— Arthur! Stop. Think about what you’re doing. What good will this achieve? How many times have you talked about uniting this land? Will killing this man make that dream any closer?
— He is right. This is no answer.
— Finish it. Finish it and be done.
— And what then? Your people will seek they’re revenge. A war without an end.
— There is no other way.
— There is another way. In return for your life, you must restore Rodor to the throne of Nemeth.
— Even if I agreed, it solves nothing. What about us, Pendragon?
— A truce. Binding our kingdoms to peace.
— Never.
— Is this what you want? To die here, now know you condemn this land to war. Odin, you cannot let it end like this. The blood will never wash off.
— You killed my son!
— You killed my father! We have both lost much at the others hand. Let us loose no more, I am offering you the chance to end this. Take it. Take it!
— So be it. A truce it is.

— The nature of the deal is explained in my proposal. I've booked you a suite at the Midland Hotel. If you need anything in this city, just mention my name.
— So you want to impress me, Mr Shelby?
— Also in the envelope is a cheque for five hundred pounds for your wife. She can use it to buy a black dress, rent a black horse with black feathers, to pull a black carriage with your body in it, should you break the terms of the white flag. Now, please, enjoy the city it's my honour to represent.