[Merlin wakes up in the forest, face first in the snow. He blinks, groans, and rolls over. It's cold and pretty wet, but it is also a more welcome pillow than horse manure. And, so, it means that he isn't in Camelot's stables. That is troubling
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By the way, who's Arthur?
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What, me? No, no. I'm just a servant. I polish armour, at best. Make beds. That kind of thing.
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[Awkward, awkward, until a thought occurs to him.]
Wait, servant? I had no idea there were still servants around. Huh. That's odd.
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[Momentary silence, until Laguna's teasing tone sounds through.]
Isn't that what you do for your egotistical prince?
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Err, yes. That's me. Merlin, the valet. But he calls me a manservant, instead.
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Valets don't polish armour or make beds.
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