Merlin rubbed his eyes as he walked into the council chambers. He felt like he could sleep a week and still be tired. He took a deep breath which turned into a yawn. He blinked back tears as he pulled out the chair he usually claimed during council meetings and settled into his chair. He sighed. It felt good to sit down and relax. He chuckled, softly. He chose the one room no one would go. He looked around at the council room.

  The long wooden tables were set up in a U shape. High back chairs sat behind of the top of the U shape. Banner draped the walls with the golden dragon crest of the Drake House. Those would be replaced, soon. Several bookcases stood around the room, housing previous council meetings and other topics covered in a typical council meeting. Large windows allowed light to shine into the room, showing the sun was setting.

  Hopefully, in a few days, this room would be busy with various council meetings as the New Ruler would be debriefed about the current events within the Kingdom. Of course, there was a small chance that the Holy Sword wouldn’t chose another Ruler for a while. He lend his head back and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the day. He really hoped Camelot didn’t experience another Kingless Kingdom Era. It may spell the end of the Kingdom. He turned his thoughts toward the unexpected challenger.

  He had heard about Rōga Fenrir, the Eastern Wolf Demon Lord. He didn’t think anyone representing demon-kind would even try to come to Camelot. What he heard about Rōga, Merlin shouldn’t have been surprised. Rōga had been known to challenge laws and traditions. From his understanding, that was how Rōga managed to get his position as the Eastern Plains Lord of the Wolf Demon Tribe.

  Merlin wondered if there would be another non-humans arriving to attempt the Holy Sword. Belladonna would eventually throw a hissy fit over it. Kalliope would shrugged. Arthur would look at him and Morgana for guidance. The other members of the Court would shy back and plot, in case, there was a non-human Ruler. Except for that Lady Valentina Armstrong. From what he had heard about Rōga and Lady Valentina’s exchange, Lady Valentina knew Rōga. That was interesting.

  He yawned. He brought up a hand to cover his mouth. He blinked back tears before he shook his head, sending strands of his black hair into his face. He got to his feet and walked from the room. He probably should off to his personal rooms to get some more rest. Tomorrow would be a taxing day, just like it was today.

  Merlin stepped out of the Castle, heading to his private rooms. He turned his gaze to the sky. One side, night spread with ton of twinkling dots, fading from the light blue with pink and orange clouds. It was beautiful. Life would go on. It didn’t matter to the Cosmos if Camelot managed to find another ruler or not, if the Kingdom remain standing for another year or century. He sighed as he watched something zoomed in a zig-zag line between the twinkling stars.

  He blinked and shook his head before he focus on a bird in the distance and a stream of blue fire shot from its mouth. He raised an eyebrow. Why would a dragon be fighting? He shook his head again. There was no need for him to pulled into mysterious events that weren’t effecting Camelot. He couldn’t protect the Kingdom as he was, at the moment. He was drained. It would take another week or two for him to fully recover. Maybe even three, if he kept overseeing the Choosing Ceremony like he did today.

  Morgana might recover fully before he did, but he didn’t know. She had to take over the Choosing Ceremony after he had left. He didn’t think they would have a demon candidate. It did open the door if the other non-human candidates would try as well. He hadn’t had a chance to speak with Lady Morgana, yet.

  “Lord Merlin.”

  Merlin turned his attention to a servant rushing up to him. “Lord Merlin, Lady Morgana requests your company for a private dinner. She thought you might appreciate rest after today’s difficulties.”

  Having a private dinner sounded appealing. It would be nice to get away from the talk of the Court for a while. He knew they would be discussing the day’s event. He eyed the servant, “Where she is?”

  “In her chambers,” the servant replied.

  The Queen’s Tower? Merlin frowned as he turned to look in that direction. He knew the other queens would be at the Great Hall for supper. It would be a while before they got back. He could get up there without one of them throwing a hissy fit about what was proper and what was not. Plus, no body would look for him there. He could get away from his study and the piles of paperwork he still had to go through. He turned back to the servant, and said, “Thank you.” He strolled off to the Queen’s Tower.

