[ If jumping into the future sounds improbable, jumping between worlds is a harder concept to grasp, simply because the idea of other worlds is not exactly natural to Arthur's mind. Avalon is another world, if the tales hold true, and so is the Christian heaven, and the land of the dead. All of these have a thematic commonality that disturbs him. ]

[ But he fixates on that final sentence. He'll accept anything as truth, if it means he may return home. ]

[ He abruptly runs palms over his brows, trying to ease the tension, takes a deep breath. There's determination in his jaw, to control himself, remain even-tempered and learn as much as he can so he can draw better conclusions than death or madness. ]

Look, Wynnefalshond, I'm not saying I disbelieve any of this, but while you certainly know me, I don't recognize you. Which I hope you won't take umbrage to, it's all a bit...

[ He gestures his hand beside his left ear. ]

Mixed up, like I've had a nasty knock.

[ He looks up. ]

And I want to return home. Because if I can't rule in Camelot...

[ There are two endings to that sentence. The obvious one is, What what will my people do? But Arthur thinks of the strangeness of even minor things like clothing and interactions and fifteen hundred years, and wonders, also, What will I do? ]

[ But he speaks neither of these aloud, quirks a brow. ]

Unless, of course, this kingdom has a vacancy at the top.