THE LETTER

Merlin sat on his bed, legs crossed, and stared at the letter in his trembling hands.

Emrys Merlin Ambrosius:

It has come to our attention that you no longer dwell in your district, 13 of magic. Knowing this is against strict laws, you may either return on your own or be dragged back by Peacekeepers.

As payment of your crimes, you must either serve as a slave in the Capitol with your tongue cut out, killed, or be tribute for your district.

If you do not show for your district's Reaping, a decision will be made for you.

Capitol of Parciluen

Taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Merlin made his decision. He grabbed his bad from under his bed and packed it with a change of clothes, his staff, a refilled vial of Avolon's water, and his spell book. He stopped, looked back, and stuffed in a blanket as well.

He left the letter near where Gaius slept so he would see it in the morning and know where he had gone. Merlin then raced off to the kitchen and snuck some food into a pouch he placed on tap of the blanket.

After notifying a bleary-eyed servant that he would be unable to serve the king the following morning, he walked over to the stable and picked a mare, saddling her gently as she nuzzled his chest.

He climbed onto her, reaching for the reigns, and motioned the horse to move out into the dark night, using his magic to silence the mare's clopping hoof-steps and turning both invisible for the guards. Then, they were off to Parciluen.