Fate In Time 17 Chapter 17

It was almost like s.h.i.+rou was sitting back at his little Dojo in the Emiya residence, a cup of tea in his hands as he watched Saber go through her forms. Yet the current circ.u.mstances were a tad different.

He hummed in thought as he took a sip from the broth of soup he was currently preparing while his eyes snuck glances at Arturia sparring against Kay. Sir Ector was also not far from the area, rather he was the one instructing both of the two.

"Here are the bowls," Emily spoke in surprise before she leaned down and whispered. "Why are there so many of them?"

He knew that she was referring to the encirclement of trained men gathering around him and eying the food he was cooking.

"Is it really that good?" Emily asked.

He shrugged. It didn't matter if it was good or not. All that he knew was that regardless of how many people were waiting for him to finish cooking, they would have to get through a strong line of defense first.

Even with the others training in the distance, none of them could conceal the possessiveness in their eyes.

Sir Ector would often glance in his direction, a thumb brus.h.i.+ng against the hilt of his sword as he hummed in thought, daring anyone to make a move.

Even Kay and Arturia were affected. Although it looked as if they were engaged in a fierce bout of steel against steel, it was simply not the case. The strength of their blows was weakening with every strike as they decided to conserve their strength to fend off the pests.

He alone was the only one with no preparations of any kind, but rather he silently mused to himself why it was the army troop could be so lax. Then again, from Sir Ectors previous explanation, he could definitely understand why.

The higher ups and leaders of the army had decided that this was the best time to launch the initiative and retaliate back against the Saxons. Yet Wess.e.x, an area formed of a coalition of numerous other villages would not fall so easily even with the power of their current military strength. They simply did not have enough personnel to spread throughout the lands of Wess.e.x.

Therefore, time was needed to garner more individuals.

Still, a period of at least three-to-four years may be the most optimum to gather men from across the country into one army, but that would also give enough time for the enemy to bolster their own defenses. Thus, the most optimum time was decided to be a reconvention of the powers after two years-time, keeping heed to hide the information from the enemy, yet fighting short skirmishes to keep up the pressure.

With that said, the lack of tension in the current expressions of the men around him was probably due to this very explanation.

His eyes made contact with Arturia's in the exact way she had instructed just before he stared cooking. It was the signal to let her know that the food was just about done.

She in turn sent a signal to Kay, and both of them promptly stopped training and returned to where he was cooking, forming another circle.

Arturia sent him out a glance at the other soldiers around them, giving them fair warning. Of course, no one really took her that seriously based on her age, but it was the imposing aura behind her that caused many to reconsider their actions.

Besides, most of the men around them were from separate camps. The fact that they were here drawn by the smell just meant that all of them were tired of stale rations. Then again, his level of cooking was far beyond the level of what was considered true cuisine in the present era, even if it only consisted of hunted and seasoned game.

As for the Knights of Wolfred, many had started their journey back to the lands of Bristol, bringing with them the equipment he had reinforced and altered. Many of them of them even going as far as to avoid other troops and various other groups in caution of thieves. The armour and weapons reinforced by him were just that rare in this time period of man and sword. A weapon easily able to bypa.s.s all primitive medieval defenses was not something to be looked down upon.

As for their current group, it consisted of two men from the Knights of Wolfred, Palamid and Bors, and including himself there was Arturia, Emily, Kay, Gerrard, Charles, the Son of Wolfred, and Sir Ector.

The group was formed shortly after Sir Ector took note of the area and the location of the closest settlements. It was then that he realized that a particular settlement of great interest was nearby.

The Town of Roan.

When Sir Ector brought up the topic with the others, no one made any complaints. In fact, the only thing worth noting was that the Son of Wolfred refused to return with the other Knights back to Bristol, stating that he was on a quest to make a name for himself. Which was precisely why Palamid and Bors had stayed behind to watch after the young n.o.ble after a moment of discussion.

It was an odd sort of group, and they hadn't even left the main army camp yet because of a few matters that needed to be settled on Sir Ector's end. As for why Gerrard was present, it was because of Charles who had been singled out by the rest of the n.o.bility to keep an eye on him. He was the only n.o.ble yet to take control of his own land, and as such his duties weren't as significant when compared to the rest of the others like Barwheld.

Speaking of the man, he had already left with his troop as well in preparation for the coming a.s.sault. Although he did leave behind a few words with him before departing mainly to do with matters regarding to a visit sometime in the future.

"s.h.i.+rou, hurry up with the food," Arturia urged, a tad threatened by the ravenous stares directed at the food's direction.

"It's already done," he spoke.

The moment his words were uttered, a strange silence encompa.s.sed the area as many of the men who were already turning to leave straightened up and halted steps.

"Gentlemen," Sir Ector coughed into his hand and stepped forward. "I believe that you've misplaced the locations of your own camps."

