King Arthur vs Robin Hood 2: King Arthur vs Robin Hood, #2

By Sargey Ravenwood

The conclusion to the epic tale of King Arthur and Robin Hood.

 

Arthur Pendragon has been banished, and is now surrounded by former enemies turned allies. He must navigate a lost love and find a weapon that will save his kingdom.

 

Robin Hood finds himself in an unfamiliar position and still far from home. He has won a prize that threatens his life at every turn. Will Robin be able to endure?

On the Avalon border the imperial army is marching. Invading the unstable kingdom.

The Varan Empire is not the most dire threat Avalon must face. Powerful gods are bringing their plans to fruition. Plans that will change the fabric of the continent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sargey Ravenwood
• Release date: Jun 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201236540

Book preview

Chapter One:

The Queen

The capital of the Varan Empire was larger than any city in Avalon. They called the sprawling collection of streets Erda, and it served as the beating heart of the massive Empire.

To the Avalon border in the west, and lands unknown to the east, the Empire dominated the continent that Gwyn called home.

Erda was an old city, built up since the settlement was first founded. Despite the many layers of history, much of the architectural style had remained consistent. Square pillars and stepped pyramids were common features of Erda structures.

In the centre of the city sat a massively tall, white stone tower that scraped the sky. At the tip of the tower, a bright flame burned, giving the tower its name: The World’s Beacon. It was lauded as the centre of the Empire, which meant that the tower was the centre of the world, and it was home to Emperor Cerdic. The man Gwyn was there to kill.

The merchant vessel sailed north up the Disdes Bay towards Erda. For a bag of coins the captain had taken them from a fishing town on the Avalon border to the Imperial capital. A small price to pay for his loyalty.

Erda’s docks were a hive of activity, as befitted the main port of the Empire.

Trading galleys came from all around the continent. Ships from the Northern City States mixing with ships from the far east, and the large vessels of war that protected the waters in the bay.

The Windknife docked and when the gangplank hit the wharf, Gwyn was off the boat and making her way into the city while the port authorities inspected the new ship in port.

Gwyn passed all manner of tradable goods. Colourful hues of the spices out of the lands beyond the northern sea. Wine from all over the continent. There were sweet wines from the Northern States, just past Avalon, and even some Avalon vintages from parts of the Deru Valley.

As she ventured deeper into the port, Gwyn found the sights and smells overwhelming. Accustomed to the dourness of the port close to Bressa, which now felt a world away.

A purple-eyed man with a strange hairy bipedal creature on his shoulder shouted at everyone. Encouraging people to spend their coin on his goods that he had shipped in from faraway lands.

Her bag at her side, Gwyn passed through the docks and entered the city which lived in the shadow of the World’s Beacon.

She needed to find a way to get into the Emperor’s company, alone, and then escape the Empire with her life and get back to Avalon and her husband, Arthur.

She knew that Emperor Cerdic took concubines to his apartments. This would be the best chance to complete the hit, Gwyn reasoned.

Cerdic needed to die for the safety of Avalon.

He continued the recent trend of expansionist imperial leaders. Under him the empire had its sights set on Gwyn’s home, she needed to defend it before the situation turned into total war.

Gwyn’s contact lived in a rich area of Erda.

World’s Beacon sat in a ring of stone. The high wall was made of the same style of rock as the tower. They made for an imposing barrier for any invader.

There were another two stone rings apart from the World’s Beacon. One wall contained a large stepped pyramid, and the other held a large arena. All three were connected by way of large stone bridges that crisscrossed the city below.

Unlike Bressa there was no great wall around the greater city boundary, rather, Erda stretched out towards the surrounding farmlands.

The contact’s house was under one of the bridges.

He opened the door and ushered Gwyn in.

Arrun Syndeth was a key figure in wealthy Vara circles.

In, he said as Gwyn passed under the threshold and Arrun closed the door behind her.

He lived in a small but comfortable townhouse where he lived when in the city.

My country house is much larger, he smiled. Arrun had long black hair pulled back from his pale skin. He wore a red-and-blue motley silk doublet with black trousers.

I don’t doubt that, Gwyn said.

You may stay in the spare room while I work to get you into the imperial halls, Arrun pointed to a door.

Many thanks for your hospitality, Gwyn said.

Arrun frowned. I am not doing this hospitality, woman. If Cerdic is not the emperor, then I can take the title for myself. We share a common goal, nothing more, do not be mistaken.

