Difference between revisions of "578/Of Squires and Swords"

Latest revision as of 02:40, 13 September 2014

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
To reach the fortress of Dun Realtai, one must cross barren earth and pass through the village that climbs the western face of the hill. Repairs have been progressing well; many of the buildings look as though they're very nearly finished. Due to the fact that so few of the population has survived, many of the houses have not yet been rebuilt, with emphasis placed on restoring what's needed for the current survivors to survive the winter.

Once that's finished, attention will be able to go to other projects, such as securing the keep, and repairing the curtain walls that follow the crest of the hill and encircle the village and the castle... but those are projects for another day.

The inner bailey is the third and innermost courtyard, right outside the keep itself. There is a massive, barren oak that rises not far from the keep, whose branches brush the stonework and arch high overhead. It's a great monster of a tree, no doubt unspeakably old, but it seems even that tree has promise – not all of the wood is dead, and when spring comes around again, it may come back, with care and patience.

Already the people have begun calling it "Bedivere's Oak," for that's where he can often be found – like today, seated at the roots, his back leaned against the trunk. Bedivere doesn't wear the armour of a knight today, but the rough homespun clothing of a commoner. The only real concession to his position is the mantled greatcloak draped over his shoulders; even then, it's more for warmth than for status. It had been a fine garment all through his service as Marshal of the Realm, and it serves him a much more practical purpose here – Dun Realtai's lands are still unnaturally cold, for the moment.

He waits patiently with his eyes half-closed, hands folded over his lap. His gaze lingers over the village, but it looks as though he's more half-asleep than anything else... though those that know him might know better than to make that mistake. He's simply deep in thought, likely puzzling out how to go about finishing the repairs – or thinking ahead, to how the peoples' livelihoods can be restored.

Flopped at his feet is the enormous, draught horse-sized feyhound Kepas, a creature of ice that seems to have come part and parcel with the land, and who has taken quite a shine to the new masters. He looks a bit like a greyhound, but aside from sleek lines, the similarities stop. His face is almost skull-like, with deep shadows where his eye sockets should be; and pinpoints of glowing yellow light serving as his eyes. When he opens his maw, his teeth are sharp and jagged, like broken pieces of ice, and frost spills forth with every breath even if the day isn't cold. His dainty paws end in blunted claws, though they still look like they could cut a man open if they needed to.

Right now, his head is on the lord's lap, the yellow lamps of his eyes winked out. Occasionally, Bedivere reaches down to stroke the beast's enormous neck, but for the moment he seems content to simply sit and wait.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Shirou's been in and out of Dun Realtai in a rush so much in the last few days that it's been like a whirlwind. Part of that was going to get supplies, using his basic Union pay for others to buy quality lumber, hammers, nails, insulation, and various other amenities for the construction efforts. Part of it has been emergency heroism that nearly got him killed several times.

    Thankfully, he hasn't come back from any of those nearly split in two or anything similar.

    But now he's coming from within his room, all bundled up for the cold weather in local wear. It's cold enogh that he can see his breath when he exhales, and he rubs his hands together to keep warm periodically while hunting around for Bedivere.

    And the redheaded magus doesn't have to look long. "Oh...."

    For there he is, with the icy fae beast. An elemental of some kind, maybe, but Shirou's none too sure about such creatures. Kiritsugu didn't explain much about them. They aren't exactly common in their time!

    Really, though, Shirou doesn't bother much with ceremony. He strolls across the grounds and comes to a halt some fifteen feet away from the tree and the resting pair, and ads his clothing a bit. "Good afternoon, you two. How's the arm feeling?"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Such creatures were more common in the era of legend, but even in his own world, they had not been terribly common beasts. No, the feyhound is a relic of this land, one of the last guardians set to watch over the people at their winter-witch's behest. He is the last of two left alive; the other had gone mad, supposedly confined in the dungeons below the keep.

That narrow head picks up at the approach of Shirou, though it seems Bedivere had already noticed; as perceptive as the beast dozing on his lap.