The majority completely ignored Sir Ectors words. After all, they had never smelled food so fragrant. In fact, if it was simply hunted and roasted game, the smell alone should have been one that was familiar. However, this, this was different. It was a salivating kind of smell, the kind where one could envision the taste through a mere whiff of the scent.

It wasn't until Kay stepped up that any change occurred in the expressions of the men for he was famous now in his own way.

The Foul End.

All the other men knew of the rumours regarding Kay, and were likewise repulsed. Furthermore, Gerrard was also present, and with his reputation and his accomplishments in the battlefield, the men eventually gave up.

"I didn't know you were a cook, Red?" Gerrard said as he slumped down and took the bowl and skewer offered to him by Emily who was helping s.h.i.+rou distribute the portions.

Gerrard took a bite at the food just as he was about to continue talking, but suddenly decided against it as he hastened his chewing.

"Hhmph, what kind of food is this?" The Son of Wolfred looked at the offered food and was comparing it to what was served in his manor. Admittedly, he was actually quite bewildered, but he wasn't showing it. "This is soup?"

The Son of Wolfred muttered to himself before taking a sip. His eyes widened. "S-Say, you wouldn't be interested in a position at my residence, would you?"

"No way," Arturia was the one who answered the question.

She could tell what it was that the Son of Wolfred was thinking, and she'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd let him go through with it. His personality aside, she could at least tolerate him, but she still had her bottom line. No one threatens to take away her chef.

The Son of Wolfred's const.i.tution soured, his face looking as if someone had taken away something precious.

"You, don't to be too impulsive," Bors reasoned as he ate slowly. "How about a position in the Knight's area?"

Bors was built tough, his body muscular, and the armour he wore seeming as if it didn't weigh him down at all. His brown hair was rather short, and a stubble of a beard was beginning to form over his rounded chin. Other than a few other things like a square face, Bors had a pair of brown eyes that seemed to always be deep in thought.

"NO," Arturia spoke again, her eyes leveled on her opposition. She even included Palamid who had yet to speak in her sights.

Speaking of which, Palamid was once again wearing his helmet to hide his features, although it couldn't hide his annoyance at the Son of Wolfred who kept sneaking glances at him. Currently, Palamid was more preoccupied with the stare Arturia was giving him. "If you insist that I speak up, then I will speak up." Palamid took a bite from her food before continuing. "I second Bors's proposal."

Arturia's lips thinned, yet her attention was suddenly drawn towards Charles who was sneaking second servings in her distraction. Her eyes narrowed.

"Relax a bit," s.h.i.+rou spoke to lighten up the compet.i.tive atmosphere, handing another serving to a thankful Charles. "There's enough for everyone," he finished.

Then what about thirds?

Was the general thought that crossed everyone's minds.

Eyes locking, a fierce battle of wills commenced before everyone started eating rapidly to consume as much as possible.

It was only moments later after all the food had been cleared up that the main topic of discussion was put to question.

"Why are we going to the Town of Roan?" The Son of Wolfred was the one who asked, but everyone was actually thinking on it.

Sir Ector hummed before he spoke. "Roan is not known for its land, people, nor achievements, but rather there is something far more interesting about it."

Palamid and Bors listened silently as s.h.i.+rou seemed to already know what was about to be said.

"And that would be?" Emily asked as she brought up from the rear.

"The Sword in the Stone, la.s.s," Sir Ector answered.

Upon hearing Sir Ector's words, Arturia's footsteps paused briefly, the action too quick to be caught.

She didn't understand why it was they were visiting the Sword in the Stone now even though she had yet to complete her training. She held herself back from asking due to the company of the others around her. She would have to wait for a better time to bring it up with Sir Ector.

"The Sword in the Stone, that immovable thing?" Gerrard scoffed. "Nothing's been able to so much as shake that thing."

"He who draws forth the sword in the stone is the true King of Britain," Charles recited the words spoken in the inner circle of the n.o.bility.

The Son of Woflred's eyes shone. "Naturally it will be I, who shall draw this sword."

Kay scoffed at the notion and instead decided to set a pace for the others to follow otherwise it would take too long to arrive at the settlement.

As the group continued along, Sir Ector began to slowly drift back within the group until he paced himself alongside s.h.i.+rou.

"You've spoken with the Wizard, child?" Sir Ector asked, catching s.h.i.+rou by surprise.

s.h.i.+rou adjusted the bag he was carrying behind him before answering. "Yes, I have," he admitted.

To be frank, Sir Ector bringing up the topic of Merlin reminded him of the previous happenings regarding Barwheld and the object Barwheld had given to him. Even now he hadn't given it much thought, finding it hard to get any time by himself to investigate. He would wait until he returned to the Ashton manor.

Sir Ector nodded his head as a large shadow flew overhead.

Efret was too large to follow the group without causing problems with other travellers, thus he had taken to gliding within the air, yet "that's going to be a problem," Sir Ector muttered.

