Arthur could not remember the last time his knees had shaken in front of an audience. It must have been when he was a boy, the first time his father had asked him to speak to the gathered population of Camelot in the citadel's courtyard. He had been fifteen at the time, and there had been several factors working against him. The first was the content of his speech, a report on the raid he had just led against a Druid camp living in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. It was the first time he had led a combat mission, the first of many in his time as Crown Prince, and while it had been successful – not a single Camelot knight had fallen – the screams of the children still rang in Arthur's ears. Just before he began to speak, a babe in the crowd had begun crying, and it took everything Arthur had not to flinch. The mother quickly shushed it, much to the young prince's relief, but it had set his knees to trembling.

He remembered his father sitting behind him, expression calculating and in no way supportive. The king had informed his son minutes before walking onto the balcony that Arthur should view this speech as a test of everything he had learned since the moment of his birth. In other words, this performance of Arthur's would show his father whether or not he was fit to be "Prince" Arthur. While Arthur could not see the king, his presence loomed there at the boy's shoulder like a storm cloud that would bring hail and thunder if the winds blew unfavorably.

At his other shoulder had been Morgana, his father's ward. She had always outclassed Arthur, in studies and even in swordplay and horseback riding. Sometimes Arthur wondered if she was more suited to be regent, and he thanked the gods she was both a girl and not a Pendragon. Arthur would have seriously feared for the crown if Morgana had any birthright to it. Still, Arthur had known her since they were small, and while they often bickered, he valued her opinion above almost all others. He knew she would watch him with a critical eye – a smug one, even – and he wanted more than anything to prove himself to her.

Finally, there at his feet lay the people of Camelot. A king could hold the citadel, but without the people, he had no real power. They filled the royal treasury with their tax money, the stores with the goods from their farms, and the barracks with knights and guards willing to die for their king. Most importantly, the people were fickle, and they would give their loyalty to the highest bidder, the leader who would most benefit them. King Uther had won their hearts through his strong, unyielding hand and the protection he offered them against magic and all other enemies of Camelot. Arthur knew he had to live up to his father's legacy to keep the people of Camelot.

Thirteen years later, Arthur stood in the same place before a similar audience. He was older, stronger, and he wore the crown of Camelot's king. He had led his forces in victory against Morgana and her army of Anglo-Saxons, perhaps the greatest threat Camelot had ever faced. Now, Arthur was about to unravel the entirety of his father's legacy; he could only hope that the love his people had shown for him time and time again would outweigh their hatred and fear of magic. He, too, still feared magic, much as they, but he had given his word, and damn it, it was the right thing to do.

Arthur took a deep, steadying breath and remembered the people who stood at his back this time. His wife and queen, Guinevere, the only woman he could ever love. Gauis, who was more of a father to Arthur than Uther ever had been. Merlin, Arthur's best friend who, despite his own reservations about magic was supporting Arthur's decision without any word of complaint. These were people who believed in him, not vultures waiting for his failure. If they believed in him, surely he could succeed.

He raised a hand, and the crowd grew quiet. They did not know explicitly why they had been called here today, but the rumor had circulated outward from the knights and servants, and the eyes of the people were filled with curiosity and trepidation.

Arthur cleared his throat and began.

"Good people of Camelot. It was twenty-eight years ago that my father Purged this land of magic. For many of you, it was before your time, but many others of you surely remember it. It was a time of fear, of bloodshed, and of bitter hatred that left a scar on both the kingdom and its people. Twenty-eight years, and it has taken me that long to realize the error of King Uther's ways. He took the anger he felt toward one person and amplified it to define an entire race of people, and because of his anger, countless innocent lives were lost. It was his blind hatred of magic that started the war against Camelot, by magic users seeking their own revenge – seeking their freedom! – and likewise, it was his refusal to forgive that created Morgana. We have all of us lost loved ones to this senseless war, this war that spanned three decades and only now climaxed with Morgana's crusade and the battle at Camlann.