...He does manage a quiet sound of relief when the pressure is taken off his legs, and quickly pulls himself upright, shooing the feyhound off as he does. Docile as a puppy, the creature trots off to go find some new mischief to get into, nonexistent tongue lolling, frosty breath spilling from his open maw. Maybe he's off to go bother Arturia, wherever in the village she's wound up.

Dusting off his front, Bedivere wraps his mantled cloak more securely about him as he pushes off from the trunk, cocking an eye toward the boy. The knight is tall, but there's a weariness that seems to hang about him no matter the time of day; perhaps not a weariness of body, but a weariness of spirit – though the shadows under his eyes don't hurt the impression of physical exhaustion.

He offers a faint half-smile.

"Better, thank you." He extends his right arm, now free of the sling, and closes his hand into an experimental fist. "I can do light work, as I am now, and in a few days' time, I may wield my sword once again, with care. And you? You have been quite busy, from what I have heard." Those faded violet eyes settle on Shirou; the scrutiny of his gaze, no matter how sleepy his regard seems, is unmistakable. It might even make the boy uncomfortbale – Bedivere is sizing him up with all the intensity of a raptor, and he's not disguising that fact. "You are not pushing yourself too hard... I hope."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    SHirou's attention is drawn to the hound's movement. A being of pure ice and magic is enough to gain any magic user's fascination by sheer virtue of what it is... but the purely dog-like makes it so less focusing on for long. A hint of normalcy to an otherwise fantastic encounter!

    But then Bedivere's gaze falls upon him and Shirou stiffens slightly. The Knight's gaze makes Shirou stiffen. he's not used to such scrutiny and it's making him burn a little under the collar... or something like that.

    Still, Shirou seems.. intact. Perhaps a bit winded for some reason or another. Bundled up as he is, there's not much to see though besides his face and stance, and he's standing tall... well, his arm's a bit stiff from absorbing one too many superior weapon blows... or maybe swinging a hammer to drive nails too much...

    "Yeah. There's not much helping it. There's all kinds of trouble out in the Multiverse, and the reconstruction here. It's working out somehow. And that's great to hear. You must be tired of being laid up."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"I have no fondness of wasting time, and there is no time to be wasted, here." Bedivere gestures towards the village. Distantly, several villagers are up on the roof of a building, carefully securing the timbers and roofing both against leakage. "This winter is unnatural, but it has already begun to fade into autumn. Yet autumn already begins its trek into the natural winter, and I fear it will not be a kindly season. I have experience in such seasons, for Camelot's winters were rarely kind."

If even one death from cold and exposure can be prevented, it will be a victory. Every elderly peasant that succumbed to the cold, every sickly child, was a weight against his soul in Camelot. If he can avoid that here...

He shows another of those faint half-smiles, though there's a slightly self-depreciating edge to it. "I do not like to be prevented from working, no." Still, he knows better than to throw himself right back into things. Arturia has been watching him, and they've agreed to keep one another from working themselves half to death. Their very existence depends on one another – she needs him as a physical anchor to the material plane, and he has comparatively little reason to soldier on if anything were to happen to her.

It's an unhealthy viewpoint, perhaps, but he's been through too much to react to it any other way. Even Shirou might sense some of that weight; that weariness of spirit. Bedivere isn't particularly old, perhaps in his mid-thirties, but his eyes suggest having seen things no one should ever be forced to witiness; an age and a wear beyond his years.

Shifting his weight, he gestures faintly to indicate the wall, where it's been patched. Quite recently, in fact. "I wished to speak of your, ah, unique talent. You managed to destroy part of the wall when you summoned a blade of legend, I am to understand? That is a fascinating talent in and of itself, but I can see that you are no swordsman." He turns his gaze on Shirou again, narrowing his eyes faintly – but not through any displeasure; merely contemplation. "You do not have much of any idea how to wield such weapons, do you? No one has taught you..."