Okay, Gwyn said slowly. She reminded herself to be careful around people like Arrun. The Erda elite were an ambitious, cunning, and slimy bunch of people who sacrifice their own children just to rise through the ranks of the senate.

Gwyn carried a small bag of belongings with her, a bundle of clothes, and not much else. She put the bag in the room that Arrun had provided her.

It was a small room, but the bed felt soft to lay on. She sunk into the pillows.

Despite the comfortable surroundings, she felt a pang of loneliness. She was going to miss her own bed back in Camelot. More than that she was going to miss being with Arthur, and her young son Armar.

When Gwyn returned to the entry room her host dispensed with a few choice words about staying indoors and out of sight.

Once the lecture was over, Arrun declared that he had business to attend to, and left.

It was two weeks before there were any developments in her plan.

The two weeks hadn’t been easy. Unsure about her host, Gwyn had slept with a dagger under her pillow.

It was a cold day when Arrun returned from the World’s Beacon to announce that Gwyn was to attend Arrun at an event in World’s Beacon. The emperor was not expected to be present, but it would get Gwyn entry to the tower.

His master of the house brought Gwyn an expensive dress made in the local fashion. It was light and airy in appearance, yet surprisingly warm. The heavy white-and-gold capelet wrapped around her bare shoulders. She wasn’t pleased with the cream colour of the dress, but she didn’t complain. The dress was modified to fit her, and Gwyn thought it was kind to do that for the outsider. The capelet had a knife sheath sewn into the lining on the inside of the garment.

It was the perfect addition to the outfit, Gwyn thought to herself as she inspected it.

As the sun slipped towards the horizon, Arrun’s litter arrived at his door, and they boarded the horse-drawn transport.

Gwyn had hoped to see more of the city, but Arrun insisted that the curtains remained closed for the entire journey to the Tower Ring. For what reason Gwyn wasn’t certain, but she wasn’t in a position to complain or protest.

The litter arrived, not at the grand front entrance like Gwyn expected. They were at a postern door hidden in the shadows of the setting sun. Tucked away behind an outbuilding sitting against the tower.

Arrun noticed her disappointment. I work for the steward’s service for his exaltedness. A cleaner if you will. We are treated in high regard here. But the main door is for senators, he explained. Not as high as the senators or their staff, and as such we are not permitted to use their entrance or mingle with them.

Gwyn nodded. Class was important in Erda, she remembered from previous intelligence.

Yet we are showered with coin for our work, and respect also. I hear stewards in Avalon are looked down upon and seen as lesser people.

She wanted to argue, but no steward in Avalon lived a life like Arrun was, with his horse-drawn carriage, and spacious house. In Camelot, the stewards, servers, and stable hands were respected when they provided knowledge and skills in their trade. But most lived in hovels, or in the castle itself, in little hideaway barracks.

Avalon could learn something from the Empire in that regard, Gwyn noted to herself.

The side entrance led into a drab windowless hallway made of the same light stone as the outside of the tower. The pair were alone in the hallway.

Gwyn was wondering what jobs a Vara steward had to do when they turned a corner in the hallway and almost walked into a lady coming the other way.

She was dark of hair and wore a black cloak over a long black dress held together with a silver belt. Arrun’s demeanour changed when she appeared. He stopped dead in his tracks, and he seemed to be holding in a breath. She had the same effect on Gwyn. The dark lady had once lived in Camelot before she was outed as a traitor, and apparently, a Varan spy.

Good evening, Morgana said politely.

Lady Morgana, Arrun greeted her with as much grace as he could muster. You’re here late.

I live for the Empire and his Great and Exalted One, as you know. She said.

Glory to the Empire, Arrun said the words.

Glory to the Empire, Gwyn repeated. She hoped Morgana didn’t recognise her. The Avalon Queen had changed her appearance before leaving for Erda, and a decade had passed since Morgana was last seen in Avalon.

Walk with me, Morgana said, and they fell in step next to her as all three ventured deeper into the World’s Beacon.

How’s the wife, away by the water? Morgana asked Arrun.

He got flustered at the question. Gwyn noticed that not once did he look at Morgana’s face. I... She... She’s good, he said eventually.

Lovely. Never thought you were the sort to take a concubine, especially taking her here, into the heart of the Empire. Morgana said, playing with her prey.

This lady has been assisting me lately. Arrun tried to save the situation.

I see, the mage didn’t even glance at Gwyn. You’re attending the steward’s dinner?

I am, the steward seemed to have gathered himself. It’s an important night.

The small group came to a junction in the hallways.

In that case, I wish you luck with your important dinner tonight, Morgana said sweetly.