Because of Efret's sheer size, just approaching the town would signal alarm bells to start ringing even if Efret remained in the air. Therefore it was a fortunate that Baron Barwheld had asked to borrow Efret for a time to aid in the skirmishes for a greater impact against the enemy.

When he had asked the bird, Efret surprisingly had no arguments. But for now, Efret was still adamant on following him to at least Roan.

Efret's matters aside, s.h.i.+rou was more interested in what Sir Ector had to say.

"The Wizard?" s.h.i.+rou prompted.

"Ah yes," Sir Ector removed his gaze from Efret. "To be frank, the reason we're going to Roan is on the Wizard's instructions."

"He spoke to you?" s.h.i.+rou asked.

"Through a letter, yet I was quite surprised when your name was mentioned in it."

Sir Ector looked down upon s.h.i.+rou with a concealed curiosity. Merlin wasn't one to easily leave an impression on, and the fact that s.h.i.+rou had managed to even though he wasn't a woman, was quite noteworthy. The question bothering him, however, was just when did s.h.i.+rou had the opportunity to converse with the famed wizard. After all, although Merlin was famous, it was equally as hard to locate him as he often travelled around for various matters.

"What's the real reason were going to Roan?" s.h.i.+rou asked.

Based on the memories he shared with Saber in the Holy Grail war, Arturia was still not at the proper age in which she drew Caliburn from the stone. As such, he couldn't help but wonder if he had changed history too drastically. Still, he wouldn't care as long as the ending of the story of King Arthur was altered for the better. A King that remained alive to justly rule his people, even better if it was a Queen.

Sir Ector furrowed his brows, black lines creasing his forehead and enhancing his aged features. There were somethings he just wasn't sure that s.h.i.+rou should know such as Arturia and her destiny with the Sword in the Stone. However, it was s.h.i.+rou, the child who had proven herself Arturia's ally time and time again. Firstly, during the incident with the Beast where he took a debilitating blow for the young blond, and the second time when he forsook his own safety to go the battle field on her behalf. He smiled wryly, although the second instance was rendered null, it was the action itself that counted.

He came to a decision.

"If you had to choose between your own future, and that of the Kingdom's, what would you choose?" Sir Ector asked.

This was the final question. The test necessary to decide on Sir Ector's course of action.

To trust or not to trust.

s.h.i.+rou pondered silently to himself before coming to his own answer. "I would choose my own future," he spoke.

Sir Ector's const.i.tution seemed to dim with the answer given, but before he could speak up, s.h.i.+rou elaborated.

"I'm a very straight forward person," s.h.i.+rou scratched his head sheepishly as he spoke. "You see, even if I chose to use my life for the Kingdom, I wouldn't do it because there are people I want to protect more."

A light seemed to s.h.i.+ne in Sir Ector's eyes. "Go on," he prompted.

s.h.i.+rou stayed silent for a moment, the only sound being heard between the two men, the steady thumping of their own foot steps.

"A Kingdom can rise and fall at any moment, and I could care less for such things, but the people in it are a whole different matter entirely. If I were to forsake my life for the Kingdom, who would be there for those that I've left behind? I'm selfish I suppose in wanting to pursue my own future, but at least in doing so I would have attained the ability to continue protecting those I care about."

The sound of his voice was steady without even a single moment of hesitation. It was if he was stating out a solid fact.

Sir Ector closed his eyes briefly before opening them. "And what of the things they care about as well?" he asked.

After all, the people s.h.i.+rou would protect would have their own things they'd wish to protect.

"Naturally, I would protect them too," s.h.i.+rou spoke.

"Good good," Sir Ector laughed. "Good answer."

Sir Ector's laugh caused many in the group to turn around and look at the two, but their gazes were soon back on the path to Roan after a long moment of awkward silence.

"The reason we're going to Roan right now is quite simple from a certain perspective," Sir Ector whispered. "The Wizard is there. He mentioned in the letter that it was about time that he began training the little runt. Besides, we have the better most part of two years to finish off her training before we have to convene with the army. At that time, I know that even if we tried to leave her again the la.s.s would instantly come running, and by then I'm not even sure if my swordsmans.h.i.+p would be able to survive past her ire."

"Then you plan to meet up with the Wizard?" s.h.i.+rou asked.

Sir Ector frowned. "Knowing that Wizard, it's him that will find us, but I suppose if we do have to go looking we must not pa.s.s up even the most common of some ladies' gatherings."

s.h.i.+rou smiled wryly. Knowing that particular wizard, there was truth in Sir Ector's statement. Regardless, as morning soon fell into night, and night back into morning, the group soon arrived near the gates of Roan.

Roan was different from Bristol as it was not located at some point near the coast, but rather it was an in-land settlement. Large and thick walls covered the majority of Roan's perimeter, with st.u.r.dy gates built at the entrances and exits. Tall watch posts were erected near every corner of the fortification with a group of two or more men constantly on the patrol.

