Uther’s legacy

Lord Merlin gathered his papers, smoothed down his coat, and headed for the king’s quarters. He paused before the door, ears peaked for any sound from within.

One never knew what they’d find in Uther’s chambers in the morning: empty bottles and drunken revelers strewn across the floor – a battlefield where the foe was sobriety – or disheveled young women slipping out the door. The king took pride in such displays; it left Merlin unimpressed. So he was grateful to find Uther alone having a late breakfast.

“Merlin, you little demon, I hope you didn’t bring me any work this early in the morning!”

Early morning was relative – the king looked freshly out of bed whereas Merlin had been awake for hours now, sifting through paperwork, checking on his experiments, and putting together the leather binder he brought now.

“I bring you the latest report on Arthur, Your Highness.”

Uther grinned. “That so? How’s my legacy doing?”

Merlin opened the binder to a letter written in small, neat calligraphy. “I have a letter from Sir Ector. He says that Arthur’s a healthy boy, afflicted only by the usual seasonal ailments children his age are wont to catch.”

“He better be healthy, he comes from sturdy stock!”

Merlin calmly went on. “He is of a generally jovial disposition and considered courteous and pleasant by those who meet him, if a tad timid.” The “tad” was an understatement here. “Sir Ector has also attached a training report from Arthur’s knight mentor.”

At this Uther perked up.

“The report,” Merlin said, “calls him an adequate squire.”

Uther snorted. “Adequate?” He spat the word as if it were an insult. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Merlin went on reading, “he is not a standout among his peers, but neither is he found lacking or slacking. A similar description has been made of his dragon partner. They are, however, noted to excel at speed flight.“

Uther gave a loud, thoughtful, not entirely satisfied “Hmph”.

“When I was his age,” he said, spearing a sausage with his fork, “my mentor called me a fierce fighter.”

The King may not have had a squire’s full education, but he had been given extensive fighting training at the request of his parents. His performance reports put in as fierce fighting what eye witnesses recalled as Uther bashing in a kid’s face with a shield.

“Indeed–” Merlin glanced up at him “– you have always been a force to be reckoned with. And it has served you well in the wars. But surely, since we’ve entered a time of peace, there’s no need to put such an emphasis on this kind of training.”

“Pff! There’s always going to be fighting, Merlin. There’s always going to be a reason to fight at some point.” There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes – a warning, a threat, a promise.

Reasons could always be found or made up but while ambition had once motivated Uther, all that remained was boredom and bloodlust.

“Come on now,” Uther pressed him on, “what about the boy’s draconic powers?”

Merlin flipped back to Ector’s report. “Arthur and his dragon partner Elewen have a bond that continues to grow stronger.”

Uther didn’t wait for him to go on. “Any sign of his dragon scales yet?”

It was a question he’d been persistently asking for almost a year now, and the answer would be no different now.

“Not yet.”

Uther looked affronted. “Not yet? By his age I already had my scales.”

Merlin smiled placatingly. “There’s nothing unusual about this, your highness. They can appear anywhere between ten and fourteen, in some cases even later.”

“Later?” Uther contemplated the idea and decided to utterly ignore it. “I’m sure he will get his armor soon.”

The King considered late bloomers weak links in the otherwise strong Pendragon chain of legacy. He failed to understand that, although rare, there was nothing strange or dysfunctional about it. But then again many of the intricacies of magic were lost on him.

“A likely possibility,” Merlin conceded.

“Is there anything else interesting in there?” Uther gestured vaguely towards the leather binder.

This time, Merlin didn’t consult any of the papers. “I think I mentioned it before, sir, but Arthur seems to be cultivating a close friendship with Lancelot du Lac.”

Uther grinned, a white, sharp flash of teeth. “Now that’s one great knight in the making! Saw him fight. I’d call that boy ferocious, except he’s as stony faced as one of those enchanted training dummies – you know, relentless yet mindless.”

“An apt description,” Merlin brightly said. “Young du Lac is one to keep your eye on, surely. Now, if I may go on reading the reports from Arthur’s tutors and we can conclude for today.”

He went on reading accounts of Arthur’s teachers, all describing him as an overall diligent, dutiful and differential student, if a bit insecure in his answers and knowledge. He could tell, however, that the King’s attention was turning away. Years prior, before the Kingdom became what it was now, you’d seldom find that look, so pensive – melancholy almost – on his face. Back then, there had always been a fire simmering behind the quiet, ready to scorch away any hurdles in his path, whether within or without. Now there was only a cold, dark hearth.

Merlin closed the binder and waited. Uther, eyes still staring off into the distance, fixed on inner, somber visions, said “So that’s what my legacy’s shaping up to be? Not quite what I expected. The boy sounds kinda mushy.” He grimaced around the word. “Are you sure Ector was a good choice?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I think so, for reasons I’ve explained many times before –” the King huffed, but Merlin went on “– and I do believe Arthur will be good for the future of Camelot. As I said, Your Highness, we’re well into a time of peace.”

“Yeah, yeah, the bloodshed is over. I’ve got nothing to wet my blade on.”

A smirk tugged at Merlin’s lips. “Your Highness, you should be enjoying you achievements, you should be basking in glory.”

The chair screeched on the flagstone. Uther walked over to the window looking out towards the sun-drenched city. “Basking, yes. It feels like that’s all I’m doing nowadays. Repeating the same old war stories. I’m a living legend,” he said, neither entirely pleased or displeased.

“And you should be proud of that,” Merlin said. There was only silence from the King. He let it stretch on for a little, then said “Your Highness, there would also be some administrative business to-”

Uther waved a hand impatiently. “You deal with that.”

Merlin slipped out of the chamber with a small smile on his lips, ready to take on the rest of the day on his own, to keep the great cogs of the Kingdom running.