Many thanks, my lady. Arrun bowed his head.

I will be taking your assistant with me, she smiled.

Arrun looked like he wanted to argue, but then he remembered his manners and social class. As you wish, my lady, he bowed and left them.

Morgana gestured to Gwyn and they made for the opposite direction. Gwyn followed two steps behind, not sure what to make of her new situation. She considered knifing Morgana in the throat but held her hand. Gwyn was there for the emperor, not a mage.

They passed a guard. A tall man dressed in heavy white armour stand as straight as the spear he was holding. A helm obscured his face except

Morgana stood before him. I have a task for you, she addressed him.

What is it you command?

Find Arrun Syndeth, and execute him for treason, in my name, the mage commanded.

It shall be done, the guard said before walking away, looking for the man he was charged to kill.

Morgana turned to the assassin. Gwyn prepared for a fight. She knew she was doomed now.

We’re going to see the emperor, Morgana said before leading the way again. With no other choice open to her, Gwyn followed. It was an opportunity to kill them both if she struck truly.

Apart from the guards, the World’s Beacon stood empty. They passed through a large room decorated with painted walls.

A large portrait dominated the landscape of the room. A man with sharp features under a mop of grey hairs watched Gwyn and Morgana cross the room.

The Conqueror, Morgana said. The greatest Emperor to ever live.

Gwyn had heard of him. His legend had travelled beyond the Avalon borders. The famous army leader expanded the Empire to the lands east of Erda and the heartlands. Crushing many kingdoms, republics, and other empires. As spymaster and as the Queen, Gwyn had learnt the history of the surrounding nations in addition to her own.

Understanding the past was the key to understanding the present, she was taught, and it was a teaching that had stuck with her in the years since.

They came to a staircase. Gwyn realised that Cerdic likely lived at the peak of the tower. From what her informant had described, there was not one single staircase leading to the top. The climb was instead divided between several different paths, in a seemingly random pattern of locations around the building.

I have my own way of vertical travel, Morgana said as a shadow began to wrap around the pair. The room disappeared behind a curtain of darkness and when the shadows dissipated the room had changed.

The room was now an antechamber. She knew where that guarded doorway was in front of her lead.

On sight, the white plated guards stepped aside from the door to Cerdic’s apartment.

A hallway adorned with banners depicting Varan history lined the walls lit up by lanterns burning brightly hanging from the ceiling.

Gwyn knew who was waiting in the next room. Her heart was drumming a fast, anxious beat in her chest. She wondered what an emperor would be like.

An oiled mahogany door swung open before Morgana.

At the top of World’s Beacon was a magnificent room, fit for an emperor.

A large window looked out, and down on, Erda. Giving the occupant a full view over that direction for the man standing by the window.

Emperor Cerdic stood an imposing figure. He was tall and broad-shouldered Lilac hair hung past his shoulders over his red robes. He was holding a golden goblet in his hand as he watched the world.

My Emperor. Morgana bowed before him. Gwyn remained standing.

Dear Morgana, what have you brought me, Cerdic said without turning around.

Gwyn answered. I am the Queen of Avalon.

Welcome to Erda, Cerdic turned around. He was pale and clean-shaven.

Morgana moved around to stand near him. Yet she seemed slightly uneasy in his presence, despite their apparent familiarity.

You’re a long way from home, Morgana said. Here for the scenery?

You could put it that way, Gwyn said, sizing up her next move.

She realised that there was a ticking noise coming from somewhere in the room. A faint noise, but it was there, in the background.

I caught the man who let her in, your reverence, Morgana reported.

Who was it? The Emperor asked.

A steward of little importance, Morgana shrugged. Arrun Syndeth.

See that his head is put on a spike somewhere.

It shall be done, your reverence.

Gwyn struck. Moving smoothly her knife was in her hand and the assassin was darting forward, looking to put the steel blade into the emperor’s heart.

Her hand struck true, yet Cerdic caught it before the steel bit into his flesh.

She could hear that ticking noise again, louder this time.

The knife twisted from her grip and it fell to the ground, hitting the rug beneath them. Cerdic kicked it away, and Morgana picked it up.

The emperor released his grip and pushed Gwyn away from him.

You will find killing me somewhat difficult, Cerdic pulled apart his robe. Gwyn gasped.

A mechanism had been sewn into the middle of his chest. The ticking was coming from that gold plate, hand’s width in diameter. A circular pattern was etched into the surface. It was nothing like she had ever witnessed before. The gold plate felt strange and foreign.

