Chương 28: Chapter 28
There seemed to be a sparkle in the reflection she saw staring into a pool of still water. The kind where it seemed as if it was the work of magic or a supernatural being.
She grinned smugly. It wouldn't be the first time that Merlin had done such a thing; though, sparkles were a first.
The woman didn't mind it as much, instead, growing still as her eyes stared upon the small silver locket around her neck. Raising a hand, she began to fiddle with it using her index and thumb; rubbing it gently as an absent expression made its way onto her face that only grew to become fond when the locket flipped open.
Inside was a small pressed flower and a drawing of a tiny lion cub; the one she had parted with years ago. She could still remember the efforts that that man had gone through to draw such an illustration. Even now, the drawing looked no better than a child's scratch and draw, but regardless, it was the sentiment that she cared about.
Closing the locket, she grasped it in her hand and stood silently.
She knew better than anyone that a Knight should not be wearing such decorative accessory, but it was something forged and given to her as a gift. Thus, she was obligated to wear it. However, only she knew that she was fooling herself. Her brother had often teased her about it to her dismay, yet she still wore it regardless.
Hidden beneath her blue battle dress and away from sight to save her the embarrassment.
Releasing the locket, and hiding it back beneath her attire, she shook her head to rid her of her unruly locks that had grown long with time.
Vibrant fibers of blond hair that cascaded down her back and framed her face with lengthy bangs that tussled with every movement of her head. Any other woman would feel proud of such hair, but to her, it was just something that was in the way.
Hands grasping her hair, she pulled up and quickly shaped it into a neat bun, yet that one strand of hair was impossible to tie; sticking out from her head like a sore thumb. Regardless, she was used to it by now and could only mumble out a small complaint.
The crunching of the grass behind her caused her eyes to sharpen with a vigilance hammered into her from her training. Someone was approaching. Straightening her back, Arturia quickly turned in the direction.
"Finished practicing, Arthur?" A kind voice spoke.
It was a man of sleek build, and a carefree expression that matched well with his untied blond hair that was longer than even her own. On his body was a rimmed plate armour that clinked with every step the man took.
"Bedivere," she spoke softly.
Bedivere was a friend she had made after the fall of the Vernier family. It was all by chance really. The young Knight Bedivere was actually looking for Shirou, but had ran into her instead. In which case, such incidents continued to happen throughout the years, and eventually, they had gotten to know each other bit by bit; forging a friendship of sorts that became competitive when it came to sparring.
However, she couldn't help but be suspicious of Shirou in this case. After all, it wasn't hard to find her first friend, but somehow it became increasingly so whenever Bedivere was nearby as well. She wasn't a fool, and eventually she realized what Shirou was doing after a subtle action from Sir Ector who had praised Shirou's foresight.
He was helping her make more friends. Not that she minded, but it only made her look at him more favorably whenever she talked with him. This itself was something that had been plaguing her mind over the years.
She was seventeen now, and she had grown to become a fully-fledged Knight under Sir Ector's guidance, but her mind would shut down whenever she talked with Shirou. Her heart would race, and a flush would come to her face, and at times she would even stutter unintentionally as if someone had grabbed her tongue mid-speech.
This was greatly troubling to her as she now felt that if there came a time where she had to make a decision under Shirou's gaze, she would make an irredeemable blunder. She had asked Merlin about it, thinking that it was a sort of magic, but her teacher's expression grew quite stiff before the man began cussing lowly and left without another word.
Baffled, she asked Sir Ector and Kay, but got the same result. By then, she finally considered bringing it up with Shirou, but with the resistance from Merlin, Kay, and Sir Ector she reluctantly let the matter drop. After all, who could she blame for Shirou suddenly having to recuperate from a sparring accident?
Therefore, she decided that she would have to solve this problem on her own.
"Yes, I just finished practicing," she replied back to Bedivere. "Have Shirou and the others returned yet?"
"No, not yet," Bedivere said. "They seem quite busy now that the Joust to decide the King is just two days away."
Arturia's brows furrowed in thought. Due to the fall of the Vernier family, the insistence to hold the Joust to decide the King was considerably delayed. However, it would seem that there was no more putting it off. Britain needed a King to lead its people from the invaders. Now more than ever after word of further expansion by the Saxons, the Jutes, and the Gauls.
In fact, a call to arms has already been issued by the dominion Lords once again, but their influence still paled in comparison to a King's. Thus, the Joust was necessary in the eyes of the people.
