Kay was only six year old when his brother was brought to him. The young boy had recently begun his training in combat, and was in the courtyard with Master Owen. He was pouting, having lost yet another duel to the old master at arms when the front gate swung open. The old man looked up from the red haired boy, taken off guard by the lack of ceremony with which the Stranger entered. The man that walked in was tall by most standards, standing over six feet on his own, his hat bringing him closer to seven feet. He looked ancient, and even the young Kay knew that he was powerful, his solid green eyes made sure of that. As he walked his, long white beard and hair flowed backwards, along with his green robes, despite the lack of any wind in the courtyard. “I’ve come to speak with Lord Ector!” The man announced, looking around at the guards, all of whom had drawn their swords. “And whoe, may I ask, comes to call?” Master Owen replied, stepping in front of Kay, barely shielding the boy from sight. The Stranger looked down at the master at arms, slowly walking towards him, looking him up and down, and taking particular note of the wooden sword he was using to threaten him with. “I believe you master would know me best by the name Myrrdin.” Master Owen glared up at the man, and gripped the wooden sword tighter in his hand. “And why’re ye callin upon m’lord, master Myrrdin?” He finally asked, giving the larger man a mocking bow. “That knowledge should remain between me and The Lord of Queis, Master at arms,” The Stranger snapped, putting particular emphasis on Owen’s title. Kay stepped forward at this, glaring up at the Stranger as well now, and pointed his wooden sword at him. “If ye want to speak to m’lord father, you’d best speak more politely to his men!” The Stranger turned his attention away from Master Owen, looking at the boy before him. As if struck by a spell, the anger, and seriousness melted from his sunburnt face, and a deep, hearty laugh escaped his mouth. “I mean it ye bri…” Kay began, but Master Owen pullen him back behind him before he could say anymore. “No, let the boy speak, I’ve quite missed the stubbornness of the Queis!” The Stranger chuckled, wiping a tear from his face. “And I so needed a laugh like that. Being too serious, even in times like these, is bad for one’s health.” The Stranger’s smile slowly faded again however, before looking back to Master Owen. “But now is the time for business, not revelries, Master Owen.” Master Owen looked around the courtyard, his eyes flicking quickly from one guard to another, before focusing back on the Stranger in front of him. “Why don’t ye go fetch yer father Kay?” The way that he said it made it clear to Kay that it was not a request. Kay glared up at the Stranger, but decided that Master Owen had the right of it. He put his wooden sword into his left hand, and slowly backed out of the large courtyard. Once he was out of sight of the Stranger, he turned on his heel, bursting into a sprint. The young boy made it quickly through the keep, his long legs carrying him up the many wooden stairs, and down the narrowing and widening stone corridors. It wasn’t long before he reached the top of the northern Key, the tower where his lord father placed his study. When Kay reached for the door handle, one of the guard placed his hand on the young boy’s chest, pushing him back from the entrance. “Where de ye think yer goin’ lad?” the man asked, smirking down at Kay. “Master Owen told me te fetch m’ father,” Kay said, reaching for the door handle again, the guard pushing him back once more. “Yer fatha’s talkin’ to one o’ them britains lad, ‘e don’t want te be bothered.” “I’m quite certain that the Lord of Queis will be more than happy to meet with me,” the deep, raspy voice of the Stranger responded from behind Kay. The young Lordling stiffened, his mind beginning to race as he thought of the men he’d left in the courtyard, and what must have happened to them when the Stranger placed his bony wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry lad, your men are unharmed.” As he spoke, the door of the the study swung open, pushing the two guards stationed there onto the ground. Inside the visiting lord stood, knocking his chair over and drawing a sword from his scabbard. The Stranger simply raised his hand, and the lord yelped, throwing his sword to the ground. “There will be no need for such violence my lord,” the Stranger began, waving his hand and bringing the chair back up, knocking the blonde haired lord back into it. “I am here to fulfill the last wishes of the late King Uther Pendragon.” That was the last thing that Kay heard before the doors slammed shut with another wave of the Strangers hand. For several hours the guards tried to force the doors open, but to no avail. Once Master Owen arrived, he ordered that a battering be fetched to break the doors down, but all that accomplished was shattering the wood of the battering