"Where are we going, Morgan?"
"More early-morning training, of course!" his cousin replied, smiling.
It's way too early for this, thought Arthur.
"No, but actually, the training facility I want to use is some distance outside the city. It makes the most sense to start travelling early, so that you'll be able to get back in time for your classes. Well… most of them, at least."
"Seriously, cuz?"
"Yeah, seriously! This place is the best, lemme tell ya. But feel free to get some sleep on the way there if you want, it'll be an hour and a half or so…"
"I think I'll take you up on that, then. Wake me when we're there?"
"Of course!"
Even in the car, it didn't take long for Arthur to fall asleep. This was partially due to his cousin waking him at 4:30 in the morning without any warning, but Arthur also had the assistance of a restful constitution: he usually fell into that unknown netherworld with relative ease, and this morning was no different.
Arthur's dreams were concerned with matters of mythology, as they had been ever since his 'niece' Vivianne delivered Excalibur to him. His mind's sole focus was Arthurian legend, specifically, the accounts where the legendary Once and Future King was betrayed and killed on the field of battle.
Such worries haunted him.
But not tonight…
Arthur was woken with a start by Morgan's gentle shaking. He roused, and it took a few moments for his brain to report to duty, but when he was fully awake he was instantly aware of a grim mood pervading the car.
"Morgan? What's wrong?"
"There's a car that's been following us, about ten car lengths back, for about thirty minutes."
Arthur sat up in his seat.
"Are you sure it's following us?"
"Yes," she said, nodding gravely. "I took evasive maneuvers when I first noticed it, but it's still following us. They likely know who we are."
"What do they want?"
"Probably you, but that's just a guess. Hang on. I'm going to try to outrun them with pure speed."
Arthur didn't have time to adjust his position before Morgan slammed her foot down on the accelerator. The engine revved loudly as the automatic transmission struggled to keep up with the sudden demand for speed, shifting through four gears in a few seconds, but by the time it finished they were travelling at well over a hundred miles an hour.
Fortunately, there weren't many drivers on the road this early in the morning, and Morgan was familiar enough with the route to anticipate every twist and turn.
They drove in silence for about five minutes before something appeared in the distance: flashing red lights.
It was a police car, stopped along the side of the road, warning travelers to slow down—a fallen semi truck was blocking the road ahead.
"No, no, no no nonono NO!" shouted Morgan, slamming her hands on the wheel as the car came to a stop. "If we can't get around this, they'll catch up to us in no time!"
There was no clear path through, however.
The truck was completely on its side, its cargo—produce—distributed all across the road, which itself was hemmed in by mountain slopes on one side and a guardrail protecting a cliff on the other.
Fear and anxiety began to well in Arthur as he looked over at Morgan, who was rubbing her forehead with her eyes firmly shut. He had only seen her like this a handful of times, and he could tell that she was desperately trying to find a way out of this situation for the both of them.
But maybe there was no way out, not for both of them.
We still don't know what they want, though. This might all blow over…
"I'm going to ask that cop for help," said Morgan, unmoving. "With any luck, he might be able to give us an advantage…"
She's not finishing the thought, though.
Police here in the CSSA aren't magically-trained.
If they're coming after us, they must know their targets are magicians.
Which means our pursuers are surely magicians as well…
Morgan leaned back in her seat with a sigh, then opened the door and stepped out to speak with the policeman.
Looking now, Arthur could see the man wasn't quite paying attention—he may have been sleeping as well, given the time of day.
He jumped in fright when Morgan knocked on his window.
Arthur was only able to catch snippets of their conversation:
"Good evening… yes…"
"…being followed… scared… cousin and I…"
"…afraid… yes… no, not right now… we'll see…"
"…come talk? …alright…"
Morgan stepped back as the policeman opened his door and stood, taking a moment to stretch his arms and legs.
Yeah, he was asleep.
Morgan started walking back towards their car.
Suddenly, she dropped to the ground.
The faint silvery threads and electric spark of a stun gun trailed from her body to the cop, standing behind her, no longer appearing inattentive or unalert.
The cop quickly moved over to Morgan's limp body. Arthur watched in shock as the man handcuffed his cousin and drew an extendable baton from his belt, opening it with a flick of his wrist.
When the man began beating Morgan, Arthur snapped to his senses.
He threw the door open and began chanting: "Allar ln ollor da! Allar ln ollor da! Allar ln ollor da!"
The binding spell took effect immediately, halting the phony policeman's assault mid-strike and freezing him in place.
Arthur ran over and examined his cousin, who appeared to be unconscious but without serious injury.
"You're going to die tonight, boy," said the attacker.
"I've stopped you," Arthur replied, barely able to contain the rage in his voice. "Your plan has failed."
"Has it?"
A flash of light temporarily blinded Arthur.
Headlights.
The car that was following us!
It's a trap!
"Onixdar arvin pax gigpah gemeganza!" he cried. Arthur was just in time: had he begun chanting shield magic a fraction of a second later, the hail of bullets would have torn him, Morgan, and the frozen policeman behind him to shreds.
Arthur dove behind the nearest cover: the policeman's car. The gunfire followed him, riddling the side of the heavily-modified sports car with bullet holes.
