A Tail of Camelot by Julie Leung

across the sea and established Camelot as his capital. Britain had lived in prosperity ever since.
    Calib scrabbled onto the rock to examine the hilt of the broadsword; a large white diamond winked in the pommel. Beneath it, the sharp-edged blade gleamed like liquid moonlight. Mysterious runes were engraved on the flat of it.
    Reaching out a tentative paw, Calib felt the cool metal beneath his pads. A vibrating tingle traveled up his spine, and he quickly snatched his paw back.
    Old magic—perhaps the oldest magic—protected this sword.
    Grandfather would have loved to see this.
    Yvers had told him many legends of the mice of Camelot, but his favorite stories to tell had been about the old old days, when the world was young and still wild with magic.
    Calib’s whiskers twitched, and his heart beat a funny jig in his chest.
    If the Sword in the Stone had appeared again, it could only mean one thing: danger was coming to Camelot and King Arthur could not save them.

CHAPTER
10
    G alahad studied the maps unfurled in the library. Color-coded tokens representing coats of arms dotted the sketches of mountain ranges, seas, borders, and roads. Each one represented the location of Camelot’s allies and enemies. His fellow pages shuffled around the tables for a better look.
    â€œThis evening, we’re going to teach you a little something about military strategy,” Sir Kay said, addressing the gathered crowd from the center table. “It’s up to me to make sure that you lot aren’t completely clueless about where you are in the world.”
    Galahad looked for his father’s sigil but could not find it. His stomach lurched with homesickness when he saw St. Anne’s Nunnery marked in a map covering the northern kingdoms. That life seemed so far away now.
    â€œBehold, the world as we know it . . .”
    Sir Kay gestured to the two largest maps, both showing Britain as a jagged teardrop of an island. There was a smaller island to the west marked by Celtic symbols. Everything east of the Narrow Seas was one wide, unbounded piece of land, divided up into a colorful rainbow of territories. The maps were identical except for the territories’ borders.
    â€œWhen our scouts adventure beyond Britain, they send back news of the changing kingdoms.” Sir Kay pointed from one map to the other. “From one year to the next, our enemies are always on the move. It is our job to understand the threats before they are at our doorstep.”
    Galahad compared the two maps. It seemed to him that many of the kingdoms had been swallowed up by a great tide of red tokens.
    â€œWhat group is this?” Galahad pointed to the tokens, which bore a symbol of a white dragon against a red backing.
    â€œThose are the Saxons, cursed be their name,” Sir Kay said. “Why do you ask?”
    â€œWell, it’s just . . . They look like they’re moving west is all,” Galahad said. “See, if you look at these maps, they’ve swallowed up all these kingdoms in the past year.They’re practically at the sea.”
    Sir Kay chuckled and shook his head.
    â€œThat’s good of you to notice, Galahad, I’ll give you that. But the Saxons wouldn’t dare attack Britain again,” he said. “We ran them right off this island, with their tails tucked between their legs. They would not dare touch foot on this land while Arthur is here.”
    â€œBut Arthur isn’t here, not right now,” Galahad corrected. “When was the last time we sent scouts to the shore? These maps are dated two years ago. I don’t—”
    â€œSince when did washing dishes suddenly make you an expert on military strategy?” Malcolm, the page who had first denied Galahad a seat at breakfast, interrupted. Some of the other pages tittered at his jibe.
    â€œNow, now,” Sir Kay interjected, “a knight of the Round Table is not only brave in battle, but also shows wisdom in