Chapter 1: Legends and tales
Legend states there will be a great and noble king, a king more powerful and beloved that any who had come before him. The One anf Future king who will unite the land of Albion and restore order in the chaos that has divided magic from non magic. But do these legends speak any truth? Does fate really play a hand in the lives of ordinary men or was that simply an excuse for their lives? There are times when such a force as Fate seams to be nothing more that superstitions to ease the fearful minds, but it is not conjured from wild imaginations. Fate is a part of the world; impacting all life. Some lives may even share the same fate, and that is what brings the legend to life.
Isemay Rendel was a far cry from the average lady of the Aurthurian age. At twenty years of age she had travel far across the land from Morian. Tall at 5’7 and nimblily built, she traveled but either foot or horse often with only her sword and her spirited ferocity. Raise by a fighter and a healer she expressed both traits. Isemay was both nuturing as she was deadly; her skill with a sword was equal to some of the best knights in all the kingdoms. Unheard of by all regards for a woman to do the things she did, which was why the brunette often traveled under the guise of a lowly servent looking for work. It allowed her to move freely, or free enough that patriarchy of wherever she was visiting would not plant itself in her path and question her motives.
Yet at this very moment Isemay was not alone. Currently she sat in a lone cottage far from civilization. It was small with only one space. A fire burned in the corner underneath a put that bubbled quietly. A sible table with one chair corver in a mess of books and bowls and the odd commodities. The wall opposite was a small bed with the blankets crumbled on top of it. The rest of the space was filled with clutter from the ceiling to the floor. The only other soul was an old crone called Beliene. Her hair had long since greyed, was tired up in a frazzled bun. She was a short, stocky womanwith brown eyes that seamed to be beady in her sunken face. Beliene had currently been ranting for a soild twenty minutes, as the elderly often did leacturing the youth, pacing in the space.
She turned abruptly, “Have you ever been to Camelot before?”
“No, not Camelot.” Isemay admitted. Truth was she had made a point of not coming to Camelot for the past few years. The reason was that she did not agree with Uther Pendragon’s views on magic. Isemay had delt with many whom used magic and really only a small number out of the whole who used magic to harm others. Uther didn’t see it that way. To him, all magic was evil and created a reign of terrorl; trying to irradicate it from his kingdom for the past twenty years. Many innocent people were murdered becuase of his rage. And it were these exact reasons that Beliene voiced now.
“You’d always be at odds with the Pendragons, the arrogance of Uther’s reign could block out the sun if it manifested! And his son shares his dilutions on magic. Why the second you open your mouth-“
“It wouldn’t be the first time I butt heads with a man I doubt it will be the last in my life.” Isemay cut in.
“But Uther is veil enough to exicute you for your desagreements and you’re stupid enough to challenge him.” Beliene snapped. “Why would you waste your time in such a kingdom?”
Isemay smirked at her old friend. Despite the leatcures, Beliene was a soft hearted woman whom with lack of children had become fond of the her. And Isemay returned her affections. “There’s talk Camelot is in for change. They say the next king is destined to unite mortal and magic and become one of the greatest kings the world has ever know. If that were true, I think Camelot would be my kind of kingdom.”
“Bah!” The elder shook her hands, “Nothing but wishful thinking from fools! There are too many obsicals in Arthur’s path and Emrse is too young to fufill his destiny properly. The chance of them not failing these expectaions is slim to none. I have been here far long than most and I forsee Arthur not rising for a millennia.”
“Now how’s that more likely?” Isemay rebuttled.
“You know magic bends the natural law, don’t get salty with me girl!” Beliene snapped. She sighed as she stretched her arthritic fingers near the warmth of the fire, “Oh what’s the use, you never listen. Always charging off into trouble, damn the consequences. You never could keep out of danger. Well that’s all Camelot is, trouble. Are you’re likely to get yourself killed there.”
“hm. Sounds like my kind of Adventure.”
Beliene shook her head, “the nävitity of the young astounds me.” She hobbled towards what may have been a bookshelf had it been less cluttered. There were faith murmers as she scowered the unorgonized mess. The murmers became more satified and she turned with a small wooden box covered in a fine layer of dust. Beliene set the container down with enough force to cause the dust to bloom up in a small cloud. The lid opened with a small creak and she retrived a glass pedant on a long string. Inside was clear liquid.
