Prince Arthur 1

The witch, who was banned even by her own brethren, stepped forward.

Prince Arthur still stood warily at the entrance of the shallow room. His very presence in this hideous place brought the scent of the ever-green, endless English fields and his fine longbow, hung loosely on his back, sprinkled the whole room with the smell of young yew, the noble Archer's Tree. Excalibur, whose magic usually made it shine gently even in places of total darkness, emitted only a dull, greyish glow.

Arthur didn't say a word, but rather felt the thoughts being forced in his mind without any willful move from his side. "You'll pay for your prideful venture here, and you will have to, right now. Who did you think you were in coming to my private kingdom? Your mind is as shallow to me as an inch-deep puddle! Your petty complaints of my influencing the mind of your folkmen are of no interest to me..." The prince shook his head violently and yelled:
- Do not dare trying to use your bag of weird magick tricks on me, foul creature! I am ashamed that you count among one of us, the living people, and I intend to remove your dirty face from God's sight forever! - Arthur drew the blade of Light and dashed forward.

The witch mumbled a curse or two, but they slid off the knight's armour like raindrops ride the stony archs of a highland castle 'till they fall off a proud towers' edge. Visibly surprised, she made a step back, but then smiled grimly. "You are a fool of courage, loyalty and other misconceptions, but you are still - just a fool." She raised her trembling dry hand and a short ornamented wooden stick flew into it from the depths of dirty ingredients, brazen containers and smelly clothing that lingered in the hut's corners. Having re-united with its evil maker, the mysterious weapon, for there could be no doubt of its purpose, started glowing with the eerie, faint and greenish colour of poison. The knight made a step towards the witch, firmly holding his grip on Excalibur. Suddenly, he stopped, having reached an invisible wall and his mighty body trembled from the stress, created by the willful use of such force - the will to draw further and finally swing the holy blade at the damned woman, who had made sure trouble was in abundance for him and his folk in the last three years.

The glow around the nameless stick intensified itself. Prince Arthur released the royal sword and watched in stunned silence as it slammed in the dirty ground. The nobleman was surprised by the flurry of emotions he long considered unworthy of a knight and watched his sharp, clear mind in horror as it was filled by feelings of jealousy, lust, vengeance and anger. Only barely recognizing his surroundings, he kneeled down, as if dragged by an unnamed hand. "Only too ironic,", he heard the witch's whisper again, "that the noblest of all knights should fall before the smokes stemming from every human's darker side, just like any common man...". "Your strength will return after I have departed, but for your pride and confidence, I give no guarantees, you", she proceeded to fade into the air, "insolent oaf!".

The prince walked out of the unlit hut. He sat on the coast of the black lake surrounding the witch's home and peered in the murky depths, devastated.