“Should I fight you as Bàsdubh or Vortigern?” Bors lowered his sword.

“What difference does it make? We fight man to man.” Vortigern said.

“Those are wise words. I wonder which one of you came up with it.”

“We are one. Our minds, our bodies, and our souls are inseparable. You might as well call us something completely new.”

“Then, as your last opponent, I have that responsibility. Your name shall bear both your evil deeds as your title of a lord. Thus I will call you Dubhadh.”

“I do not mind being called that since you are the last person to do so." Dubhadh, the black king, made a sinister smile that reached everyone watching.

Guinevere glanced at Merlin, who was still smiling with a smug, yet his sparkling eyes wandered somewhere else. His eyes rolled at Guinevere, which made him lose his smile. The eyes squinted small, only to return to what seemed normal.

"You know why we are here." She said.

"Of course." Merlin frowned. "I am always here to give you advice."

"Speaking of it." Guinevere's attention turned to the unexpected trio. "How on Gima do those people affect the outcome?"

"You must have heard me wrong. I am the viewer of fate, not the weaver."

"Shut yourself and distract them for a minute." Guinevere sniffed.

"As you wish."

Merlin ambled toward Norman and the others. Under each of his steps bloomed the same beautiful flowers as under the tower. Norman could not notice his approach and stumbled back.

"The legendary wizard is coming here!" He was barely keeping himself together.

Orel and Andras watched in awe or rather silent disgust as Norman acted just as Hannes would in his presence.

Merlin stopped before them, smiling sly as ever.

"Oh my. We rarely have new guests. I could show you around the four corners of the paradise if you are willing."

"I- It would be an honor!" Norman nodded furiously.

"That sounds like fun!" Orel said.

"Aw, I wanted to see the fight." Andras frowned.

"You may taste the apples in the garden."

"Ooh, are they good?" Andras was already distracted.

"Only the best that this holy garden can offer."

"Ugh, could we still hurry? I want to see the end."

Merlin stayed quiet for a moment. "Not to worry. We will come back in time."

Flowers floated from Merlin's hands. The purple petals encapsulated the group and sent them drifting through the wind.

Another scenery opened their eyes. An endless field of fruit trees, old as time. Their shade felt cool after being under the sun for a while. Orel felt a bit weird from the travel like he was standing on nothing.

"Welcome to the field of trees." Merlin proclaimed.

Norman shuffled near him, fidgeting like a schoolgirl. "Um, the great magus of flowers."

"Please, call me Merlin."

"Merlin, is it true you possess the supreme Nazar?"

"It is," Merlin said. "These eyes see everything. The past, the future, any and all realms."

"How can you do that?" Orel asked.

"I might have exaggerated. Searching for the right thing can be quite a burden. Also, please don't bother asking about your future."

"How did you know? I mean, why?"

"There are quite a few reasons. The future is not quite a straight line but an endlessly branching root. You could say that I see the manifestation of endless possibilities. Thus, finding what will happen is sadly not quite clear."

"Isn't it a bit harsh?" Orel asked.

"What is?"

"You see all the bad futures too, don't you?"

Merlin gazed out to the shade. He made no point of being distracted by Andras eating the fruit. Nothing fazed him anymore. The cool of the shade, the ocean wind, all of it felt numb on his skin.

"Yes." He returned to his senses. "I have seen the destruction, suffering, and terror you humans have caused. Yet you have still persevered. Your persistent hope for a better tomorrow is something else."

"How do you know that we are going towards a good one?"

"That is the most interesting part." Merlin laughed. "I have no idea."

Merlin sat down, leaning against a lone peach tree. He watched up to the mortals gazing at him, which made him almost giggle.

"What you consider the future is just the outcome of all the possibilities. You have the tools to manifest that destiny. From the centuries I have been observing, I have come to understand the limitless potential of humans. Not just for evolution and growth, but the bottomless malice in their hearts. Humanity is the most terrifyingly creative of all the species ever existed and perhaps ever to exist. Only your twisted minds can create anything that is more destructive and vile than yourself."

A mighty being, a demigod in their presence, an entity beyond mortal capabilities, seemed to shiver with fright as they said those words.

"Do you hate humans?" Orel asked carefully.

