@druidtraitor ( One year after the previous events )
Over the course of a year, Arthur had dedicated a lot of his time to trying to make changes to Camelot. Magic was slowly but surely being introduced again, and though there had been some moments of panic where Arthur wanted nothing to do with it and wanted to shut the whole operation down, he had pushed through to the best of his abilities. Magic folk were coming forth to request hearings with him, seeking for payment in return for the evils done to them or their family in the past. Then, of course, there were some people of magic who were too angry for payment and wanted nothing more than to see Arthur dead. Those were the ones he had to watch out for, and those were the ones that he would give a death sentence to for making attempts on his life.
During one of his many journeys outside of the city, he’d come across a group of druids who were under attack. They were scrambling to get their belongings, reminding Arthur of when he had watched them flee at his presence a year ago. He’d taken it upon himself to help them, thus saving their lives and preventing them from having to move again. They’d been scared of him at first, knowing that they were in the presence of Arthur, son of Uther, but he had assured them that they had no reason to fear him and that he only wanted peace. It was one of the more memorable acts of kindness he’d done for those with magic. Was it enough to gain their trust? Perhaps not fully.
It was an uphill battle every step of the way, but Gwen was there to support him and assure him that every gesture counted. Even if it was a slow process, people were noticing the changes. Given time, Camelot would become the kingdom Arthur envisioned it to be. One day, he and the people of Camelot, including those of magic, would be able to live in peace and harmony. Uther would be rolling in his grave right now if he were to know of the changes Arthur was making. He would be seen as a disappointment, but Arthur knew now that Uther was indeed a broken man and had allowed fear to control him. Still, there was something for Arthur to fear: Mordred. His words still lingered in his mind, and Arthur actively sent knights and soldiers out to scout the area and ensure that no suspicious activity was taking place. If it was a war Mordred wanted, then it was a war he would have. It just left the question of when?
While riding back from his travels, Arthur had found himself ambushed by another group of swordsmen who opposed his reign. There was little time for talk and introductions, the king and his knights drawing their swords and quickly finding themselves engaged in battle. Arthur was a proud swordsman and was known to be the best Camelot had, but even he hadn’t been prepared for the challenge that had approached him. They were strong. A force to be reckoned with. His knights fought valiantly, yet one by one they were picked off by numbers greater than his own. They were outnumbered and evidently outmatched. Soon it was just Arthur left, and the king found himself knocked onto his back after a lengthy and ruthless sword fight. The opponents sword was now left lingering above his chest, threatening to pierce his heart at any given moment. He knew this position all too well from training and duels. This was defeat. And this time, Merlin wasn’t around to save him.
