We only make peace with our enemies, my lord. That's why it's called "making peace".
— 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.
Truces are temporary. Call it an alliance. That's permanent.
— One man should be here.
— You're right, Pol. Freddie should be here.
— Is that a heartbeat I hear inside that chest?
— The truce lasts until sunrise.