Chapter Thirteen: Merlin (Please Support and Recommend)

King Kay’s words echoed across the entire training ground, yet the reactions they sparked were as varied as the listeners themselves.

King Uther heard them and felt a quiet satisfaction. Burdened with endless affairs, he couldn’t watch over Arthur every moment. Most of what he knew about his son came from reports, and since Arthur had handled previous challenges and tasks quite well, Uther had never formed a clear, concrete understanding of his son’s true strength. After all, he had no time to spar with Arthur himself.

But today, Kay tore apart the illusions surrounding Arthur, revealing his true capabilities. Like Kay, Uther preferred to be tough on Arthur now rather than see him perish prematurely due to insufficient strength. He was acutely aware that these were perilous times, especially for Camelot.

Uther was no sentimental father; he was a textbook example of a strict, demanding parent. If it benefited Arthur, he never cared about his son’s feelings. If he lived today, he would surely be criticized by modern educators and child protection groups, but this was centuries before the Common Era—none of that mattered at all.

Arthur’s sister, Morgana, Uther’s adopted daughter, shared her concern for Arthur with her maid.

As for the others… well, most felt nothing special, just happy to see the noble knights and the prince get roughed up. A typical bystander’s amusement. Since it didn’t directly affect them, they had little reason to worry.

At that moment, Kay approached Arthur. But seeing Arthur’s current state, his face darkened. He had asked Arthur to assume a horse stance as a form of punishment, yet Arthur looked anything but chastened.

There he was, his head resting against a canopy, sipping wine, surrounded by fruit, while a handsome page wiped his sweat and massaged him—practically on vacation.

Kay’s expression soured immediately.

Arthur was engrossed in a sharp exchange of barbs with Merlin over the latter’s earlier disdain. Neither noticed Kay’s arrival until the heavy silence around them made them uneasy.

“Our Prince Arthur is quite comfortable, isn’t he? Should I bring you another bed?” Kay’s voice, jagged with barely concealed anger, seemed to issue from the depths of hell, freezing both friends into rigid silence, their minds blank.

“I… I… I…” Arthur desperately tried to explain the situation, yet being incapable of lying, he had no way to conceal the truth. None of this was indulgence; he simply wanted to keep Merlin busy because he was annoyed by Merlin’s schadenfreude. But now, it seemed he had only brought trouble upon himself.

About ten minutes later, Kay hauled Arthur to the center of the training ground. The canopy, fruit, and wine were gone. Arthur was left with five buckets of water—one balanced on his head, two hung over his arms, and two resting on his thighs. Below his thighs, two sharpened iron spikes protruded from the ground, ready to pierce him if he lowered his body.

Meanwhile, Kay comfortably appropriated Arthur’s canopy, wine, fruit, and servants. He even had Merlin bring a lounge chair, then reclined in the shade, happily sipping wine, eating fruit, and chatting casually with Merlin, Arthur’s page.

“I saw you yesterday, but didn’t have time to ask your name. Now, child, you may introduce yourself,” Kay said genuinely, for he did not know Merlin. Just returned, Kay had no reason to inquire about the prince’s retinue. Yet, from their earlier conversation, Kay sensed a genuine friendship between Arthur and this boy.

Since he was his brother’s friend, Kay naturally wanted to know more.

Merlin was excited—Kay had become his new idol.

“Sir Kay, my name is Merlin, son of Honis. I am currently the attendant of Arthur… uh, His Highness Arthur.” Merlin stammered nervously, “Sir Kay, you were just… so… so amazing. I’ve never seen such a knight, you seem like someone stepped right out of legend.”

Though Kay’s demeanor was friendly, Merlin’s nervousness was palpable. Merlin couldn’t explain why he felt such pressure in Kay’s presence, unlike when he met King Uther.

What Merlin didn’t know was that Kay’s heart was no less unsettled. The name Merlin was not unfamiliar to Kay’s previous life. Merlin was a renowned great mage. Though Kay was unaware of Merlin’s deeds then, he knew it was Merlin’s aid that had helped Arthur become a great knight king.

During his travels, Kay had sought Merlin’s trace but found no one in all the Celtic lands who knew of him. Kay had assumed Merlin was retired in some remote corner.

Originally, Kay imagined Merlin as a Gandalf-like old man with a white beard, an ethereal sage in quiet seclusion—how natural that would be.

Yet Kay never expected Merlin in this world to be a handsome, delicate youth, a mere commoner and attendant to Arthur.

“Merlin? Hmm, a fine name. I’ve heard it said that those bearing this name become great mages,” Kay ventured. Though the name wasn’t especially rare, Kay had never met anyone called Merlin before. Still, he was eager to converse with this “Gandalf” Merlin, for the legendary mage was said to know all—perhaps even the way home.

But reality shattered Kay’s wizardly dreams.

Upon hearing the phrase “great mage,” Merlin suddenly jerked, his pupils shrinking. His starstruck excitement vanished without a trace. Nervously, he stammered, “Ah ha ha… ha ha, mage and such… Camelot has banned magic for many years… I could never… ha ha, you must be joking…”

No more running—this had to be Merlin, Kay thought silently. Merlin’s reaction was far too strong. Kay had only said that one named Merlin could become a great mage, yet this boy immediately applied it to himself—an inadvertent confession.

More importantly, in that fleeting moment of Merlin’s distraction, Kay sensed a magical aura. It’s worth noting that Kay himself was a mage, and a capable one at that. His forty points of spirit were no mere formality. Unlike other Celtic sorcerers, Kay’s magic came entirely from an outside world.

Thus, he could easily detect Merlin’s magical fluctuations.

Curiously, Merlin’s magic was peculiar—perfectly concealed. Otherwise, Kay would have recognized him as a mage the instant they met.