"I am like you. I, too, grew up fearing and hating magic. Why should I have not, when I spent the better portion of my life defending myself against murderous sorcerers? They hated me for what I was – a Pendragon – something I could never understand, not until today, when I realize I also hated sorcerers on the basis of what they were and not who they were.

"I ask myself – and I ask you – can we blame sorcerers for attacking us? They want something we stole from them. Freedom. Would you blame a person for fighting for something as simple as their freedom? Haven't we fought for our freedom on numerous occasions, when this citadel has been snatched from us by invading armies? That was our right, and it was what was right. Why are the sorcerers any different? Excluding Morgana – they do not want the crown. They do not want our homes. They do not want anything from us. Merely freedom.

"Some of you may not know, but the only reason the Battle of Camlann was won is due to the selfless intervention of a sorcerer, who turned the tides in our favor at a moment when all hope was lost! He saved hundreds of lives, mine included. Dragoon, the Great. I realized, then, that magic is like any weapon. It depends on its wielder, and it can be used to both take and save lives. Of course it is frightening, because it works on so great a scale. But this power that an evil man can use to kill a hundred can save hundreds more in the hands of a good man.

"Dragoon, one such good man, asked for nothing in return for his aid. I am not content with that. So, I offer this to him – I offer it to him as a gesture of gratitude, but I also offer it because it is the right and just thing to do. I offer him the end of the ban on magic, the final end of the Purge. From this day forward, Druids will be free to live within our borders and trade within our towns and villages. Healers and craftsmen will be able to sell their services on the streets of the Lower Town. Sorcery will be legal again, under the protection of my crown.

"Of course, I will not allow sorcerers to run rampant in my kingdom, just as I would not allow sell-swords and bandits to do so. They must follow the laws of Camelot or face the repercussions the same as any man or woman. If magic is used to kill a man, I will be punishing a murderer, not a sorcerer. If magic is used to steal, then I will punish a thief – not a sorcerer.

"I realize it will not be an easy transition. All of us – those with magic and without it – will have to work together for this to be possible. But I sincerely believe that our cooperation will create the strongest kingdom and most prosperous age that Albion has ever seen. Our future begins today!"

"You did well today," said Merlin, sliding a tray of food onto the king's work desk.

"Then why do I feel like such a bloody fool?"

"All great men appear as fools, at first."

"But clearly not all fools become great men, or else you'd have done something noteworthy by now."

"Didn't I just save Camelot, not even a week ago?" Merlin's banter was light, but there was a clear note of hurt in his tone.

"Right, by avoiding the entire battle. Very brave."

Merlin flinched and cast his eyes to his shoes. After an uncomfortable second, the manservant spun around and began agitatedly picking dirty laundry from the floor.

Arthur felt a trickle of guilt down his spine. He sighed loudly and scrubbed a hand over his hair. "Damn it, Merlin, I didn't mean that. Just… I mean, did you hear them, after I finished speaking?"

"I didn't hear anything."

"Exactly!" said Arthur, swinging an arm out wide. "Not a single person applauded me. They only stared, as if I had just sentenced every last one of them to their deaths. Do you think there were any magic users there? Why didn't they do anything? I thought they'd be pleased."

"They were probably scared," said Merlin. His back was turned to Arthur. "I would be, if I had spent my entire life in hiding and was suddenly told, 'It's okay, you can come out now. Only, everyone here still hates you, but they probably won't kill you. But then again, they still might, if they think they won't get caught.'"

Arthur gaped. "You really think that will happen?"

"I don't know, but I do know that a good three-fourths of the population still believes magic is evil. And what do you do to evil things? Invite them over for dinner and wave 'good morning' to them?" The servant laughed bitterly. "I don't think so."

Arthur hung his head again. His eyes scanned the words of the speech he had just given without registering their meaning. "Was I wrong?" he whispered, mostly to himself.

Merlin walked to his king's side and grabbed his shoulder – and his attention. His eyes were tired, but he smiled regardless. "No, you were not wrong. It is simply a long road that lies ahead. Please don't doubt yourself, sire."