As a settlement, it was very common in design. Rows of wood-made houses with bases of brick and cobblestone. Elsewhere there was a central market area where the general populace would go about their days. The smithies were closer to the farther ends of the town located near the military outposts to keep a constant supply of armour and weapons.

Naturally, Roan wasn't known for much other than being a settlement with a strong foundation, but it was more widely known as the town Merlin had decided to place the Sword in the Stone as mentioned by Sir Ector.

Walking through the gates after a brief inspection by the guards, Sir Ector took a moment to gather everyone up.

"Alright you lot," Sir Ector began in lecture. "There's only a couple things I need to say before we find ourselves some lodging."

The group nodded, falling silent to hear Sir Ector's voice better.

"Firstly, this isn't Bristol. The control of this town doesn't belong to the hands of an earnest man like Wolfred, but rather a cunning snake. I'm sure Charles here should have heard from the other n.o.bility about a jousting match to determine the true King of Britain?"

"Indeed," Charles spoke, straightening his clothes.

"Fact of the matter is, that the notion of a joust to determine the next King was proposed by the n.o.ble of this area of duchy, Duke Vernier."

Arturia listened intently, while s.h.i.+rou decided to take this information to heart. After all, in the memories he shared with Saber, Arturia was not privy to this information when she was at this age, therefore, neither was he.

"But how does that make him cunning?" Bors asked honestly. "Didn't he only send out a proposition?"

"That's not the true point of the matter." Sir Ector shook his head before speaking again. "Take into consideration that this old Duke's kin could not draw forth the Sword in the Stone, and then take into consideration what this family excels at."

Bors eyes widened in understanding. "The Vernier Riding Company, proficient in mounted combat."

Sir Ector smiled. "Your quite well versed in the knowledge of n.o.bility," he said.

Bors remained silent, and Sir Ector did not pursue the topic.

"Back onto previous matters. The fact that Duke Vernier proposed a joust is entirely in the favour of the Vernier family. To make matters worse, many pig-headed n.o.bles and their self-a.s.sured pride favoured the proposition as a chance to prove themselves superior to the Vernier family."

Kay nodded as he understood the underlying message. "This Vernier family is using the egos of the other n.o.bility to fuel their own ambitions," he stated.

"Precisely, and that's why the proposal has already been accepted. It's only a matter of time before the jousts are officially announced." Sir Ector sighed. "What's worse is that the smarter n.o.bles, the ones who wagered risk and gain on a scale, have chosen the Vernier side to stand on. Favours from the next 'King of Britain' are not to be taken lightly."

Sir Ector paused and gave a moment for his words to sink in before moving on to the second warning.

"Secondly," he spoke. "Because of the Vernier family and the n.o.bles backing them, none of you are to instigate any troubles while we are here in Roan. It wouldn't be in our best interests to draw unwanted attention on ourselves that may even get us killed."

Arturia understood the words hidden in the message. For her, she couldn't draw attention to herself as the daughter of Uther destined to take up the duties of the throne. Not many people knew of her ident.i.ty, but investigation could unveil a lot of things, especially if the Witch and her allies in the n.o.ble court were to get word of her. This was probably the main reason why Sir Ector was being so cautious. He wasn't worried about the n.o.bles and their machinations, but the Witch lurking in the shadows.

"Do you all understand?" Sir Ector asked, his eyes primarily set upon the Son of Wolfred who was known to get his father into various troubles.

If anything, the one he trusted get into the least amount of trouble was s.h.i.+rou. Even for his age, he had a smart head on his shoulders, and he'd never seen him act too rashly.

Noticing the attention Sir Ector was giving him, the Son of Wolfred visibly deflated, a twitch forming on his eye. "I know how to act in regards to other n.o.bles. Father made sure of that already," he spoke.

"Good, then I trust all of you will remember my words?"

The group nodded, and Sir Ector then decided that it was time to find a lodging.

Emily who had been silent for the longest time became the handiest at that moment. She didn't understand the importance of higher politics and the various workings of the n.o.bility, but she excelled at the small things.

Finding a nice lodging was not difficult for her to do as she had often travelled with her father when he went out of town.

The place they decided to stay was an inn with a small tavern near the entrance. Naturally, Gerrard, and the older people of the group sent their praise to Emily for finding a place to reside in with a place to drink alcohol on the side.

She scratched her head before lowering it down timidly, not used to all the attention from people of such higher standing. Yet from what her mom had once told her on her mother's side, her mother came from a very secretive branch of n.o.bility that she had ran away from. Therefore, she thought to herself if this was the kind of attention she would have had should her mother not have run away. She shook her head. If her mother didn't run away, then how could she have ever met her father?

"Well, let's place our belongings into our rooms, then we can decide what to do from there," Sir Ector said as he opened the door to their room.