ram, and cracking the metal braces. Eventually, they gave up hope of being able to enter, and simply prepared themselves for the Strangers re-entry into the hall. Owen had posted men lining the wider section of hallways the entire length of the Northern Key. When the doors finally opened, it was not the Stranger that exited, but lord Ector Queis, carrying a small bundle of red fabric, a golden dragon emblazoned upon it. Ector was a massive man, with thick muscular arms covered in bright red hair that he made no attempt to clothe. He wore a sleeveless blue tunic, and lambskin trousers, a large belt holding his naked Falchion. “Put down those blasted weapons!” Ector bellowed, the men all quickly placing the butts of their spears to the ground and standing to attention. Ector looked about his men who were all sweating by this point before continuing. “Off with you now! Don’t you have a wall to defend?!” “Aye Lord!” The guards bellowed, banging their spears on their shields once before marching out of the halls, returning to their posts, or the barracks as some of them had been woken from their sleep. Once the guards had left, all that remained in the hall was Lord Ector, Master Owen, the Britanian Lord Forlæ, and young Kay. The Lord placed his hand on Lord Ectors shoulder, saying something quietly to the taller man before leaving the North Key as well, leaving only the three of them. Lord Ector ran his free hand through his beard, looking down at the red bundle in his arms, his brow furrowing. If Kay did not know any better, he’d have said that his father looked almost sad, but the Lords of the Key’s did not have the privilege of sadness. “Kay,” Ector finally spoke, looking to his son, kneeling down so that he’d be close to eye level. “Come meet yer new brother.” Kay was fourteen when he first called Arthur his brother. Though they had spent the first six years of Arthur’s life together, studying together, and training together. Arthur had called Kay brother many times, and as far as he knew, that was fact. That he had straight golden hair didn’t make the boy question for a moment who his family was, even when it was obvious to everyone else. The boys were by the stream one hot afternoon, cooling off after a long day of training. Kay had found a particularly deep part of the stream, and had submerged himself under the water. He had been under for several minutes when he burst out, Arthur clapping in celebration from a more shallow part of the stream. Arthur was fit for his age, but was nowhere near as tall or muscular as Kay had been even at six. “That’s amazing Kay!” Arthur called out as Kay waded pack to the shore where they had left their tunics. “I bet you could stay under like that for nine whole days if you wanted!” “And why would I want te do that?” Kay chuckled, tossing the younger boy his tunic. “Myrrdin says that generals use boats to get behind their enemies,” Arthur said, pulling his shirt over his head as he came ashore. “But boats are easy to see unless it’s night time, and then it’s hard to sail them. You could just swim up behind them though!” Kay smirked at Arthur as he plopped down on the shore, pulling on his boots. “I guess all that time ye spend readin’ aint wasted after all.” “Myrrdin says that reading is never a waste of time,” Arthur said proudly, looking up as he laced his boots. “‘Tis if yer on the battlefield,” Kay retorted, standing back up, smirking triumphantly down at the younger boy. Arthur scrunched his golden eyes for a moment, looking back at the stream momentarily. “Yeah…” he finally said, almost solemnly. Kay had to resist the urge to break out laughing at Arthur’s sudden seriousness, holding his hand over his mouth momentarily. “Dun’t think about it te much,” He said, ruffling the younger boys hair. “We should get back to the castle, Father’s gunna start worryin’ soon.” The two boys walked their way through the forest, Arthur going on and on about some story that the Stranger had told him about how humans had the skill to use the gifts of all the animals of the forests. Kay couldn’t tell you what the younger boy was trying to get across, he was too busy watching their surroundings. As they got closer to the Keys, they entered a small village that encircled the keep. As they walked down the main road, Kay noticed a group of three young boys whispering to each other. One of the boys turned to look at Kay, another seeming to try and pull him back, but he was too late. “Looks like de Ogre’s out walkin’ ‘eir pet bastard!” the boy called out, his friend pulling at his shirt. “I’m sorry m’lord, ‘e don’t know wot ‘e’s sayin’,” the wiser of the boys said, prostrating himself. “Nah, I know exactly wot I’m sayin’!” The boy said, walking towards the two Lordlings. “Hey, Kay, let’s keep walking,” Arthur said, pulling on Kay’s sleeve. Kay clenched his jaw, turning his head up to the boy, and began walking again. “That’s right!” The boy shouted back. “Go home to