Mordred Pendragon Romane & Geschichten

I scowl at her, “Sir Knight, I think you might be mistaken I…” “Oh no, I don’t think I am.” Devona explains. “I have a pretty good idea who you are…you are a part of all this too.” “Yeah, who am I, their love child?” “No.” she answers simply. “Mordred died the same night as his mother. It was by luck alone that his infant daughters were not killed as well. Those behind the plot to destroy Morgana’s line so that she might rise did their very best to be thorough. But… I feel you, any of you, aren’t going to believe me until I show you some proof.” She motions for us to follow her to the cellar. “Come on, our friend is still unconscious. He’ll be a perfect visual aid.”

I command, shaking him again just to hear him whimper like a pup. Just over the next ridge, in about twenty minutes. Mordred supplies without complaint. I don’t know what James was thinking when he hired the bastard. He might be an evil son of a bitch, but I thought he had more brains than to work with someone who has no backbone. What do you know about the mermaids who get taken to Sangville? I hiss. Were you involved in the shipment taken two days ago?

’ His voice trailed off in anguish, ‘No brother, we had nothing, and you know it but won’t accept it. We could never beat Arthur, he was/is England's greatest King and he always will be. He is at peace now, sleeping because he has earned his rest but when he is needed he will return and save this green and pleasant land he loved so much. Killing the Hybrid will not change that, mating her will bring you nothing, she is not yours to mate with.’ Morgana stopped in front of him and lifted her hand taking the silver knife and placing it beside Aurora then she took Mordred's hands in hers,

The room settled into that awkward dorm hush: distant hallway chatter, the hum of the mini-fridge, Lesley's soft snores kicking in almost immediately. I lay on my bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars peeling from the ceiling—relics from the previous occupant. My phone screen lit up the dark, Mordred's last text glaring back at me like an accusation. “Don't meet Lysander tomorrow. Ignore the text. It's a setup. Begging you.” Begging? Mordred never begged. He orders, he protect, he crashed through walls—literally and figuratively.

No one would dare to take the noble's money and run after witnessing the Great God of Order. "Thank you for your generosity, Baron." The mercenaries bowed again. The next thing was easy. The others prepared to leave as soon as Kristin had finished comparing the treasure map in her hands with the topography of Roskilde Island. Kristin was a third-level mage, accompanied by Eric Bernard, a seventh-level knight, and Ronny St, a first-level druid. They were on a three-masted warship. It could be said that they had not encountered such a powerful treasure-hunting team in more than ten years, so there was no shortage of sailors applying to be navigators. In the end, Kristin chose two veterans from