This is the burden of being the leader of this nation, Queen Gwyn of Avalon, he tapped the mechanism. When I took this office, this was placed in me, just like it was in my predecessor and the emperor before him. And when I die, it will pass on to the next leader.

What is that? Gwyn backed away. The flesh around it was pink and raw. She noticed that he didn’t even drop the goblet to defend himself.

Here we call it Father Time, he said. In Avalon, my original home, I was known as The All Father, in fact. A legend of old, now living through a line of great conquerors and a powerful nation.

Gwyn knew the name. She recognised it from an old folktale, mostly forgotten to the tongues of the living. Only known to those who studied history.

Seeing that plate attached to the man’s chest made it seem believable, despite the sceptical part of her mind fighting back against the thought.

Dear Morgana, Cerdic turned to the mage. We will need to send a message to our people, and to the Kingdom of Avalon. The Avalon Queen had entered Erda intending to assassinate the emperor. She was caught and executed.

Gwyn’s heart dropped.

Yet Cerdic wasn’t finished. Next, we declare war on Avalon.

I shall see to it, your reverence, Morgana said.

Now, the Varan Emperor turned to the Avalon Queen. You.

Gwyn wanted to run, to flee from the apartment. The how of the plan eluded her as she was overtaken by instinct.

Her body felt like it was heating up as if a fire had been lit beneath her skin. She had failed in her mission to avenge Elirent and defend her homeland.

You will never take Avalon, she managed to say. We will make you bleed for every meter of land until the remains of your armies are swallowed by the soil under them.

Cerdic looked down at her. It matters not if I rule over lands of green fields or lands of ash.

Gwyn felt direly weak. Even breathing was becoming laboured.

See that her bones are returned to Arthur Pendragon. We are not savages, Cerdic said, looking at Morgana.

It felt like a great bonfire was burning in her heart. The light of the apartment was hurting, so she closed her eyes, and they never opened again.

Robin

The road to war was a dusty trail. The Locksley men were placed in the Third division, given scratchy cloaks and sent on their way to the frontlines.

Robin was joined by Red, Gibbs, Mugsy, and Tyn. Most of the men in Locksley were attached to the fishing boats and were reluctant to leave the waters they were familiar with.

They marched in a large group of the other soldiers, walking and riding across the width of Avalon to the border.

War had been expected, but no one had been expecting just how fast the Kingdom had descended into war. Once the news about the Queen had spread, the army officers spread out from the castles and homes to the villages, collecting the men who had signed up only months before.

I have never been further than Locksley than I have now, Tyn said as they marched.

That is why we joined up, Red said without enthusiasm.

I don’t know if I am good enough with a blade to fight in the frontlines, Tyn admitted.

If you get put in the frontlines you will be fighting in formation, for the most part, Robin spoke up. If we’re lucky we will be put in the reserve or the scouts.

Do you feel lucky, Robin? Gibbs glanced at Robin. He didn’t answer.

The Locksley became scouts. General Lohengrim sent them ahead of the Third Army with some experienced cavalrymen from Munstown.

Across fields and woodlands the group looked for any foragers from the Varan army trying to raid the land around the border towns.

It was beside a creek where Robin saw his first spilt blood of the war. Their captain learnt of a group of raiders from a village, and the ambush was set.

Whether his blood was the first spilt of the war was unknown, but it was the first death of someone close to Locksley.

Tyn perished when his throat was pierced by a Varan spear. He died before he hit the ground.

He wasn’t the only Avalon soldier to die in that ambush. Yet the Third scouts emerged victorious over the imperial foragers.

It was a reminder to the Locksley men that war wasn’t a jolly adventure.

Next, a scout commander, Jen, took them in. She taught them how to survive behind enemy lines and hit baggage trains, supply lines, and how to disrupt camps. She was a good captain, until the day she made a simple mistake and paid the price.

Robin took over as leader. The lessons he had learnt now seared in his brain. Since the day he buried his childhood friend Tyn, Robin of Locksley vowed to never lose another Locksley soldier under his command.

In his dreams, Robin could still see their faces when he dreamed.

He could see Red burning Eternarite and conjuring the Crew a way out of trouble, as he did time and time again. Gibbs, Mugsy, the reliable men who were loyal to the last. They would never flee or give anything less than their best and that selflessness would be their end.

Before the war, he hardly knew both men. They had shared a village, but not a friendship. Once the fighting started, all four men would become a family of sorts.

