"The last member of the Lancelot family just died," Nolan said flatly. "You imprisoned them for a thousand years. A millennium is more than enough time for their reverence toward you to fade."
"That's a shame," Merlin said sincerely. "Well, at least we can now let all of England know that Guinevere had nothing to do with Lancelot. Maybe that will make them a little happier?"
Nolan remained silent. At this point, not even Merlin could mend the shattered honor and tarnished reputation of that family.
Lancelot's name had long since become synonymous with betrayal. And now, after all these years, telling the world he had been a loyal knight—what difference would it make?
…
Merlin led Nolan and the elves to the edge of a murky lake. He raised a short-handled staff.
Unlike Nolan's wand, Merlin's staff was about thirty centimeters long, with a metal handle and a magical gemstone embedded at the top.
"Is that a wand from a thousand years ago?"
"Hm? Oh—no, no." Merlin grinned mischievously and pulled another wand from his robes—a peachwood wand. He waved it proudly. "This is an Ollivander wand—the finest wand brand in England! It cost me over thirty Galleons! But this one," he gestured to the staff, "was crafted by elves. It can't cast standard wizarding spells, but it holds the power to manipulate time."
Merlin lifted the crystal-tipped staff and chanted a long string of ancient Elvish words.
Then, to Nolan and the elves' shock, the world began to lose its color.
The murky lake turned to shades of gray. The sky dulled into a monochrome canvas. The clouds froze in place. Even the wind ceased to stir.
Nolan instinctively tried to move, but his limbs felt as though they were trapped in solid space. He couldn't even breathe properly—every breath was thick and sluggish, as if the air itself had congealed.
Then, Merlin chanted again. This time, the incantation was even more intricate, a seamless blend of ancient Elvish, Draconic, and Goblin tongue. The words wove together like a melody, forming a rhythmic, poetic incantation.
The sounds layered upon each other, intertwining like a vast net that spread outward. And then—
Color returned.
Nolan's body trembled as though he had just surfaced from deep water. His limbs felt light—almost weightless.
But more than that, what truly stunned them all was what they saw before them.
The once-empty lake was no longer empty.
Buildings had appeared on the water's surface.
At first, they were blurred silhouettes, like reflections in the mist. But as the fog slowly lifted, towers, domes, and windows materialized one after another. A sprawling fortress rose from the void.
"It's floating!" Ligeitoli gasped. "A magnificent castle on the water!"
"I'm delighted you find Rodetab beautiful, my lovely elven lady," Merlin said with a smile. "Welcome to Avalon—or at least, that's what Arthur liked to call it. But to me, it will always be my school—Rodetab!"
Rodetab was nothing like the grand and imposing Hogwarts, which loomed like some ancient, fearsome beast.
It was elegant, compact, and exquisitely crafted. Unlike Hogwarts, which was built from thick stone bricks, most of Rodetab's structures were made of intricately carved wood, embodying the simplicity and grace of elven design.
Elves didn't favor living in houses, but that didn't mean they weren't masterful architects.
On the contrary, they were some of the finest builders. Wizards, after all, had never been particularly known for their artistic finesse—such things were best left to the professionals.
…
"Wizard Merlin, there's something I want to know," Nolan said, his expression calm despite witnessing Rodetab's breathtaking return. He had to admit—Merlin's magic was impressive. "Was time also frozen inside Rodetab for a thousand years?"
"A thousand years? Oh, of course not! I don't have nearly enough magical energy for that," Merlin chuckled, clearly in high spirits. His mood made him more talkative, and his explanation was detailed. "I merely pulled it back from another space. Time has indeed passed for Rodetab, unlike myself."
"So… that means the original Round Table knights are long dead?"
"Of course. Even elves don't live that long."
Merlin's smile slowly faded, replaced by a soft sigh. "I don't know if anyone in Rodetab still remembers me, but I doubt that those who were sealed away for a thousand years are in a good state." He turned to Nolan, his expression growing solemn. "Nolan, my friend, I need to go now and take charge of Rodetab. I hope we'll have the chance to meet again."
"We will," Nolan said coolly.
Merlin then faced the elves. "And you, my beautiful elven friends. I'm truly sorry for the state of the Elven Forest. But believe me—one day, these withered trees and this dried-up lake will return to their former glory. This is my promise, as the wizard Merlin."
"I choose to believe in your promise, Wizard Merlin," said Priestess Lúthfa. "A thousand years have passed, and your name has become a legend among us. Though elves are not fond of mingling too closely with wizards, Arthur's kingdom was an exception. You were allies of the elves."
"That's wonderful!" Merlin beamed, shaking Lúthfa's hand enthusiastically. "Not just allies—I believe we can even become good neighbors."
Then, before their eyes, Merlin cast a spell that froze the surface of the lake. He stepped onto the ice and, with deliberate steps, made his way toward Rodetab.
Ligeitoli watched his departing figure with curiosity. "Shouldn't we go explore that magical school? Hogwarts was incredibly fascinating—I'd love to see how Rodetab compares."
"You'll get your chance, elf," Nolan said coldly. "But not now."
His sharp senses had already noticed something on the elven structures ahead—archers, dozens of them, all stationed atop the buildings, their bows drawn, arrows aimed directly at them.
"They don't seem very welcoming," Shafa muttered.
Lúthfa's brows furrowed in concern. "I just hope Wizard Merlin will be alright."
"Who knows?" Nolan's tone was indifferent. "I can't tell if bringing Rodetab back into the world is a blessing or a curse. They've been sealed away for a millennium—completely detached from the present. Anything could happen. I just hope Merlin can rein them in, just as he once did with the original Knights of the Round Table. If not, we might be looking at a disaster."
He turned his gaze to Lúthfa, his voice dropping to a quieter tone. "Priestess Lúthfa, can I expect you to keep your promise? Now that the crisis in the Elven Forest has been resolved, does this mean that my Randall Gorge will soon have new rangers and guardians?"
At his words, the gathered elves fell into silence.
None of them wanted to part with Lúthfa and Shafa—the priestess and her sister were revered leaders, their wisdom and skill vital to the village.
But Lúthfa did not hesitate. She dropped to one knee before Nolan, and Shafa followed suit.
"I keep my word, Your Highness," Lúthfa declared. "From this day forth, we shall serve House Von Draugr. We will protect your lands and guard your borders—until death claims us, as it is right and just."