daddy Britanian!” It took less than a second for Kay to get back to the boy, his fist having a quick and hard meeting with the boy’s face. The smaller boy reeled back, barely keeping his footing before Kay grabbed his shoulders, bringing his knee to his chest. As the boy collapsed to the ground, Kay felt the metal head of a shovel slap against his back. He staggered forward, but wasn't stunned for long. He reeled around on his heels, grabbing the shovel so that the boy couldn’t swing it at him again. The boy that Kay had knocked down took this opportunity to kick out Kay’s legs, knocking him onto the cobblestone street, pulling the boy with the shovel down with him. The brash lad was the first back on his feet, beginning to kick at Kay when in a flash he was knocked down again. Arthur had leaped into the frey, quite literally, tackling the older boy to the ground. Arthur began punching wildly, his pupils dilated to slits in rage. The boy who had the shovel was the second to rise, running over to help his friend by trying to pull Arthur off of him. Kay was having none of it however. He forced himself off the ground, and grabbed the boy by the back of the neck, lifting him off the ground. Kay quickly brought his fist to the boy’s stomach before dropping him to the ground, where he promptly vomited. It was then that the guards arrived. Two of Kay’s father’s men had been summoned, the wisest of the boys from early standing meekly behind them. One of the guards shouted for Arthur to stop, and as if a spell was being broken, Arthur snapped back to reality. He got off the older boy whose face was bruised and bleeding, Arthur’sown knuckles looking worse for wear. The guards looked at each other, clearly trying to figure out what to do, when one of them looked back at the boy that had fetched them. “Go fetch two litres boy!” he said, returning his attention to the Lordlings. “Yer fathers gunna hear about this.” Once the boy returned with two simple litres, the five boys were all lead back to the keep by the two guards, Arthur and Kay having to help carry the injured boys as they went. Once they arrived at the keep, one of the guards split off, taking the boy who fetched them towards the northern Key, saying that he was to speak with the lord. The injured Lordlings and the two other boys were all taken to the Physician’s study, where the Stranger was waiting for them. He gestured for them to place to two litres on a large stone table that occupied the center of the room that was normally full of clutter, but looked as if it had recently been cleared. “Thank you for bringing them to me so quickly,” the Stranger said, looking over the two boys carefully. The boy who had hit Kay with the shovel was small and mousey, with long dirty brown hair, and a small button like nose. The Stranger lifted the boys head, and gave him something to drink from a small vile, before laying his head down on a pillow he placed on the hard stone table as the boy drifted off to sleep. The other boy was taller, more wiry, his hair had seemed brown to Kay earlier, but it was hard to tell with the mixture of blood and mud that was currently soaking it. The Stranger wet a rag, and began cleaning up the boy’s face, who winced as the rag was dabbed on his sore skin. “What on earth were you thinking?” The Stranger finally said, not looking away from his work. “I expected this kind of behavior from Kay, but you know better Arthur!” “It was all my fault, don’t be mad at Arty,” Kay said, glaring up at the back of the old man’s head. “It wasn’t just his fault!” Arthur complained, grabbing Kay’s sleeve. “It was two against one, so I joined to make it fair!” “And do you think it was fair for two peasant boys to be fighting with the sons of a lord?” The Stranger asked, walking over to his shelves to grab some kind of paste that he began rubbing into some of the boys wounds, eliciting a high pitched groan from the lad. “No, no it’s not,” Arthur said, looking down at his boots, shifting his weight between his feet awkwardly. “But, maybe... maybe we could make it up to them?” “And what, praytell, do you propose could make up for such a throttling?” The Stranger asked, placing what looked like wool on the boy’s more serious wounds, as he wrapped his face in bandages. Arthur looked up at Kay, with those big golden eyes of his. Kay had never been able to say no when the younger boy looked at him like that, so Kay thought of what his father might do. “We could ask father te give them werk in the keep,” Kay finally suggested, proud of the solution he had arrived at. The Stranger finally turned to look at the two Lordlings, a sly smile on his face. Since taking up the position of Physician of the Keys, the Stranger had somehow managed to turn his glowing green eyes into regular ones, but he still had a strong aura of power. The Stranger opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, the door to his chambers burst open. Lord Ector