Excalibur's Seven | ✓ [LGBT]

~ 35 ~

"IT WON'T WORK," SAID Lord Herwerde, eyes fixed on the metal sitting in the blazing fire. Something about it was potent, like vinegar that attacked his senses and made his throat burn. No metal did that. It had to be the magic.

Prince Connor's eyes were bloodshot and sunken into his brow. He'd hardly slept, but he was still there, working away in the blacksmith's shop. Kristofer wasn't the first brother with an obsession of pleasing the King, the difference was that one of them cared more about the fate of the kingdom than being in Wylan's good graces.

His stomach felt sick when the prince pulled the sword from the fire and placed it onto the anvil once more, smacking away at the smoldering metal.

"It's a sword, Herwerde. It won't be Excalibur, but it'll make a damn good weapon when I'm done with it," Connor said. "It might not make me win every battle I fight, but it'll get me close."

"You don't have all the pieces. How do you know it'll even stay together?"

"It's working well for me," he said. "I doubt it'll break, Lord. And even if does, what's the worst that will happen? We've got an army. Excalibur is a bonus."

Herwerde knew he wouldn't be changing anyone's mind on this. They would attempt to remake Excalibur no matter how much he attempted to advise them otherwise. The Lady of the Lake was the only one who could truly make the sword again, but she was gone with Camelot.

This could be a detrimental decision, but Connor and Wylan would not listen. It was unwise to meddle with magic, but even their mediocre mage couldn't convince them not to do it.

"There she is," Connor breathed after several long minutes of loud smacking, holding up the freshly forged blade. It needed to be polished, of course, but the worst of it was done. Excalibur had made its return, but not in the right hands.

* * *

Kit hadn't ever seen this many faeries in his life. The fields were flooded with them, covered in leather armor engraved with details and embellished with protective metal decor. In some ways, it looked impractical, but faeries were known to be quick, and the armor he was used to would prohibit such movements.

"I'd be asking them to betray their supreme Queen," Giselle murmured, leaning against the rails which overlooked the fields where the army trained. "Some may find that easier than others, but their primary loyalty is to my mother."

"And would they be betraying your mother by doing this?"

Giselle took a deep, thoughtful breath. "God, I hope not. My mother is... difficult. She's nearly as ancient as Titania, and I know little of her and her loyalties. She hardly leaves her room and seldom pays attention to the army. We haven't needed it for centuries, not for something as big as this."

"Do we know how many can help us?"

"I don't know, but however many it is, it won't be enough. We need an army that won't be tied to the Seelie Queen," she told him, a grim look on her face. "Which means..."

"Unseelie," he concluded. He felt his chest constrict. The Seelie were no kinder than the Unseelie, but they were far less unhinged. They valued order, fairness, happiness, and protecting their magic. The Unseelie, however, valued knowledge and freedom and weren't bothered by the chaos that came with using their magic liberally.

"I can get in touch with the Autumn Queen, but the Winter Court will be more difficult to get ahold of, as will the Grand Unseelie Army." The princess brushed nonexistent dust from her skirts. "My only connection to the Winter Court is Morgana, but I don't know how much sway he has. At the very least, we'll need him to make the journey."