The door was flung wide, a fire blazing in the grate, yet his hand rested on Excalibur’s hilt. It was no longer safe to travel unarmed. His private guard had taken up positions in the surrounding trees, ready to launch an offensive or a rescue at the designated signal from him. That he’d taken such measures would offend his friends, but he would not risk his life or any of theirs, should one of them prove turned by the enemy. For nearly a year Arthur had heard the whispers, felt the warnings at the wispy edges of his dreams and in the heart of his worst nightmares. Creatures who craved darkness and dealt in evil, always a threat to his personal quest for peace, were gaining a foothold in the west. To what end he could not see and Merlin, his most-trusted advisor, remained coy as always about the future. He felt it now, another tendril of that ill wind grazing his cheek, despite the clear bright autumn sky and the heat of the fire at his back. Three pairs of boots crunched on the path, growing louder as the men approached.
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