ducked under the door way, looking around the room until he spotted Kay and Arthur standing in the corner. “What in the god’s names were ye doin’ beatin’ some street urchins?!” He bellowed. “These are our people lads, ye can’t just get in a fight with them ‘cause they said some unkind words.” He continued, lowering his voice, as he knelt to be eye level with the two Lordlings. “My Lord, if I may?” The Stranger said, not giving the boys a chance to respond. “Your sons have come up with a fine way of making up for this transgression.” Ector glanced up at the Stranger, and then back to his boys. “And what is this solution ye came up with?” he asked, placing his large, muscular hands on their shoulders. The boys explained their idea, offering suggestions of what specific jobs the boys might be good at, the still conscious boy Saxton offering advice. Apparently the smaller boy, Jarry, was from a family of farriers, and would be good as either a stable hand, or a blacksmith’s apprentice. Saxton claims that he didn’t have any particular talent, but he was strong. Lord Ector decided that Jarry would work in the stables if his family approved, and on weekends would be allowed to help the forge master, who would decide his future career in the castle. As for Saxton, he was to be trained as a guard. “Anyone who can take a Queis in a fight, is best kept close. Don’t need that kind of strength rallying against us.” As for the two Lordlings, they were tasked with cleaning all the weapons and armor of the Key’s guards for the next month. It was during one such late night that Arthur finally asked Kay a question that had been weighing on his mind. “Why’d you take the blame for the fight?” Arthur asked, not looking up from the helm that he was polishing. “What de ya mean?” Kay replied, glancing down at the younger boy. “It was my fault, you only joined in to protect me.” “But, you didn’t make me…” At this point, Arthur looked up from his work, stopping what he was doing. “I fought because I chose to.” Kay stopped his work for a moment looking up at the wall. “I guess, I dunno. I guess I was just trying to protect you. I know how much you hate when Myrrdin is angry with you.” Arthur was once again looking up at Kay with those big golden eyes, his cat like pupils large and round in the dim light. “Thank you.” “What’re brothers for?” Kay was twenty three when he first bowed to his brother. He had grown to over seven feet in height, his orange hair had grown down to his shoulders, and his beard had grown in thick and full. They’re father had past away several weeks ago, and one of the matters that Kay became responsible for was looking over the treaties and oaths that his father had made. He was surprised for about an hour when he learned of the promise that he’d made to the Stranger when Arthur became his ward, and that it also contained Lord Forlæ’s signature. He summoned the Stranger to his father’s, well, now his study. Upon the Stranger entering he told his guards to leave, and placed the piece of parchment on the desk that divided the two men. “I see you’ve finally made it to the important treaties my Lord,” The Stranger said, bowing down deeply. “How did ye get mi father to agree to this?” Kay asked, the venom barely hidden in his voice. “Do you disagree with the treaty my Lord?” The Stranger said, standing up, a knowing smile dancing across his lips. “Surely your father’s death defending against those warlords makes it clear that a clear king is needed.” “Don’t, use my father’s death as leverage druid.” Kay said, clenching his jaw as he glared up at the still standing man. “Take a seat. I may not like how ye do things, but ye’re right, the lands do need a king. Albion is at war with itself, and it threatens to spill over into Britania, even as the Britanians debate, and discuss bloodlines to decide the next King.” “And so you will win Arthur a crown?” The Stranger asked, taking his seat across from Kay. “I will honor my father’s word, yes,” Kay said, looking down at the document before him. “I’m just worried about Arty, he’s barely a man.” “He has been raised since birth to be a king,” the Stranger said, his voice suddenly solemn. “And you have been raised to serve him.” “I guess it’s time to do what I was born for,” Kay said, smiling broadly, the prospect of what was happening finally truly dawning on him. “Saxton, come in please!” The door to Kay’s study opened, and the young man that had recently been named Master at Arms entered. “How can I be of service m’lord?” He asked, bowing slightly. “Please fetch my brother fer me, I have somethin’ te tell ‘em,” the Master at arms nodded, leaving, and closing the doors behind him. It was not long before Saxton returned, Arthur at his side. Arthur had grown much in the past few years, he’d allowed his blonde hair to grow out much like his brothers, the hair growing from the top of his head had grown lighter over the years, resembling a vibrant gold