The Whispered Task

In the bustling fortress of Camelot, everything seemed larger than life—especially to Merlin, who was an expert at fading into the background when necessary. Today, however, he couldn't avoid the piercing gaze of King Uther Pendragon.

"Merlin," King Uther began, in a tone as serious as the sword he wore at his side, "I have a task for you of great importance."

Merlin stood in the great hall amid echoes of history bouncing off stone walls, the weight of the king's words sinking heavily on his shoulders. "Me, sire?" he managed to say, his brown eyes wide with a mix of surprise and trepidation.

"Yes, you," Uther continued, without the hint of a smile. "You must deliver this message," he nodded towards a sealed letter resting on a carved wooden table, "to our ally in the White Mountains. It must be done swiftly and without any reliance on magic. Understand?"

Merlin swallowed hard, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety coiling in his stomach. Magic had always been his shield, his refuge. And in Camelot, it was both forbidden and necessary for the survival of the kingdom. This mission would test him like no other.

“Yes, sire,” he replied, his voice finding strength in determination. “I will deliver it.”

Uther nodded, his eyes still searching Merlin’s for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he turned away, leaving Merlin to ponder how he would cross enemy lines using only his wits and courage.

Through the Inner Gate

Merlin clutched the sealed letter tightly as he slipped through the busy courtyard of Camelot. The scents of baking bread and the sound of clanging metal filled the air, but he could only think about the heavy responsibility resting upon his shoulders.

As he approached the inner gate, his heart hammered in his chest. Sir Leon, a loyal knight with sharp eyes and a firm grip on his sword, stood guard.

"Off on an errand for the prince, are you?" Sir Leon asked, suspicion hanging on his words like damp clothes.

Merlin nodded, keeping his voice even. "Yes, urgent matters,” he replied, doing his best to look like he belonged there.

Sir Leon leaned closer, inspecting the slightly crumpled letter. Merlin's palms felt slick with nervousness, but he met the knight’s gaze steadily.

"Right," Sir Leon decided, waving him on, "You'd best hurry then."

Merlin managed a grateful smile and stepped through the gate, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. He knew this was just the beginning. Bigger challenges, he thought, awaited him beyond—but he wouldn’t let fear lead. Never that.