“…Well. That was quick.”
Uther and Agravaine looked down on the piece of parchment on the table, rolled up and neatly sealed shut. They hadn’t opened it yet. They didn’t have to. Neither of them had to read the contents to know what it was, and what kind of message was written within.
Agravaine stepped forward, scooping up the scroll and breaking the seal. The Royal Advisor cleared his throat before reading the message out loud.
“His Majesty, King Rodor the Second, hereby informs the recipients of this document that, as of St. Winefride… The Kingdom of Nemeth formally declares war on Camelot.”
It had taken almost three weeks, but Lancelot had finally managed to meet with one of the Princes of Essetir. More specifically – he had finally managed to meet him without anyone else around. Lancelot had been biding his time for weeks. He had finally caught a lucky break and ran into Pellinore as the Prince was making his way through the castle library.
Lancelot was determined to get answers out of him – but the payoff from his weeks of patience proved to be frustratingly little.
“Let me get this straight,” Lancelot said. “Despite us never once having heard of him before, Cenred of Essetir is-”
“Our true ruler, yes.”
“And you have no objections to that,” Lancelot continued. He watched as Pellinore shook his head in response.
“And neither do any of your brothers, who have been raised to compete for the throne since birth.”
The Prince of Essetir shook his head at Lancelot’s words, a strange smile playing on his lips.
“No, Lancelot. We do not. Trust me – Cenred is more qualified to rule than any of us.”
Lancelot knew that he could not press him further. Not without looking suspicious, himself. Lancelot smiled, folding his hands behind his back.
“I see. I just wanted to be certain. Thank you for your time, friend.”
The future Duke watched as Pellinore turned around and began to head for the door. Lancelot did not stop him. He placed a hand on his chin, lost deep in thought as his mind frantically searched for a logical explanation.
He found none.
None of this makes sense.
Lancelot had silently observed the Princes for days. Nothing about their body language or tone of voice suggested that they were being coerced or threatened. Pellinore did not seem to be lying, either. He sounded completely truthful – and yet, Lancelot instinctively knew that something was off. What Pellinore had said made no logical sense. Lancelot had known all three Princes since he was a child. The three of them had been competing for that throne for more than a decade. They were fiercely competitive, scheming against each other at every turn and trying to win their father’s favour by any means necessary. The late King William had raised them that way on purpose.
For not one, but all three of them to just bow out like that, without even putting up a fight… it made no sense.
Something was wrong.
That evening, the King of Camelot summoned what was left of his alliance. Uther formally called them all to the war room, bringing with him the declaration from Nemeth and placing it on the table for everyone to see.
“Nemeth has declared war on all of us,” Uther spoke, resting his hands on the edge of the table. “Our scouts report that they have already started gathering their army. They have betrayed everything that Albion stands for. King Rodor is making a mockery of the Five Kingdoms, and all of its allies. By declaring war, Nemeth is ridiculing each and every one of you.”
The war room filled with whispers of disbelief. Uther sat back down, allowing his guests some time to react before continuing his speech.
“I will not stand for it. The Kingdom of Camelot will strike out against Nemeth, to bring a swift end to this conflict. But we cannot do it alone. As allies of Albion, I call upon each of you for your support.”
King Oswald nodded, crossing his arms as he immediately agreed.
“Mercia and Camelot have been allies for decades, Uther. We do not intend to break that bond now. Mercia will aid you.”
“As will Essetir,” Pellinore chimed in, speaking in Cenred’s place. “Our King will stand with you, even in his absence.”
Uther nodded, a confident smile playing on his lips as he looked at his two allies. Then, his gaze shifted to the rest of the table. Nemeth’s seat was empty. When Richard left, everyone had left with him. But there were two more Kingdoms to sway. Uther’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the people in front of him – first to Wessex, and then to Northumbria.
“What do you say?”
A quick glance was exchanged on the other side of the table. The room watched as, in a split second, something unspoken travelled between the King and Queen.
As Queen Margaret turned to face Uther, her expression turned into an icy chill.
