Well, I was writing some Merlin fic, and I will finish it eventually, but the cross over seemed too good to miss. There are tournaments, knights, magic, dragons, arrogant young princes in open necked red shirts, creative misunderstandings and very possibly, Alanna having some arguments. It may be quite long, if the bunny has his way. This is very, very much for my own entertainment.
It was a fine, clear, day in Tortall, but this belied the mood in the Privy Chamber. The small, oak panelled room was hot with the windows closed, the heat from the assembled bodies making it muggy and sour. But this was not half the reason for the uncomfortable atmosphere; that came from the vicious argument that was ranging in circles.
“How could we have not have known of this?” King Jonathon shouted in anger, smacking the table in emphasis, his blue eyes flashing. Alanna of Pirate’s Swoop and Olau, sole lady knight in the Eastern lands, thought he looked younger than he had in years, lit up by his anger. It wasn’t solely directed at her, though.
The barriers between the Mortal and the Divine realms had been breached by mages, and finally broken, half a decade ago, the episode seemingly ending with a large battle and some divine intervention. There had been mopping up, readjustment, but it was all over, or so they had thought. Very recently a gap had been discovered, not just a rent in the border between the realms, but a gateway to somewhere else entirely. A different world…a world with knights, with kings, with monsters, and apparently some magic. Therein lay the problem.
“Jon, no-one knew about this. None of us, none of the Imperial Mages in Carthak, there haven’t even been any hints that this might even have been a consequence to consider. And it was five years ago, there have been no sign…” Numair Salmalin wearily went over the explanations again.
“Five years and we haven’t known!” Jon cut across his most powerful mage. Numair rubbed his big hands through his hair. Alanna thought she could see more grey in his once jet black locks. Times must be trying if the once vain Numair had no time to think of dye. Alanna bit back a laugh. Dye, die, we’re all going to die!
“And I have no idea what you are smiling about, Alanna,” Jon turned his anger towards his Champion.
“Oh, calm down, Jon, you’ll give yourself an apoplexy,” she snapped. His rage was beginning to irritate her. “We didn’t know, maybe we should have. Maybe the gate only appeared in the last month..”
Numair laughed hollowly and scrubbed his face.
“But now we have to deal with it,” Alanna finished.
“That’s true, Sire,” Raoul of Goldenlake ventured. The big, quiet man, Commander of the King’s Own, the Crown’s elite troop, was a practical man. “If we have battles ahead, we need to be ready.”
“We may not have battles, if we are careful,” Gareth of Naxen, Prime Minister, spoke now. “The idea of an envoy, a delegation, coming to our Court has been suggested. It may be the way to go…an exchange of ideas, possibly a treaty, and peace…far better than a war, at this time.”
“At the very least, we could get a measure of them before we have to fight them,” a solemn voice suggested.
Alanna very narrowly avoided sticking her tongue out at Wyldon of Cavall, old conservative and the Pages’ training master, partly because he had a good point. She hated it when people she disliked had good ideas, but she had learned to deal with it.
“A small envoy, that could work,” she ventured, “we could call it an investigation into the breach, a way of getting to know a new country, an exchange of ideas…”
“The problem with that,” Numair ventured, “is that they apparently hate magic, suppress it. At least that is the official line.”
“Maybe they just don’t know about it,” Daine the Wildmage ventured, “in which case we can certainly help,” she sent a little smile to her husband. Numair returned it, shakily.
“It’s the present King’s doing. Plenty of magic in the realm, he just doesn’t trust it. Had a battle with dragon, an evil sorceress, at the start of his reign, and can’t abide the stuff,” Gary read from some of his myriad notes.
“So they are hardly likely to send a delegation,” Wyldon ventured. Alanna wondered if he was bored as a teacher, if the years of peace had whetted his thirst for battle.
“I don’t know if they even know we have magic. If there are no mages over there, who could tell?” Numair offered.
“So we could, in turn, just not mention the magic..” Jon tried the idea out for size.
“This madness!” Alanna fumed. “Your father, Gods-grant-him-rest, Jon, tried that, and do you remember the sweating sickness, the death, the vacuum left? And who filled it? You can’t deny magic if you have it. You have to use the tools the Gods give you,” she tailed off, huffily.