However, to her, it was a deadline. She would have to draw forth the sword from the stone before then. As for Shirou and the others, the reason they were gone was in preparation for that. For once she drew forth the sword in the stone, the next objective was to unite the people of the land. And for that, they would need to begin a journey.
"Did they say when they'd get back?" She asked curiously.
"I'm not sure about Sir Ector and the others, but Shirou still owes me that spar so he should meet with me some time soon." Bedivere said.
Hearing those words, Arturia had to force the glee away from her face. Coughing into her hands, she composed herself. "Then I suppose I'll be coming with you," she said quickly.
Bedivere stared at Arturia for a moment, and then shrugged. "By all means Arthur. I know you want to defeat Shirou, but I don't think you'll gain much from watching a spar between us. After all, you've already bested me in swordplay. There's nothing new for you to see. Are you sure you still want to come? Or do you just enjoy seeing my losses?"
"…" She stayed silent, not wishing to answer.
Bedivere laughed good naturedly. "Well, come along then."
The two walked away from the small creak Arturia had been practicing by and made their way back to Roan. As they passed by people on the street, the residents would wave to them here and there.
"Sir Arthur, the hunting team came by a while ago and I've just acquired some dried meat for you to have. Please take it and…"
"I know," she finished for the woman who just offered up her goods. "I'll let him know that he received your kindness."
"Thank you, thank you," the street woman bowed lowly before returning to her shop.
Soon after, more and more people came offering things in gratitude. Whether it be apples, meat, and baked goods, they all seemed to have a favourable impression towards Arturia. However, only she knew that it was solely because of the reputation Shirou had built up in Roan over the years.
Shirou was, and always will be a man who didn't care about status and helped everyone. Here in Roan he was no different. Yet in the eyes of the people used to the actions of Nobles in the area, it was a first to see someone of Noble upbringing aiding a sick farmer during the harvest season. Similar situation would arise, whether it be aiding the poor, or standing up on their behalf, Shirou had done them all. He even went as far as to heal the sick which earned the gratitude of many. At this point, it wouldn't even be surprise if Shirou had more influnce over the citizens of Rona than even the ruling Noble families. After all, Shirou even helped give a basic education for all the children who took the time to listen to him after Merlin's magic lessons were over.
The gratitude people felt to Shirou was almost unimaginable to her. And because of this, that gratitude extended to her, Sir Ector, Kay, and everyone else associated with Shirou.
Then again, she would never get used to it when just by walking down the streets her hands would be full carrying all the gifts by the town's people. Bedivere was the same.
Nodding at each other, the two quickly decided to escape before they met anymore people.
With Bedivere in the lead, he soon brought her to the dueling fields where Knights and Squires trained with their swords.
It was an open place, with wooden posts hammered to the ground and linked together with wool to create a fighting area. Each duel was to be contained within to prevent opponents from backing too much in a spar and interfering with other duels.
Standing in one such ring was Shirou.
He was taller now. His hair although somewhat longer was still cropped evenly using his own sword. The hunting leathers over his body were the same as they were before; making him stand out from all the other individuals in the dueling fields who wore plate. Seeing this, she grew even more determined to accomplish what Sir Ector had once whispered into her ears in her childhood. If Shirou couldn't be a Knight the normal way, then she could still Knight him as a King.
Thoughts reaching up to this point, she decided on her first course of action after drawing forth the sword in the stone.
Still, once her eyes landed on him, she felt the urge to suddenly pat down her clothes, and straighten her hair lest it be out of place. However, she quelled that urge when she realized that Bedivere was looking at her strangely. After all, what sort of man plays with their hair and cares about how ruffled their attire was?
Bowing her head to avoid his gaze, she decided to move away and just watch the coming spar from the distance until she could compose herself more.
It was the same blasted feeling, she cursed. No matter how much time had passed, it only became stronger the more time she spent with Shirou. It was to the point where she had to actively steel her features whenever she talked with him lest she let something slip.
Sighing, she barely paid attention anymore when Bedivere began to spar with Shirou. Instead, she began to mull over her own problems. She had grown to be a strong woman, level headed, and clear of mind.
This was a disposition suited for one who would eventually lead her people, but in the face of this feeling that plagued her she had become impulsive, rash, and ignorant. It made her frustrated, but happy at the same time for some reason.
As she was lost in thought, she didn't notice Shirou and Bedivere's approach until their voices registered in her ears.
"I lost again," Bedivere complained. "Have you ever heard of going easy?"
