Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

the farmers and assaulting their women. Anyone who would offer protection to those poor people would instantly fall into good favor with them and the rest of the island.
    “Vortigern immediately took this opportunity to strengthen his grip on the throne. To accomplish this, he brought the Saxons to the island, so they would fight for him. When the barbarians defeated the northern tribes and secured Hadrian’s Wall, most of the people turned to his side, and the other half kept their heads down because of Vortigern’s newfound army, the savage Saxons. If these barbarians had not turned on him later, he would undoubtedly still be chasing after Ambrosius and his brother right now.”
    “Now do you understand?” interjected Atwood. “The man who risked his life to save us, Ambrosius Aurelianus, is none other than the true king of Britain. He is the rightful heir to the throne, which Vortigern stole from him.”
    “I still don’t understand why we don’t organize an insurgence,” added Darroch. “Look where that snail has brought us, right to the brink of annihilation.”
    “My brother is right, and we all know it,” agreed Atwood.
    Everyone kept quiet for a few minutes. Of course Darroch was right, but what could they do? The country was divided between itself, and the small army still acting under Vortigern’s rule was being pursued by a ruthless enemy, one who sought to take their lands and homes. If a rebellion occurred right now, the Saxons would simply overtake them all within a day.
    “In any case,” Malloy added finally, “this is not the day to mount a revolution. We have a job to do and we should concentrate on it.”
    As the young man concluded his history lesson, a monk quietly entered the dining hall, bringing a most welcome interruption to a tense dinner.
    “Would you please follow me? You are all summoned by the king.”
    “Even the monks recognize Ambrosius for who he truly is. The army should do the same,” whispered Darroch, as they stood and followed the newcomer out of the dining room.
    The cleric held a burning torch in front of him and led the group up a dark and narrow spiral stairway, made of slippery gray stones. At the top, he pushed open a wooden door to let them inside a gloomy room, where only a few candles and a couple of oil lamps provided a dim light. The room was circular and surprisingly large, without any windows or any other door. The ceiling seemed to be a little lower than usual, which gave the chamber a claustrophobic feel. The furniture consisted mostly of a round table in the middle, with several chairs around it, along with a few bookshelves holding grimoires and scrolls that were covered with a thick layer of dust.
    Taking place in the seats around the center table were Ambrosius, Kaleb, Myrddin and two other men. The first of the strangers, sitting next to young Myrddin, was an old monk, probably a caretaker or a mentor for the boy. The other man was sitting with his back to the group, wearing armor similar to that on Ambrosius.
    “Please, come in,” said the rightful king of the Britons. “Join us.”
    Samuel and his companions obeyed without hesitation. However, now that Samuel knew who this man was, he could not help but feel a little awkward in his presence. Should he kneel or bow down? He had no idea what was the proper code of conduct to adopt in such a situation. In the end, he thought it would be best to follow his companions’ lead and take his place in one of the free chairs around the table.
    The heir to the throne gestured to the man who was sitting with his back to the door.
    “This is my younger brother, Uther. You have already met Myrddin, of course. The man sitting next to him is his mentor and tutor, Master Blaise.”
    Samuel tried not to stare at the man called Uther, but could not keep himself from doing so. Ambrosius’ brother had broader shoulders than Ambrosius, and looked to be taller as well. His face was stoical and his stare focused, unyielding, the kind of gaze that inspired men to follow without any questions. He was staring at Ambrosius, clearly in disagreement with his brother over something.
    Britain.
    Merlin.
    Uther.
    Suddenly, it dawned on Samuel. It was so obvious, he wondered why he had not thought about it before. He knew he had read about Uther before. He was a hero and a warrior without equal, the subject of many stories and legends. However, he was also known for a different reason.
    Sitting barely a few feet from