Placing their stuff down, soon Gerrard and Charles left to go about their own business. As Charles had only come with the group to keep an eye on the Ashton descent, and Gerrard only came because of a promise, both of them were free to do what they wanted at the moment. For Charles, since s.h.i.+rou was staying in the lodgings, there was no use staying near him.

Next to leave the room were Kay and Bors who had decided to go to Roan's military training zones. Both of them wished to see how well the training of the Knights of Bristol compared to the training of the Knights of Roan. Besides, even if one was better than the other, the whole point was to find enlightenment to further their own way of the sword.

Left with only the company of people roughly a third of his age, Sir Ector soon decided to leave the youths to their own idle banter, and decided it was high time he started looking for leads to a certain wizard.

Left in the room were s.h.i.+rou, Arturia, Emily, Palamid, and the Son of Wolfred.

The sun pooled in from an open window as Palmid decided to speak up. "There's nothing to be gained here by sitting all day," he said.

"Then what ideas do you have?" The Son of Wolfred shot back.

Normally he would already be out roaming the streets, but with Sir Ector's warning and the lessons from his father, he was hesitant to do so. After all, trouble always seemed to find him.

Palamid crossed his arms and began to think.

"What about that?" Emily pointed to a sign across from the lodging visible from the open window.

From a young age, her mother had been the one to teach her how to read, and for the most part she knew the basics, which was uncommon for a girl of her standing.

"A young blade's compet.i.tion?" s.h.i.+rou read out with his enhanced sight.

Palamid nodded. "Sounds interesting does it not?"

"I concur," Arturia nodded her head from her position sitting cross-legged.

Compet.i.tion always breeds excellence after all. In fact, the rush of battle was always beneficial to aspiring swordsmen.

"Then you all want to partic.i.p.ate?" s.h.i.+rou said with a frown. If even Arturia was agreeing, then he'd be hard pressed himself to refute her.

"Of course," the Son of Wolfred spoke. "This is the perfect chance to make a name for myself."

"Fool, you already have a name," Palamid interjected. "You just refuse to be referred by it until you deem yourself worthy of it." Stuck up in the shadow of your father.

The Son of Wolfred didn't answer, and instead asked his own question. "Well, are we going or not?"

Seeing a round of nods, s.h.i.+rou could only sigh as he took the lead to make sure that the group wouldn't run into any trouble. Arturia and Emily soon ran by to his side and engaged in idle banter, leaving behind Palamid and the Son of Wolfred who walked in silence.

Palamid gave a pat on the Son of Wolfred's back. "Even if you are a good for nothing, you're still a friend and the son of the Baron. There's nothing for you to fear regardless of the result. After all, you're not actually a bad man."

The Son of Wolfred's eyes glanced at s.h.i.+rou's back, hesitation showing themselves in his features. He wanted to apologize for what he had done in the past, now knowing the heritage and reputation s.h.i.+rou carried on his shoulders. Truth be told, it was the main reason he had chosen to follow the group led by Sir Ector because he really didn't have to follow them to make a name for himself.

The reason had more to do with his own personal gains, but that aspect had nothing to do with the sincerity he had in wanting to apologize. Someone like s.h.i.+rou, like himself, was bound for greater things in the future as an heir of n.o.bility. Friends were always hard to come by and he hoped that he could make a new one. Even if their beginnings were questionable.

It didn't take long to arrive at the location of the compet.i.tion. Various groups of Roan's youths came to partic.i.p.ate and were crowding around a simple platform designed like an arena. A small perimeter of fabric was spread around hoisted on wooden stakes pinned to the ground.

The compet.i.tion wasn't that big of a deal and was more focused on breeding healthy compet.i.tion between future men to further their own growth, the prize being a one-on-one lesson with a distinguished Knight of Roan. Still, to most hot-blooded youths in Roan, the opportunity was not one to be pa.s.sed up. Especially in n.o.ble houses who wished to show their superiority when compared to the rest.

As such, there was a youth standing at the front of the compet.i.tion's entrance hosting an entrance requirement for the tournament.

Prospective compet.i.tors would have to use their swords to split a large block of wood with one stroke. Instantly, most n.o.bility could understand the purpose of such a thing. After all, the quality of a sword normally reflected one's status.

Evident by the current circ.u.mstance.

"With a sword like that?" A n.o.ble looking youth spoke to a poor swordsman.

The swordsman was near twenty and wore nothing but long rags around his waist, his torso bare. Yet even after the youth guarding the entrance had rebuked him, not an ounce of concern was evident on his face. Rather, his hands still held onto the handle of his sword.

The rusted sword the swordsman had used to cut into the wooden block provided was barely even able to cut into the surface before chipping.

"This is a real sword, sharper than one of your kind could ever dream of possessing," the youth sneered before drawing forth his own sword and pus.h.i.+ng away the swordsman.

