Chapter 9: Chapter 9
A horse-drawn carriage wheeled across the country side, the exterior decorated with lavish riches and a single coat-of-arms only nobles were known to carry.
The road ahead of the carriage stretched far, but it wouldn't be long before it would reach Bristol along with its delegations: A high Nobleman by the name of Baron Frederick.
"Have you heard, my Lord Baron and Lady? Of the recent young Blacksmith?"
A lone delicate eyebrow rose in curiosity. "The one who made new knives for the cooks?"
"Ugh, I wasn't referring to that, but yes Lady Abigail."
The attendant scratched his head at the silence that followed.
"That's enough beating around the bush, Mr. Conaly," A man said impatiently, using his hands to refasten the cape around his shoulder. "What is it that you had in mind?"
"I understand Baron Frederick," Conaly said, bowing his head. "I was referring to his brand of weaponry, the one's branded with the symbol of the bow."
"The weapons of the Knights of the Peasant's Lord?"
"Aye, M'lord. I've never seen swords able to cut clean through stone before, nor bows as cheap and flexible. They all come from this mysterious Iron Forge. Strangely enough, none of the men I sent were able to verify if it were real or not. But if there's one thing I know for a fact is real, it's the weapons." Conaly stopped talking and produced a small dagger from his pocket. "Here, Baron Frederick."
Baron Frederick took the dagger and stared curiously at it. "And what would you have me do with this?" He asked.
"Look at the hilt M'lord. It is branded with the symbol of the bow."
"And?"
"Take a stopping rock for the carriage beneath your seats, and gently press the dagger's blade over it."
Curious, Baron Frederick took one of the stopping rocks used to stop carriages from rolling down hills when stationary, and did as instructed. "Now what?"
"Have you not yet noticed M'lord? Look at the rock and the blade's tip."
Baron Frederick's eyes widened as he noticed the tip had already begun to sink into the rock. How sharp was this dagger?
"Believe it or not M'Lord, I bought that dagger from a shop supplied by the Iron Forge. Even less believable, I had bought it for my wife to aid her in her cooking when cutting and peeling vegetables; however, I didn't think it would be so sharp and kept it for myself." Conaly paused and tightened his grip around the reins of the horses to stabilize himself as he turned around to meet the baffled gazes of his Lord and Lady. "If a dagger can so easily cut through stone, imagine a sword that can cut straight through armour and weapons alike." Conaly shuddered and turned his gaze back on the road. "There are other rumours to M'lord, about Bristol. Surely you've heard of them?"
"I've heard of a Beast Hunter?" Abigail supplied.
"And I've heard of some magic archer, and enchanted glowing swords?" Baron Frederick replied thoughtfully.
"And I've heard another rumour of a young blond swordsman around your son's age M'lord. A son of Sir Ector, a knight of our late King Uther."
Snap!
The knife cut clean through the stone as Baron Frederick froze in his contemplations, his body tensing. "A blond swordsman you said?"
Conaly stared back at his lord. "Is there something wrong sir?"
Baron Frederick hardened his gaze, ignoring how his wife was trying to calm him down. It clearly didn't work.
"Send a messenger to the peasant Lord, we move to the manor of Wolfred."
It was spring, nearly five years since Shirou had begun frequenting the local smithy, and Arturia was debating on breaking her greaves again. Sure, Shirou was always with her in the mornings and late afternoons, but most of his time was spent dabbling in his own machinations.
She sighed, berating herself for her selfishness.
She knew all too well of how her friend, her knight, would put aside everything based solely on her whims. Specifically, she would be lying if she said that she never capitalized on such opportunities, help with math, writing, or sword play for example. Not once did he ever refuse, or admonish her for such actions – The cheerful mirth present on his face never ceasing to draw a rise from her heart, or tighten her vocals until she was a gibbering mess. Curses.
She coughed into her hand to relieve herself of such horrid memories before she stood up from the warmth of her bed and stretched. Kay and Sir Ector were probably up already and doing their business in town. Kay, after taking due credit in his part against the Beast, was now working as a town Guard and Knight trainer. Sir Ector on the other hand, still spent the majority of his time dealing with town council events.