“Very well if you intend on going you might as well take this, its no use to me.” Beliene outstretched her arm towards Isemay.
It landed in her palm and she held it to her eye, “what is it?”
“Water from the land of Alvion. A gift given to me half a century ago. Should death come to collect you before your time the water will bring you new life. It is not to be used lightly!” Beliene spoke sharply with a warry finger, “this is a one time deal. You better have exhasted all other options before you use that.”
Isemay slipped the twine over her head and tucked it safely under her shirt. When she travled she took to a shirt and trousers for maximum movement should she be in need to defend herself. “You really doubt my tallents don’t you?” She teased.
“Would it kill you to list to your elders for once?” Beliene attempted to smooth her hair down, “alright, I won’t tell you twice so listen carefully. I know you pride yourself on being level headed, but even you get caught up in your emotions. Camelot will test you like none before. There will be those who betray you. And inoccent lives will get caught in the crossfire. You’ll be tempted to intervine. I caution you against that. You must go with eyes unclouded by hate, and only then shall you see what truth lies hidden. You must make your choices wisely Genovéin.” Beliene advised.
Genovéin was the name Beliene call her by. Why, Isemay did not know. Some tribes such as the druids used their own names for certain individuals. Isemay stood and headed for the door as their time had come to an end. Beliene stood in the doorway, called out, “One last warning. What ever your destiny may lead to, know the next time our paths cross shall be the last.” Isemay nodded. Beliene was nearing the end of her life, this was to be expected. With a final look, Isemay set her forrest green eyes towards Camelot.
Chapter 2: Two servants in Camelot's halls
Isemay intergreats into the castle help seemlessly, she mets Arthur and Merlin respectively and witnesses the start of a friendship.
Merlin knew he shouldn’t complain, but he was a boy, so complaining was in his nature. And he had many grievences. How he had magic but couldn’t use it, except now this dragon under the castle was telling him he needs it to protect Arthur. And Arthur, a headache itself. The young prince was brass, a bully, and completely arrogant. Merlin didn’t want anything to do with him. How could that prat become this great king? It didn’t make sense! Merlin shook his head, he had a lot on his mind and on top of everything else there was a huge banquette being held in just a few mear hours Guias was having him attend (to work of course).
Isemay herself was also attending the party, working it as well. With Uther’s celebrations the castle was always open to extra hands so one more serving maid went unnoticed. She was told if her work was suitible she would be aloud to stay. She had no doubt she could magae such a task. She was helping arrange the vasses full of large bouquets as center pieces, keeping her head down but letting her eyes wander. Already it had been a busy day, with an exicution and a witch making death threats two days prior, there was extra guards on duty. Isemay had already identified Uther, not that it was difficult. He had a ward by the name Morganna, whom Isemay could sense was troubled even from a distance. Her father served Uther years ago before dying in battle and her mother then passed away while she was still young. Isemay had yet to make out Arthur but she suspected she would know once she saw him.
“When you’ve finished with that, take this clean wash up to the Lady Morganna’s chambers. Then come back down the the storeroom, we have at least thirty pairs of boots that need to be polished. And when you’ve finished helping with that it’ll be the kitchen to carry food out to the tables.” Mary, a stoutish blond with a round face and a frazzled bun, ordered.
“Yes miss.” Isemay obedently left to her new duties. Weaving past servents in the halls, she stopped only for directions. She had visited a few castles in her time, each was interesting structerally. Once she had collected the basket of clean wash, she found her way to the Lady Morganna’s room and, after knocking first with no answer, entered and deposited her load. As she decended the spiral staircase, Isemay was suddenly hit with a rush of light headedness. Isemay stopped, trying to shake it away. She closed her eyes for a second and lend against the wall. A mistake in action as the dissiness got worse. She fainted, and tumbled down the steps before landing at the bottom face up, unconscoius.