With a mighty swing, and a heave of effort, the youth's sword cut apart the block of wood.

"See that? Only by possessing a perfect sword like mine could you ever by qualified to take part in this compet.i.tion. Now scram."

Arturia had a displeased look on her face as she watched the proceedings.

How unsightly.

Still, even before she could voice her opinion on the matter, someone beat her too it.

"Then is your sword as perfect as this?" The Son of Wolfred suddenly drew out a sword and gently placed it down on another block of wood on its blade edge.

The observing crowd gasped as the sword cut apart the wooden block without any strain on the Son of Wolfred's hands.

The youth was speechless watching such a scene, and could only dumbly stare back.

"I like it," a voice called.

The Son of Wolfred quickly sheathed the reinforced sword Palamid had given him in the previous war, slightly regretting showing it off to beat someone else's arrogant boasts. Yet his actions were not refuted by anyone in the group, rather, Palamid gave him a nod of approval.

A man must be able to prove his own mettle, and back up his words.

Hushed whispers travelled throughout the crowd before someone stepped through.

It was a young man with long brown disheveled-hair cropped up into a pony tail that stretched past his shoulder blades. He wore a blue colouredtight waistcoat fastened by tags, and a pair of close-fitting breeches that travelled down to shoes with long metal points. His sleeves were cut, and there were pads on his shoulders making his upper body appear wider.

An entourage of similarly dressed youths were beside him, staring indifferently at the gathered compet.i.tion.

"I am the youngest son of Vernier, Petris Vernier," the young man introduced himself before eyeing the sword the Son of Wolfred had sheathed. "Name your price," he spoke.

s.h.i.+rou frowned, remembering the words Sir Ector had said: Do not cause trouble in Roan, especially with the Vernier family. Yet how could he possibly allow one of his swords to fall into the hands of someone he did not know?

"That sword is not something one like you could possibly afford," the poor swordsman spoke indifferently, his eyes the only one to catch how the tip of the sword had cut into the rock beneath the block of wood.

A sword that could cut through rock without effort?

Priceless.

"Who do you think you are? You're not the son of a Duke, nor the son of a Baron, what gives you the right to even speak to me?" Petris spoke as he motioned with his eyes to one of his companions.

The swordsman once again didn't speak back, but was caught by surprise as one of Petris's followers struck out with a sword.

Clang!

Metal cut through metal as the Son of Wolfred, to the surprise of those in his group, cut the offending sword in two.

"I am a n.o.ble too, and thus have the right to speak to you," the Son of Wolfred spoke as he sheathed his sword. "Frankly, your behaviour is atrocious," the Son of Wolfred said, thinking back to his own past behaviour and internally berating himself.

Being a spectator this time around was like a slap to his face.

His father had been right.

A knight, or a leader of the people should never act in such a way.

The words the Son of Wolfred spoke drew an astonished expression on Emily's face as she was the one the Son of Wolfred had once belittled.

Petris's eyes narrowed before he scoffed. "You? A n.o.ble?" He didn't say anything as he looked the Son of Wolfred up and down, grudgingly seeing truth in the Son of Wolfred's words based on the clothing he wore. After all, no poor man would ever dare impersonate the likeness of n.o.bility through fear off death.

Still, Petris would not acknowledge the Son of Wolfred's words. "Must be a b.a.s.t.a.r.d then," he ended up saying.

The Son of Wolfred was livid. Never before had he been so disregarded.

"Still," Petris continued. "Your father gifted you with a fine sword."

The Son of Wolfred didn't even blink. "The answer is, no."

Petris glared, but quickly schooled his features. "How about a bet then?" He proposed. "Should any of your group attain a higher position in this compet.i.tion than my group, then it will be my loss. Otherwise it's my win if we come out on top. Naturally your sword would then become mine."

s.h.i.+rou's eyes flashed with warning as he noticed the impulsive look on the Son of Wolfred's face, yet before he could even act, it was Arturia who spoke.

"Naturally if we win you'd owe us an equal reward," Arturia spoke with a calm expression, yet was somewhat frustrated that no penalty would be given should Petris lose. Fairness was a part of chivalry as well, and Petris was already getting on her nerves with the sheer arrogance of his speech and actions.

Petris frowned before speaking, "state your terms."

Palamid hmphed before he answered for the Son of Wolfred. "For belittling the Son of Wolfred, it's only natural that you would grovel at his feet for forgiveness."

Petris's followers began cursing, but Petris didn't seem effected. "Accepted," he said simply. "You will understand the folly in acting against me soon enough anyway."

With a flourish of his hands, his own sword was drawn before cleanly slicing through a block of wood. Those followers behind him quickly did the same before following Petris through the compet.i.tion's entrance.

"Was this really necessary?" s.h.i.+rou ended up asking as he shook his head, eyes set on the group.

He could smell trouble.

And knowing his luck, it wasn't far.

