Tweet of the Day: Internal Dialogue
Seventeen years ago Father stood at the base of Mount Badon, mighty Caliburn in hand.
Seventeen years ago the might of Dwarves, Humans and Orcs stood united against a common foe.
Seventeen years ago he struck down the the Summer King.
Seventeen years ago Severus Geta died and Ambrosius was born.
Now he sat at the head of the table with my brother Arthur on one side and his peerless advisory on the other. Men from across Britannia, warriors, leaders, priests and merchants. All sat at the court of their champion. But the old bear coat hung heavy on his old shoulders. He smiled at me, his last gift from his beloved Justine.The mother who gave her life for her daughter. A sad little smile.
Kai poured more wine into my goblet. I laughed at his bawdy jokes. The others joined in. Father sad little smile remained. I excused myself from the table and left. Someone came after me.
“Morgan wait,” said the old man.
“Myrddin,” I replied in the old tongue.
He sniffed the air around me, “Tis a dangerous game you play Morgan. Powerful men fear and therefore hate to be manipulated.”
“I thought you would approve. It was very difficult to create the right effect. Subtle yet potent.”
“I am sure it was, but still dangerous. If your father–”
I stared at Myrddin’s wrinkled yellow eyes, “Father is no fool. He knows that his days are short and that Arthur will have to take his place soon enough. And I will have to be married off if the League is to survive. The best thing for me to do is to take a look at the board and make the first move before someone else does it for me. Be it Father or Brother.”
“Morgan, you know your father loves you. He would never push you into something you are not ready for.”
“For someone so wise, you can be a fool sometimes, Myrddin. It is not what Father wants but what the League needs. The Saxon raids on Orc lands increase by the season, soon we will be next. If we are not united we will fall. Besides, Father may love me, but he loves me less than Arthur. I am just a reminder of the woman he loved. A reminder in life of her death.”
He shook his head, “All that is true of course, but there is a time and place for everything Morgan.”
I combed my hair with one hand, “I am not bound to the Spirits as you are, Myrddin. My doom has not been foretold.”
“Ah yes, of course. But the worst tragedies are of Man own making.”