Sir Bedivere POV
"It's tasty! Do you want some, Sir Bedivere?" Merlin teased, taking a bite of the potato chip in his hand and waving it in front of me, letting the rich barbeque aroma waft through the air and tickle my senses.
"How can you sit there and have the heart to eat, Sir Merlin, while the king remains in such a dire state?" I couldn't help but express my annoyance.
The sight of the Sage Merlin, so carefree and indulging in food while our king suffered inside the church, grated on my nerves.
At present, we stood guarding the entrance to the church, while the king was being tended to by the nuns inside. We placed our full trust in the church's healing methods—whether it be through holy water, holy light, or any other sacred technique they possessed.
The church's reputation for miraculous healing was beyond question.
That's why we harbored no doubts about the process, and Merlin himself vouched for the nun's reliability. The king had also mentioned that over the past week, he had grown quite fond of her. Who was I to question the king's judgment?
If both the king and Merlin deemed her trustworthy, then she must be.
"Not really," Merlin added with a sly smirk, his face twisted in that mischievous, wretched grin of his. "If you only knew what was happening inside."
He said, his tone filled with a kind of playful malice as he continued to crunch on his potato chips.
"Since you don't seem interested," he added with a mock shrug, "I suppose I'll finish the rest myself."
He flashed the snack in my direction, as if expecting me to reconsider, but I merely remained silent, keeping my focus on the door.
His words were bait, tempting me to lose focus. But I would not give in. My responsibility to our king outweighed any fleeting amusement Merlin could offer. I was not here to engage in frivolous banter with a half-incubus. I was here to ensure that, should the king call upon me, I would be ready to serve, no matter what condition he emerged in.
But Merlin was not so easily dissuaded.
He pranced around the courtyard, waving the bag of chips at the other knights who stood guard. Each of them mirrored my stern expression, their faces tight with controlled frustration. Merlin was a thorn in all of our sides, though none of us would dare voice it aloud.
His power was undeniable, and his importance to the king's cause was unquestionable.
Still, in moments like these, it was difficult not to resent his carefree nature.
He pouted in response, clearly displeased that none of us entertained his antics.
Perhaps, in his mind, we were just no fun at all.
"You'll regret it, Sir Bedivere," Merlin chimed again, clearly unable to let the matter go. "The taste is divine! I don't think even the King will get anything as delicious as this again!"
Once again, I found myself deadpanning at Merlin's endless chattering.
Yet, despite his constant goading, not a single one of us responded.
Eventually, realizing his playful prodding was falling on deaf ears, Merlin resigned himself to finishing the chips in silence, though the crunching sounds still echoed in the air.
"Hah, the king will probably not be pleased that everything has ended like this, Sir Bedivere. But don't trouble yourself with matters beyond your control. Besides, the king is fine. You should at least try to trust him," Merlin murmured, his voice just loud enough for me to catch. I sighed in resignation, feeling the weight of his words.
"Are you finished, Merlin? What's the point of all this?"
"Nothing really. It just feels like everything is irritating me," he replied dismissively, refusing to elaborate.
With a frustrated gesture, he threw whatever was in his hands to the ground, then reclined lazily, staring up at the stars as though he were waiting for something. Just then, the doors of the church creaked open.
"How is the king?" I asked, my voice filled with concern.
"He's fine," the nun replied, though there was a subtle glance in Merlin's direction, as if she wanted to say more but held back.
After a brief pause, she added, "Come inside."
I nodded, readying myself to follow her into the church.
"Not all of you. Only one may enter as a representative. The king needs his rest," she warned firmly.
"You should go, Sage Merlin," I suggested, having noticed the way the nun's eyes lingered on him.
It was clear she had something to discuss with him, and I, recognizing my place in this unfolding drama, reluctantly conceded.
There was no point in rushing to the king when others had already decided the course of action.
The nun looked at me with an expression of approval before turning to lead Merlin inside.
He followed her, arms casually crossed behind his head, wearing that carefree expression of his as he hummed a tune, completely at ease with the situation.
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Francesca Prelati's POV
"I have already done what you asked of me, Lord Merlin," I said, my voice steady but tinged with unease.
King Arthur was indeed a pitiful figure in many ways.
Not only did his supposed mentor insist on constantly monitoring him, but it seemed Merlin also desired to keep him under strict control at all times, as though Arthur were nothing more than a puppet on strings.
Is this the true face of Lord Merlin?
He had promised to teach me the ways of a proper magus, to instruct me in the art of alchemy, if I could succeed in gaining King Arthur's trust and report every detail of his movements back to Merlin.
As much as it sickened me to act as a spy, betraying both the Church and my current liege for the sake of gaining power, but I had never gone this far because of so-called kindness. After all, what kindness was ever shown to an orphan like me?
I was given this tiny, dilapidated church not out of charity, but because I had proven myself useful and obedient—more so than any of the other nuns, clergies, or priests in our community. I stole for them. I gathered information for them. I did whatever they asked because they offered me shelter, a place to call home, this meager home.