  The Common Room of the Queen’s Tower was empty when Merlin poked his head into the room. He let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to run into Belladonna or another Queen. Belladonna, of course, would have argued against a private dinner with Morgana. He rolled at that thought. He was over 2,000 years old, not some child needing to be looked after. He walked to the stairs and started to climb, cursing the fact Morgana lived at the top of the tower. He never did understand why she choose to place her rooms at the top, instead of the bottom.

  He reached Belladonna’s floor and strolled across the dark rug, heading to the stairs on the far side. He glanced at Belladonna’s door as he pasted it. He knew she wasn’t too pleased that Rōga Fenrir declared his intention for the Holy Sword, but there was nothing she could have done to prevent him from trying. Merlin had to renew the wards around the Castle when he and Morgana walked around the Castle and the town, the other day. When he did that, he also recharged the wards protecting the candidates of the Holy Sword. He learned the hard way around the 8th Choosing Ceremony that once the candidate was found worthy by the Holy Sword, the candidate could be killed.

  Merlin intoned “You have been found worthy!” He gave the man a smile, “You will be crown King, Sir William, Son of Eric, of House Ravenshield.”

  William’s face glowed with happiness as he held the Holy Sword above his head and turned to the crowd, gathering in the courtyard. Merlin heard the hiss before he saw the arrow. He couldn’t act as the arrow pieced William’s face. He rocked backwards and crumbled. The Holy Sword clatter to the stone floor. There was silence for a full heart beat before the ladies of the Court screamed. The single branch military ran along to the Castle wall, chasing after the Assassination. William’s wife ran over to his body and crunched down, crying. Merlin noticed the arrow had pieced William’s eye.

  Morgana walked around Merlin and bent down, grabbing the Holy Sword. She looked at the blade for a long moment before she turned her attention to the crying wife then the men standing in line. She turned to the rock, laying between Merlin and the line of men. She positioned the blade down and allowed it to slip back into the rock. She turned to William and his wife then called to the nearby guards, “Guards, please carry William’s body to the Healing Wing. Sir Micheal, please, escort William’s wife there as well.”

  The Guards approached and lifted the body of William, carrying him to the Healing Wing. Sir Micheal, a blonde hair man with a scar on his left cheek, walked up to William’s wife and took her arm, helping her to feet before he guided her after her husband’s body.

  Merlin and Morgana shared a look and they raised their hands, chanting a protection ward before they laid a hand on the hilt of the Holy Sword. A circle spread out a few feet and glowed before it faded away. Morgana turned to a nearby knight and asked, “Sir Ryan, please shoot an arrow at us.”

  “But my lady,” Sir Ryan’s eyes widened as he protested.

  “Sir Ryan,” Merlin cut him off, “It is safe. The ward we just summoned is a protection ward. We have to ensure we have a worthy King today. We shall continue this Choosing until we have a King.”

  Sir Ryan nodded and took his bow, knocked an arrow on the string, aimed at Merlin, and fired. The arrow flew until it reached the invisible wall where it hung there for a long moment before it fell to the ground. Merlin almost heard the sigh of relief from the candidates as they watched the arrow roll on the stone ground.

  “Let’s continue,” Merlin announced, “Next. Please state your name and rank.”

  “I am Sir Nathaniel of House Duskridge, a Knight of Camelot,” the next candidate stepped forward and the process began again. It wasn’t until Sir Lorian of House Ashford declared worthy to rule Camelot as King did the Choosing Ceremony end.