“Well, yes,” the politic Gary leapt in before the King and his Champion actually started a physical fight. Again. “But we don’t have to advertise it. We could discuss the magic once the delegation is here, in Tortall, away from their King….Uther, that’s his name.”
“Strange name for a King,” muttered Wyldon, sotto voce.
“But if we keep the magic secret, who might come from Camelot that we could discuss it with? Who might know about how the gate opened? For all we know, they’ll just send a pack of muscle headed knights!” Numair cried despairingly.
The assembled knights in the room glared at him.
*
Said pack of muscle headed knights were at that very moment gathered in the Council Chamber at Camelot, waiting for King Uther’s pronouncement regarding the gate to the other realm. He was pacing, frown set even deeper than normal, tugging his lower lip gently with one leather gloved hand. His son Arthur, sat at the long table, tried very hard not to sigh. His instinct was to explore this new country with a small, but very impressive, band of knights, to visit the Court, fight in tournaments, rescue princesses….
“I have made my decision,” Uther said suddenly. “This other realm, this Tortall,” he pronounced the foreign word carefully, “seems very similar to our own. They seem as shocked by the sudden bridge between our lands as we are. I am minded, initially, to seek peace. But we must not seem weak!” he suddenly boomed. “So our delegation must be full of the bravest, the best fighters Camelot can offer. It will be led by Prince Arthur..”
Yes! Arthur almost slapped the table in victory.
“..with a dozen of his knights. Gaius will also go,” he nodded at the old physician, “to gather as much information about the Tortallians as possible.”
“Yes, Sire, the Tortallans,” the correction was almost unnoticeable, but there nonetheless, “will make a most intriguing study! The current thinking in natural science of a ‘many worlds’ hypothesis could be entirely proven - or not, as the case may be - by meticulous study of this phenomenon….”
“Thank you, Gaius. Of course Arthur is in ultimate command, and I hope he will repay my faith in him, as he undertakes this solemn responsibility.”
It sounded more like a threat than a vote of confidence.
*
“So? So! Gaius, what’s happening?” Merlin bounded across the room as his old mentor appeared at the door, “What’s happening? Are you going? Is Arthur going? Is anyone going? Or will there be a battle?”
“Be quiet and sit down. Have you finished stewing those calendula flowers?” Gaius groaned as he sat on the low stool, “My knees are not what they were. Will you fetch me some of that willow bark tincture?”
“Tell me!” Merlin almost squealed in frustration, and sent the tincture flying through the air to Gaius on a wisp of magic.
“Merlin! What have I said about the appropriate use of magic?”
“Tell me! Oh, I’m on tenterhooks!” Merlin was unperturbed by Gaius’ usual flustering manner.
“Well, Uther seems to be taken with the urge to appear the noble and solemn monarch. He is sending a delegation through the gate to Tortall, led by Arthur, and I have to go as well, to help investigate the other realm, and, I imagine, why the gate may have appeared in the first place.”
“Ah,” Merlin sat still, just for a second, “but you might never find as answer to that last question,” he suggested, thinking he was crafty, but giving himself away by waggling his eyebrows a bit.
“Has it crossed your tiny mind that there may be men charged with exactly the same task in Tortall? Who have no reason to hide the truth, who will present you and your magic to Uther without a second thought!”
“I didn’t mean to do it! I was trying to create a shortcut from here to Arthur’s rooms, and I, well,” Merlin flushed in embarrassment, “it wasn’t meant to create a gateway to another world!”
“It’s just as well you had so little control on the spell the gate appeared in the forest and not in here, because if it had, you, and probably me, would be dead by now!” Gaius stood slowly, knees creaking. “I’m going to bed. You should, too. The delegation leaves tomorrow, and there will be much to do in preparation.”
“Yes, I imagine I’ll need to help you pack - and Arthur, too. Umm…am I..?” Merlin wondered how to phrase the question
“There’s no need to make those puppy dog eyes, of course you’re coming too! Prince Arthur gave me this for you.” Gaius held out a scrap of parchment, which Merlin grabbed with nearly indecent haste.
He read it as Gaius stumped off to bed.
Merlin, it began in Arthur’s scrawl, I need all of this by tomorrow morning:
Tack cleaned
Boots cleaned
Sword sharpened - and the spare, too! All weapons packed
Armour laid out
Clothes laundered, make sure there are plenty of red shirts
Polish the ceremonial coronet
Pack saddle bags
Merlin sighed.