"Me? No, I don't hate humans." Merlin smiled with an ominously wide grin. "You critters are the best type of entertainment there is. Watching your legacy unfold is utterly mesmerizing."

Even Norman felt something off and had to step away. He could not believe that those words were coming from the vagrant of paradise. Andras heard the conversation and returned with an apple stuffed in his mouth.

"Hey, you." He called.

"Me?" Merlin turned.

He could see very well what was going to happen, yet he remained still. Andras punched Merlin's head against the tree. The peaches rumbled down, hitting his head.

Norman shivered with fright. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know. He pissed me off. Like he was watching us like ants."

Merlin's face was unfazed by the strike, but he did produce a wrinkled frown. "That is quite rich coming from a demigod, no, blessed by divine gift."

"Wait, what?" Norman asked.

The frowned face started to giggle uncontrollably. "You didn't know?" Merlin made a face. "No, you don't remember."

"What do you know?" Andras asked.

"Oh, I know all that has happened with a single glance."

"Then tell me! Where do I come from? Who am I? What happened?"

"Is that something you expect me to answer? Have you also forgotten that you hit me just a moment ago?"

Andras stopped for a moment.

"I won't apologize to you."

"Are you sure, Andras?" Orel asked. "He might know everything you want to know."

"Not just might," Norman added. "He knows it."

Andras watched down to the sly grinning smile on Merlin's face.

"If getting access to the truth means lying to yourself, I'd rather stay uninformed."

"Hmph. Do as you wish." Merlin stood up. "I suppose we should head back. I am a man of my word, so you can witness this farce come to an end."

"at least you got that right." Andras crossed his arms.

"You weren't supposed to see it, so be quiet." Flowers bloomed from Merlin's hands.

The petals sent them away, back to the tower. This time, however, the trio found themselves atop the tower. The wind was stronger at such heights, but thankfully it was not too chilly. Merlin pointed down the railings, and the three walked over and looked over. Andras was eager to see how the fight had gone, yet he felt something off. It was all quiet down there.

The field was empty, spare for Dubhadh, who spoke with Guinevere, while Eagton seemed to guard her. While The three could not hear their conversation, the tone didn't seem friendly. Dubhadh wielded a barbed sword, but it was pointed at the queen.

"What is the meaning of this, queen Pendragon?" Dubhadh asked.

"You wished to be laid to rest here, did you not?" Guinevere asked calmly. "Eagton."

"Yes, my queen." Eagton created a small portal.

Guinevere stretched her arm inside and pulled out a red spear covered in runes.

Dubhadh sensed the danger terminating from the spear.

"I am warning you! You will see my soul return to your lands if my sole wish is not fulfilled!. Even if I cannot hurt you, I will swear to destroy everything you love if you wish to get in the way of my salvation. This vow will only serve in this life, and I will be free to cause carnage once I am reborn again."

"That is, if you die," Guinevere added.

"That spear. No, you wouldn't." Dubhadh's eyes examined the effects. It was as if reading your own death certificate.

"Yes, it is a shame I must waste such a valuable trophy from the War of green rivers."

"Where is your pride as a king? To use that sort of weapon, you are no better than the ruthless warlords of the past!"

"Then it is quite fitting to use against you."

"You think you can use such a weapon? The technique was lost with the hound of Culainn! His dying breath was the last light for his people!"

"I have no need for such a thing. My strength is followed by my predecessors, and our authority has reached the point that I can wield the power that we have seized as if it was our own." Guinevere took off her gloves. "I will show you our grand spell, cultivated over generations. Withness our Reginae privilegium!"

Guinevere grasped the lance in her hands. Her pose changed to a battle stance, and her gaze became cold and hardened. The spear pointed at Dubhadh, ready to strike.

"Awaken mystic sword: Legendary spear Gae Bulg!" Guinevere chanted.

Enormous magical energy that felt like hundreds of needles stabbing your skin burst from it. Orel could feel the aura from the tower. He had to take cover from it, as it felt like it was prickling his eyes.

Dubhadh had to step back. "You fool! Stop it!"

"This strike will always land true! You have nowhere to run anywhere!" Guinevere threw the spear forward.

