Lancelot's Complaint

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. And frankly, Merlin, I am sick of your shit.

Do you remember when we could leave the sheep and sneak off to the pub for a pint? Of course not. You haven’t had to watch sheep for years, have you? Since finagling your way into that sweet Royal Wizard gig.

Well, some of us still do have to watch sheep and weed crops and milk cows and all of that drudgery and would appreciate a halt to the conjuring of apparitions that MAKE OUR LIVES EVEN HARDER.

I know, there also weren’t always wood nymphs in the forest, and I was on board with everyone in loving those. Top notch, to be honest. You nailed ethereal beauty in a manner I would never have credited you capable of given the crap you churned out in Miss Trinagel’s painting classes. And yes, I know what Morgana did to thank you for personally introducing her to your waterfall sprites. Seriously, nobody needs to hear that story again. Ever.

But then the unicorns, and ghost lights, and the nightly spectacle of the phoenix rising from the cathedral chimney…. It’s just all too much, man.

I know it’s been great for tourism and shop owners and innkeepers and all. But do I look like I own an inn? No. Obviously not. My filth-stained, ratty clothes are testament to the cruel twist of fate that birthed me into a family of farmers.

So sure, it was a blast at the beginning to fool about with you with potions and spells and all. And once I got past jealousy of your clearly superior talents in this field, I enjoyed the ever-improving illusions you conjured.

But as for the dragons, the last thing I need is for my father to tan my hide any time he finds the sheep unattended because he ACTUALLY BELIEVES they’re liable be snatched up by great flying fire-breathing monsters. You’ll note (with no surprise, I’m sure) that he shows no concern that I will instead be snatched up by these great flying fire-breathing monsters, nor has he provided a clear explanation of what exactly he envisions me doing to defend his precious livestock in the event of attack by said creatures.

Bah - I know you think me humorless now. Perhaps it is so.

You know the real pebble in my boot is not these apparitions but the larger issue of this damned ridiculous farce still playing out from the blasted sword illusion…. I know it seemed like a larf at the time and we were all complicit in vastly underestimated the sheer gullibility of our young friend and our countrymen. But for God’s sake, man, could you not have found a way to end the madness before they actually crowned that fool king?? Does he even know???

Perhaps worse still, I find myself wondering from time to time, what if there really was something to that old enchantment? What if we have meddled in true matters of destiny and now we will never know who was meant to pull the sword from the stone and rule the kingdom?

Sincerely,

Lance

P.S. I trust your sister is well.

Dear Wishes-he-used-his-Lance-a-lot,

My, what a surly fellow you have become. I remind you it is not my fault you are not wrapped in silk and brightly patterned cloaks, as your foppish little heart desires. You know that it is only through my own considerable efforts that I have risen so quickly from those same depths to my current position.

But I did not mean to worsen your already admittedly pathetic situation. Honestly I haven’t had time for a dragon conjuring for months now and am surprised the villagers remain in a lather about them.

I am also surprised to hear the phoenix is still going! I had completely forgotten about that one.

I must tell you, I have little time for such foolishness these days. This business with the Saxons is quite serious – the pagan flood is looking likely to seize hold of the southlands soon. Thus it is that I caution you, the time is long past to come clean about the trick with the sword (which was not an illusion – for the sword did indeed come out of the stone, with well-timed application of the correct counter-enchantment).

Although this outcome was not our intention, the situation may prove fortuitous. I do not mean for me – or rather, not JUST for me (I have admittedly benefited greatly from the lad’s faith in my abilities). What I’m saying is that I’m finding he has a genuine flare for this ruling business. That sincerity which made him such a delightfully gullible victim of our pranks seems to really win people over. You should see how quickly battle-scarred knights are convinced to pledge their swords to a boy barely old enough to shave!

Think of it this way: what if destiny intended for the one true king to be assisted by a talented friend? I mean, it could make a sort of sense.

This brings me to another idea: imagine yourself as a knight. Hear me out on this. I know you’ve only fought with a wooden sword, but you always won our school ‘tournaments’, you were clever in our war games against the valley hooligans, plus I believe Arthur still thinks well of you. Perhaps I could assist in your efforts, with a certain strength-enhancing brew….

Although you may have grown into an incongruously churlish aspiring popinjay, I think you could be quite valuable in the war to come. And the leisure-time life of a knight would certainly suit you well.

Which reminds me, I absolutely never intend to speak indelicately of Morgana again, and if you ever repeat allusions to my past tongue waggings I will be forced to turn you into a toad.

I’d likely have to ask her how, though, blast it all! Don’t let her know I said it, but her powers of sorcery grow at such a rapid clip, it is really all I can do to avoid looking expendable in comparison. Do not get cross-ways with her, I warn you!

Think about the offer and let me know what you think.

Sincerely,

Merlin

P.S. Yes, my sister is well. I’m sure Guinevere would send her undying disdain, were I ever to mention you to her.

P.P.S. Upon reflection, that was a bit harsh. You should honestly forget about her – I believe she fancies our boy king now. You know how she favors the sweet and simple type.

Dear Merlin and Lancelot,

I regret to inform you that a certain assistant of mine intercepted a letter from you, my trusted advisor Merlin, to you, my dear old school companion Lancelot. To say that I am wounded and confused vastly understates the pain this has caused me.

I am not sure what to make of what I have read, knowing only that my assistant appears to have been justified in her their suspicions of you two. I can say this: that a crisis is indeed upon this kingdom, and to dismantle what we have begun to build would be a great loss. I hope we can work together for the good of our homelands.

I wish a private audience with you both, noon Saturday. I hope you can make it. You are so commanded.

Sincerely,

Arthur

P.S. Please send Guinevere my sincerest kindest warm regards. And please, breathe not a word of this matter to her!