It was a simple word. But that one word had immediate consequences. Shocked gasps echoed through the war chamber, followed by a deafening silence. Northumbria had always been neutral. Their rejection did not come as a surprise – but Wessex agreeing with them did. The room full of nobles watched as Uther’s face pulled into a frown. He squinted accusingly at the Queen. Then, his gaze shifted to her left.
“Would you care to explain your reasoning, friend?”
But the King of Wessex was not having any of it.
“You use a curious term there, Uther,” he spat. “Friend. If memory serves me right, an alliance only works if all sides keep their word. You have blatantly disregarded yours. That piece of parchment there is a direct result of your fickleness – and your complete lack of honour. We have seen how you treat your friends. We will have no part in the fallout. Wessex will not stand against you – but we will not come to your aid, either.”
“Neither will we,” Queen Margaret added. “I will not send my people to war over a grudge that has nothing to do with us.”
“Nothing to do with you?!” The Iron King snapped, anger immediately seeping into his voice. “Nemeth is amassing an army as we speak-”
“-Because of you,” Queen Margaret interrupted, cutting him off. “Not us. It was you that withdrew from the arrangement, and angered the entire Kingdom of Nemeth in the process. It was you who broke your word, Uther. And the consequences shall be yours to bear – not ours. This is not our war to fight.”
“Queen Margaret is right. We will not absorb the blow for you, Uther. Not this time-”
“This is not just about Camelot!” Uther snapped, slamming his hand back onto the table. A few people flinched at the sound, shrinking back into their seats.
“Do you think that Nemeth will stop with us? Because they will not! They will ally with Cornwall. They will come and come and keep coming until all of Albion has crumbled to dust! Do you want that to happen? Do you really want to have that on your conscience?!”
But his sudden rage did nothing. The Queen of Northumbria was not intimidated in the slightest. She calmly looked up at him, that same icy chill still etched into her expression. At the end of his outburst, she scoffed at Uther.
“You can pose and threaten all you want, Pendragon,” Margaret spoke. “My answer is still the same.”
“I will not endanger an entire nation just because of your fickle stupidity.”
After the disaster that had been negotiations, Morgana had retreated to the nearest parlour. She was supposed to entertain the other nobles for the night, before they left in the morning.
But the sorceress couldn’t do it. She simply did not have the energy. Morgana leaned forward on the sofa, burying her head in her palm as she let out a deep, resigned sigh.
She was exhausted.
In one fell swoop, all of her plans had been destroyed. Just like that. Everything that Morgana had been working towards had broken to pieces, shattering beyond repair. Their relationship with the other Kingdoms had crumbled. The war meeting had more than proven that. Arthur probably had a number of assassination contracts on his life already, just because of what Uther did. Her brother was not safe. His future was not safe. And neither was Morgana. All of her hard work, the scheming, the pulling of strings, Sarah’s help, even the new, small dagger hidden in her dress –
It had all been for nothing.
In a single day, every chess piece that she had carefully placed and cultivated on the game board had been destroyed.
How could things have gone so wrong so quickly?
Morgana had racked her brain for days, but she could not figure it out. She didn’t understand. It had been almost three weeks since Uther’s announcement, and despite her best efforts, the sorceress could not read her father at all.
For the first time in years, Morgana was completely stumped.
She had to start over. Begin again from scratch, and salvage everything that could be salvaged. If there was anything left to salvage after their father had effectively angered half of Albion. Trust was irreparably broken. Nemeth had turned against them, and Wessex and Northumbria were gone. Essetir could not be trusted.
Who else is left?
In her mind’s eye, the sorceress could see the new chessboard taking shape. The pitiful number of chess pieces placed on her side made her blood run cold.
But she had to try. Morgana had no choice. She could not abandon Arthur. She wouldn’t.
Not now. Not ever.
But… how much longer could she keep playing this game? How much longer could she keep dancing along the razor’s edge?
How much longer until that dance pushed her into the abyss?
Almost as if on cue, the door to the parlour opened. Morgana could hear the tell-tale sound of her uncle’s footsteps trailing in from the hallway.
“Morgana. Do you have a moment? We have something to discuss.”