Shirou rose a brow. "I wouldn't go easy on a friend. It makes it more likely that they'll survive in a battlefield."
Bedivere's mouth opened into an O, and the man fell silent.
As for Shirou, he seemed to be lost as he stared into Arturia's eyes. Then again, she was too, her pupils dilated and expression still caught in surprise.
"Arthur," Shirou said. "You've finished training."
"Y-Yeah?" Arturia spoke dumbly before pinching herself and clearing her mind through the pain. "Yourself?" She countered.
"I've already finished a while ago after helping Sir Ector and the others. I left them after the horses and carriage had been prepared to spar with Bedivere. Speaking of which, Merlin says they won't be back for a while." Shirou said.
"Horses and carriage?" Bedivere inquired.
Shirou smiled in his direction. "You'll understand it in the next few days. For now, though, we should get going. The sun is setting."
Saying that, Shirou and Arturia bid a confused Bedivere farewell before returning to the lodgings they were staying at.
Looking at each other, Arturia released a breath before taking in another, her hands balling into fists.
"Shirou," she spoke suddenly.
"Hmm?" Shirou hummed. His expression was tender; the kind he always looked at her with, and made her feel as if the man would do anything for her. Although, she believed this was part of her own imagination.
"…It's nothing," she eventually said, unable to convey what she wanted. Still, seeing the care in Shirou's eyes, her body subconsciously pressed against his; the action drawing a flush on Shirou's face.
In more ways than one, she wasn't the only one whose mind became muddled when she interacted with Shirou.
Unable to say anything, the two walked in silence back to their residence side-by-side like they always had throughout the years. Yet tonight would be different as Arturia would wake up in the middle of it to see Shirou leaving.
In the end though,
Where was he going?
LINE BREAK
The night breeze was biting as it crashed over his face, a shiver travelling down his back. He knew that what he was doing now was contradictory to his purposes, but,
He was drawn to it.
In the time he had spent in Roan, not only had he trained under Merlin, but he had spent time gathering information about the working of the world. In which case, the information he had acquired through the local underground Guild of sorts he had been introduced to, proved vital. It allowed him to cross reference about what he knew of Arturia's past, to what was going on now.
Because of this, it became apparently clear about the degree of changes he had already brought about. For starters, the implementation of a new farming method that started from Bristol and then spread out along the nearest towns. Not only did it allow local leaders to stock pile their supplies for the winter, but it also supplied their Knights and workers with more food. Thus, creating stronger armies.
However, this event was minor compared to others.
Particularly, the tale of the Blacksmith of the Iron Forge.
A blacksmith who was now sought after by not only the local Lords in power, but by the Saxons, Jutes, and Gauls just for the moral his forged weapons and armours gave in battle. It had even gotten to the point where an old Knight from the Knights of Wolfred retired and sold his equipment for lack of an heir, and a huge fight had resulted from the buyers.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the blacksmith of the Iron Forge would become a legend in his own right.
In fact, it was even said that an army with just a small order of Knights equipped with the blacksmith's armours and weapons could win any war.
Armour that can shirk off the sharpest of swords and mitigate impact.
And weapons that could shred through steel.
Knights equipped with such weapon and armours were monsters on the battlefield. Their only weakness, the frailty of the human body and exhaustion.
Even with all the information he had gathered on the topic, the most striking thing about it was the sheer reward some Lords and invaders were willing to part with just to obtain the blacksmith.
Land, money, status, they were all included.
This, more so in the case of the Saxons after several key defeats because of the armours and weapons held in the hands of the Knights of Wolfred.
The Knights of Wolfred, a spear that strikes into the hearts of the enemy.
Numerous times already after their initial debut in the battle of the River Glein, this order of Knights, were called out again and again, gaining fame for their Lord and themselves.
They were mounted steel fortresses, just the sound of their march alone was enough to draw retreat form the enemy. They were now called the 'Wolves of the open Plains.'
And it was because of them that allowed Arturia more time before she would draw forth the sword in the stone. Thus, giving her ample time to train compared to her own timeline where she was forced to take up the blade earlier because of the pressing invasion. Now though, she had an extra few years' time.
And now that day was fast approaching where she would draw out Caliburn.
Thinking about this, his steps quickened in the dead of night.
It had been several years, and only now did he feel the need to go. After all, there were only two more days before the Joust was held and only two more day before Arturia would make her decision.
Now was the only time to settle himself. To put aside the calling that was resonating from within him.