"This is what I offer to you, Emiya Shirou: I will instruct you in the use of a sword, that when you summon another blade of legend to test your limits, you will not destroy my castle with it." His half-smile is enough to indicate that Bedivere isn't entirely upset about what had happened... and at the same time, something in his eyes suggests he's not going to have the patience to watch wanton property destruction happen again. "You are a hazard to yourself and others with such things if you do not know how to control them. I can offer you no instruction in the use of your unique talent, for I have heard of no such thing and I am no magus myself—" Though, come to think of it... doesn't that red Celtic-style knotwork on his left hand resemble a command seal? "–but I can certainly offer you instruction in the more practical art of wielding a blade."

He folds his arms, canting his head to one side as he regards Shirou thoughtfully. "I have had over twenty years' experience in such a thing, so hopefully that should suffice for qualifications... and I am certain my king can vouch for my skill."

Saber (346) has posed:
     Saber's duties to the Union hadn't let up since taking over Dun Realtai and appointing her marshal as its lord. As reluctant as she was to leave him on his own – he had thankfully submitted to going easier on himself but she preferred to be there in the event of an emergency – some issues demanded her attention. She had briefly considered taking a lighter workload...but on the other hand, there were many in the multiverse in need of a knight of her skills. then again, she had promised Bedivere that She would, in turn, be mindful of her own limitations.

     As such, Arturia was able to complete her task quickly and, instead of moving onto a different task, opted to return to the keep. And admittedly, with very little reluctance; not only for her marshal's sake, but that of the villagers. There was still a great deal to be done before the weather turned harsh once more.

     With the Yamaha parked in its de facto garage – the townsfolk had thought her mechanical steed strange but had becomes used to it – the Servant made her way to the dormant oak, dressed in the three-piece suit she typically wore for excursions out into the multiverse where her armour would be impractical. And she was quite certain that was where the silver-haired knight would be; being unable to work had made him anxious and unable to stay inside for very long. She was correct, though not annoyed or frustrated at him. "I would have expected to find Kepas pinning you down here," she quipped with a slight smile.

     However, Arturia was mildly surprised at the presence of the red-haired magus. "Greetings, " she hailed as she approached. "It is good to see you again, Master Shirou."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    And Shirou had only gone and repaired the wall out of a sense of obligation. He'd broken it so he should fix it. Simple as that! But now he's awfully glad he did, sensing the look Bedivere's giving him... well, no, if there wasn't the obligation, that feeling that Bedivere would flip - or worse, Saber - sure did it.

    But a hero of legend, offering to teach him swordsmanship? Shirou half-stammers and blinks. "... I don't get this weird talent of mine either. You're right, not controlling something like that sword could... gh, why didn't I think about that?" He seems to be kicking himself mentally a tad, with that spelled out.

    Of course he can't possibly control a legendary sword that well...

    But it's the only thing he can do. So he'll have to do it anyways.

    Calmin himself with another breath, he gets out, "... That would be really helpful, Sir Bedivere. My original teacher and I mostly beat each other up with wooden swords once or twice." There's not even any hesitation or forcedness in his pronunciation of the title now! Shirou's eyes have gone a bit wide, actually.

    But it's the approach of an unusual presence that has his eyes going wide. He turns about and sure enough...

    One of these days he won't be so startled to see Saber. Maybe. "G-good afternoon, Sa– Yy-m..." The weird noises continue as his face turns into an expression of panic.

    Dammit, Bedivere, this is all your fault of getting him confused on what to call her and you're right there!

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"I would be pleased to offer you instruction. You are a danger to yourself and others until you have learned to harness such things correctly... and that includes the use of an ordinary blade. I can tell by the way you move that you are not trained." He tilts his head, faintly, regarding Shirou calmly. "If you know the use of an ordinary blade, training will help you compensate for your lack of power—"

Almost mid-word, the pale-haired knight suddenly glances down the path, as though something had beckoned him. In truth, it had. Through the supernatural bond shared by Master and Servant, he can sense Arturia's approach even before he can see her, or hear the approach of her mechanical steed. A brief glance is flicked at Shirou, and though he doesn't say anything, the gesture's meaning is clear: Just a moment.

"Kepas?" He blinks somewhat owlishly as Arturia makes her approach. "You nearly met him on the road, actually. He went down to the village, like as not to look for you. You must have missed one another in passing. Or, I suppose he went looking not for you, but for some manner of amusement or another. He did have me pinned, for a time. Since you left, actually." Gingerly, he shakes out his left leg. "I'd feared I would have no feeling at all left in me by the time he let me up."