To say that the relationship between her and Agravaine was frosty was an understatement. The sorceress still hadn’t forgiven him for hurting Gawain. Morgana pulled her face into her usual mask, looking back at Agravaine with feigned interest.
“What is it?”
“I have a package for you.”
That got her attention. The sorceress narrowed her eyes in suspicion at his words. Agravaine had never hand-delivered her mail before. Not once. The castle had servants for that, not to mention that her uncle had three other jobs to concern himself with. For the Royal Adviser to come and deliver something in person- Morgana instantly knew that something wasn’t right. She could feel her heartbeat pick up as her mind translated what her heart had already realized.
“And you’ve decided to act as a glorified errand boy instead of handing it to a servant?” Morgana asked, unable to keep the suspicion from seeping into her voice. Agravaine gave her a single nod in response.
“For this package, yes. It was not delivered to us by conventional means, you see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Over the years, Agravaine had perfected his mask to a level that even Morgana hadn’t been able to reach. He was almost impossible to read. But she knew her uncle. Morgana knew what kind of games he liked to play. As a child, he had taught her how to play them.
And this time, his tone of voice made all the hairs in her neck stand upright.
Something was very wrong.
“It was smuggled into the castle, actually,” Agravaine said. “One of my birds notified me of a rat that did not belong in Camelot. I decided to have the guards apprehend it. Imagine my surprise when I found them using one of our secret passageways.”
Agravaine reached behind him, revealing a small, ornate chest that Morgana did not recognise. The sorceress watched as he placed it on the table in front of her.
“…what is this?” she asked, looking down on it with suspicion.
“I was hoping that you could tell me,” Agravaine answered. “It came with a letter attached. A letter that has your name on it.”
The Royal Advisor pulled a scroll out of his robes and handed it over to her. She could feel the shape of a key inside the scroll as her fingers locked around the parchment. The seal was unbroken. Agravaine hadn’t opened it. That came as a surprise – normally, her uncle took any opportunity he could to snoop and pry. She didn’t understand his sudden hesitance – until the sorceress flipped the scroll over, and her breath got stuck in her throat.
Staring up at her was the wax seal of Nemeth. It wasn’t their royal crest. It was Richard’s personal seal. Morgana immediately realized the danger that that scroll posed – as well as the implications that came with where it was found.
She was not the only one.
“Did you know that there are only a handful of people who know about the passageway that they were using?” Agravaine asked, his eyes narrowed.
“I did,” Morgana answered, careful to keep her voice calm. The sorceress could see a dangerous glimmer in Agravaine’s eyes as he looked down on her.
“In fact, there is a very limited number of people that are this well-acquainted with our castle’s secrets.”
“One of them is me, and the spies that I choose. The other one is standing next to me.”
Morgana stood frozen, her thoughts leaping in a thousand directions at once. This was bad. This was very bad. She knew exactly what Agravaine was implying, and why he hadn’t broken that seal. The sorceress watched as her uncle took a step towards her, his eyes cold and ruthless. He was dangerously close.
He had no idea just how close he was.
“I’ve pondered this for a while, now, you see,” the Jacoban priest spoke. “How was that sorcerer able to find my hidden archives so easily? How was he able to escape without anyone seeing him? It should have been impossible. Not without alerting the entire castle. And then I realized. It is impossible. Unless he had help from the inside.”
“What are you implying?”
“Someone was able to steal valuable information from us without being caught, and escaped through tunnels that should have been hidden,” Agravaine continued, his voice growing dangerously soft. “Then Nemeth declares war on us. And not a week later, I find our enemy transporting a package for you through these very same tunnels. A strange coincidence, is it not?”
“Perhaps you left the door open,” Morgana retorted. “You are getting on in years, after all. Perhaps you are getting senile in your old age?”
Morgana feigned confidence, but her heart was hammering in her chest. She should have known that Agravaine would not let go of the incident in the archives, even after being ordered to by Arthur. Her uncle held onto grudges like a blood hound held on to prey. And this time, he was dangerously close to the truth. Agravaine was incredibly shrewd – one wrong word would cement her as a traitor in his mind… or lead him to discovering what she really was.
She had to stall for time. Morgana looked down on the scroll, once again picking it up.
