A Noble Act (Mordred)

[Robyn Lester]

Robyn was kneeling on the hard uneven floor boards of the wagon, Tybalt’s hand holding her on the neck with the force of an iron claw, while Raven stood behind them with a stone-cold expression. “I didn’t do it…” Robyn whispered fearfully. “I didn’t do it, I swear! You must believe me, Mylord, I—“ “Silence!” Raven’s voice cut through her whimpering, and Tybalt gave her a forceful jerk. “You were caught in my chambers, so what else were you trying to do than steal?” Robyn bit her lip, counting inwardly to ten in her head. She was trying to show an inner conflict of the character she was posing as, since she was working on a greater scheme, to find and free her lost love this ruthless lord held captive somewhere. Tybalt, posing as the Lord’s brutal servant, counted inwardly to twenty from the same time, then shook her again. “Answer!” which was followed by a hiss from the crowd. Robyn had to bite back a smile. Good, the crowd was clearly on her side, exactly what they had wanted to achieve.

“Don’t say it, girl!” a woman from the audience suddenly exclaimed. “Don’t tell him what you’re really after!” “But if she doesn’t, she’d be thought a thief, and the spirits only know what would happen next!” a man next to her argued. Tybalt squeezed her arm he was holding in his other hand, and Robyn knew it was a silent sign of triumph, as if to say ‘yes, we did it!’. Crowds were different everywhere, and not all were so ready to delve into a story, actively trying to influence the outcome with their exclamations and comments. The squeeze of her arm was also a sign, following the realization the crowd was ready to be involved into the play. Tybalt must have been given the approval for Robyn to act on it, since she could not turn her head and look at Raven herself. There were two possible ways to continue this play, depending on the audience. Now they were going with Plan A: Robyn calling on someone to from the crowd to help her out, act as a judge, or, if they were bold enough, as a fighter in her name.

Therefore, Robyn let her gaze wander over the expectant people looking up to their wagon, deciding who it would be she had to choose. “The spirits know of my innocence, and they shall prove it!”, she began fervently, craning her neck to look at Raven and getting out of her brother’s restraining hold. “I just wish there was anyone bold and valiant enough to vouch for me.” Suddenly, she saw the flicker of a red cloak passing behind the audience, and in an instant, Robyn made a decision. It was risky… but if it succeeded, it would be the best acting of the play they had ever had. “There goes a knight of Camelot!” she exclaimed excitedly. “There are none braver and trustworthier in the whole of all the lands! Sir, I beg you! Speak for me, as I have done no ill deed!” Then she waited with pent up breath for the young knight she had just called upon to react.

[mordred]

A stroll through the town had been some sort of attempt to escape the Castle's trappings, in Mordred's mind, as he made his way through the town. Though he was grateful - more than he could express - to Arthur for believing in him, Knighting him, and giving him, essentially, a home within the castle, the young Knight often felt the lure of the stridesman pull at him. He had few friends at court - the Knights were starting to warm to him, but the young druid could feel that as of yet they didn't completely trust him, and whilst it was understandable, it was... frustrating. Merlin seemed to loathe his very presence, despite attempts to try and befriend the warlock. The King himself seemed to be Mordred's only true friend - a friendship the Knight cherished more than he would say.

So he had decided to escape the Castle for one day, and breathe the air of freemen. Of course, he was regretting it now. Because, of course, these things could never go smoothly. The Knight suddenly found himself the attention of a laughing crowd, and he looked about, startled, his eyes raising to meet those of the girl's on the stage. With a slight frown, Mordred swallowed, suddenly very worried that the young girl who had spoken was in some deep trouble.

"I am a Knight of Camelot," he spoke out, reluctantly - despite his proudness for his title - stepping forward a little. "What game is this?" he asked, noting how enraptured the crowd seemed. Moving forward, the young druid quickly noticed the woman seemed bound. His frown deepened.

[Robyn Lester]

At least he was stopping.That was a first victory in itself,wasn’t it? Robyn tried to tell herself such to rule out the ever-growing tenseness inside her as her eyes were fixated on the young knight as he turned around to the stage. Knights were nobles, or at least they acted like them, and so they were not inclined to answer on anyone’scall but KingArthur’s. Of course, they should help those in need, but Robyn figured this man would be smart enough to see this was nothing but a show, and so he wasn’t morally obliged to do anything at all. He could just ignore them and do whatever he had set out to do. Robyn wouldn’t even blame him, since she had quite put him on the spot with calling out to him like that. He hadn’t seen anything of the play, he was not emotionally involved like the others of the audience… when it came down to it, this knight had just been in the right place at the right time or wrong, however he saw it personally.

