It was Merlin, Britt could tell by the musical quality to his voice and by the flapping noise he made when he shook his Gandalf-rip-off robe. “Are you in need of gold, or are you seeking treasures to display in the castle keep?”
“Neither. I’m looking for something,” Britt said, pushing aside a tray of gold goblets to inspect the square table they were arranged on. She shook her head and edged further into the treasury, hopping over a pile of ivory and skirting around a silver statue.
“I see. Do you think you could dispatch a servant to search for your item? I left King Ban and King Bors with Sir Kay. They mean to leave Britain by the end of the week unless you ask otherwise,” Merlin said.
“And you want me to ask otherwise?”
“I do,” Merlin acknowledged. “King Urien has made peace with you, but that leaves King Pellinore, King Ryence, and—most worrisome—King Lot as your enemies.”
“I thought you said you weren’t expecting military campaigns from them again,” Britt said, rolling up the edge of a tapestry to inspect the table it was thrown across.
“I don’t. But I enjoy the extra confidence Ban and Bors’ 10,000 mounted soldiers bring—even if Kay bellyaches over the cost of feeding them,” Merlin said, watching Britt crouch down and crawl under the table.
“You don’t really think the fighting is over, do you?” Britt sneezed and hit her head on the bottom of the table. “Ouch.”
“No, quite the contrary actually. King Pellinore will return home to lick his wounds—he’s a brilliant knight but he makes a half daft ruler. I expect his wife will make him stay home and mind his lands for a while. King Lot will sulk for the time being. He will make another attack against us, but I suspect it will be more on the level of espionage—not military force,” Merlin said.
“Then it’s King Ryence you’re worried about,” Britt said, sliding out from her inspection point beneath the table.
Merlin frowned. “Yes,” he admitted as Britt stood and fluffed her blonde hair to get dust out of it. “King Ryence has given up on you, but I fear he is turning his military strength to one of your allies, King Leodegrance.”
“Ah,” Brit said before grabbing a burning torch that was secured to the wall and raising it over her head. “Alright. I’ll ask Ban and Bors’ to stay another…three weeks?”
“That would be an acceptable time frame, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Britt said, standing on her tip toes as she looked around the room with a frown.
“Whatever are you looking for anyway?” Merlin asked.
“The Round Table.”
“What?”
“You said I inherited all this stuff from Uther, right? I’m almost positive that he was the one who owned Arthur’s Round Table before Arthur got it. It should be in here… but I can’t seem to find it. Unless it’s the size of a coffee table, but that’s ridiculous. It’s supposed to be big!”
“We are discussing the possibilities of warfare and you are searching for a circular table,” Merlin flatly said.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it!”
“As I recall Uther had some dozens of round shaped tables in his castle. I don’t particularly remember any of them being of importance, although I will ask Sir Ulfius for you if it means that much to you.”
“I would appreciate that, thanks,” Britt said, brushing dust off her tunic. “I should go talk to Ban and Bors now?”
“Dressed like that? No. You look like a muddied street urchin. Faerie wings, you are odd.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go get cleaned up. I need to find Cavall anyway.”
“Keep that hairy mutt outside the great hall,” Merlin ordered as they made their way to the treasury door.
“No.”
“You are acting like a child.”
“I am a woman masquerading as a 15 year old boy king who makes no decisions about his own kingdom. The least you will allow me to do is to make decisions regarding my pets.”
“Fine.”
“So Merlin thinks there may yet be trouble?” King Ban—a well groomed, well mannered man—said as he folded his arms behind his back, following Britt down a dirt path that circled the outer walls of Camelot.
“He does, and I agree with him. I find it unlikely that these men, who have been such thorns in my side since the day I was crowned in London, are through with me after one battle,” Britt said, placing a hand on Cavall. The apricot fawn colored dog kept pace with Britt, his wrinkled muzzle twitching.
“They certainly ran from you with their tails between their legs. You did not even need our soldiers during your victorious battle,” King Bors said, brushing a bug out of his massive beard.