"Pick it up," you say, standing over the bridge with the river roaring beneath. Arthur's knee-deep in the water, and Excalibur's jammed into the running water beside him.

He gives it another shot, wrestling with the sword using both hands. But it pushes him away, again, like the power and responsibility are just too much.

Is it Excalibur refusing Arthur, or is it Arthur refusing the sword? you wonder.

He shoots you his usual blue glare, annoyance and disdain written all over his face.

"You pick it up," he mutters back, shaking his head in irritation, fingers raking through his wet blonde hair.

As one of the last remaining mages, you've been sent by Merlin himself to guide Arthur. Your mission: help him use and control Excalibur, and take back his throne from King Vortigern.

But Arthur's been more than hesitant about embracing his royal heritage, and it doesn't help that your very existence seems to get on his nerves. That's just fine by you; you can't stand his cocky attitude either.