She was alone most mornings which was why she found it odd that she could smell cooking meat? She followed her nose, forgetting to make herself presentable as she stepped into the dining area.
Pausing mid-stride, she rubbed her eyes. Why was Shirou here, and what one earth was he cooking over the fire? Thin slices of meat sizzled over an iron frying pan, the aroma making her mouth water.
"You're up early," Shirou noted. "New look?"
New look? Arturia's thoughts mirrored Shirou's before she froze. Glancing down at her half-dressed body- her sleeping ware in disarray - she stuttered out an excuse and bolted back to her room. What was that idiot doing here so early!
Cheeks flaring in utter humiliation, she ignored the pain, and powered through the mess that was her hair with her comb. It didn't make any sense. Her hair just barely passed her shoulders! She didn't understand how it twisted itself into knots every night. Kay's hair was just the same length as hers, yet he woke up each morning looking like some kind of Divine Goddess instead of a tangled mess.
God just wasn't fair.
Still though, this was all Shirou's fault. He hasn't come this early in years. Why now of all days!?
She quietly returned to the dining area, her hair propped up into a neat bun.
"I ugh, I liked the hair?" Shirou said carefully to break the silence.
Arturia didn't flatter him with a response.
Shirou sighed before he nudged a plate in front of Arturia. "I know I'm here a bit early, but the Lord has called me for a summoning later. That's bacon by the way, the floury thing is a pancake."
Arturia stared at the offered meal, and nodded her head. She would accept his offering as an apology for the unexpected morning. Bacon and pancakes, was it? It smelled nice if anything. With measured patience, she extended her hand to pick up a piece-
"Arturia," Shirou warned.
She froze and glanced up at Shirou's hard gaze. She sighed before reluctantly straightening her back, and shaking her head as Shirou equipped her with what he called utensils: a fork and knife forged by Shirou himself. It was so much easier when they were kids. What good were hands if one didn't use them? She huffed internally. Technically she was using her hands, but she was unused to Shirou's notions of germs- whatever those were. Some kind of invisible beasty? Wouldn't it be better to just kill them? But no, these germs were cowards refusing to show themselves to be slain, lurking in the shadows like assassins. Honourless curs.
"You won't get better unless you practice," Shirou spoke. "Think of it like a sword."
Arturia glared back. As a sword? What good would that do? Cut it into smaller pieces that she wouldn't be able to pick up with her hands?
Shirou smiled wryly as he watched Arturia fumbling with her cutlery. He sighed. "It's fine. Eat the way you want." Besides, he had Avalon in case she ever got sick. Still though, he would have to stop spoiling her-
Arturia perked up at his answer and smiled thankfully. His heart wavered.
-Eventually.
_____________________________________________________________________________
"…I'm not surprised anymore," Shirou spoke exasperated. "You ate it all." It had taken him a great deal of time to cut such thin slices for the bacon by hand. Using his magic just wasn't practical when it reduced the meat into grounds. Nonetheless, he had done so anyway, and procured an amount he believed suitable for the family of Knights. He was just woefully unprepared for how well Arturia would take to it. "Kay won't be happy, and don't forget about Sir Ector."
Arturia shrugged. She didn't care. The Bacon was beyond good; she had no regrets. Besides, what could Kay possibly do to her? Sir Ector however…She would cross that bridge eventually.
She swung her sword, and Shirou parried it to the ground where it dug a small crevice. Grunting, Shirou stomped on Arturia's sword and pinned it in place on the ground. Gingerly arcing his sword up, he placed it gently below Arturia's neck. He shook his head.
"You should have abandoned your sword," Shirou spoke.
Arturia stared back calmly. "No Knight I have ever heard, or seen has ever abandoned their sword." Shirou moved his foot, and Arturia took back possession of her sword, now steel in make. "There is no pride, nor honour in such an act."
"I suppose not," but I don't care. Shirou said. There was never a need for pride, nor honour in his sword. "Just promise me that if the time ever comes, you will."