Half a glance is flicked to Arturia, almost skeptical. You did not put him up to that, did you? If Shirou's watching closely, he might catch the faintest vestige of a smile. There is a closeness to knight and king; it's fairly obvious that the two are close, in some manner or another.

His attention returns to Shirou quickly enough, but he'll let Saber tell the boy what she prefers to be called.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Arturia shook her head, though she was hardly as exasperated as she affected, the slightly wry smile betraying her reluctant amusement. "Distracted, most likely. Perhaps he found a mouse to chase."

     The look she turned back at Bedivere affected innocence, though as keen as he was and given their closeness, he would see through it. Now, would I do something like that?

     Yes, she would, actually.

     The Servant waved her hand in a brief gesture as if to dispel Shirou's uneasiness. "Saber is a suitable form of address, as that is what I am now."

     That might have seemed too informal where her marshal was concerned, but she saw little need to stand on ceremony in the day-to-day events of Dun Realtai. No, ceremony and that level of formality were best left for occasions such as attempting to talk a well-meaning, noble king out of permitting the existence of a terrible weapon.

     On the other hand, there was the matter of the wall. "The wall of the inner bailey...that was your doing?" she asked, though her expression remained largely impassive. If there was any particular emotion in it, it was a mild curiosity.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "Saber." Shirou finally gets out, exhaling in relief. Geeze, why so much trouble saying someone's name? This is ridiculous. And all bedivere's fault!

    "Sorry. Right. Yeah... some exercises went a bit awry. I'm a magus. You probably heard that on the Union radio by now. I won't do that near any buildings again." This he says in a huge apologetic rush. He'd hate to be a bad guest.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Sighing, the marshal folds his arms over his chest, reaching up with his left to tug at the red-stone stud in his ear. It seems more a gesture of consternation than a conscious effort to ad it, after which he lets his arm fall until both can cross over his chest. Curiously, the exact same thing adorns Arturia's right ear; there seems to be no difference in the two stones – red jasper on a simple brass hook.

He shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn't protest her choice of given name. It's clearly more informal than he might like, but it's her choice, and so he doesn't say anything. Not this time, anyway.

Bedivere turns to face Shirou, shaking his head slightly.

"I had heard that you were a magus." Curiously, the word he uses is not 'magus,' but 'fili,' and it seems to carry far different connotations – 'bard,' 'lorekeeper,' 'poet.' "I am not one, myself. At least, I am only partly trained as a fili." This time, the word is definitely that odd word he'd used; there's no mistaking the extra layers of meaning he imparts to it. "Unfortunately, I do not think it is enough to offer you any guidance. Especially not with your unique, ah, abilities, if I am to understand them correctly."

"However, what I can offer you is basic instruction in the fundaments of wielding a blade. That is what you seem to lack, and perhaps it may help you in the pursuit of your own abilities. Certainly I think it can do no harm," he observes, resting a crooked finger against his upper lip in contemplation. "If it is enough to avert disaster if you should again summon something powerful and beyond your control, or to offer you some protection yourself, then my time would be well-spent."

Saber (346) has posed:
     He might not have protested, but it required no special skill for Arturia to sense Bedivere's discomfiture over her choice of address. It is all right. There is little need for ceremony here, unlike Camelot. and it is not a sign of disrespect. He was still touchy about perceived slights; perhaps he always would be, even if that had improved quite a bit in the past two months.

     "I see. Yes, when experimenting with such abilities, it is preferable to do so in a place where the roof will not cave in on you. That would be a rather unfortunate end."

     The Servant might have been making a joke here, but it was difficult to tell, as she did so with a completely straight face.

     The petite knight tapped her chin thoughtfully. "There are some within the Union who might be in a position to train you as a magus. However..."

     She turned her thoughtful gaze to her marshal. "You have offered training in the sword? An excellent idea, I should think. Perhaps squire's training?"

