Chapter one: The Vassal king

Twenty Two years ago

An autumn fog clung to the undergrowth of Darkling Woods as King Uther and his Royal Guard made their way towards the clearing, the evening sunlight draping through the trees and bathing the open space in an unnatural glow. Uther's eyes darted about uneasily, his ears straining to make out any unexpected sounds over the snapping twigs of his guard walking close behind him.

Tentatively he stepped out into the centre of the clearing, his men fanning out behind him at the edges of the wood in tight formation. An eerie silence hung around them, not even the sounds of birdsong reaching their ears. The tension was palpable as the eight men shifted uncomfortably in their armour, their rapid breath suspended frozen in the cold air.

"Greetings Sire."

Uther's head snapped back to the very centre of the clearing in front of him, his eyes widening in surprise to see a figure standing calmly before him, which only seconds before had not been there.

The man wore a simple grey cloak, thrown back over his narrow shoulders. His tunic was a deep blue - plain but well made and he held his head high with the authority of a leader. A thin band of silver sat upon his head, a primitive version of the golden crown that Uther bore upon his own brow. Pale blue eyes the colour of ice stared unblinking at the King of Camelot as the figure smoothly lowered himself to one knee, finally breaking eye contact in a sign of respect and submission. A small smile of recognition played on Uther's lips as he signalled for the man before him to rise.

"Skoll, it's good to see you old friend," smiled the King, his eyes not reflecting the warmth of his voice, "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting."

"As your vassal king of the Scáthan people, it is my duty to answer your summons my Lord."

Uther raised an eyebrow at this and nodded slowly in response, "Yes… quite." He agreed, his eyes flicking up to meet the cold blue stare of Skoll, still unblinking, as he took a step closer to him. "Well, to business I think. My informants have advised me that you have withdrawn from your current post in the Kaigan territories. Is this true?"

Skoll's calm stance faltered for an instant but was quickly composed as he bowed his head, nodding an agreement, "That is true Sire."

"And what is your reason for this?" demanded the King.

Skoll paused for a moment, seeming to weigh his words carefully before giving his response, "There has been word," he replied eventually, "That Camelot has been dissolving a number of its allegiances. My people felt… unsure of the situation and a tactical retreat was deemed necessary. We trust you understand our position – this is no reflection of our treaty with your realm, oh King."

"You feared that our alliance would be broken?"

"The word from the outlying territories was that these allies, these people, were being slaughtered by your men. You must understand our caution."

"Why?" Uther barked angrily, "What cause did you have to believe that my word was not sacrosanct? What caution could I possibly understand that would forgive abandoning your post at Kaigan?"

Again Skoll paused, sizing up the King's words before lowering his head in subjection to the rebuke. "The reports, my liege, were that your connections were only being…" Skoll chose his words carefully, "…severed, with those parties that were of the… magical realm and given our very nature we believe that we had just cause for concern. I very much hope that this is not the case, as we for our part would make it known to you now that our loyalties to Camelot and its King are unwavering."

A thin smile tugged at Uther's lips for an instant before being deftly replaced by a look of concern, "Skoll, you well know that the Scáthan people, the people of the shadows, have been allied with Camelot for a millennium and your information and protection have always proven invaluable. You have been loyal guards and envoys to the throne and my own Father was a close friend of yours. You can trust that this counts for much, even in the present climate of my Kingdom."

"Those words are of great comfort to us my Lord, we of the shadows have enjoyed a close bond with Camelot for generations as you say and we would not see it fail. Our eyes are your eyes oh King and we will return at once to the Kaigan territories."

Uther smiled broadly, "I'm glad to hear it old friend, first however we should celebrate our continuing alliance. I shall hold a feast in your honour – how many are your people? I had heard you suffered many losses at Genwrith."

"It is true our numbers are not as they once were. We had our own enemies to battle at Genwrith and it has taken a heavy toll. Now we are just short of 200 men, women and children - but those that remain have sworn loyalty to you."

"I don't doubt it," smiled the King, "The banquet will be held three days hence in the great hall at Camelot, you must all attend."

"We will be most honoured." replied Skoll, bowing his farewell. A host of faces appeared briefly out of the shadows, surrounding the vassal king and one by one they sank noiselessly into the fast encroaching darkness.

Uther and his men waited a moment longer before heading out of the clearing toward their horses and riding back to Camelot. Not one word was spoken between them through the entire one hour journey, and as they dismounted and approached the court steps, Uther gestured that only Sir Henrith, Captain of the Guard, should accompany him to the dining hall.

Uther walked directly to the table in the corner of the hall and poured wine into a goblet, his eyes slipping distrustfully to the shadows of the room, unsure if he had seen any tell-tale movements. He drank quickly from the goblet before turning to face Henrith, who stood to attention before his King. Uther called him over with a flick of his wrist and held out his hand expectantly. Henrith withdrew a small sheaf of parchment from his tunic along with a thin length of charcoal and handed them both to Uther. With one hand covering his words the King wrote a short message, carefully folded it and handed it back to the Captain. Nodding an unspoken agreement, Henrith turned and walked toward a lit candle on the centre table. Opening the parchment barely a crack he read the message hurriedly and then set the corner alight, making sure that every last scrap was reduced to nothing but ash. He had his orders.

Uther's scribbled message on the parchment had been short and to the point... "Scáthan cannot be trusted. Make arrangements. Spare none."

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