Isemay groaned as little as her eyes fluttered open; light temporarily blinding her. As her eyes adjusted she made eye contact with a new face. A man was knelt beside her. He looked to be around the same age as her. A concern look laced his features. The way the light hit his already golden hair made it glow; creating the illusion of a halo. Below that golden hair was two soft gray-blue eyes and a strong jaw. "Are you an angel....?" She breifly thoughgt.
"Hey, are you alright?” The man asked.
She sat up, embarrassed that she of all people, fainted like one of those fair hearted ladies. “Oh, yeah.”
“What's your name?"
"Isemay," he nodded "I’m Arthur. What happened?” Arthur was in the middle of getting ready and happen to be passing by when he spied the girl on the floor. He abruptly stopped his task as instinct kicked in. While he had been taught to not to care for servents, seeing a collaped madien brought out the caring side out of him.
He went over to the girl, kneeling besides her. She didn’t look like a servent, infact he didn’t reconize her face.
Oh, so this was Prince Arthur. So much for making her own impressions from a distance. "I just got really dizzy and must have fallen." She felt her cheeks flush.
"You should see Gaius." Arthur said, as he helped her up to her feet.
Isemay shook her head, “no, I just havn’t eaten much today and when I try to do too much on an empty stomach I get light headed. I’m fine, really. Sire.” She hastily added.
Arthur studied her greed eyes, "if you're sure...”
“I am, thank you sire.” Isemay nodded and she made her exit. Saunting down the hall, she glanced back at the prince once. “there’s a strong amount of magic being used in this castle.” She muttered under her breath. Living in a time where interactions with magic, even in a kingdom where its band, Isemay took precausion to protect herself. On her person she carried a charm hidden in her bodist that provided resistance to spells cast on her and would interact with magical energy within a close radious that caused dizzy spells.
That evening she snuck into the party. She was only supposed to help deviled the meals to the table and then go set to chores elsewhere in the castle. No one heed her notice when she snuck back in and clung to the side walls just like the rest of the servents. A collection of richly dressed individuals lined the floor. But her eyes focused of a few that deemed notice. Two were Arthur and Morganna, dressed fabulously in red. Morganna wore a dark crimson gown that showed off her shoulders. Arthur sport a brighter red full dress including a cape.
Another face she studdied was a dark haired boy. He had shaggy hair, big ears, and reminded her of a pup. He was hovering near an older gentleman in blue robes with white hair. And also talked with a darkskinned handmadien so she supected he was another servent. But there was something in his nature that perked her curiousity. He had an energy that was different from those around him. Familiar, like an old song sung by a different voice than the first time you heard it. She smirked because she knew; she could always recognize magic when she saw it. And that puppy of a servent boy had it.
The horns sounded off to quiet the crowd. Uther strut to the head table and turned to address his audience. “We have enjoyed twenty years of peace and prosperity. It has brought the kingdom, and myself, many pleasures. But few can compare to the honor of introducing, Lady Helen of Mora!”
The room erupted in applause as Uther took his set. Isemay’s eye’s narrowed on the figure on the stage. “That’s not right.” She thought to herself. ‘Lady Helen’ began her song. Her skillful voice disguised her spell as a song. The guest drifted off to sleep, the candles went out, and great cob webs formed. With her amulet protecting her, the affects were slower on Isemay. She covered her ears and say the servent boy was smart enough to do the same. As the witch got closer and her song ramped up it became apperent who her target was. Isemay grabbed a knife off the table from someone’s setting, and hurried to get around the table. Her rush proved to be un-needed. The servent boy used his magic to break the chandelier above her and it came crashing down. There was a moment in silence where they looked at each other. Isemay nodded to the boy as she stepped closer to the fallen. With the spell interrupted, the rest of the room began waking up. People leaned from their seats or stood to look.
The true face of the old crone was reveled. Isemay had to give it to the old hag, she was determined not to go down withotu a fight. Even with a chandelier on top of her, she still propped herself up enough to throw a dager at Arthur. The servent boy used his inticntual magic to pull the prince out of the way in the last split second. Then the witched died. Isemay half listened to Uther rewarding the young man as she checked for breath of the dead witch, just to be sure.
“-You shall be Prince Arthur’s man servant!”
“Father!” Arthur protest got drowned out in applause.