His feet eventually brought him to a clearing bathed in moonlight and surrounded by trees. At the center lay a sword in the stone. It stood there, tall and gleaming in a sort of peerless light. A reflection of its majesty.
As he walked past the grass that grew to his waist, his movement caused a flurry of lights to go off around him.
Fire flies buzzing in the night. Flying in circles around himself and the Sword of Choosing, Caliburn.
Caliburn thrummed as he stepped forward, gentle vibrations causing a dull rattling sound that echoed out across the field and towards the forest lining the area's perimeter. When he was but a foot away from the sword, in the darkness of the night, a pale light seemed to be emitting from it.
Hesitating for only a moment, his right hand fell upon the sword's hilt, and a dazzling radiance enveloped him as he placed strength into his grip.
"Doth thou drawith this sword from the stone?"
A muffled gasp seemed to have come from the foliage of the trees behind him, yet at this moment, even if he had heard it, the importance of the decision in front of him far outweighed anything else.
This was what was calling him. Ever since he had set foot in Roan, the connection he felt towards this blade was unmistakable. Not only was it the first sword he had ever traced, but it was also one of the few he was the most familiar with. And it had been calling him. For he, like Arturia could wield it.
The grip he had on the hilt tightened further, the sword wobbling. With just a simple flick of his wrist, Caliburn would set itself free. Not even Merlin could have had predicted such a thing, yet here it was now seen by the eyes of not just himself, but another.
At that moment, a dim glow seemed to stretch from Caliburn up to his arm, and then spread across his body.
"Thou art worthy."
The voice was soft, gentle even, and it was encouraging him to draw forth the sword.
Should he draw forth the sword?
His indecision caused him to falter. However, before he had arrived, he had already come to a decision.
His grip visibly loosened, his shoulders slumping as he turned around and pressed his back against Caliburn. The splendor of the light enveloping him did not recede in the slightest, rather it seemed reluctant to fade. He could only shake his head. Staring up at the distant stars, he sat silently in contemplation before he spoke softly into the night.
"I'm not the one to wield you."
LINE BREAK
The joust had begun long ago, yet Arturia still stood before Caliburn in a daze. Merlin was beside her, and was looking at her questioningly. Yet she didn't give any indication that she noticed.
A soft wind blew by, sending white dandelion buds sailing into the air.
It was a stunning sight, even more so when one took into account the soft glow exuding from Caliburn and the light from the sun's rays.
"Arturia?" Merlin finally asked questioningly. "Are you sure of you decision? The path that you will walk as a result will be one of many difficulties."
Arturia swallowed, Merlin's words registering in her ears, yet she still hesitated.
The scene of two nights ago still played in her mind. Was she really the destined King?
Up until this point, she had always believed that she alone could lead her people to prosperity. Therefore, she worked hard since youth, cast aside her own life as a woman, and then donned the persona of a man. Now that she reached this point, surely there should have been nothing to cloud her determination, and yet,
She had seen another who could be deemed worthy to be King. In fact, what she had seen last night left her stunned. Caliburn's reaction to Shirou alone was telling as even though Shirou had let go in the end, Caliburn's light seemed to refuse to fade unlike her when she removed her grip.
Even subconsciously, she felt that Shirou would be a better King than herself. He was kind, selfless, and compassionate. All the proof she needed was in front of her eyes every single time she just walked down the roads. The people of Roan adored Shirou, and as for herself, she had not done anything substantial yet.
Did she deserve to be King, when it was clear that there was another more suited?
She shook her head. It was too much for to decide right away.
"Merlin," she called out.
"Yes, lad?" Merlin said.
"What does it mean to be a King?" She asked clearly.
Merlin placed his hands behind his back, and then looked towards the sky. "That, Arturia, is dependent on one's own path to Kingship. Though I must warn you again, but the road you will walk will be fraught with difficulties."
She was silent for a long moment, the joyous sounds of the joust entering her ears.
"One's own path to Kingship," Arturia eventually mumbled to herself, yet she didn't seem convinced, rather, she was still troubled.
Still, as fate would have it, her hands reached forth for that hilt, her fingers curling around the leather grip.
To create a Kingdom where all could live in peace.
A Kingdom she could call home.
And for a future where he would stand by her side.
She was Arturia Pendragon, son of King Uther, and rightful heir to the throne.
No matter what she felt about what she'd seen in the previous night, it didn't matter.
Because there was no longer any turning back.
With a single movement, a Sword had been drawn.
And a King had returned.
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