Chivalry ♛ King Arthur

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"I'M coming with you," Frida decided, having heard the absurd plan through twice. It would either succeed or be a fantastic failure. At the moment, she couldn't say which she thought it would be. Bedivere and the other rebels had cleared out of the main room.

The declaration caught Arthur's undivided attention. His back had been toward her, but at the words, his shoulders fell. He hadn't wanted her to be this stubborn. He didn't want her to be in harm's way if something did go wrong.

"I'll keep near the safe house at the docks," she reasoned, hoping that would appease him, "keep it clear for you lot." She wasn't trained with a sword, nor was she well versed in her own abilities, but she did know how to swing a frying pan hard enough to knock someone on their arse.

"Ida," Arthur rebuked, not wanting to argue.

"You're not going to leave me behind, Arthur." There it was. That spark of determination that he adored. He had to stop himself from smiling as he rounded the table and grasped onto her hands. She glanced down but found herself drawn back to his eyes. "You may as well accept that I'm coming with you," she told him, leaving no room for him to object.

♛ ♛ ♛ 

They entered the city on foot. Most of the blacklegs were preoccupied with the King's arrival that they weren't posted at every backdoor gate into the city. That could soon prove to be a grave mistake on their part. Some of the city-folk caught glimpse of them and where some smiled, others frowned at the sudden reappearance of Arthur and his lot.

The safe-house was on the water, at the very edge of Londinium. An easy point to escape from if they could make it back. "I'll be here," Ida iterated. That was the plan after all. She was supposed to keep a lookout and have the path cleared for them to get to the boat.

"Wait!" Arthur turned at the outburst. The uneven and splintering wooden steps she stood on closed the height gap between them. She kissed his cheek. His beard tickled her chin and beneath her lips, Frida could feel a small scar. "Be careful."

Once they were out of sight, she looked over her shoulder at the young boy with blonde hair holding a deep blue cap in his hands. "Blue," he perked up at the call of his name. "Be another set of eyes for me."

"You got it," the boy said as he pulled his toboggan back on and raced down the stairs into the streets. There was a twofold reason for why she had sent Blue off. For one, he could easily go unnoticed, and that was a useful property when the King was to be assassinated. And two, she desperately wanted to return what remained of her life. Pulling the hood of her cloak up, Ida set out, hoping she could go unnoticed too.

She stood where the bakery's storefront should have been. Instead, the sign and awning were gone, and the stone was singed with soot. The inside and second floor of the bakery had been gutted by the fire. Frida picked up her skirts and stepped over a pile of half-burned wooden planks, what was left of the counter. A pane of glass cracked beneath her foot, it must have been from the display.

A glint of copper caught her attention. The bowl was filled with ash and buried, but a small part of the handle could be seen. She picked it up and dumped the ashes out. Beneath it was a small metal seal, the bread stamp.

What tools had been wooden was now gone, but the few things that were metal and stone had survived. Knowing that she had already loitered too long, Frida stooped down gathered up the bread stamp and two nestled copper bowls. Her belongings had all been lost, but at least she would have something to keep.

The safe-house was in her sights when the first powdered arrow exploded in a puff of black smoke. She paused and looked back over her shoulder. Black smoke lingered over the western docks.