Once the spear left her hands, its tip pointed at Dubhadh, and the rest of the weapon had to morph accordingly. It was no longer a straight pole but a stream of metal. Dubhadh had to block it. As the spear tip was about to hit his blade, it bent around it and continued forward. Dubhadh tried to grasp it with his gauntlet, but it was like trying to catch lightning. His last defense was in his armor. The spear pierced his chest, ignoring the scales completely. It sunk into his flesh, through his bones, until it reached the heart. Dubhadh felt the searing pain, but instead of wallowing in it, he tried to pull the spear out.

"Damn you, Pendragon! Even you have become corrupted!" Dubhadh struggled to pull it out. "I curse all of your blood, your children and grandchildren, whoever might bear your name!"

"Save your curses. Your fate is sealed." Guinevere put her gloves back on.

As the spear penetrated the heart, its blade would burst into hundreds of spikes. The heart would bleed, and all blood would turn into spikes as well. They would travel through the arteries and burst through the skin and organs. Dubhadh could not move a muscle without it bursting from blood, which would only form more thorns to pierce him with. It was an existence of suffering. Every breath was like swallowing a hundred needles while choking on blood. Yet, he was still alive. His heart was almost split in two, yet it kept beating. His blood would circle back inside, only to be pushed back out.

"...Why...Can...I...Not...Die?"

"You are in Avalon, where death does not exist. This is the resting place of kings until they return. Even for how twisted your existence is, Avalon recognizes your royal status."

"...Why do this?" Dubhadh uttered.

Guinevere sneered. "As if I would let scum like you walk on the same fields as my ancestors. Your filth has no place anywhere."

"Curse you...Pendragon!" Dubhadh let out a gurgling shout. "May all your happiness slip from your hands until they hold nothing!"

"Enjoy your afterlife, dark lord Dubhadh," Guinevere walked away. "We are done here, Eagton."

"What about lord Norman and his disciplines?"

"Now that you mention it," Guinevere stopped. "Merlin! Bring your ass over here!"

The yell reached well into Merlin's ears, though he was not the only one.

"I suppose we need to return down. Please try and act as if you didn't see that."

"That was...Something indeed." Norman leaned on the railing.

"I would have never thought that nice lady was mean like that," Andras said.

Orel slipped in his words. "What happened?"

"Look closely" Merlin looked down. "This is the truth of this country. It swipes evil under the rug."

The earth underneath Dubhadh grumbled away. Though he tried to escape, Dubhadh's legs would not move, and his hands were like weights pulling him down. The ground gave away even with all of his effort, and the man sunk deeper inside. Finally, he fell to the bottom, where the rocks slowly fell and crushed him. The weight increased until there was no room to move or breathe. Dubhadh could see the last bits of light closing in from the small cracks as the hole sealed itself. The last light of day left him in the darkness, and so did the dream of dying in peace.

"Merlin...Help me," Dubhadh uttered his last words.

"Goodbye, friend," For once, Merlin could not smile.

"The pest has been dealt with," Morgan's words echoed in the wind.

"Merlin!" Guinevere yelled.

"Remember to act casual," Merlin said.

The group appeared before Guinevere, who had already returned to her normal self.

"I am sorry, my queen. I was preoccupied with our other guests."

"No matter. The situation has been solved. We will be returning home now."

"I see." Norman tried to keep a straight face.

Orel was feeling sick watching the ground behind her.

"Let us hurry back to the boat." Guinevere started walking.

"Farewell." Merling smiled.

Orel, Norman, and Andras fell a bit back in the group.

"That wasn't really fair," Andras said.

"Let's, let's just go," Norman said. "Right, Orel?"

Orel walked silently. Norman tried to catch a glimpse of his face, yet it wasn't quite clear. The whole walk back to the Prydwen was eerily quiet.

The group returned to the castle, and the queen returned to her castle without saying a word. Slacume saw Orel heading down the stairs, but something was off.

"Orel, you're back!" he greeted.

"Oh, Slacume." Orel noticed.

"How did it go?"

"Sorry, but I just want to go home right now."

"Wait, something happened?"

Orel stared back with empty eyes. Where there was a roaring flame was but cinders. Slacume was terrified for his own good. He could not think what would be so terrific to snuff out that ambition.

"Good luck with your dream." Orel walked off.

"Wait, Orel!"

Behind him walked Norman, who had little feeling, but an aura of melancholy. While his hands weren't tied, he had tucked them tightly in his pockets.

"Norman!" Slacume called out.