"It's simple s.h.i.+rou," Arturia spoke crossing her arms. Her demeanor was calm, with a small regal feeling which only heightened as she aged. "We just have to beat them fairly. That way, no trouble would fall upon us."

s.h.i.+rou sighed. He wasn't worried about being able to win the bet. Arturia was amazing with her sword, and furthermore, he was counted as a part of the Son of Wolfred's group. He could confidently say that no freshly trained youth would be able to best him in this compet.i.tion.

What he was worried about, were the repercussions involved after winning.

Still, as Arturia and Palamid each cut their own block of wood, he followed into the compet.i.tion swiftly afterwards. Emily wasn't a fighter and decided to find a good vantage point in the crowd.

There were a large number of partic.i.p.ants in the compet.i.tion, and the rules were rather straight forward. It was a one-verse-one fight with six fights happening at the same time in the preliminaries to weed out the numbers. The semi, and finals would be held in the same way, but based on only a single one-on-one duel for spectators to get more of a thrill. Compet.i.tors also had the option to concede at any time in the fight.

Weapons and equipment would be provided by the hosting staff, making every compet.i.tor partic.i.p.ate with a weapon they were unfamiliar with to make the matches more even. However, if one really thought about it, it was because of the difference in quality of weapon. There was no doubt that most compet.i.tors that were able to make it into the compet.i.tion at least had some standing, but there were still differences in the quality of their swords. Duke families would have better equipment than Baron families after all.

As the compet.i.tion went underway, it didn't take long before everyone in the group was called up at least twice to partic.i.p.ate for the numbers to fall down to a mere thirty.

Arturia, Palamid, and himself easily trounced all compet.i.tion with superior sword play.

None were their equal in regard to people of similar age.

The truly surprising event lied in the Son of Wolfred's performance.

He was actually quite skilled with a sword.

Palamid then began to explain that the Son of Wolfred had recently undergone rapid improvement in his swordplay under the instruction of Sir Anders. The Son of Wolfred himself then disclosed that he only improved so quickly because he had heard Sir Anders talk of the previous war, and had thus put in more effort to increase his strength.

He was trained ever since he was young after all.

During those matches in which s.h.i.+rou's group continued winning, Petris and his followers looked as if they had swallowed a sour pill.

LINE BREAK

"We can't fight them one on one like this," a voice spoke. "It's impossible for us to defeat anyone in their group, they're too skilled."

There was a pause before another voice spoke. "I have an idea," the voice said.

A moment pa.s.sed in hushed whispers.

"Very well, leave it to me."

LINE BREAK

There was a brief interlude in the coming match as the hosts of the compet.i.tion made a sudden change in the procedures stating that they were still too long. Therefore, for the first few round of the semis, a tag battle was proposed. Partners were a.s.signed based on a draw.

In which case, the pairs in s.h.i.+rou's group were Palamid and himself, and Arturia and the Son of Wolfred.

The sudden change was quite odd, but no one truly complained. After all, they couldn't bring themselves to argue with the hosts.

Three matches later, and Arturia and the Son of Wolfred took to the arena.

There opponents in this round, were unexpectedly, Petris and a short haired follower with a freckled face and an unsightly grin. His body was slightly rotund, but didn't appear as if it affected him much at all. Petris was standing a great distance away from him, weary of the smell he was giving off.

No words were exchanged in that moment. Both groups simply readying themselves, Arturia with her left foot leading forward, and her sword held above waist-level, and the Son of Wolfred in a free stance.

Coincidently, Arturia was closer to the freckled follower, and was thus delegated to face him. Her face contorted in disgust as she smelled the odour, and for a moment, her gaze seemed to want to argue with her partner for an opponent switch. However, the Son of Wolfred had already moved in to engage.

Inwardly cursing, Arturia attacked while holding her breath.

Her sword was swift, seeking to end the fight as soon as possible.

She started with a quick overhead, before moving into a horizontal slash.

The freckled follower was fumbling with his sword, his hands shaking with each consecutive impact.

She increased the pressure, utilizing her footwork to attack at even wider angles.

s.h.i.+rou watched intently from the crowds, a small smile on his face. He could tell that even though Arturia was rus.h.i.+ng to defeat her opponent, she wasn't being reckless. The foot work she was using was the exact same foot work Saber had once taught him, and it was designed as a counter to any of an adversary's attacks.

Off to the side, s.h.i.+rou was quite impressed with the technique and skill the Son of Wolfred was showing. The once tranquil expression on Petris's face contorting in panic as he was hard pressed to fend off all of the Son of Wolfred's blows.

"Don't you think it's odd?" Emily spoke up from beside s.h.i.+rou.

Both s.h.i.+rou and Palamid were currently in the crowd with Emily for a better view of the arena.

"What is?" Palamid asked.

Emily focused with her eyes before nodding her head. "Look at that Petris fellow's eyes," she said. "It looks like he's trying to convey something to the other guy with freckles?"

