Nov 7, 2013
+5 have approached the man-servant.
The morning was rarely stress-free, and as Merlin flitted through the woods, gathering berries and flowers in record time, he was more than aware of the sun, steadily rising above the citadel; Arthur would be up soon. He was just ready to leave -- but then he heard the twig snapping. He spun around, grabbing a stick from the forest floor as he did so, brandishing it at the clearing, his eyes dancing about the foliage. "Who goes there?" he demanded, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. "I said, who goes there?"
