"Stop right there!"
Silver halberds crossed beneath the city gates.
Bathed in sunlight, they reflected a radiant, pure-white glow.
The guards blocked the path of the disheveled silver-haired man standing before them.
"Who are you?! What do you want?!"
Faced with their questioning, the silver-haired man showed no signs of tension.
"Merlin."
"Or, if you'd prefer to call me something else, that's fine too. I don't particularly care about names."
The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances.
Clearly, they had never heard of the name Merlin—at least, not yet.
Naturally, they also had no recollection of the man standing before them.
But Merlin didn't seem to mind.
He casually sat down on a nearby rock, adopting a laid-back, carefree posture.
"It's fine if you don't know who I am. You wouldn't be of much use anyway."
"Go fetch someone in charge. I'd like to have a little chat."
[Despite the carefree, almost flippant demeanor of this Merlin, there was something strangely compelling about his words.]
[Even these two ordinary guards could sense that something felt… off.]
[They split up—one remained behind to keep watch over Merlin, while the other ran into the city.]
[Before long, another figure appeared at the city gate.]
[It was Gawain—the second-highest authority in Camelot, outranked only by you and Morgan.]
"Sir Gawain, this is the man."
The guard led the way, gesturing toward Merlin.
"..."
Gawain remained silent, carefully observing the silver-haired man before him.
His unkempt appearance, his casual, irreverent manner, and the lighthearted air of flippancy in his every gesture—
Each one of these traits struck at the very core of what Gawain, a knight who held himself to the highest standards, found utterly intolerable.
If not for the responsibilities and restraints of his knighthood, he might have already drawn his sword against this man.
However—
Gawain had not forgotten the code he was bound to uphold as a knight.
A blade must not be drawn against another without cause.
For that would reduce authority to nothing more than a matter of strength.
And Gawain would not allow such a thing to happen.
He took a moment to steady his emotions before cautiously engaging with Merlin.
"Greetings, I am—"
But before the knight could even introduce himself, Merlin smiled and spoke first.
"You're Gawain, aren't you?"
"You—?"
Gawain was startled—after all, he had never met this man before.
Yet, Merlin maintained his easygoing demeanor.
"Gawain, the magical blessing upon you is quite powerful."
"But unfortunately, you're not the one I wish to see. If you don't mind, could you take another trip for me?"
Gawain's wariness began to outweigh his initial dislike.
In just this short first encounter, Merlin had demonstrated an uncanny knowledge of his name and the blessing bestowed upon him by his mother, Morgan.
Such knowledge was not something an ordinary person should possess.
"So—"
"You wish to meet my father and mother?"
"No." Merlin shook his head. "Just your father will do."
"But he is busy," Gawain answered honestly.
"That's fine." Merlin smiled.
"Simply tell him the name Arthur—he'll come to see me."
"..."
[Gawain now understood that this Merlin was no ordinary man.]
[Realizing the importance of this message, he hurried through the streets of Camelot to deliver it to you.]
[He relayed the name 'Arthur' just as Merlin had instructed.]
[And at that moment, you knew—this man was the magician who had been interfering with your and Morgan's plans all along.]
[You entrusted your current duties to Gawain.]
[And you set off to meet with Merlin.]
"Lord Rei!"
The guards at the city gate tensed at your approach.
"Let him in," you commanded.
"Yes, sir!"
"Ah, much appreciated."
Merlin approached you, a look of exaggerated gratitude on his face.
"King Loth—ah, no, Lord Rei. Without you, I doubt I'd have been let in."
"..."
"Enough with the nonsense," you said, your expression stern. "Tell me your purpose."
Merlin's smile remained unshaken.
"Let's find a better place to talk, shall we?"
"And where would that be?"
"Over there."
[Merlin hadn't chosen a place at random.]
[He pointed to the top of the city walls.]
[The very place where Arthur had once nearly fallen to their death.]
[You realized—he knew far more than he should.]
[For now, you decided to play along.]
[The two of you ascended the city walls.]
"Oh… so this is where Arthur nearly fell all those years ago?"
Merlin crouched down, running his fingers across the patterned stone surface.
"I can almost picture the scene in my head."
"Is this what you came to see?"
You stood behind him, your voice even.
"Somehow, I doubt that's your only reason."
"Of course not." Merlin stood and, for the first time, his tone shifted—becoming more serious.
"I only wanted to tell you that, even if you hadn't stepped in that day, Arthur wouldn't have died."
"Merlin, what exactly are you trying to prove?"
"I'm not trying to prove anything." Merlin shook his head.
"I'm simply here to tell you."
"Let's not get sidetracked—"
Merlin took a few steps forward until he stood precisely at the spot where Arthur had nearly fallen.
"On my way here, I saw the golden fields you and Morgan cultivated outside the city."
"I have to admit—you two do have some skill."
"So, Merlin, are you here to acknowledge our accomplishments?"
Your hand hovered over the hilt of your sword.
"No."
Merlin gazed out over the vast, golden wheat fields.
"I couldn't care less."
"The selection of the new king will soon begin."
"You…"
Merlin hadn't even finished speaking when you drew your blade, thrusting it straight toward his heart.
This was no reckless act.
You had already determined that Merlin would never stand on your or Morgan's side.
If that was the case—
Then the only option was to kill him with underhanded methods.
No matter how powerful a magician was, their body remained as fragile as any human's once steel pierced their heart.
At least, that was how it should have been.
But what if—
Their body had never truly been here to begin with?
Your blade passed cleanly through Merlin's chest—
Yet there was no wound.
Merlin turned to look at you, an amused glint in his eye.
"You're quicker to act than I expected."
"Well then—"
"Allow me to leave you with a prophecy."
"The selection of the king will proceed."
"Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone,—"
"Is rightwise king of all England..."
"No one can stop this from happening."