Arturia hesitated. She couldn't. She really couldn't. If she was defeated soundly, then by virtue of the duel, her life belonged to the victor to decide. "It won't come to that," she said instead.
Shirou frowned, but relented as they continued to spar until he had to leave for his meeting with Lord Wolfred. He paused before he left, garnering Arturia's attention. "Arturia, I-" he shook his head. "Never mind." He couldn't guilt her into accepting his request. He left, not noticing the subtle shift in Arturia's face, the pursing of her lips.
Shirou walked quietly alone, mulling over his own thoughts. It had been five years since his unexpected arrival, and only now after looking through the Ashton records, did he truly comprehend. Ancestral blood ties. The Ashtons were a family of magus wiped out before his time.
Ashton assassination.
It wasn't that simple.
Regardless of the time period, no mere assassin could slaughter an entire family of magus; bounded fields and magecraft all but cemented the fact, and so too did the magic crest he had found engraved in the Ashton heirloom, an old set of pristine hunting armour. A desperate gambit to preserve the Ashton line of magic perhaps, but it should have been impossible. A crest was passed on over the generations, or so Rin had explained, but he had never seen a case of a crest engraved in an object. Taking into account the sheer complexity of such an act, it surprised him to see the crest still active and responding to his presence.
The fact that the crest was reacting to him was all the proof that he needed of blood ties, but even now he found it hard to believe. The timing, the coincidences, it didn't make any sense. Hell, he could only speculate the kind of magic the Ashton's dealt with, and even then he was reluctant to find out. What kind of magic would require the family to be wiped out? A possible sealing designation.
However, his reluctance didn't stop Efret from insisting he wear the armour.
He pulled on the soft leather of his grieves, smiling wryly as Efret flew by above him in glee. The Ashton hunting set was sturdy, and practical, allowing for optimum movement by using padded loose fabric for the joints of the knees. If anything, it felt just right. The obsidian-sleeveless-chest-plate with white grooves spread out across the abdominals, and its matching pair of dark pants held together by leather straps, it was perfect.
If you can't defeat it, imagine something that can.
He laughed mirthfully, he had never believed he would ever look anything like the Archer of the fifth war, but looking at his appearance, the resemblance was uncanny. He rid himself of such thoughts soon enough to get to the matter at hand, namely the magic crest engraved at the back-center of his chest plate.
He could feel it, a steady flow of prana, filtering into his reserves. He could only imagine what magic was stored within the crest if it had enough prana to bleed into him. Eventually he would have to deal with the magic crest, but he could save it for later. After all, he had arrived at his destination.
Pushing the tall iron gates of the Lord's estate, he walked in and towards the entrance of the dwelling.
"Sir Ector are you not?" The words were spoken offhandedly, as one would talk about the weather. "You are old, unsuited, but you do come from a lineage of Knights."
Sir Ector was beyond frustrated; he was seething inside. This man of the court, this pompous bigot called Baron Frederick was going to die today. He clenched his fists to calm himself. It wasn't working. The man moved and spoke as if everything revolved around him like the damned coloured frills on his coat. Worse was the underlying insinuation in his voice.
Don't you dare. Don't you dare. Sir Ector glared. If this fool so much as even-
"I hear you have two sons-"
"Not one more word," Sir Ector threatened with a growl. Interface patterns spread across his body, flashing a pale blue. Baron Frederick swallowed slowly, Arturia's wooden sword held to his throat. "I may be old, but I'm still a Knight, Baron Frederick." Inwardly, he chuckled to himself at the sheer disbelief on Baron Frederick's face. He still had it in him. He'd consider this another favour to Arturia for letting him have her wooden sword when she had eventually moved onto steel.
Tentatively, Baron Frederick pinched the weapon with his fingers and slowly moved it away from him. "An enchanted sword?" He spoke softly. He had never seen one before. "And where would you have gotten such a sword?"
"From the master of the Iron Forge," James spoke cryptically.
Baron Frederick raised a brow. "The same forge my attendant was speaking of?"
