Chapter Thirty-Three: The Flogging

Merlin was something of a minor celebrity in Camelot, and the reason was simple: King Uther had ordered him locked in the town square and pelted with rotten fruit and vegetables on eight separate occasions. Arthur had personally contributed to two of those instances back when they first met. Over time, practically everyone in Camelot knew exactly who Merlin was.

However, most people regarded him as little more than a fool or a jester. They held no real malice, mostly because Merlin possessed remarkably thick skin. He could face life with a smile even when covered head-to-toe in compost, often joking that those throwing the produce were simply his fans.

This endeared the silly, optimistic youth to the townspeople. They delighted in gossiping about his various blunders, and word even reached King Uther. The King once remarked, with a sigh, that it was fortunate Merlin could not get any stupider; otherwise, Camelot would face a famine, as all the food would be wasted by being thrown at him.

Amused by his antics, the gossips gave him the mocking nickname, "The Little Prince of the Square."

This morning, when the palace guards once again dragged Merlin to the square, the usual idlers were already preparing their rotten produce, eager for their daily entertainment. But this time, they were mistaken.

After Merlin was locked into the pillory, two guards stripped off his tunic, and a third, burly soldier approached from behind, wielding a whip.

A flogging!

The crowd stared in shock at the uncharacteristically silent Merlin. They could not fathom how this goofy, cheerful youth had committed a crime worthy of such punishment. In their eyes, Merlin was just a bit dim-witted; he was incapable of being a criminal.

"Crack!"

Before the crowd could process the scene, the soldier’s whip whistled through the air, striking Merlin’s back. A bloody welt instantly appeared on his thin frame.

Merlin’s silence was shattered. He gasped like a fish thrown onto dry land, his eyes and mouth wide open, though for a moment, he could make no sound. Before a scream could escape his throat, the whip descended again.

By the time the twentieth lash fell, Merlin hung limp in the stocks, unconscious. His back was a ruin of torn flesh, and blood had soaked through his trousers.

As a form of punishment, flogging was brutal—death was not unheard of. It was only because Merlin had powerful backing that the soldier knew to pull his punches; otherwise, given Merlin’s slight build, he might well have been killed.

As the punishment concluded, the two soldiers immediately hoisted Merlin up and rushed him back to the palace. Fearing he might not survive the ordeal, they hurried to get him to Gaius.

By evening, thanks to Gaius’s tireless efforts, Merlin’s condition had stabilized. For the foreseeable future, he would be forced to sleep on his stomach. Though his back burned with agony, Merlin was preoccupied by a different matter.

"Gaius... was I really wrong?"

Locked in his cell earlier, he had been haunted by Kay’s words. He no longer felt the certainty he once had. Merlin had always believed the law was unjust. It prevented talented men like Lancelot from serving their country—how could that not be wrong?

But after hearing Kay, Merlin realized how self-righteous he had been. As Kay pointed out, if he truly believed in Lancelot’s abilities, he should have introduced him directly to Arthur and let the Prince assist him. While the law was strict, it was not without legitimate channels for resolution.

By taking matters into his own hands, Merlin had inadvertently closed off even those proper avenues.

"Merlin... I don't want to lecture you. I will only say this: remember this lesson. Good intentions do not always lead to the right actions." Gaius had plenty of reproaches to offer, but seeing how deeply Merlin blamed himself, the words died in his throat.

Merlin was silent for a long time before asking with difficulty, "Does Lancelot... really have no chance at all? It wasn't his intention. It was my fault."

Gaius remained silent for a moment. He had spent time with Lancelot when the young man stayed at his chambers, and he knew Lancelot was a good person. As Merlin said, he deserved a chance. But alas...

"Arthur went to see Kay again and asked the same question. Do you know what Kay said?"

Merlin looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. The odds were slim, but he prayed for a miracle.

"This is what Kay said."

"Lancelot violated the first rule of the code of chivalry. He shamed himself, and he shamed us. This code is built on trust; it is the bond that unites the Knights! How can you trust someone who has lied to you? How can you convince other knights to trust a liar?"

Finished, Gaius held a vial of medicine to Merlin’s lips. "Drink this. Otherwise, you won't be sleeping tonight. The pain will drive you mad."

Whether it was because Merlin was subdued by his injuries or otherwise, the next two months in Camelot were peaceful. Everything was calm and well.

During these two months, Arthur endured the hardest time of his life. Kay had been furious to see that, without Merlin, Arthur didn't even know how to dress himself. Kay had never had a servant in his life—King Uther had offered him plenty, but Kay refused, insisting on doing things for himself.

Consequently, Kay strictly forbade any servants from attending to Arthur, forcing the prince to dress, eat, and even groom his own horse. If not for the fact that exiling the prince from the palace would cause an uproar, Kay would have had Arthur living in the knights' barracks!

In short, for those two months, Arthur became an ordinary knight. He received no special treatment and was constantly targeted by Kay. Had people not known of Kay’s loyalty to the royal family, they might have drawn some very dark conclusions.

However, this period was coming to an end. Kay was going home.

Camelot was Kay’s home, but he was not an orphan; he had his own parents. Every year, he returned to them for a month to fulfill his filial duties. Kay’s departure marked the end of Arthur’s hardship. Furthermore, Merlin had finally recovered and could resume his duties as a valet. The very thought brought Arthur relief.

Admittedly, even Arthur had to concede that while the days were grueling, they were effective. His progress over the last two months had been immense—and not just in his swordsmanship. His temper had steadied, and his speech and actions now carried a maturity that was absent before. King Uther was extremely satisfied. Had it not been for the necessity of Kay’s visit home, the King would have been reluctant to let him go, wanting him to continue training Arthur.