"Thank you," I answered, pleased to see the conversation appearing to be moving away from Fenwick Vale.
“And how do you find the fair walls of stone and the rose gardens of Camelot?” Lady Tamsin asked.
"Camelot is fascinating. Its splendor overwhelms me at times."
"And the other knights?" Lord Edwin nearly interrupted. "How do you find them?"
"Formidable competitors, each in their own right."
"It seems you've already earned your place among them," said Carlisle, his voice infused with approval.
"You'd be doing yourself a favor if you keep as far away from Kay as it's possible to be," Edwin muttered underneath his breath. "That man's got the personality of a shark."
I looked at him and gave a quick nod to say I agreed. He gave me a little wink.
For the rest of the evening, their questioning became less prying and more welcoming. Their approval held somewhat of an allure—after all, these were the nobles of my homeland. They were as much connected to the north as I was. So, I felt strangely… at home with them in some ways. Every affirming nod, every raised goblet had the power to pull me deeper intothis world where masks and truths blended. These were people I understood because they were like me: those who lived in the wildest part of Logres—people who were as untamed as their land. They were the type who didn't appreciate rules and laws edging into their freedoms.
But amid the warmth and laughter, I remembered Merlin’s cautious words: trust, but verify. Tonight's approval could, after all, twist to tomorrow's betrayal.
As the Great Hall churned with the schemes and ambitions of its guests, I knew my role was as much to listen as it was to play the part. Watching, learning, preparing—these were my true weapons in a world held captive by golden crowns and hidden magic.
Across the hall, I caught Arthur watching our table. His blue eyes—sharp even at this distance—moved deliberately from face to face, tracking which northern lords had welcomed me into their circle. The king missed nothing, least of all the political undercurrents rippling beneath the feast’s polished surface.
Then his gaze settled on me.
Neither of us made any sort of motion for at least a second or two, then Arthur raised his goblet in acknowledgment of my performance earlier. A subtle but unmistakable gesture—public recognition of my performance in the trials. In response, the room seemed to quiet immediately. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. Lady Melisande's brows lifted. Lord Carlisle straightened slightly, now more aware of the company he had chosen. In a single moment, Arthur had elevated Lioran’s status from promising to politically relevant.
My pulse quickened.
The attention, while flattering, carried risk. It would mean the other knights would distance themselves—some more than they already had. Arthur's good opinion was the nectar ofenvy and jealousy. And it would welcome scrutiny—something I absolutely did not need or want.
I raised my goblet, meeting his gaze with measured steadiness. I held it long enough to signal respect, but not so long as to imply familiarity. Then I bowed my head—acknowledging his status while maintaining my own.
The exchange lasted only seconds but sent a message that would ripple through the court: Sir Lioran had earned royal favor without seeking it. A quiet political coup.
"It seems you've caught the king's eye," Lord Carlisle murmured, casual in tone but suddenly more calculating.
"Quite the honor for a knight so recently arrived at court," Lady Tamsin added.
"Fortune has favored me in this most recent trial," I replied, keeping my voice light.
"Yes, it would appear it has," Lord Carlisle answered and raised his goblet. "Here's to fortune continuing to favor you, Sir Lioran." The rest of the table raised their glasses and drank to my continued success.
As the evening wore on, the hall relaxed. Knights began circulating, goblets in hand, the earlier formality giving way to easier conversation. As with the other feasts, by the chiming of the hour past midnight, the ladies of the court had already retired to their chambers. Once again, I found myself standing beside Percival, who had become my only friend… well, he was as much a friend as I would allow myself to have, I supposed.
Our conversation was quickly cut short by Agravaine, who seemed to appear out of nowhere but was suddenly standing before me, like a predator stalking game.
"Interesting choice—the ice restraints," he nearly spat, his smile tight and insincere. "In real combat, mercy gets you killed."
I met his gaze evenly. "The trials measure control, not cruelty. And in the end, the result was the same: my opponent was neutralized."
"Ah. Very...refined." His tone wrapped the word in suspicion.
Not wanting to focus on his ugly face, I turned my attention to the far side of the room, and my eyes instantly landed on Lancelot. He was already watching me, and then his eyes moved to Agravaine before they narrowed.
"I am certain you have other people to talk to, Agravaine," I said.
He glared at me. “Mind your tone. You address a man whose bloodlines built this realm.”