I've always done whatever it takes to climb higher, even if that means exploiting King Arthur's kindness.
Compared to King Arthur, or even Merlin, I am nothing. I wasn't born into a life of privilege, with silver spoons laid out on golden platters. I was just an orphan, a lowly peasant, and it was a pipe dream for someone like me to even think of standing alongside nobles.
Yes, what I've done to King Arthur is wrong—there's no denying that. But I don't justify my actions or pretend I'm in the right. I know full well that I'm in the wrong, but I've never had a real choice in the matter. Not from the very beginning.
"Excellent," Lord Merlin praised, his voice devoid of any true warmth.
"So, where is he now?"
"He is asleep," I replied, bowing slightly. "I brought him to my room, and I've already earned his trust."
"Good. Continue what you've been doing," Merlin said with a careless wave of his hand, not even bothering to open his eyes. "I think Bedivere has been waiting outside for long enough. Tell him he may come in, and assure him the king is well."
Without waiting for my response, Merlin sat down on the bench, closing his eyes as he immediately began to snore loudly, indifferent to my presence or my thoughts about him.
With nothing more to say, I retreated humbly, as unnoticed as ever, my mind weighed down by the burden of the role I played.
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Merlin's POV:
"Great news, Lord Merlin. Sir Kay will be happy when he hears his brother has finally awakened," Sir Bedivere said, his voice brimming with joy upon learning that false King Arthur was safe and sound.
"Kay... Yes, Kay... How could I have possibly forgotten about him? Thank you, Sir Bedivere. I'll make sure to inform him immediately," I replied, smirking as I patted his shoulder.
With a sly grin, I vanished from his field of vision, only to reappear moments later in front of Kay, who looked startled by my sudden presence.
Our current location was within the grand Castle of Camelot. To be more precise, we found ourselves in one of the many chambers of the castle, specifically the one that served as the residence of Sir Kay.
"Have you found Artoria already, Merlin? Where on earth have you two been all this time?" Kay's voice trembled with worry as he grabbed my shoulders, his face pale and gaunt, clearly sick from waiting for news of his sister's whereabouts—news that had yet to be delivered.
It was only natural that he'd be worried sick. Artoria had left without telling him where she was going or what she planned to do.
His concern originally stemmed from the fact that Artoria was raised in the household of his father, Sir Ector, a former knight of King Uther.
Sir Ector had been entrusted with the task of not only training Artoria but also becoming a father figure in her life.
His role was to ensure that she remained morally upright and virtuous, qualities that Sir Ector himself embodied with his own character.
Known for his integrity and trustworthy nature, Sir Ector diligently raised Artoria to be a well-rounded individual—a virtuous girl who would grow into a great knight, one who held honor and virtues above all else.
In simpler terms, Artoria was the adopted daughter of Sir Ector, and she was also the rightful daughter of King Uther, the former ruler of Camelot, making her the true heir to the throne as King Arthur.
As Artoria's brother, Kay naturally had every right to be concerned about her, especially considering the heavy burden that came with her lineage.
Even though they weren't siblings by blood, their bond as family was strong, and that familial connection fueled Kay's protective instincts over her, regardless of the lack of blood relation.
I hadn't considered Kay's concerns, but now he was becoming a threat, a potential danger that needed to be dealt with.
Artoria's secret was in his hands, and everything I was working toward would crumble if he decided to spread the truth—that the King Arthur currently ruling Camelot wasn't truly King Arthur.
"Kay... How about we visit your father first? It's been ages since you visited his grave or returned to his home. You haven't set foot there since his passing," I suggested cautiously, careful not to arouse suspicion.
"Since when did you become so sentimental, Merlin? Hah... Fine, let's visit my father's home," Kay grinned, though his eyes betrayed a deep sadness, hidden behind the cheerful façade he wore for others.
"Let's go, then," I said, grabbing his hand as we instantly teleported to Sir Ector's home, appearing right in the courtyard.
I followed Kay from behind as he approached the house, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
In a swift, calculated motion, I drove a sword deep into his back, piercing his gut with deadly precision.
Kay let out a pained grunt, collapsing to the ground.
His eyes filled with confusion and sorrow as he turned his face toward me, struggling to understand the betrayal.
"Why, Merlin? Why?!" he gasped, barely able to speak through the agony.
"I cannot allow you to hurt Artoria, Kay. And that man... That man promised Artoria Britannia. I want him to succeed, not only for himself, but for me and for Artoria as well. He must achieve his goal. Failure is not an option, and I will not let you ruin everything we've worked for." I said coldly.
Without hesitation or mercy, I raised my sword and aimed it directly at his throat.
Kay's eyes widened in disbelief, but it was too late.
The sound of steel slicing through flesh echoed in the courtyard as my blade silenced him forever.
He fell lifeless to the ground, his eyes closing as his final breath escaped him.
I sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry, Kay..."