Robin even dreamed of young Tyn. He was younger than Robin and Red by a few years. One day he started following them along on their adventures. At first, he had tried to blackmail Red by threatening to rat the mage out to the Harbour Master. Red decided that it was easier to bring the young man along for the ride. Tyn also knew how to procure Eternarite for Red’s abilities, which helped endear him to the pair.

It was only natural that when Robin and Red signed up for the Third, Tyn joined alongside them. His eagerness to follow his friends had led to his death at the end of a Varan spear.

Robin remembered his face too despite the passing of time.

He remembered Gisbourne’s face as Robin’s sword split his throat. His leadership aspirations ended in a bloody duel beneath the gates of Moonhallow.

The Trull people filled his mind, emerging from Gisbounre’s blood. A people that had their way of life stolen from them. Robin wondered what had become of them after he took the Holy Grail.

Reminders of the price of Robin’s throne, for the hands that held the crown were stained with blood.

Chapter Two:

Robin

A great scar cut through the cityscape of Bressa. The remnant of a battle between two mages, and the dethroning of the Pendragon line.

King Robin Hood had made it his mission to repair the damage to the city caused by the battle between Merlin and Lady Jackdaw. Robin made sure that he the people saw him helping repair the city, using the power of the Holy Grail where he could. He wanted the people to be comfortable with the Grail, and he wanted to be thought of as a benevolent ruler.

He helped restore order to the streets and put in place a plan to turn the crater into a woodland.

Yet a small group refused to fall into line.

Not long after Robin took the throne, a group of Pendragon loyalists rose up, calling themselves The Lionhearted. The new City Watch had put the insurgents down, yet they seemed to recover quickly no matter what blow was dealt.

Robin opened the door to the council chamber. With the Holy Grail on his head and Excalibur on his hip he felt like a king. Dressed in a crimson doublet tied and buttoned at the front, black trousers, and black boots. Dressing for the court was uncomfortable, Robin longed to wear leather and mail instead of silks. He was happy to leave the battlefield behind, but political battles in the halls of Camelot was not for him.

His council waited for him. Made up of followers from Moonhallow, and allies from the city. Some were standing when the door opened, while others remained seated, and it appeared that he had interrupted an argument about something.

Your highness, Elder Mercator bowed as the King entered. The others stayed silent.

I appear to have interrupted something? Robin looked around at the table.

The Elder here wants a new place of worship. Marian caught Robin up. It wasn’t surprising news. The Order of Leva had been asking for funds to build a new church to rival the one on Monastery Hill.

In due time, Robin said, taking a seat at the table. The city is still recovering from Merlin.

Of course, Mercator took his own seat, unhappy, but not wanting to argue.

Robin wished the man wasn’t on the ruling council, but he needed to fill it with more than the soldiers who followed him from Moonhallow.

Lady Marian was granted the newly created position of Royal Historian. Claire was her protector and helper.

For her assistance in capturing Bressa, Ira Cross became the Alchemist, taking Merlin’s place.

The new woodland seems to be popular with the common folk, Ira reported.

It might make them forget how it got there, Robin thought, not game to say it out loud.

The lake in the middle was a nice touch, Marian said, washing away the silence.

The woodland was only recently finished. Even wild animals now roamed the former Mansion Row. At least until they were illegally poached.

The Watch is finding it hard to patrol the new woodland, Karsan said. The big man was the new commander of the City Watch.

Hire more men? Mercator had a simple solution. The solution of a man who had never kept accounts or trained men.

None of the Watch we retained from the previous leadership are capable of catching poachers. They’re barely capable of patrolling the streets, the commander said. And I have to keep the Moonhallow men close.

We can have a portion of the Watch dedicated to keeping the peace in the crater, perhaps? Robin suggested.

Karsan thought about this for a moment. The Watch was stretched thin dealing with the civil unrest. In the last few months, the fabric of the city had been upended, bringing chaos to the streets. Whitehand can lead a detachment, he said.

Then let it be done, Robin said.

I’ll issue the order straight after the meeting, Karsan nodded.

The council continued on. They discussed the bank vault theft. During the battle, a bank vault was broken open and with it, the fortunes of many flipped in an instant.

Matters of state were discussed, and as the afternoon dragged on, the council adjourned.

Robin retired to his royal apartment. He was not in the mood to dine with his court. Yet he would not be dining alone in his solar.

Reyla ate with him. Firepan’s kitchen served up a pie. Veal in a peppery gravy with a lid of potato. A hearty meal. Firepan cooked like he was in the Moonhallow kitchens. Adjusting to the tastes and ingredients of Camelot was