Leon sighed to himself as he faced Gwaine. The other knights had just come out of a building. “Find anything?”

“Plenty.” Gwaine shook his head. “Dead children, a dead dog, and dead parents.”

Leon frowned. “No survivors.”

“None.” Sir Tor came up and looked around. “There never are.”

“There was one survivor,” Gwaine nodded his head back towards where Fira and Galahad sat next to Mordred.

Elyan, Morholt, and Percival came walking towards the other knights. All looked towards Mordred in confusion. Who was he?

“Who’s that?” Elyan gestured towards the druids. “Is he a villager, because he’s dressed like the enemy.”

Leon sighed. “We don't rightly know. Fira knows him from her days with the druids.”

“Kid says he’s a deserter.” Gwaine nodded towards him, arms folded. “And Fira trusts him.”

But Percival didn't look quite as convinced. “Does Galahad?”

Galahad handed Fira the bucket of well water before sitting down next to her. He watched Mordred carefully as she tended to his wounds, cleaning the nasty cut and using spare cloths as bandages. Mordred didn't meet his eye at first, instead the young man watched Fira’s careful movements as she dealt with his injury.

“You're very lucky you ran into us.” Fira smiled at him.

Mordred glanced from her face to Galahad. They met each other's gazes carefully. Why did something not seem right with this fallen druid? He flashed a small, encouraging smile at Mordred.

Best not make an enemy where there doesn't need to be one, he decided.

“I suppose I am lucky,” Mordred agreed quietly, gazing at Fira. Then he look at Galahad. “I tried to save the children. I told them to run, sent them on horses to the next village over. But I don't know if they ever made it.”

Fira frowned slightly before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll have to go see.”

The others came up and Mordred struggled to his feet with Fira’s help. He still eyed them warily, and they him, but Fira’s bright face and happy smile put them all somewhat at ease.

“I sent some of the children west of here to a small village,” Mordred told them. “Gave them my horse and the horses of my fallen former comrades.”

“The Menace seem to be heading East.” Morholt gestured in the direction of the tracks. “Can we risk losing their trail?”

“To save a group of children,” Mordred glared. “What other nobler cause is there. I thought you knights.”

“He's not wrong,” Gwaine agreed, his brow furrowed in frustration. “We need to make sure those kids get to safety.”

“If we go there, I can supply you with information on Morgana’s operation here in Somerset.” Mordred bargained carefully. “But I want those children safe.”

Leon looked around at the destruction before them. Then he turned to his fellow knights. He knew the right answer.

“Very well.” Leon nodded. “Fira, ride with Galahad and give Aland to Mordred.”

Fira laughed. She gestured for Mordred to follow her. “Alright. But be warned, Mordred. My horse is… finicky.”

They all walked over to where Fira had tied the horses up. They stood patiently by the tree. Fira unhooked Aland and leaned into him. He lowered his head and she whispered in his ear. The palomino horse nodded his large head up and down, throwing his mane all over the place.

“Aland should be fine now,” Fira laughed. “Just don't be rough or he might throw you.”

Mordred looked at her like she was crazy and then he shook his head with a smile. “As you wish.”

Galahad mounted his white steed Hadwin. He reached out a hand and pulled Fira up in front of him. She thanked her friend and together they set off.

“I sent them this way,” Mordred told Leon and Tor. “I figured it their best bet for survival.”

He pointed to a small path, well hidden by bushes and bracken. They went single file, Tor leading with Mordred close behind him. Protecting the rear was Elyan, with Percival, then Fira and Galahad, immediately in front of him. They traveled like this for an hour. Even Gwaine didn't talk too much, for despite what most people believe, he could in fact be quiet when needed. He just didn't particularly like it.

At last they left the shelter of the bushes and trees and came out into the open. A stone bridge spanned a small river and on the other side stood houses, towers, people.

They looked… sad. Solemn. Mordred felt his stomach fall. These were the people he had helped murder. He had been convinced Morgana was right. She had saved his life after all. But so had Fira and her druid clan. So had Arthur. A single tear dripped down his face, unseen by the others.

The least he could do was help stop Morgana and the Emerald Lady and the Green Knight. He vowed to himself in that moment. He would not rest until he killed the Emerald Lady, killed the woman responsible for murdering and using the innocents of Somerset.

They trotted over the bridge on horseback. An old woman looked up upon their intrusion and eyed them with suspicion.

“Who are you?” the woman demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“We are emissaries of King Roland,” Tor told her. He dismounted his horse and walked up to the woman. “We heard some children managed to escape the slaughter of the nearby village and headed here.”

“Indeed,” the woman sighed. “Come. I will show them to you. They are traumatized.”

They all leapt down from their steeds and led the way forward. A small stable stood near the entrance of town. The old woman instructed them to leave the horses.

“I'm Ioreth, the village elder.” She wandered on slowly down the main road. “The children are in my hut at the moment. I ask you be respectful of their trauma.”

Leon nodded to her. “Of course.”

“I am the one that helped them escape,” Mordred said quietly to the woman as more people came out of doors to see what the visitors were after. “Perhaps they will feel better seeing a friendly face.”

“Friendly?” Ioreth snorted. “You bear the clothing of the Menace. You are lucky you aren't dead yet. Many in this town have lost loved ones to those monsters, or, even worse, have had loved ones join the ranks of the Emerald Lady.”

“The appeal is great,” Mordred sighed. “The promise of a free world for all.”

“At what cost,” she spat. “Camelot should not hold such laws against magic of course, but is murdering innocents the way to do it? Hm?”

Mordred shook his head. “Why do you think I left.”

Ioreth looked him in the eye. She studied him, gauging his thoughts and words. Was there truth in them? “Hm.” She waddled forward again. “One day there will be Albion, sir. One day. Perhaps you have a part to play in that.”

“Me?” He nearly laughed. “No. But my friends here do.”

Ioreth looked in confusion at the others. “Who are you?”

“Many of them are Knights of the Round Table, of Camelot. And the woman is Fira, called Nyx by my people.” He gestured for her to come forward. “She assists Emrys in that pursuit.”

Fira chuckled as she walked next to him. “I try.”