  Merlin shook his head, getting rid of the memory. That wasn’t the only time he had to improvise on protecting the candidates. He remembered there was a few times on the battlefield, a King had died from his wounds and the Knights participated in the Choosing Ceremony as they fought of their enemy. It was always stressful to hold the Choosing Ceremony - no matter how the previous King had died. The last time he was under this much stress around the Choosing Ceremony was 20 years ago. He thought he knew the reason why, but it felt like it was out of reach for some odd reason. He knew he had witness someone pull the Holy Sword out before one of Uther’s male relatives did. He frowned, thinking hard.

  The person was short, extremely short.

  Merlin paused, in the stairwell between Belladonna’s floor and Susan’s floor. He knew the person was short, but whoever it was, it wasn’t a dwarf. Dwarves were usually between 4 to 5 feet tall. Maybe it was a halfling? Halflings were shorter then dwarves and were often mistaken for children, due to their height. He didn’t think it was a halfling. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the stair he stood on. He lend against the stone wall. If it wasn’t a halfling, then what type of creature who could been mistaken as a child?

  He sighed, pushing the issue to the back of his mind. There were at least a dozen creatures the same size as a child, but they usually didn’t come into Camelot. He uncrossed his arms and continued walking up the stairs to Morgana’s rooms. He couldn’t dwell in the past, too much.

  He turned his thoughts to his situation as he entered the hallway that belong to Queen Susan. Merlin remembered how strong Susan was during her time as High Queen and even now. He still hadn’t a chance to get the full story out of Susan or Isabella of how Isabella had been transformed into a vampire. Part of him was glad that Lord Salazar decided to attend the Funeral of Uther. Merlin didn’t know if he with Morgana’s help would have been able to give Camelot’s citizens the proper protection they needed against a fully grown Vampire like Isabella, despite being a child in Vampire Society.

  In the short conversations Merlin had been able to have with Lord Salazar, Isabella had become a student of Salazar’s after a series of unfortunate events that left the Princess in the state she was currently in. A thought accord to Merlin. What if Salazar attempted to pull the Holy Sword out of the rock?

  Merlin entertained this thought as he crossed the floor. A vampire ruling over Camelot. He knew it would spell all kinds of trouble. Salazar would be able to turn Camelot into a vampire feeding grounds with ease. However, Salazar hadn’t requested to try yet. Merlin frowned. He didn’t know if he really wanted Salazar to even try, even now when Merlin didn’t know if the worthy candidate was overlooked or not. His gut rolled at the thought of a Vampire King ruling over Camelot. He didn’t know if the curse would effect Salazar or not. It would be an interesting experiment, but one Merlin didn’t feel like conducting.

  The Battle Mage shook his head as he entered the staircase on the far side of the hallway. He hurried up to Morgana’s rooms, trying to shake off the thought of a High King Salazar of Camelot. He hoped the Vampire won’t try to pull the Holy Sword.

  Lady Valentina Armstrong gazed around the Great Hall as General Genesis White Hall escorted her and their cousin, Lady Rosemary Clover into the Hall. She tightened her hand on Genesis’ arm, bringing his attention to her. She looked at him, asking, “So, where are we sitting, cousin?”

  “For the time being, the same seats we were assigned the other night,” Genesis explained, giving her a half glare. “Unfortunately.”

  Tina’s lips twitched in amusement. She knew he didn’t enjoy the presences of Lady Margiette Black. This was the first time Genesis and Tina had spoke since Tina’s confession. She wasn’t sure if she should bring it up or he would. She knew the conversation would be awkward at first, but hopefully, it would mellow out. Rosemary giggled on Genesis’ other side.

  “I take it you don’t like The Lady Margiette,” Tina pressed. Mirth danced in her eyes.

  “She is only after one thing,” Genesis muttered as they walked forward. Tina noticed they were heading to the same table she had sat the other night. Lord Godric was already there, talking animatedly. Lord Salazar looked like he rather be anywhere else except there. Tina suppressed a giggle before she turned her attention her brother. It felt strange to admit Genesis was her older brother. He continued, “My wealth and what power the name White Hall will bring to her.”