     Saber cast an appraising gaze on the young magus – not as piercingly critical as Bedivere's, yet it might have been unsettling regardless. He seemed reasonably fit, more so that some other squires of their day, she doubted it would be too strenuous.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    That kind of comment earns Saber a sort of sour sideways look from Shirou, but he decides not to say anything about the jibe. "If I knew something like that could happen..." Grumble. He then nods. "Mhm. I'm already working with a few. They're as baffled as me."

    So he then turns Bedivere's way. "Honestly, anything will help! I'm really grateful for the offer. Is all the work I'm doing even enough to offer? You're already letting me stay as a guest!"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere sighs, the breath almost silent. It is my duty to defend your dignity as much as your person, and I mislike seeing it cast aside so. But very well, my lord. He still looks a little disgruntled over it, but he won't argue in light of her reassurances.

It's one of the many duties he had taken upon himself, even in Camelot. There had been contentious nobles who had not paid their proper respects in the king's presence, and the marshal had levelled that quiet, cold stare on them until they had behaved themselves more appropriately.

His eyes turn back to Shirou again, thoughtful as he sizes up the young magus. He does seem able enough, and physically capable. Indeed, most likely Shirou has greater physical potential than he realises, and with a bit of training and dedication to routine, he could make a capable swordsman.

"I will not take him as a squire," Bedivere replies calmly, casting Arturia a sidelong glance. "I took no squires in Camelot, and I will take none here. I will, however, offer him the same training as I might have given to one. I agree. It would, perhaps, serve him well..."

Hopefully nobody does anything dumb like suggest he actually take the boy as a squire. Offering him instruction is one thing, but he had never taken a squire in Camelot, and he doesn't intend to start now.

He snorts, almost delicately, through his nose. "You have done more than your fair share, lad. I have no qualms offering you instruction. I have time enough to spare for that, amongst my other duties; if your abilities have such potential for destruction, it is not only the right thing to do, but a necessity. It may not substitute for your lack of more... esoteric knowledge, but perhaps it can make a difference in lieu of that, no?" Bedivere gestures loosely; nebulously, sighing and letting his hands drop. "Ah, I almost wish Master Merlin were here. He would know how best to make sense of this, I think."

Then again, it would mean inviting Merlin here.

Bedivere stifles a shudder, disguising his momentary discomfort in ading the lay of his mantled cloak.

Saber (346) has posed:
     The corners of her mouth might have appeared to turn up slightly at Shirou's unhappy look. But she let it go for the moment. "Magic is unpredictable for the untrained, as I am certain you have learned..." she began, only to frown slightly. "That is most unusual. It bears looking into, though my marshal and I are, as he has said, not magi." Like Bedivere, she uses the word 'fili' to designate a magus.

     And you have carried out that duty admirably. I am merely pointing out that it is not necessary with our allies. And it was not as if she had no need for that defence at all; once he had healed, she would no doubt need his presence in future missions which involved something other than application of Excalibur. Some might have assumed she had done well enough in his absence. Some would be wrong.

     The flaxen-haired knight folded her arms. "Well then...perhaps I could do so, if you are reluctant." Before Bedivere had the chance to protest, she waved her hand slightly. "You have enough concerns with the reconstruction, and I have some experience in the matter. Sir Ector taught my brother and I well." She had absolute confidence in her foster father's teachings, that much was readily apparent.

     That done, she turned back to Shirou. "Regardless, it would be your decision. Such training is highly demanding, and I would not fault you for declining. However, it would be of a great help to learn control over your body, as well as magic and sword."

     Jade eyes flicked to Bedivere, her face a little *too* composed, as if hiding something behind the mask. Dear Lord in heaven do not even think such a thought.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Shirou shivers a bit, and ends up caught looking between one knight and the other. Training as a squire? And Sir Ector... he vaguely remembers the legends of King Arthur.

    It's still hard to believe he was a girl. This is why he's not spoken one bit about who these people are. But even so...

    "Swordsmanship lessons would be a big help." He finally states after clearing his head of the wonder - a not-easy task, definitely.