"That's none of your business." Sir Ector said abruptly. He'd be damned if he dragged the Ashton into his family's troubles. Knowing the boy, he probably would consider it his business, so long as Arturia was involved.
"You would hinder me?!" Baron Frederick demanded, eyes narrowed. The damn impudent low-class; how dare he?! So what if he was proven wrong about the man's capabilities, such blatant disrespect was intolerable.
"You have no authority over me, nor my family." Sir Ector said evenly, sheathing Arturia's wooden sword; content that Baron Frederick now regarded him with an air of caution and open hostility. "I served under King Uther himself. I obey none, but he who is King of the Land."
Baron Frederick smirked. "Then by extension, my son will be the next King after the jousts in a couple years. Therefore, my word is as true as the King's. What say you?"
"That's no more eligible than drying pig's shit on a hot summers day, smelly and unremarkable. My youngest can tell you first hand."
Baron Frederick drew the saber from his waist.
Sir Ector didn't bat an eye. He had made a promise to his King and to Merlin. He would never willingly allow Arturia into danger. His grip tightened around the hilt of Arturia's sword. "Swing that sword. I dare you," he said.
"Calm yourselves you two." James Wolfred stepped out of his desk, holding a hand to the bridge of his nose. "You're both arguing like children – Baron Frederick."
James leveled a stern gaze on Baron Frederick, prompting the official to reluctantly sheath his saber lest he lose the man in charge of the settlement. Sure Baron Frederick was higher in rank than James Wolfred, but he had no sway with the people James Wolfred governed. The people and the Knights of Wolfred would not readily follow his word, if at all. He could not force James Wolfred to include Sir Ector and his family in the recent levy, but he still had something up his sleeve. He clicked his tongue, this wasn't a good time to use it, but this was for a greater purpose.
As much as Baron Frederick would love to hang the old Knight's head on a noose, he had more important matters to be dealt with. Namely the invasion of the Saxon swine, the barbarians. His main task by the local Kings was to ascertain the soldiers each Lord and Duke of the local settlements were given six months to acquire. That was still his priority, but he'd be damned if he couldn't get away with a more pressing matter.
"As part of the coastal defense, Bristol must provide men just as the other towns have."
"And we will," James sighed before staring exasperatedly at Baron Frederick. "Your fixation on Sir Ector's family and the blacksmith of the Iron Forge is the only problem here."
"And I'm right to do so. The blacksmith I'm certain is true; the army most definitely would be in need of such an expert blacksmith to create weapons as cheap and never before seen as Bristol's very own Long Bow, but as for other rumours, I was unsure. Not only have there been rumours of a master swordsman and flaming birds, but a fabled beast hunter as well." Baron Frederick marched up to Sir Ector and poked him in the chest. "That enchanted sword is proof enough. You're hiding them under the 'pretenses' of children."
"And you're about to lose a finger."
"-Gentlemen. Either you cease your bickering, or leave my office and find others more qualified to a stand in your stations. Matters of the army are more valuable than selfish reasoning and petty conflict. We are in the middle of an invasion, Saxons, coastal pirates, and unknown vagrants that even now continue to torment our lands." James gave both Sir Ector and Duke Frederick a pointed look. "Knight, Aristocrat, and the serving body it is we who represent the will of the country. It is our duty to save it from barbarian hands. Now get your acts together. We are men not children."
Baron Frederick pulled on his coat and looked away from James Wolfred. Sir Ector was much the same, although more blatant about it as he crossed his arms.
James shook his head; it would seem as if he would actually have to settle the issue. "Baron Frederick, what is the cause of your fixation? We've known each other for years now, and not once have you been this determined on any particular subject aside from your- O."
James Wolfred internally cursed Sir Anders.
"Palamid."
Of course, family was everything to Baron Frederick. If an amount of food would last one day shared between seven people, and three days between Baron Frederick's family, Baron Frederick would call for the execution of those seven. However, the Lord was not behaving properly, his rage evident within his eyes. The cunning Lord he remembered was one of many tricks and underhanded means to achieve his goals. Baron Frederick spoke of authority, but he had no authority over him at all, but rather only the local Kings of the land had that power over him. Levy's were the ways of the nobility, and he could see no way that Baron Frederick could force him to take Sir Ector's family to war. Only levy from the late Ashton's would have made that request possible; therefore, Baron Frederick had to find some other means. Could that be the reason he was here? To force an opinion?