Then he asked: "What game is this?" and this time put Robyn a little on the spot. Once again she would have to decide whether she stayed in character or not, and staying in character was vital for the illusion of the play. Of course everyone in their heart of hearts knew it wasn’t real… but to say it, to speak it out, would have destroyed everything.The only hope she had was someone being helpful enough to fill him in, while she had to stick to her lines. Raven seemed to sense her unease, and so he did what he always did best: Take the lead. Still staying in character, he let his accusing voice ring out, pointing at Robyn. “This little insolent wench here was found stealing in my chambers, Mylord, I was just about to give her the punishment she deserves—“ “I was NOT stealing”, Robyn protested again. “Mylord Knight, if you believe me, then please vouch for me!”

Meanwhile, a middle-aged man had turned his head towards Mordred and approached him in a low voice. A girl of maybe ten years was situated on his hip so she could see better and staring fascinatedly up at the bound blond girl. John Reade was a guard of Camelot off duty, and had taken it on himself to accompany his youngest daughter Elinor to the play, since both his wife and eldest daughter Brynn were engaged in their activities. He knew the young Mordred by sight and thought it might only be fair to explain the situation, so he could decide what he got himself into. ”They are doing a play about some courageous young woman trying to free her lover from this vile man’s injust imprisonment. While searching for clues in his private chambers as where to find him she got caught. I think they’re trying to involve the audience as some kind of twist. Seeing you, she must have decided on this to be a very interesting opportunity. Who knows, maybe they’d even want you to fight for her. If you wish, you can play along, Sir Mordred, but of course you don’t have to. It was quite bold for sure.”

[mordred]

The Knight's frown deepened as the man who seemed somehow responsible for all of this spoke, dishonouring the girl with his language. What Mordred could not understand, was why there was an audience watching with somewhat enraptured faces. He hesitated, swallowing a little, one hand moving hesitantly to his sword.

As the stranger approached him and explained the game to him, Mordred's stance relaxed a little, and hsi features softened. Aha. So no one was in any real danger, and this was some sort of odd... amusement. He nodded his thanks to the man with a smile, his eyes flickering back up to the apparent stage as he considered his position. He could ignore them and move on... but... perhaps...

"What proof have you, sir, that this woman has done you wrong?" he called out, stepping forward, deciding finally to be part of this.. game...

[Robyn Lester]

John Reade stepped back respectfully as he thought to have done his necessary deed of filling the young knight in on this play. It would be quite confusing for a bypasser who had not seen it from the beginning, and all the more maybe someone who wasn't familiar with such a pastime. Carney groups travelled all over the five kingdoms, but one could indeed have lived a full life without ever witnessing one performance, John was well aware of that. He then continued to return his attention to the stage wagon and kept a firm grip on his daughter, whose eyes were now large as saucers and switching between the young knight she vaguely remembered to have seen once or twice, and the people on stage.

Meanwhile, Tybalt had loosened his grip on Robyn's neck a little, for which she was very thankful for, and now pulled her to her feet. That gave her a greater variety to act on and also symbolized the slight changing of the tide. Apparently, the evil lord was not so keen anymore to show his superiority now a respectable knight of Camelot was observing his every move. Raven stepped forward and gave a little forced bow in Mordred's direction – making sure the audience catched on how annoyed he was with a grimace to the sidelines – and cleared his throat. „With all due respect, Mylord, but don't you think I recognize foul intentions when I see them?“ He was momentarily interrupted by a rascal shouting: „Then look into a mirror, idiot!“ which was followed by laughter, but other thank shaking his fist briefly, Raven did not react to it and refocused his attention on Sir Mordred. „She was found in my chambers where she had no business at all, with her hands on a bunch of keys that belonged to me. What would YOU make of that, Sir Knight?“

Robyn gave a little snort, biting her lips, visibly still debating whether it was safe enough already to confess her true purposes. Then she let her gaze light up and tensed, speaking up before anyone could stop her with a line she often used in that play when the situation called for it. „Let me add a question, Mylord: If you try to take something back that belongs to you from a man who stole it. Would that be stealing yourself?“