The sound of a bell tolling in the distance distracted the magician. He looked out the window, saw that the sun was high in the sky, and noted that it was the ringing of the noontime bell he was hearing. He thought to himself that this makes the third noon that has passed without a single visitor from the castle's assemblage. Never had he been left to himself for so long a time. Usually there was a prince's nasty hangover from the previous night's banquet to treat or a knight with a wound from some jousting contest or a high Lord or the King himself with some dream to be explained or some anxiety to be relieved. Now for three days there was nothing. The magician thought the goings on at Camelot was the work of fools and lunatics but it now occurred to him that he had taken a certain pleasure in following these affairs. He considered himself the most educated man in the realm having studied under several wizards. He had always thought of himself as a above the sort of things that consumed the attention of princes and knights. This noon however found him uneasily missing the hubbub of the royal circus. Strange, he thought to himself, that he should be so discomforted.

And with this the magician arose from his chair and moved to his wall of books. He determined that he would research this unusual quietude. Perhaps there was a potion or ritual that might release Camelot from its torpor. The magician wished to again here the knock on his chamber door and be entertained by the noble silliness that was the court at Camelot.