“You haven’t opened it? Normally you eavesdrop and snoop into everything.”
“Oh, I simply did not want to pry,” the Jacoban priest replied. He gestured to the package on the table.
“Please. It is yours, after all. I hope that you do not mind if I stay. I would love to see what Nemeth goes through so much trouble for to get to you, the enemy.”
The sorceress gulped. It was too late. He was already convinced. There was no way to get it out of his mind now. But Morgana tried, anyway. In a soft voice, she spoke to her uncle.
“I am not a traitor, Agravaine.”
The Royal Adviser merely nodded towards the package in response. When he spoke, his voice was ice cold.
She had no choice.
Slowly, the sorceress opened the letter. Morgana immediately recognised the handwriting. It was a brief message, not more than a single paragraph in length.
My darling Morgana.
I had saved this for our honeymoon. It saddens me greatly that I cannot present it to you in person. Consider this a parting gift, as well as a promise.
Crooked-nosed knave. This has to be his plan. Whatever is in that chest is meant to be incriminating.
But she couldn’t refuse. If she refused to open it in public, Agravaine would take it as a confession of guilt, and arrest her. Or worse. Morgana had no choice. She had to open it.
She would deal with it. She always did. No matter what he threw at her. No matter what twisted angle he was playing from, she always found a way to-
The next second, the lid to the chest opened, and Morgana’s breath got stuck in her throat.
“I want a spy.”
“My name is yours to choose, mistress.”
Horrified, Morgana slapped the lid shut- but it was already too late. The image had burned itself into her mind. The sorceress could feel a wave of nausea overcome her as a horrible smell of rot and decay spread through the chamber. She pressed her hands against her mouth, trying to force back the bile that began to build in the back of her throat. It didn’t work. Morgana doubled over, retching as her body convulsed violently from the rotting stench.
She hadn’t eaten all day.
The sorceress was suddenly very glad that she hadn’t.
She wasn’t the only one who was rattled. As her stomach forced her into dry heaves, Morgana could feel Agravaine moving towards her.
“…Watcher’s mercy. Morgana, I’m-”
“Shut up,” the sorceress spat, in a rare burst of profanity. “Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”
The sorceress felt sick to her stomach. Morgana could feel her eyes burning. Her breath was ragged from her body trying to force the contents of her stomach out of her. As she spoke to Agravaine in between gasps, her voice was dripping with hatred.
“There is… your information leak, uncle. They tortured it out of your spy.”
Agravaine shook his head, a shocked expression on his face. The Jacoban priest reached out to her.
“Morgana, if I had known-“
But the Princess cut him off again.
“Get out of my sight.”
He did. The Royal Advisor tried to reach for the chest – but another hateful look from his niece quickly made him change his mind. Agravaine turned around, and exited the parlour without another word. Morgana could hear his footsteps rapidly move away from her and vanish in the distance.
Once again… she was alone.
Morgana wasn’t sure why she did it.
A small part of her wanted to believe that it had all been a hallucination, and that the chest in front of her was empty. That none of it was real.
She really wanted to believe… that that was the reason.
But instead, that wish was quickly drowned out by the eerie, morbid curiosity of something else.
Something much darker.
Morgana could feel herself disconnect as her body mechanically opened the chest. This time, she barely noticed the smell. It felt strangely far away, fading into the distant background. She was barely aware of her own body. Her vision blurred. In that moment, it felt like she was looking on from a distance, puppeteering her own limbs from afar. In a stunned haze, the sorceress looked down on Helios’s remains.
It almost didn’t look human.
It wasn’t until that moment that she finally saw it. Another object, tucked away underneath and partially hidden from view. Morgana could see herself reach inside. She felt her fingers lock around the object, pulling it out from underneath and slowly lifting it into the air. It took her a moment to focus. Only then did she realise what it was that she was holding.
Resting in her hand, the thick, congealed blood staining the inside of her fingers… was a single, white chess piece.
Have I ever shared Morgana’s theme song?