  “I thought the House of Black,” Tina paused, briefly to make sure she got the phrase right, “was powerful since they did have a High Queen.”

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  “You are right. They are powerful, but the White Hall House is more powerful,” Genesis explained, looking at her, “We are the Second House to Rule Camelot, making our house an Ancient and Noble House, rivaling the House of Pendragon.”

  “Morgana is the last living member of the Pendragon line, right,” Tina stated. She glanced around the room and didn’t see the last member of House Pendragon. From what Tina remembered, the woman usually sat up at the High Table, at the far end with Merlin. However, neither were there.

  Genesis nodded, “You are learning fast.” He paused, “Are you sure you are not going to stay within Camelot?”

  “Genesis, I didn’t fight the Ninja when they were sent to retrieve me because I wanted to get away from mo-“ Tina glanced at Rose for a heartbeat then went on, “the house. I don’t think I can handle being in Court then what I already have been without an emotional breakdown. I just need to heal in my own way without causing any drama.” She paused, “I know I’m not emotional stable, right now. I’m afraid I will make the wrong choice and it will effect the Family’s position at Court. At least, away from Camelot, I don’t have to worry about having an emotional breakdown in front of everyone and causing damage to your position or Rose’s chances at a suitable marriage.”

  Genesis stared at her with sad eyes. Tina’s eyes filled with tears. She changed her gaze to the ceiling, trying to allow the tears to slip down her cheeks. She heard him muttered, “We shall talk about this more later.” She nodded in agreement. “Here’s your seat, Cousin-Lady.”

  “Ah, Lady Tina, how kind for you to join us again,” Lord Godric said, loudly, “See your face warms my heart after the long day I had.” He stood up and held out the chair between himself and Lord Salazar.

  Tina uncurled her arm from Genesis and stepped into the space. She slowly sat down, pinning her skirt to her backside as she did. Godric slid the chair under her before he claimed his seat, again.

  Genesis walked away with Rose, heading to the seat Rose had accompanied the other night. Tina watched them go, noticing they were exchanging words and saw Rose take her seat. Genesis walked to his like a man going into a battle, taking his seat next to Lady Margiette Black.

  Godric’s voice pulled Tina away from her family and she turned her attention to him. “I was really hoping to be found worthy by the Holy Sword,” he bemoaned, “I would have took you as my wife, Lady Tina.” He gave her a wink.

  Tina blinked as heat rushed to her face and she sputtered, “W-w-what? Your Wife? Why?”

  “Why?” Godric asked, looking confused at her line of questioning, “Why not? You are a wonderful, confident woman. Beautiful, as well. You didn’t quell under pressure. Plus, you have expression interested in fighting monsters. That’s a perfect wife for me.” He grinned at her and sent her another wink. He turned away, taking a drink from his goblet.

  Tina blinked. That was something she was not expecting. She didn’t know what to think about that. Her chest tightened at that thought of wearing a white dress, holding a bouquet of flowers, walking down the aisle, and becoming a wife. She took a shaky breath, trying to push away those thoughts. It wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  “I do think it is a borderline tragedy that I wasn’t worthy,” Godric said after a moment, “I would have been a Great King, even without a White Hall Wife.”

  Tina rolled her eyes before she spoke, “Well, at least you are able to take quests, achieve Knighthood, and be known widely as Sir Godric the most trusted, daring, courageous Knight of Camelot.” She paused, watching Godric’s eyes lit up with excitement. “There are other way to achieve frame, wealth, and glory instead of sitting on a throne, dealing with the bureaucracy of a Kingdom.”

  “She’s right,” another lord, sitting at the table, said, “You should know since you are the Heir of Lionheart House. Your father should be teaching you some of the stuff involving the operation of running the House, including the bureaucracy.”

  Godric sent him a scowl, “Lord Hound, we both are aware my father has been attending to other matters of late.”

  “Oh,” Lord Hound lend forward, placing an arm onto the table, “You mean your father has been looking after that bastard son of his.”