He internally cursed Sir Anders again for the situation. Baron Frederick had only come to Bristol to ascertain that he had delivered his end of the soldiers from the recent levy of six-months prior to give enough time to build up an army. Somehow, the Lord was able to deduce exactly who had defeated his son.
"My son was defeated by this blond swordsman because of some stupid bird that distracted him from delivering the finishing blow. For a week or more, my son was forced into labour as a result; it is a slight against his honour, and I will not stand for it. But alas, the blond swordsman was just a rumour- a rumour tied to your family sir Ector." Baron Frederick pointed.
"And?"
"And? Are you joking? My son and your son will battle it out on the battlefield to regain back his honour by slaying more barbarians than your child ever could! Rest assured, Palamid has been training for that day."
"And I see no relevance as to why my youngest has to go to battle to fulfil such a role." Sir Ector spoke casually.
Baron Frederick was seething, but railed himself in after a stern glare from James Wolfred. "Nonetheless, the fact of the matter is that your household must provide for the defense of the country," he spoke, prompting another to speak.
"And so you would force my friend into a world violence and deceit?" Where her chivalry would mean nothing. The voice was piercing, the steady sound of footsteps echoing off the walls. "I'm afraid we won't be seeing eye to eye on this matter."
"Shirou?" Sir Ector said with resignation. Just what he didn't need at the moment. Hell, he was trying to keep the child away from trouble.
James stepped forward and motioned for Shirou to take a seat in an empty recliner. "I'm glad that you made it on my call, but circumstances have changed the priorities of this meeting," he said.
"Clearly," Shirou replied.
Baron Frederick raised a brow. James Wolfred would offer some no-name a seat? Preposterous, but he would let it go for now. The meeting was already problematic enough, and he had yet to get his point across. He turned a glare towards Sir Ector.
"It's not happening," Sir Ector spoke flatly.
Baron Frederick smirked before he pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Sir Ector.
"T-This?!" That Bastard! Sir Ector crushed the parchment in his hands, face contorting in fury. "Kay and myself. Us only," he growled out.
"Unfortunately, you're not in a position to bargain. All shall come," Baron Frederick spoke pleasantly.
"And if he refuses?"
Baron Frederick turned to the boy and scoffed. "It is their obligation as a family of Knights to answer the call to arms. Failure to do so- I'd rather you not imagine."
Shirou's eyes narrowed. War was not something he wished Arturia to be involved in. As far as he was concerned, he would do anything to protect her smile. "You leave my friend out of this, and I will aid you in your conflict."
"And what pray tell, can one boy not even a man, possibly do?"
A single breath.
A single sentence spoken with clarity and an air of confidence.
"Do you know who I am?"
Baron Frederick swallowed slowly, throat suddenly dry from the sheer tension in the room. "No one of importance," he muttered out. "D-Do you know who I am?!" He countered.
Baron Frederick's response was met with silence.
Shirou let out a breath before making eye contact with James Wolfred. James nodded his head.
"My name is Shirou Emiya of Ashton blood," Baron Frederick's eyes widened. "Teacher of the Iron Forge, student to Sir Ector the first of the Knights of Uther," Shirou took a step forward, and Baron Frederick a step back. "Friend to Gerrard of the Swift Wind, and Kay of the Foul End," Shirou spoke slowly, his gaze cold.
Massive swords formed, and prevented Baron Frederick's retreat. Baron Frederick's eyes darted back and forth at the steel that surrounded him, his face paling before he stared terrified at the revelation of the Wizard in front of him.
"Enemy of beasts, a Beast-Hunter." Fuck I hate that name. "And you would do well to remember it for there are beasts of men and women alike- Beasts who force their will among others."
Baron Frederick nodded his head slowly, a bead of sweat trailing down his brow.
"Now Baron Frederick, are you man, or are you beast?"
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