"What is it?"

"Um, I was thinking if something was wrong."

"Nothing happened."

"Huh?"

"Nothing happened." Norman pressed the point.

Last was Andras, who didn't seem that different from usual but looked at Slacume with a stone-cold face. At that point, Slacume would not bother asking him anymore.

"Hey, you three!" Someone yelled.

Orel raised his head and saw someone on top of the stairs leading to the east wing. It was Gotthold, who looked out of breath. She had been looking for them after preparing Lionel for the interview.

"Before you leave-"

"What?" Norman asked.

"Sir Lionel, thanks to you for your service and efforts," Gotthold bowed. "I will send out your report to Guild. Your pay has already been transferred."

Before she finished the sentence, Orel had already walked down the stairs.

"Wait! What about your means of travel?"

"We will leave immediately. Tell Guild we will be waiting at the port." Norman said. "It was a pleasure working with you." He waved her off.

"Thanks a bunch." Andras walked off.

"We will drive you there if you would wait a moment!"

The three walked out of the castle with nothing else to say. Slacume drove them to the port and left without saying a word. He only waved them off as they stepped out and went back to clean the aftermath.

There was not much to do while waiting. Andras checked all the holes and tears on his overalls that he could later fix. Norman sat with Orel, but it was eerily quiet. Trying to speak to Orel was a problem. Every answer Norman got was either silence or "Uh-huh." They would not talk until the boat arrived.

Most of the workers were different, but Norman recognized one familiar face.

"So, how did the gig go?" The roughened worker walked over.

Orel walked to the ship without saying a word.

"How does it look?" Norman asked.

"Yup, the standard Albion experience. At least you got back in one piece."

"I don't think that's a high enough standard." Norman walked onboard.

"Oh, it's that guy!" Andras noticed.

"Hey, big guy." The worker greeted. "You look fine."

"Well, there's no use getting bummed out." Andras shrugged. "But I wouldn't go back there."

The morning sun rose beyond the horizon as the ship took off. Norman searched for Orel and finally found him on the deck, looking at the brilliant sunrise. He was about to ask something but decided to say nothing. To his surprise, it was Orel who opened his mouth.

"I hate this place. I never want to come back here."

All of Orel's pent-up anxiety poured out as he finished the sentence. His face reddened, and his eyes watered. Norman couldn't tell if Orel's silent sobbing was from what he witnessed or sheer happiness from leaving.

Norman was about to pat him on the back and tell him it was alright, but suddenly something filled his own heart with doubt. They were already coming back, and he still hadn't told Orel about his past. It was not as much the fact that he would keep secrets from his friends but that he failed his promise. He avoided and missed the chances each and every time, telling himself it was not the right time. Norman knew that there would never be a suitable time with that mindset.

Suddenly Andras slapped him on the back.

"What are you two moping here?"

Orel had already calmed down a bit, and thankfully he could at least smile again. On the other hand, Norman was still sour from being disappointed in himself.

"What's with that face?" Andras poked Norman. "We came, we saw, and we got out. Isn't that what we came here to do?"

It was something about Andras' smile, or perhaps his goofiness that even Norman couldn't help but laugh.

"That's not how that goes."

"So, where are we going next?" Andras asked.

"Oh, right." Orel wiped tears from his eyes. "The next realm is past the place you were looking for."

"Nihssi, was it?" Norman remembered. "I heard it is in war with Urug, or rather, they have denounced the other religion as blasphemy."

"And what are we looking for there?"

"The floating gardens," Orel said.

"I think we have a greater problem surviving there than finding it. While Nihssi is open to the public, it's under constant threat of terrorist attacks."

"I'm sure we will be fine. Right, Orel?" Andras asked.

"What do you say, leader?" Norman leaned on the railing.

Orel looked at his friends. In their eyes was a spark ignited by none other than him. Just as one may give flame to other, they may give it to you in time of need.

"We'll be fine," Orel smiled. "Together."

With such promise, the ship sailed with high hopes of a new tomorrow. Whatever might lay ahead, they would conquer together. Even if one fell, others would pick them up. No hardship would be too large for them, or so they hoped. Of course, they would not know what this new tomorrow would bring. Not all surprises are welcome, after all. But for now, the ship would sail back north to Pohjola, where the three continue back home to the gulf of Tanlen.