  Godric’s shoulders slid back. He puffed out his chest. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment or anger, Tina didn’t know. His amber eyes hardened into gems as he glared at Lord Hound before he interrupted sharply, “Mind your tongue, Hound. What choices my father makes aren’t your concern.”

  “Oh please, Godric -May I call you that? - everyone notices your father has been grooming your older half brother into lordship,” Lord Hound commented, “From my understanding, that bastard has shown he is more capable of running the Estate while you are gone.” He paused, looking thoughtful, “Why were you gone again? Was it because your father was disappointed in you again?”

  Godric’s flush darkened and Tina sensed the tension. She rolled her eyes and commented, “Lord Godric’s personal family matters are not something I would consider a fitting dinner conversation, Lord Hound.” She turned to Godric, placing a hand on his arm, “Anyway, you were telling me the other day about fire breathing, winged beasts. What kind of other monsters are there in the world?”

  “All kinds, Lady Tina,” Godric turned to her, “Including those demons who showed up today. Did you really fight him?”

  “I wasn’t given a choice,” Tina admitted, “The tournament rules stated a guest team couldn’t turn down the invite unless they wished to be hunted down and killed.”

  Godric whistled. Salazar spoke loud enough for the table to hear, “The Dark Moon Tournament.”

  “Yes, that tournament,” Tina turned to him and stated, “It was an interesting to participate, despite what was at stake. I take you have heard of it, Lord Salazar.”

  She noticed a line of servants entered the room, carrying trays of food, plates, and rolled napkins. She watched as the Servants carrying the plates stopped at the tables and passed out the plates. She frowned as a servant set a gleaming gold plate in front of her with a rolled napkin. She spotted a fork, a butter knife, and a spoon sticking out of the napkin. She glanced at Godric then at Salazar. She thought about it. It might be better if she asked Godric her question instead of Salazar.

  “Excuse me, Lord Godric, I got a question,” Tina lend over and whispered.

  “What is your question, fair lady,” Godric asked, lending over.

  “The other day, we didn’t use a plate and silverware during that dinner and used a large piece of bread,” she started, “Now, we are using plates and silverware. Where I am from, we use plates and silverware everyday for every meal. Why didn’t we use plates and silverware during that meal?”

  “Ah,” Godric said, nodding his head, “Yes, I see your confusion. Queen Belladonna has been strict on upholding old traditions during certain times like the Mourning Dinner. At one time, Camelot didn’t have plates and silverware, but used large pieces of stale bread to catch the juices from the meat.” He paused. “I’m not sure why she prefer it that way. Perhaps she was taught the old traditions.”

  Tina hummed before she stated, “Thank you for explaining it to me.”

  “Anytime, my fair lady,” Godric sent her a wink. She rolled her eyes and saw food was being set in the middle of the tables.

  “Lady Tina,” Salazar said, drawing her attention back to him, “How did you meet Rōga, again?”

  “I had to fight him in one of the rounds,” Tina explained, “It was shortly after I discovered I had purifying powers.”

  “Purifying powers?” Godric asked, obviously listening to their conversation.

  “Priestess Powers are strong against Demons, purifying them into dust,” she frowned, “Of course, it would depend on the strength of the Demon. I have heard purifying powers won’t work on the Greater Hell Demons. The Greater Hell Demons are distinct cousins to the demons roaming around now. I forget how far distance they are.”

  “Very far cousins,” Salazar said, “I have faced a Greater Hell Demon and it is something I rather not to do again.”

  Tina slowly turned her head, “Even a…” she glanced around before she settled on the correct word, “A person like you are afraid of facing a Greater Hell Demon?”

  “Depending on which tribe of the Greater Hell Demon you are facing, they can use your memories, your relationships, anything they can against you and try to bend you to their will,” Salazar sounded gaunted as he spoke. “It is a trying task. One I wouldn’t wish on my enemy.”