more than the dark blonde of the lower portion, and a bright yellow stubble had begun to grow from his chin. He was wearing simple chainmail under his blue tunic emblazoned with the twin silver Keys of the house of Queis. He had a long sword hanging from his belt, and a buckler strapped to his left arm. Apparently the young lord had been standing the wall, heavy bags clear under his eyes. “You requested my presence brother?” Arthur asked glumly, barely seeing his brother. “Oh, I’m sorry, I did not see you there Myrrdin, good evening.” “Oh it’s quite fine my boy, I was just going,” the Stranger said, standing up and beginning to leave the study, placing his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Take a seat Arthur, you look half dead.” Arthur reluctantly sat down, absently looking around the room, before looking up at his brother. The excitement had faded from Kay’s face as he watched his brother struggle to stay awake. Kay closed his eyes, steeling himself for the task ahead. “Arthur, do you know how I first met you?” Kay asked, trying his best to sound cheerful. Arthur looked at him a moment, confused at first, and then questioning. “I assume when I was born,” Arthur said, furrowing his brow, seeming more awake than he was previously. “You definitely seemed close to newborn,” Kay said, quieting his voice slightly. “Myrrdin had brought you to us, to raise you, under the orders of the late King Uther. Apparently he named you his heir.” It took a few moments for the information to fully sink in, as Arthur stared up at his brother. He blinked after a few seconds, his eyes widening as he gripped the carved wood of his chair. “I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong,” Arthur said, his voice unsteady as he stood up and leaned over the desk. “It sounds like you’re saying I’m not a Queis!” “I’m not saying that at all,” Kay said, standing so that he was once again taller than his brother. “You may not have the giant’s blood in your veins, but you are without a doubt my brother! And you will be my King as well.” “I don’t want to be king, I want to be a knight! I want to be a knight of the Keys, to defend the border between the realms!” Arthur complained, walking over to a portrait of the now late Lord Ector and his wife, both having the red hair of an Albian. “I wanted to be your knight.” Those last words were spoken almost at a whisper. “You’re meant for better than serving a lord like me Arthur,” Kay said, placing his hand on his shoulder. “It would be my honor, to serve, as your night.” Arthur turned around as his brother knelt before him, unsheathing the Falchion that he inherited from his father and presenting it to his younger brother. “I pledge my sword, and my lands to you, King Arthur, the Future King.” Arthur closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as he looked down at his brother. Arthur took the Falchion in his hand, gently touching it to his brother’s shoulders as he spoke. “Rise, Ser Kay, first of my knights.” Kay was fifty- six when he said his last words to his baby brother. War had come to Camelot once again, but this time from within. Lancelot’s transgressions forcing Arthur’s hand to, though Gawain took no small part in encouraging Arthur, to make siege to his greatest Knight’s keep. It was in the siege camp that Kay received the falcon that told him of yet another betrayal back in Camelot. Kay wasted no time in finding his brother, who was in the process of putting on his glistening white armor. Arthur’s hair had only grown longer with age, the bright blond resembling the frill of a dragon, his beard thick and pointed, and his moustache curled. “Brother, I have news from home,” Kay said as he ducked under the tent flap. “At last, I’ve begun to worry that something had gone wrong.” Arthur said, as a squire fastened his greatsword ExCalibur to his back. “No one’s attempted an invasion, have they?” “No my King,” Kay said, struggling to meet his brother’s eyes. “Not exactly.” “What’s gone wrong Kay?” Arthur said, strapping his dagger to his belt. “Mordred has taken the crown, my King,” Kay said, looking down, sadly. “He’s mustering the remaining forces at Camelot to march on our flank. I was only notified thanks to a very brave cook.” “Well the cook will be rewarded greatly upon my return,” Arthur said, walking past his brother and through the tent flaps, Kay following close behind. “What do ye plan te do my King?” Kay asked as Arthur called for his white stallion. “I’m riding home, I want you to send whatever forces you can spare to catch up to me within the hour.” Arthur ordered, mounting his horse. “I’ll see you upon my return.” “Yes my King, may you have a quick victory,” Kay said, bowing to his younger brother. “Relax for once Kay, I might be dead when I return,” Arthur said, looking out towards the way he was about to ride, taking his spear from his squire. “I don’t need my Seneschal right now.” “Don’t die on me Arty.”
