard by any lingering guards. "Not a word, Hisirdoux. At least now I know who I sent to milk the Slor earlier. Your friend over there carries the scent," Merlin jestingly remarked, pointing towards the flustered blond boy.
"Now, follow me," he instructed, his patience thinning, as they moved briskly towards the entrance of his Tower. Ascending the stairs, they reached a wooden door that led into Merlin's lab.
"Where are we-?" the blond boy started to ask, provoking Merlin's irritation. He gestured towards the door, his admonishment clear. "Inside."
Upon entering the lab, chaos ensued. Declarations of "Doppelganger!" and a clamor of self-identification filled the room, rendering the atmosphere ever more perplexing.
"Have you tampered with time, lad?" Merlin inquired, his gaze piercing both Hisirdouxs, who seemed to shrink under its intensity.
"Y-yes," stammered the young apprentice, pointing an accusatory finger towards the elder wizard. "But I wasn't alone in this endeavor. It was your idea."
Merlin's patience dwindled as the two Hisirdouxs engaged in a peculiar exchange. "Quiet! The less we know of the future, the better. We must devise a way to return you to your rightful time," he directed, taking his seat at the central wooden table, resolute in his determination to rectify this chronal conundrum.
"Master, uhm..." Hisirdoux began tentatively, drawing nearer to the elder wizard. "We cannot return just yet."
Meeting Hisirdoux's gaze, Merlin sensed a foreboding revelation on the horizon. "And why is that?" he inquired, a mix of concern and exasperation in his tone.
"Something has transpired, and I fear it may have irreversibly altered the course of events."
In that moment, Merlin realized that his apprentice had yet again stumbled into a maelstrom of consequences, setting in motion a series of events that could reshape the very fabric of destiny. The inevitable chaos of change loomed, a testament to the perpetual nature of time and the frailty of mortal actions.