19 thoughts on “3.3 – Nordic Gambit”
Welp, Uther Vs Crown Prick of Nemeth, let’s see how that goes. Ohh yes Lance something is definitely off, just look at those creepy eyes as well as the dude walks off X_X I see Wessex wants nothing to do with it, Uther’ll be pissed about that. Ahh yeah this brings up a point I forgot to mention last time. Morgana and Nemeth’s marriage plan being cancelled ruins her eventual plan that she had which didn’t come to mind when I said I was glad it didn’t happen. Now she can’t play him.
Morgana sassing Aggro will always be great but I feel she’s slightly masking fear there since Aggro is catching on. Ohhh God that was NOT what I was expecting in that box! And just the chess piece as well…
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It sounds like you’re announcing a boxing match there 😂 round 1… fight!
Uther was only mildly pissed about half of his friends betraying him after he betrayed his friend. Flakes. What can you do. *shrug* Oooh yup. It’s great that she doesn’t have to go with him, but going with him was the foundation for her entire escape plan, so all that kind of fell into the water there.
Morgana is great under pressure, but only when she has time to prepare. This definitely blindsided her. The contents of the box were… well. Writing it wasn’t that great, either 🤢
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That was quick! Has Royal Mail just been founded? No, wait, this is set waaaay too early for that. Actually we don’t know how many days later this is; it could six months for all I know which could be fast for them. Anyway, I’m losing sight of the point. War has been declared thanks to King Other’s brain fart and now everyone will die and suffer because of it. Good going, you blonde dipstick.
I don’t know if you have Strangerville, but Prince Pellinore reminds me of one of the sims that has eaten the weird fruits and is all ‘CeNrEd !s ThE b3sTeSt’ except more subtle with his purple eyes. So, CtfG is a king, dragon, sorcerer and possibly also a mind-controlling mother plant? Sheesh. Dude needs some more weaknesses. I’m hereby granting him an allergy to lasagne, and lice – the magical kind that don’t die.
I still laugh at the strategy table picture. Not at the picture itself, at imagining Uther laying out his little toys and his letter and stamping his feet. I see my alter ego’s king, Oswald of Mercia, barely waited for Uther to finish his sentence before he buried his face neatly into his bottom, and of course CtfG’s minion will stay where Morgana is. So that leaves two…
“Northumbria had always been neutral.” Yep, that queen is very happy sitting on fences. 😁 I’m so happy that two aren’t bowing to Uther’s little tantrum and too right! King of Wessex explains it in terms of honour and blah, but Queen Margaret’s speech resonates with me more (although maybe not Uther) she’s seeing the wider casualty; endangering nations and actual people because someone in power fucked up and won’t fix it. Good for them.
Oh. Aggro has bought Morgana a package. I am also surprised he didn’t open it and suspected that he actually had somehow until we all found out what was in it; his revulsion felt genuine. Aw, was Richard going to give her the severed head(?) for the honeymoon, or the chess piece? Yeah, sod off Aggro, worst present ever. I admit, I was scrolling down, bracing myself, wondering what murder CC from your Folder of Doom would appear but I’m not disappointed that you chose to tell, not show. I have eaten today.
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Haha, when was British Royal mail founded? Yours sounds so much more fancy than ours. Ours is just “Dutch mail” like the naming bores we are. 😂 It’s vaguely stated by both Morrie and Lancelot in this chapter, but it’s been three weeks since Richard marched out angrily. The prologue took/takes place four weeks after that scene.
I do not have Strangerville, but mind-controlling mother plant sounds both horrifying and a lot like Stranger Things. Oof, that’s a crippling weakness right there, allergy to lasagne 😨 I couldn’t image never being allowed to eat OH MY GODS I cannot eat lasagne again now. Wait no, dairy free lasagne is a thing, right? Right? 😱 Right, sorry, brain went off in a weird direction there. It might not seem like it at this point in the story, but nobody in my world is all-powerful. If they have significant strengths, then there’s always a weakness to compensate. 🤭
Adult toddler Uther is such a nightmare. He kept throwing tantrums this chapter and not making the faces I needed because he hated the war room decorations and needed to pee. You can have a bathroom break when I’m done, darn it. 🤣
It was a severed head, yes. I tried making a screenshot of it (because I do have it in my wonderful Folder of Doom) but it ended up looking comical rather than horrifying, so I ended up leaving it out. Sometimes our own imagination works better.
