"Who should I fight you as?” 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.”

“I am Vortigern, but aspects of both the white and black dragon are me as well. We are one.”

“Then, you might as well be something entirely else. May I call you, let's see, how about Àrdrich?”

“I would not accept if it was anyone but you." Àrdrich, the high king, made a sinister smile that reached everyone watching.

Merling had a smug smile on his face, yet his sparkling eyes wandered somewhere else. They rolled at Guinevere, which made him lose his smile.

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

"Of course." Merlin frowned. "I am always here to advise the king."

"Speaking of advice." Guinevere's attention turned to the unexpected trio. "Why did you ask me to bring those three along? How can they affect this situation?"

"You must have heard me wrong. I am the viewer of fate, not the weaver." Merlin's lips curled up. "Let's say that it was best they came this way rather than another."

"You are saying they are fated to come here?" Guinevere irked. "Nevermind. Just distract them until this is done and dealt with."

"As you wish." Merlin nodded. He 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 Ándras watched in silent contempt as Norman turned into a fanboy.

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." Ándras frowned.

"You may taste the apples in the garden." Norman licked his lips.

"Ooh, are they good?"

"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 nodded proudly. "These eyes see past 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 Ándras 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 persistence is tougher than anything I've ever seen, like cockroaches."

"Then, how do you know that we are going towards a good future?"

"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 and had to hold back from giggling.

"What you consider the future is just the outcome of all the possibilities. From the centuries I have been observing, I have come to understand that there is no limit to human potential. You have the tools to manifest any destiny you desire. Your passion burns hotter than any flame. Your pure innovation explores all possibilities and exceeds each generation. I am sure that humanity is the most terrifyingly creative of all species ever to exist. Only your twisted minds can create something more destructive and vile than yourself, and I will be sure to watch if there is a creation that will finally bring you to ruin."

A supremely powerful being, a demigod in their presence, an entity beyond mortal capabilities, though smiling, shivered with fright as he uttered those words.

"Do you hate humans?" Orel asked carefully.

"Me? No, far from it." Merlin smiled with an ominously wide grin. "You critters are the best type of entertainment there is. Watching your legacy unfold is utterly mesmerizing. It's like watching ants, but instead of burning them by yourself, you watch them kill each other in new and more terrific ways yet for the same reasons all over again. Blood and soil, am I right?" Merlin's unnerving smile and hopeless eyes made Orel shiver.

Even Norman felt something off and had to step away, pulling Orel with him. He could not believe that those words were coming from the vagrant of paradise.

Ándras returned with an apple stuffed in his mouth. "Hey, you." He spat the seeds out.

"Yes?" 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 to the shock of everyone watching.

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

"I don't know. He pissed me off. Talking down on us and all." Ándras grabbed a peach mid-flight and took a bite. "Bitter."

Merlin's face was unfazed by the strike, but he did produce a wrinkled frown. "That is quite rich coming one blessed by divine gift."

"Wait, what?" Ándras dropped the fruit.

Merlin started to giggle. "You didn't know?" His face suddenly stopped to stare with round eyes. "No, you don't remember."

"What do you know?" Ándras asked.

"I knew all that happened with a single glance."

"Then tell me! Where do I come from? Who am I? What happened?" Ándras gripped Merlin's robes and lifted him against the tree.

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

Ándras released Merlin with disgust written all over his face.

"Yes, that's more like it. Good boy. Now say sorry and I might tell you a hint." Merlin tilted his head.

"I won't apologize to you." Ándras shook his head.

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

"Not just might," Norman added. "He is the divine sorcerer, Merlin. He is one of the few beings besides gods who sees and knows all. This might be your only chance."

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

"If hearing the truth means lying to yourself, I'd rather find out myself." He said and turned his back on him.

"Hmph. Do as you wish." Merlin stood up. He closed his eyes for a moment. "I suppose we 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." Ándras 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. 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. Ándras 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 Àrdrich, who spoke with Guinevere with Eagton guarding her. While The three could not hear their conversation, the tone didn't seem friendly. Árdrich wielded a barbed sword, but it was pointed at the queen.

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

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

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

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

Àrdrich 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 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 corrected, inspecting the spear.

"That spear. No, you wouldn't." Àrdrich's eyes examined it. The experience, however, was the same as reading your death certificate.

"Yes, it is a shame I must waste such a valuable trophy from the War of Green Rivers." Guinevere shook her head.

"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 do not need such a thing. My strength is the following of my predecessors, and our authority has reached the point that I can wield the power we have seized as if it was my own." Guinevere explained as she took off her gloves. "I will show you our grand spell, cultivated over generations. Witness 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 Àrdrich, ready to strike.

"Awaken mystic sword: Legendary spear Gae Bulg!" She 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. Norman had to take cover too, and Ándras had to cover his eyes with his hand.

Àrdrich 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 Àrdrich, and the rest of the weapon had to morph accordingly. It was no longer a straight pole but a stream of metal. It flew faster than a bullet, yet Àrdrich blocked it. As the spear tip was about to hit his blade, it bent around it and continued forward. Àrdrich tried to grasp it with his gauntlet, but it was like trying to catch lightning and it slipped out. His last defense was his armor. The spear pierced his chest, ignoring the scales completely. It sunk into his flesh and bones until it reached the heart. Searing pain almost immobilized Àrdrich, but instead of wallowing in it, grasped the spear with his hands.

"Damn you, Pendragon! Even you have become corrupted!" Àrdrich 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. It turned the blood into hard bards, piercing everything around them. They would travel through the arteries and burst through the skin and organs. Àrdrich could not move a muscle without the barbs piercing his flesh, which would only form more thorns to pierce him. It was an existence of constant 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 or turned into thorns.