Arthur nodded. He knew he was not wrong, but oh how he wished this battle had been finished on the fields of Camlann. He was tired. Such was the life of a king.

He nodded again, more forcefully. "The word has been sent to the outlying villages. The guards have been informed of their new responsibilities. I suppose all we can do now is wait."

And wait they did. A full week passed before Arthur and his court learned of the first incident of magic's return. Leon's squire, a young lad named Deyn, had actually been present for it, and he reported it as accurately as possible for the assembled Round Table.

"Well, I was in the Lower Town this morning, and I heard a bit of hullabaloo coming from the cobbler's shop, so naturally I went to check it out. A few other people had gathered, looking for a good laugh – seems this family who runs the shop is well-known for their bickering. Sure enough, when I arrived, it was to see an old grandpa sitting in a chair outside of their shop and a younger girl buzzing at his ear, yelling, "Papa, you come inside right now!" and such.

"This old man ignored her completely. He had himself at his chair some shoe polish, a rag, and a stool. He leaned back and set his feet up comfortably, hands folded in his lap, like so. The girl may as well have not been there. Then, all of a sudden, his shoes started to shine themselves! The rag and polish just picked themselves off of the ground and set to work!"

"What then?" Arthur prompted. "How did the crowd take it?"

"They seemed shocked, at first. I suppose I was, too. Everyone was staring and a few were muttering to each other. That girl was mortified. She shut up really quickly after that. The old man sat there for a bit longer, looking around the crowd and smiling quietly. Then he turned to the girl and said, "Don't you think we'll get a bit more business now?" Well, she slapped him across the face and stormed back inside. He just sat there, smiling. That drew a few laughs, and after that, the tension had broken a bit.

"So, the old guy waved a hand and another chair flew outside next to him. And he said, "A free polish to the next person to sit in that chair." No one took the bait, at first, but some young boys shoved one of their friends forward. Lad looked like he was about to piss himself, but you know how boys are – didn't want to look a coward in front of his friends. So, he sat down, and the polishing cloth started in on his boots. He stopped being scared after not too long."

At this point, Deyn's face turned red as to match his hair. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I thought it might be good for the people to see a squire of Camelot endorsing magic, so I walked up and asked the man, "Do you have any more chairs?" And he waved another up, and, as you can see," he said, removing one of his boots, "my shoes are looking as nice as the day I bought them."

Arthur nodded his approval. "You did well, Deyn. Keep an eye on that shop for the next few days. Make sure everything is in order, and monitor how much business they receive." He addressed the Round Table as a whole: "I feel this is the first of many such occurrences. Let us prepare ourselves – change is upon us."

The incidents of magic came quickly after that, until Arthur had to rescind his request to hear about every one of them, simply for not having the time to do so. Several shop owners followed the cobbler's example and began to incorporate magic into their businesses in subtle but at the same time flamboyant ways. This drew young people to their shops, young people who had never or only rarely seen magic used and were eager for the novelty of it. The second most popular place for magic seemed to be the taverns, where drunken patrons were pulling it out as a parlor trick and using it to cheat at dice.

"I never realized there were so many magic-users in the Lower Town," commented Arthur to Guinevere as they walked together through the corridors. "Did you? You lived there for most of your life."

"I am as surprised as you, Arthur. They must have lived in absolute secrecy until now. You know how it was, like with my father. People reported every case of magic as soon as they imagined it happening. Sadly, I fear many of those cases were just that – imagined."

Arthur winced, but he tried not to linger on those days past. "It makes me wonder, do we have any secret magicians here in the citadel?"

The queen smiled. "Only time will tell. At least we know one thing. Uther's Purge did not wipe them all out."

"Yes." That was a relief to Arthur, for it meant that his repeal was having a tangible effect. At the same time, it unnerved him, for he had known how thorough his father's methods were, oftentimes leading the witch hunts himself. If so many sorcerers had slipped through their fingers, what would Camelot have done in a full-out war against them? It had not come to that, thankfully, but he hated to think that the 'safety' they had lived in before now was not but smoke and mirrors.