But at least Morgan's out of danger.
That means I'm their target, though.
And then don't want to kidnap me…
…they want to kill me.
This is an assassination attempt.
Arthur carefully considered his options.
He and Morgan had come prepared for a live training session, so their guns and ammunition were with them—better than nothing—though they were both in the trunk of their car, which was directly exposed to the enemy at this point.
Magic was a possibility, but he didn't know how well it would work against enemy mages, or if magic would even work at all.
There was always…
…Excalibur.
But Arthur had been warned not to reveal the mythic sword unnecessarily. Vivianne had stressed that no one, not even Morgan, was to know he had it.
Still, an assassination attempt justifies defending myself however I can, right?
…but I'll exhaust other options first.
A small explosion resounded throughout the narrow mountain pass. Gunfire must've ignited the ammunition in their trunk, which probably then caused the gas tank to blow.
There goes option one.
Arthur looked over at the frozen cop, who was staring lecherously at Morgan.
He extended a shaky hand towards his foe, and chanted: "Purgel malprg pan ardox!"
Though a low-level spell, the fireball enwrapped a portion of the man's body in unquenchable flame, which soon led to his complete immolation.
Arthur felt something within himself die along with the attacker.
***
King Uther Pendragon's entourage had just departed Buckingham Palace on a scheduled visit to 10 Downing Street.
It seemed like overkill at the moment, but the previous day's warning from Richard Blackstone was enough reason for MI5's fleet of heavily-armoured vehicles to be in use today in place of the King's standard fare.
"Ms. Westmarche, since we have a moment, let's go over my schedule once again."
"Right, sir," his aide reported. "Your meeting with PM is scheduled for 9-10, afterwards the two of you will join the American ambassador for a late breakfast."
"The American—Seymour?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good man. Shifty, though. His country always takes priority."
"I have heard so, sir."
"He requested to lunch with me, correct?"
"Yes, sir. Your secretary suggested the breakfast with PM Delaney as a compromise."
The King stroked his beard.
"Have we any idea of what caused him to make such a request?"
"Lt. Loche looked into it, I believe, and it appears that the Coalition is concerned about matters at the Royal Academy, sir. They'll likely want assurances that none of our state secrets will fall into the hands of the organization that managed to infiltrate Camelot and assassinate one of our preeminent magicians."
"An understandable request, yet I cannot help but consider the politics of the situation."
His aide looked down, unsure of her duty in such cases.
"Something on your mind, Ms. Westmarche?"
"If I may speak freely, sir?"
"You may."
"I don't like any of this, Your Majesty. It feels as if we are under attack, and yet we aren't doing anything. We're playing right into the enemy's hands, surely."
The King took a long, deep breath, and exhaled slowly as he watched the London cityscape pass by.
"I agree, my dear Ashley. So do MI5 and MI7. But we have to be careful; we cannot start an international incident without justice on our side. Even then—we need powerful allies before we can accuse someone of attempting a plot of this scale."
"Where will we find such allies, sir?"
"God only knows."
In the future, King Uther would think that the next few moments were as an eternity in his memory, yet they seemed to pass in a blur:
An alarm blared in the car.
The King noticed something unusual in the sky before them.
"Brace for impact!" the driver shouted, and Ms. Westmarche screamed.
What appeared to be a fast-moving dark shape, which the King would later learn was a miniaturized missile, hit the ground right in front of them.
The car was flipped to the side by the force of the explosion, turning in unnatural ways in the air before landing with a crackling thud.
"…. Y…. Majesty!"
As he regained his senses, the King gave a hand motion to his driver and checked on his aide. She had fainted, but appeared to be unharmed.
A quick glance around the car revealed its condition: though upside down, the car was more or less undamaged by the missile, the magically-reinforced body being more than sturdy enough to absorb the force of the impact.
"A second missile!" cried the driver.
This missile was aimed directly at the undercarriage of the overturned vehicle, but the King wasn't worried.
He carefully unbuckled himself, using his arms to reposition himself along the ceiling of the car, before doing the same for his aide.
The missile vanished in a puff of green smoke as soon as it made contact with the King's transport.
The King had remained unafraid throughout the entire event so far, as he knew that very few conventional weapons would be able to break through the protective magicks employed by this vehicle; his engineers had assured him that it would take a bomb with enough power to obliterate several city blocks to even come close to exhausting the shield's primary battery, let alone the backup.
King Uther was as safe as he could be.
As he laid his still-unconscious aide upon the ceiling of the car, he tapped his earpiece and connected to his security network.
"All units: this is Buckingham speaking. Condition: green, but unable to move. Status report."
"Yes, sir!" came the prompt reply. "Major Jack Dascott, chief of the security detail. We've been engaged on multiple fronts by enemy combatants, origin unknown. Armaments suggest a makeshift militia. Both primary exfiltration routes are blocked, and we're receiving reports of similar engagements at many points along the Thames."
"Good work, soldier. Prioritize the lives of your men—my retinue and I are out of harms' way, for the moment."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir."
"Also, put me through to High Command. We need to activate a rapid response strategy."
"Right away, sir."
The King sighed.
This is going to be a long day.