  “I’ll consider myself lucky,” She commented, “I just have to dealt with their weaker cousins.” She saw a goblet in front of her and reached out, grabbing it. She glanced into it and saw a red liquid swashing around. She brought the goblet to her lips and took a sip. A raspberry flavored danced over her tongue before she tasted the bit of alcohol. Wine. “Anyway, Rōga and I ended up parting on good terms after the fights.”

  “Have you meet any other non-humans,” Salazar asked.

  She gave him a meaningful look, “Nope. If they are anything like the various demons tribes I have encounter, there are good non-humans, bad non-humans, and ones who are just trying survive their situation.” She shrugged. “I really don’t have a strong opinion on the non-human community. I mean if they don’t try to kill or hurt me in anyway, I have no problem with them.”

  “I know what you mean, Lady Tina,” Godric said, “My family has been known to hire non-humans in the past before Belladonna rose to power and started to outlaw them during her time as High Queen. It didn’t help the other Queens who stepped into the role followed her lead. The Lionhearts have been accused to being to lenient with the non-humans. Father thinks otherwise, saying allies come from unexpected places. I wonder if he’s right.”

  “He is right,” she commented, “My team for the Black Moon Tournament had two demons on it. One of them will give you the impression he rather kill you then help you, but once you get to know him, you would realize he is a product of his upbringing. He has a Honor code, as well.” She paused. “He would be one of the few demons I would trust to watch my back in a fight.”

  Salazar nodded in understanding, “I must admitted Rōga was brave for trying what he did earlier. Belladonna could have had he killed on the spot.”

  “And you and I won’t be talking, now, if she tried,” Tina grinned, mischievously. “What is that?” She pointed a large dish with a bird on it.

  “That is a swan,” Godric said. He reached over and took a large piece from the side of the bird.

  “A swan?!” Tina gapped as she watched him. “I hope its mate shared the fate or else it would die.”

  “What do you mean?” a lady across from Godric asked.

  “Swans mate for life,” Tina stated, “If one dies, the other will mourn their mate until the day they die.”

  “How romantic,” the lady purred. Tina rolled her eyes.

  Merlin reached Morgana’s door and knocked on it. He waited until the door opened. Morgana stood on the other side with a gentle smile. She swung the door open and waved him in.

  “I’m glad you were able to join me,” Morgana said. Merlin walked in and saw the table she kept for visitors had several plates of food on it already. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket with a block of ice rest upon the table, waiting for them. “Come and eat, Merlin. I’m sure you want to talk about what happened today.”

  “That and rest,” Merlin said, tiredly. Morgana gave him an understanding look. He walked past her, heading to the table.

  “My magic is returning a bit faster then I thought it would,” Morgana admitted, “But I think the reason is I’m not handling the Choosing Ceremony.” She paused as Merlin settled down in a high back chair. “Do you want me to host the Ceremony tomorrow?”

  Merlin sighed, “I don’t think Belladonna would allow that.” He didn’t need to explain why.

  Belladonna didn’t think a woman should have as much as power as a man did. The former High Queen would speak out against Morgana holding the ceremony, certainly insisting a man should do it. She no doubt request a man of the Cloth to do it. It wouldn’t be a problem if the men of the Church were known to have magic or the ability to access their spiritual powers.

  Merlin and Morgana knew the Magi who lived within Roma were under constant scrutiny. The Magical Community was aware that possessing the power of magic was not just frowned upon but condemned by the Church. To wield such power required the rarest of permissions, a decree from the Pope himself. Yet, many magic users steered clear of the Church, wary of the Paladins who patrolled with a fierce intolerance. These enforcers of faith showed no mercy towards those who dared to harness the arcane, their judgment swift and unforgiving, even to their own members accused of having magical abilities.

  For the Holy Sword to chose the best person for the job, there was a temporary spell placed upon the person leading the ceremony, allowing the Holy sword active the various spells Merlin had cast upon to scan the candidate’s mind, soul, and fate before it would chose. It was a taxing task.