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I think Royal Mail very recently had some 500 year celebrations, so about 1520? I’m only centuries out. 😆
I thought you’d see that as a fitting weakness, but totally forgot you can’t actually have lasagne right now! But yes, dairy free lasagne is a thing! If you need recipes, let me know. Aha, I know they have weaknesses and we’ve already seen that one of Cenred’s is that he’s a dickhead. I’m sure he has loads more waiting to sweep the rug out from underneath him and I’m excited to see it.
The severed head looked comical? I want to seeeeeee!
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Eh, what’s a few centuries here and there? 🤭
Yes please! I miss my lasagne 😢 Darn, I never even realised that “no more sugar and dairy, ever” meant lasagne, too. At least Cenred can now share in my pain because I’m petty and if I don’t get lasagne, then neither does he. Him being a dickhead might be his biggest weakness of all 😂
Haha, okay. I’ll dig it out of my “nope” screenshot folder and show it to you later.
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I’m so curious about what else is in the ‘nope’ screenshot folder now…
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Mostly bad pictures. People running around in a panic in their underwear because sim Yimi set the stove on fire. Uther in drag. The usual stuff.
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Oh, just your typical day in Camelot, then. 😆
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Oof I’m glad I got a pc to reread this chapter. I wouldn’t have caught Pellinore’s eyes glowing like that. We know the real king of Essetir was assasinated. If Pellinore (and his brothers) are possessed, I wonder why Cenred didn’t choose to possess the king, which makes me think that whatever in Pellinore isn’t a dragon. Oof. What *are* Cenred’s minions? Elves? Spirits? 😀 Or maybe it isn’t possession. Maybe the entire royal family simply got replaced/assassinated. Who’s to say Pellinore originally looked like that, right? Hmm.. now what entity would serve an ancient dragon? Cenred mentioned all his priests had died. I wonder what happened to his temple. Simply forgotten over the course of time or directly targetted? Oops, getting off tangent.
Uther lashes out at his allies too? Uther you big adult baby, stop throwing a tantrum just because things don’t go your way. You’re digging Arthur’s grave. Do you think your allies are going to go easy on Arthur when he succeeds the throne? Oof that capital s on your head just about cemented itself there for life now. What a wonderful legacy to leave behind 😆
And then my second absolute favourite character decided to waltz in and grace us all with his lack of presence. The mystery of Morgana looking as if she smelled poop under her nose is solved! It *IS* a turd! I’m surprised he wasn’t surrounded by soldiers. Would’ve loved to see him trample all over himself in front of them. Kek! 😆
Followed by my no 1 absolute favourite character. Am ded. Can’t wait for Morgana to boot Richard’s slimy pimply rotten S all the way back to the swamp.
Gah can’t help but think about the implications on everyone, especially the knights and the people. First ones to go. Nuuu. This ride hasn’t even begun and I’m strapping myself tight!
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Hey, you have a PC again! And here I thought you got permanently lost in the outback 😆
Oooh, those are some good theories! You may or may not be getting close to the truth with one of them 🤭 What kind of entity would serve an ancient dragon, indeed? And why? Haha, feel free to go off-tangent all you like. There’s a lot of questions in there and most of those are getting an answer at some point.
Sim Uther was throwing tantrums too, though that was more because I was ignoring his needs and slowly starving him to death until I got all the pictures I needed. Unfortunately aggression and anger tantrums are very effective when used on the right people and can get you far in life – when they don’t make you look like a toddler, at least.
Oooh this chapter has all your personal favourites in it, doesn’t it? It’s like trigger bingo. I’m so sorry. 😂 There’s a lot of scheming and backstabbing and betrayals but at the end of the day, it’s war, and like you say, the knights and the people will end up paying the price. Plumbob might have been the wisest one there out of everyone by staying firmly on the fence. 😅
I have forgotten how diseased Aggro looks! Moving on… I wonder if the princes of Essetir are posessed and under Cenred’s control, or if he straight up murdered them and swapped them out for changelings. The look in the “prince’s” creepy eyes at the end of the scene with Lancelot would seem to suggest the latter, unless that is actually Cenred looking through those eyes… but man, controlling three people at all times convincingly sounds like a lot of work. I’ll atick with the murder and replace option.