Guinevere slipped her hand into Arthur's, having noticed his thoughts were troubled. "Has Gaius started practicing again?"

"If Merlin is to be believed, he has."

"Are we not supposed to believe Merlin?" chuckled the queen.

Arthur scowled. "Sometimes I get the distinct feeling he's making things up to make me feel better."

"Does it work?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then no harm done." The queen playfully bumped her king's shoulder. "Arthur, I seriously doubt Merlin would lie to you, and more so about Gaius. So tell me, what has he said?"

"That Gaius is using magic to strengthen his potions and poultices, and that so far it's had a positive effect on his patients. Still, he only does so in private. He seems to be under the impression that most of the court would stop coming to him as a physician if they knew magic was involved. I am disappointed to say that he may be right."

"Many of your council members served under your father."

"Yes," Arthur drawled. "Old men with old ideas." It was unusual for Arthur to plow forward without taking his council's advice into consideration, but he had with his repeal, much in the style of Uther Pendragon. While the council members had long since resigned to their ultimate lack of power – when the old king made decisions with nary a heed for his council's opinion – they had not taken Arthur's decision quietly. Arthur still did not regret his choice, but he did regret that he had lacked the foresight to see this particular obstacle.

"I'll have to take care of them sooner or later."

"Slowly, Arthur. One step at a time."

There was the slap of boots and chink of chainmail approaching, and soon Sir Leon rounded the corner and strode up to the regents. "Your Majesties," he greeted, but his face was hard with concern. "There's a problem. A man is accusing a woman of murder – and of using magic to do so. We're holding them in the throne room."

The king and queen glanced at each other; Arthur squared his shoulders. "Thank you, Leon. Guinevere, I will handle this."

"Shall we have dinner later?"

"I wouldn't miss it!" Arthur called back over his shoulder, already rounding the corner.

Arthur and Leon reached the throne room shortly and entered through the side door of the chamber. As Arthur approached the throne, he surveyed the room's inhabitants.

Besides Leon, there were a half dozen other knights present, besides several guards at the main entrance. Three of the knights held a man on the right side of the room, while the other three held a woman on the left. The man and woman were of similar age, both looking to have fifty years or more. The man was large and wore short, dark stubble on his face and neck, while the woman was slim and well-groomed, despite her disheveled hair. The man was watching her hatefully, sneering at her every few seconds. The woman, meanwhile, glared at the floor and fidgeted.

Arthur noticed Gaius slip into the room from the other side door, Merlin at his heels, as well as a few more of his council members. They lined up discreetly by the pillars to observe this hearing.

The king reached the throne and sat down. Finally, he said, "What seems to be the problem here?"

"Your Majesty," the large man said immediately, thrusting a finger at the woman. "She killed my mother. With magic."

*Deyn - This character appears briefly in my other story, "Se edhwierft" (chapter 2). Now that he's around and has been defined as Leon's fiery-haired squire, he may continue to pop up in my Merlin stories.

A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience with me! As will sometimes happen, life got in the way: finishing my honors thesis, graduating from college, presenting at a museum, and preparing to move to Japan, where I'll be working for (hopefully) the next several years.

I have six weeks until the big move, and I plan on using it to write a lot of fanfiction. Once I get to Japan, I will probably take another months-long break. Don't blame me for it - I'll be in Japan for the first time in my life, and I know I'll be using any and all of my free time to explore. (See my profile for more information about my update schedule).

A couple of notes about this chapter: During last chapter and much of this one, there were several disconnected scenes serving to move us forward in time. Now, we begin our murder mystery and with it the main narrative of this story. From here on out, time will move slowly and there will be much more in-scene action. I'm very much looking forward to it.

I've written most of Chapter Five already, and I'll be working on Chapter Four next week. Please look forward to another update soon, following an update of "Se edhwierft".