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

"You are in Avalon, where death does not exist. This is the resting place of kings and their men. Avalon recognizes your royal status even for how twisted your existence is."

"...Why do this?" Àrdrich 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!" Àrdrich let out a gurgling shout. "May all your happiness slip from your hands until they hold nothing!"

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

"What about sir 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," He said.

"That was...Something indeed." Norman leaned on the railing, his face pale like a tablecloth.

"I wouldn't imagine the lady to be such a nasty person," Ándras said.

Orel stared blankly. "What happened?" He asked with empty eyes.

"Look closely," Merlin leaned toward him. "This is the truth of the world. Black and white, good and evil, they are the sides of the same coin. Call whichever side you want, but it's up to the thrower which side it will land on."

The earth underneath Àrdrich grumbled away. Though he tried to escape, his 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.

"Merlin...Help me," Àrdrich uttered his last words. He could see the last bits of light closing out 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.

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

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

"Merlin!" Guinevere yelled. "What is taking you so long?"

"Remember to act casual," Merlin whispered.

The group appeared before Guinevere, who was in the middle of calming herself down.

"I am sorry, my queen. I was preoccupied with our other guests." Merlin bowed his head.

"No matter. The situation has been solved. We will be returning home now." Guinevere turned away from the tower and the pile of ground before her.

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

Orel felt sick watching the mound.

"How was your research, sir Norman?"

"Yes, that." Norman returned to reality. "Most splendid, your majesty."

"Glad to hear that." Guinevere nodded. "Let us hurry back to the boat." She started walking.

"Farewell." Merling smiled.

The trio walked behind the queen, keeping their distance.

"That wasn't fair," Ándras shook his head.

"Well, at least we got out, right Orel?" Norman asked.

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. Inside, Orel kept his distance from everyone, sitting against the walls.

"Maybe we should talk to him," Ándras said. "I've never seen him like this."

Norman glanced at Orel. "I don't know. Maybe when we get back."

"Remember, you still need to talk with him too."

"I know, I know." Norman sighed. "This is not how I wanted this to happen."

After emerging from the ship, the group returned to the castle via the portal.

"Now, let us return home, Eagton." Guinevere said."

"Yes, your majesty." Eagton drew another portal.

"And you will be hearing from me again, sir Norman." Guinevere reminded. "You have your part to pay for this."

"I understand, your highness." Norman bowed.

The castle was full of police and ADF, yet the three had no trouble moving through as long as they mentioned that they were the party. The three wanted some fresh air, so they went down the stairs to go outside.

Slacume happened to walk by and noticed them from the floor they were walking down from.

"Orel, you're back!" he greeted, leaning on a railing.

"Oh, Slacume," Orel stopped on a flat part of the staircase.

"How did it go?"

"Sorry, but I just want to go home right now," Orel said with a blank face.

"Wait, did something happen?" Slacume asked.

Orel stared back with empty eyes. Where there was a roaring flame was but cinders. Slacume felt a cold chill from the stare. He could not think what would be so terrific to snuff out that ambition.

"Good luck with your dream." Orel turned and walked down with his back facing him.

"Wait, Orel!" Slacume hurried to the stairs.

Behind Orel walked Norman, with his hands tugged tightly in his pockets.

"Norman!" Slacume called out.

"What is it?" Norman turned.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing happened." Norman shook his head.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Happened."

Last was Ándras, who glanced at Slacume with a stone-cold face. At that point, Slacume would not bother.

"Hey, you three!" Someone yelled.

Orel raised his head and saw someone on top of the stairs. It was Gotthold, who looked out of breath.

"Before you leave-"

"What?" Norman wasn't having her after their first meeting.

"Sir Lionel would like to thank 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?" Gotthold asked.

"We're leaving now. Tell Guild we will be waiting at the port." Norman followed Orel. "It was a pleasure working with you." He waved her off.

"Wait, at least let me drive you there!" Slacume ran down.

"Thanks," Ándras said.

The three walked out of the castle with nothing else to say. Slacume drove them to the port, where they only shook hands and left. Slacume waved them off, but could not feel worse about it.

There was not much to do while waiting. Ándras 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.". Eventually, he gave up and waited 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 you," Ándras noticed.

"Hey, big guy." The worker greeted. "At least you don't look glum."

"I don't have time to get bogged down." Ándras 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 first moments of sunrise. He walked over and leaned on the railing. To his surprise, it was Orel who opened his mouth.

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

All of Orel's pent-up anxiety poured out as he finished the sentence. His face reddened, and his eyes watered. Soon, he cried.

Norman was about to pat him on the back and tell him it was alright, but something filled his heart with doubt. When he would tell Orel everything, could he be there by his side? Would Orel still want him to be on his side? If the person he relied on for morals and guidance turned out to be as grey as what just shook him, who would he rely on? The thoughts murked deep inside Norman's chest, tightening it until it felt like he could not breathe.

That was until Ándras came and 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. Norman was not that easy to shake off any nasty feelings.

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

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

"That's not how that goes." He shook his head.

"So, where are we going next?" Ándras 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 at war with Urug, or rather, they have denounced the other religion as blasphemy."

"And what are we looking for there?"

"The floating gardens," Orel smirked.

"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?" Ándras asked.

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

Orel looked at his friends. In their eyes was the same spark as him. From the embers of passion rose a new, perhaps fickle, but still hot flame.

"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 sailed back north to Pohjola, where the three continued back home to the gulf of Tanlen.