Woo, go sim-me, you tell Uther! I stand by what I said too, Uther got himself into this situation all on his own – he arranged the engagement in the first place and then he broke it off. Not exactly a whole lot of incentive there to jump to his cause. I’m reluctant to even call it a cause. He’s already proven his alliance and his word don’t mean very much, after all. Definitely having my kingdom stay out of that mess if I can help it 😆
Oof, poor Morgana. But also, Aggro really jumped on the first chance to suggest treason, it’s like he’s looking for an excuse. If he’s done that once, he’ll do that again. Though hopefully the corpsy spy incident will shut him up for a while at least. Silver linings and all that.
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Welcome back! ❤ just in time to see your simself calmly telling Uther and Aggro to shove it. Your simself actually picked a fight with both of them off-camera too, but unfortunately Aggro was in his pyjamas, so I couldn’t fit it in.
Your kingdom has enough messes of their own to deal with, what with your medieval monarch swan-diving into the monster pit 🤭🤣
You have some good theories! I’d give you a vague, hint-filled answer, but my brain is slowly turning to goo and I don’t trust myself not to spill secrets (or spout complete gibberish) while I’m like this. Have some pancakes instead. ❤ 🥞
Oh my god.
Okay, I cannot even get my thoughts into any kind of order. First off, I don’t want Camelot to fall but Uther got what he deserved. The Queen was right. Why should they go to war and risk people’s lives because Uther broke an engagement? He hasn’t brought anyone in on his plans and he is playing a chess game I’m not sure he can win.
Speaking of which, when Morgana was sitting there feeling sorry for herself, I was reminded that she is her father’s child. She didn’t bring anyone in on her chess match either. It’s a risk, because if it all falls then there is no one to help her pick up the pieces. Case in point: the playing piece she received from Richard.
Man, that was a good move. That whole scene was delightfully gruesome. What are you going to do now, Morgana?
(loveeee her theme song)
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Yay, you found the parent-child chess… metaphor? Allusion? What’s the word in English? I have no idea. ANYWAY. 😃 You’re spot-on. Both of them try but in the end, Morgana and Arthur are still Uther’s children and have had him as a role model for their entire lives. Some learned behaviours are very difficult to get rid of. Morgana keeps her cards too close to her chest and Arthur turns to doubting his allies very quickly.
Ha! I’ll make sure to pass the compliment onto Richard. He’ll be delighted. There might be inappropriate levels of villainous cackling involved.
(I KNOW RIGHT IT’S ONE OF MY FAVOURITES 🤩)
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I like Uther’s round table. It’s very fancy, but someone else needs to be in charge. I can’t imagine being allies with Camelot…
I’m still not clear on why Richard wanted to marry Morgana. If it’s because he, like Gawain and Arthur, dislikes women fawning over him and think she’s an opponent or some sort of challenge to him… Sending body parts is disgusting. Morgana doesn’t have time for stupid games. If it weren’t so problematic, I’d consider his behavior peak attention-seeking behavior and just ignore it. He parted with/returned/gave up his most powerful chess piece, his queen, in more than one way.
The original link didn’t work for me for Morgana’s theme song, but I was able to quickly find it. It fits so well.
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Ha! 😆 “Nice table you have there, but you really shouldn’t be running it.” Ah, that made me laugh. A number of people at that table seemed to think the same way you do, which is why Camelot has significantly fewer allies now.
Richard’s motives have never been revealed as there’s never been a chapter from his POV. I can’t straight-up answer this as it would be mildly spoilery, but one of those things is true. Ignoring the guy who sends you body parts could be a good or a very bad idea depending on your perspective. This time it might a little too problematic to do nothing about, as you pointed out 😅
Oh, darn. They must have removed it from Youtube. Thank you for letting me know!
The queen of Northumbria has some familiar features. I’m probably making something out of nothing, though.
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Haha, who knows? You might be on to something. The sim is actually somebody’s simself…
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