She wasn't sure if her observation was correct, which was why she brought it up in the first place.

s.h.i.+rou and Palamid quickly took notice of Emily's observation.

Back in the arena.

Arturia finally took a breath after holding it in for so long, and instantly she felt the need to gag.

This, wasn't this cheating?

She forced back the reflex and instead took the time to study the opponent. Indignation quickly swelled from within her as she realized her opponent's eyes weren't even on her, instead they were facing in Petris's direction.

Suddenly, the freckled follower heavily swung his blade and knocked her off balance long enough for him to make a mad dash toward the Son of Wolfred.

Realizing this, she immediately tried to intervene, keeping in front of him at the cost of nicking her arm on the sharp end of the freckled followers sword.

The freckled follower stopped all at once before snorting. "You fool," he spoke.

The freckled follower then made some distance away, stopping roughly five meters from where Petris was fighting.

Arturia didn't respond to the provocation and instead just heightened her weariness, choosing to slow the fight down and rea.s.sess her opponent.

However, as time went by, she quickly realized something as the freckled follower moved in with an overhead strike.

Poison!?

She couldn't move in time, her body abruptly going sluggish.

s.h.i.+rou felt a sinking sensation in his gut as he didn't understand why Arturia was not dodging such a wide swing, and at this point he couldn't do anything from his distance away.

The freckled follower's sword dropped down with a clang against the arena ground.

A m.u.f.fled scream ringing out.

"Y-You, why?" Arturia spoke in horror from her position on the ground.

The Son of Wolfred had forsaken his fight against Petris and shoved her out of the way. However, the action had cost him dearly as Petris ruthlessly capitalized on the provided opening.

The wound inflicted on the Son of Wolfred's right hand was fatal to the life of a swordsman. He would never again be able to properly wield a sword.

Palamid was outraged, his body pus.h.i.+ng past the crowd, but there was already nothing he could do.

Blood dripped down to the ground, the hatred in the Son of Wolfred's eyes was unconcealed as he glared at the youngest son of Vernier.

Of all wounds, he could have possibly obtained, a specific attack to his hand was inconceivable. There was no way that Petris's strike was unintentional.

He gritted his teeth and didn't utter a word as he grabbed Arturia's arm with his left hand and urged her off the stage with little resistance on her end.

At this point, there was no way Arturia could win against two people with the poison spread within her body.

Arturia reluctantly followed, sending a scathing stare at her opponents as she began to walk away.

"Don't forget about the bet," Petris's voice trailed behind the two. "None in your group have the chance to be the champion. Cherish that sword well for it will be mine in a mere few hours."

With despondent looks on their faces, the two arrived back in the circle of their companions.

Palamid was the first to act, grabbing the Son of Wolfred's right arm and inspecting the wound for himself. "b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," he seethed before turning a glare towards Arturia. "I thought you were better than this!" He yelled in his rage. "How could you have not dodged such a slow attack?"

"His blade was poisoned," Arturia bit out. "However, my const.i.tution should be able to get rid of it."

Merlin had once bestowed some kind of magic on her to prevent her from dying from any poisons.

Hearing Arturia's explanation, Palamid's expression thinned. "I'm going to cripple them," he said.

Not one in the group refuted Palamid's statement. Even s.h.i.+rou for all the caution Sir Ector had given him regarding to causing trouble to the Vernier family kept his mouth shut. Instead his eyes were focused dangerously on Arturia's pale complexion.

The hands by his side clenched into fists, the whites of his knuckles showing.

If the Son of Wolfred did not act as he did…

He turned to the Son of Wolfred. "Thank you," he spoke seriously.

"No," the Son of Wolfred brushed s.h.i.+rou's apology aside. "Don't thank me, rather it's still me who should be apologizing to you."

The Son of Wolfred used this moment to bring about his past grievances as his future as a Knight may as well have been completely sealed. And with it, any hopes he had of stepping out of his father's shadow.

The Son of Wolfred bitterly looked at his wounded right hand before speaking. "Back then when we first met, I'd always regretted the action I took that day, perhaps this is just atonement." He tried to clench his right hand, but the only fingers that moved were his thumb and two fingers.

"I've long forgotten such things," s.h.i.+rou spoke, his eyes glancing at the wounded hand. "And there is no way this wound will be the price of atonement, that I guarantee you."

With his word said, s.h.i.+rou walked up to the stage, the spectators parting and giving a wide berth as Palamid silently followed along with him for the team match.

Upon arriving in front of Petris, he threw down the steel sword that was provided for him as he entered the arena, the sound of its clatter echoing within the ears of the befuddled audience.

He didn't pay them any attention.

His actions were in retribution.

His sow to reap.

"To defeat someone like you," he walked near the edge of the arena, and picked up a small stick roughly arms-length.

"This thin piece of wood is enough."