  Most of the spells Merlin had used were ancient, even by his standards, coming from a time before Atlantis. He learned from his own mentor. He was sure he had written them down somewhere in his study. It maybe hard to find. He sighed.

  “Are you alright, Merlin,” Morgana asked, looking at him with worry in her blue eyes.

  “Yeah, I’m just thinking,” Merlin admitted, “We have lost so many things through the passage of time.” She didn’t say anything as she reached for the bottle of wine. He continued, “These people don’t even remember Giants walking the land like we do. Most of the Fae have left this island for distance lands, leaving behind the half breeds like us. The Elves have decided to stick to their archipelago in the Western Seas, wanting nothing to do with what is left of the United Kingdoms of Camelot. The Dwarves are hiding in their mountains, digging tunnels and collecting jewels, gemstones, and precious metals. They are worst then dragons, protecting their treasures.” He paused as Morgana poured some of the wine into his goblet. “Speaking of dragons, just today, I saw a dragon. It was breathing fire.” He let out another sigh. “I don’t know when was the last time we had a Dragon Rider in Camelot.”

  He looked out the window with a pain expression. “Not to mention the Sea Folk. I know the Houses of White Hall, Stark, Hound, Tully, and Longstreet, all, have treaties with the Sea Folk. I am pretty sure some of those Treaties are due to be renewed. We both know the price will be marriage of a daughter or a son of those houses to the Sea Folk Tribes.”

  His dinner companion poured herself a drink and cork the wine bottle before she set it back into the bucket. She lend back into her chair and watched him, listening.

  “The Yuanti are still in hiding. Their ambassador never showed up for the yearly meeting, once again.” Merlin vented.

  “Maybe they have moved to a different Kingdom or faded from the world,” Morgana suggested.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied. He reached for his wine goblet and took a drink. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of sweet strawberries before he shallowed and opened his eyes. “I think they are still there in the catacombs, but the Knolls and other underground creatures are preventing them from meeting us every year.”

  “The Goblins?” she asked.

  Merlin almost spatted out, “They are too busy counting their gold in their kingdom and the banks. I still don’t believe they were the ones entrusted to keep the magical community’s money, magical heirlooms, and treasures.” He sighed. “Maybe I am being too hard on them. They did managed to find a new King amongst their civil wars and united the goblin tribes.”

  “What did you think of Rōga Fenrir showing up?” Morgana asked, changing the topic.

  “Rōga Fenrir,” Merlin allowed the name to escape his mouth, “I can’t believe the wolf demon managed to remember the old tales about the Choosing Ceremony. The stories must have been passed down through his tribe for centuries.” He thought about the last time the Kingdom had a demon try to pull the Holy Sword out. “He was courageous for doing that. I haven’t kept in touch with any of connects from the various demon tribes.”

  “Lady Valentina has apparently,” Morgana commented.

  “Yes, I heard about that.” Merlin settled his eyes on her. “You were there. Tell me what happened.”

  Morgana launched into what happened, the short conversation between Lady Valentina and General Genesis, the conversation between Lady Valentina and Rōga Fenrir before he tried for the Holy Sword. She mention Lady Valentina stood nearby as he tried, apparently, in case he tried anything funny. She finished with, “From my understand, they met at a Dark Moon Tournament, nearly 9 or 10 years ago on Earth while she was working with the Netherworld Investigators.”

  Merlin hummed. “I wonder how many non-humans are we going to see try make an attempt on the Holy Sword tomorrow.”

  “Belladonna would be throwing a hissy fit in her rooms,” Morgana smirked, amused. “The rest of the Queens don’t have strong feelings about the non-humans or at least, are not verbal about them as Belladonna is.”

  Merlin nodded in agreement before he reached for the steaming food and dished himself up a plate. They need to recover their strength for the coming days.

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