Merlyn's Fate

The Beauty and the Beast P5

Arthur wasn't really sure why he was walking through the lower town, but he'd found himself making his way through the dirty streets, smiling at some of his people as he passed. He'd temporarily forgotten about his father's tax: he'd never given the order for it to be collected, unable to bring himself to do so, but apparently, someone had told the knights. Outside a small, broken home was an elderly man, his white hair patchy, his hands leathery from age, being pushed to the ground by two of the Prince's men.

"What do you think you're doing?" Arthur asked, raising his voice to convey his outrage.

"He refused to pay the King's tax." One of the knights exclaimed, kicking his victim when he tried to raise his head. Both of his men were traditionalists, the kind of fighters who never questioned orders as long as they came from the right people. He'd had some trouble with one of them recently when, in exchange for not having to muck out the stables, Merlyn had agreed to lead some basic drills. The knight had ignored her commands, instead, leaving the training field, insulting her as he left. If it wasn't for the fact that the servant had chosen this moment to throw one of her daggers, grinning mischievously as it stuck in the post centimeters from the insolent knight, causing him to piss himself, darkening his breeches, his face as pale as a sheet, Arthur would've put him on stable duty for a month.

"You ask for too much. I've given all I can." The old man, who was struggling furiously to stand, spoke up, realising the Prince's sympathy.

"It's not enough." the knight sneered, kicking him again so that the elder was left wheezing on the ground. Amongst the victim's coughs, Arthur suddenly became aware of the number of eyes on him. He was on one of those crossroads, where he could choose between the good soldier, a follower of the King's orders, or stand up against what he knew to be wrong. He knew that, if Merlyn were here, she would glare at him until he chose the latter, or help the poor man from the floor. He'd hate to disappoint her, and besides, if he was ever going to be a good king, he would need to learn to make hard decisions for the greater good.

"Let me see." he stretched out his hand, gesturing for his knight to hand him the bag of coins their victim had handed over. Fumbling through the pitiful change, Arthur sighed, handing it back to the old man.

"Release him." he spoke quietly but with all the authority he could muster.

The knight looked surprised. "But the King said-"

"Release him!" The Prince's voice was louder this time, daring his men to argue. The people smiled kindly, parting as he walked away from the scene.

"Give them back their money, all of it." he waved in the direction of a guard, who appeared to be holding a large box full of coin pouches. Instantly, a rush ensued, the people glad to see their money returned. Arthur was sure that his father would be displeased, but, judging by the relieved faces of the townspeople, he'd survive whatever punishment Uther deemed fit.

∆

"I gave you a direct order." The King was clutching the arms of his throne in anger. Arthur stood to attention, his hands behind his back, holding his head high. His father wouldn't make him regret his decision: he knew that what he'd done was right.

"The people can't afford to pay the tax." he argued, doing his best not to throttle his new stepmother, the woman who, he was certain, was to blame for this sudden change in the King.

"Don't tell me that you're naïve enough to believe them?" Catrina belittled him, but he stayed firm, determined to help the poorest of the city.

"We have their loyalty, their goodwill. Do not forsake that by making unreasonable demands." he pleaded, turning to face Catrina, the alleged troll, and brains behind this operation.