    "Er... actually, tutoring in something like that's practically necessary, especially for the Multiverse..." And for whatever reason, Shirou's in exquisite physical shape. He may not be a good magus, but he's a fine athlete in some ways!

    "From the start I've always had more faith in my body than magic. Reinforcement magic is all I've ever managed until now, so keeping my body fit was even more important." Important for? He snorts, realizing he's rambling. No more of that.

    Adopting an even gaze, the redhead examines first Saber, than Bedivere... wait, SABER wants to train him now?

    He gulps a little at the thougght. Could he focus if a girl was his sparring partner? No, she'd probably slice him in half if he voiced a concern like that....

    "Aergh.... it's not worth competing over..." Really, that's kind of embarassing...

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
For the moment, Bedivere leans back on his heels, regarding the young man before him. While he has the physical ability to do what his thaumaturgical talents might demand, he lacks the experience and the practical skill, or the knowledge in how to use the things he calls forth. Even basic swordsmanship would help him; he would still know how to fight, in those rare times in which his abilities fail him.

"It does bear looking into, particularly such a strange and unusual talent. To know how to use such a thing is imperative, or it is a danger as much as it is a benefit." He tilts his head, one eye half-closing, as though regarding Shirou from a slightly different angle. "As the walls of Dun Realtai have proven themselves. You were lucky no one was about, for this keep is perhaps emptier than it should be."

He's probably lucky Bedivere was occupied at the time, too.

Those violet eyes flick briefly to Arturia. I do not even think about such things. It was a necessity for so many years. If some of those curs had been given even an inch of rope, they would have taken three yards to show disrespect before you... aí. Very well, then, my lady. He breathes the faintest suggestion of a sigh through his nose.

"Ah? No. I am not reluctant. I merely said that I will not have him as a squire. I will give him the instruction, but I would not bind him to me in that manner." Bedivere shakes his head, left hand reaching up to clear his hair from his eyes; briefly baring the command seal. "He is from a different time, and another world. It would not be fair to ask that of him. And I have not changed my stance from Camelot. I will take no squires," he adds, a little stubbornly. It's a point he refuses to bend on; he will not take such responsibility for the life of another.

Absently, he rubs at the mark on his left hand, as though it bothered him somehow. Am I not responsible enough for one life?

Perhaps it's an oddity among knights, for every other knight of the Round Table had accepted the services of at least one squire. Some had looked at him a bit oddly for it, but no one had ever questioned why. Most had considered him unapproachable, and they had simply accepted that quirk of his personality; one more reason to consider him as a strange foreigner.

Bedivere glances back to Shirou, arching a pale brow at the boy's nervousness when he looks to Saber. Perhaps he picks up on some of that thought process.

It seems our little stripling of a fili is made nervous in your presence, he observes, with a glance flicked Arturia's way. While there is no questioning your skill, perhaps it would be better if I trained him in the more practical aspects.

"We are not competing. We are merely considering who would be the wiser option. I think I would prefer to oversee your training, if milord has no objections. My skill is up to the task, even if my strength is not at the moment what it once was." He tilts his head a little, regarding Shirou neutrally. "I will need some time, that my wounds might mend wholly... but it will not be long, now. Will that be acceptable?"

Saber (346) has posed:
     Arturia nodded slightly; at the very least, dedicated swordsmanship would be a boon. And even, as Shirou had noted, perhaps a necessity given the demands of service to the Union.

     "It is not surprising", she continued. "This would be what squire's training entails; above all else, the training instils both discipline and physical ability." The petite blonde smiled faintly in what may have been nostalgia. "Among the first of the exercises my father ordered by brother and I to perform was to carry buckets of water in each hand up a hill and back for an entire day."

     Arturia returned the silver-haired knight's gaze. That I know. But you need not have fear in our home. For that was what even this ruined keep was for them; the home they had never had, even in Camelot.

     The Servant sighed. "I understand, which is why I offered the training on my part." She understood his avoidance, for she would have been of the same mindset. As the king, she had never needed to make that decision. "And it is merely the training...one must choose to become a squire or not."

     On the other hand, Bedivere was right; she had noticed that strange sort of nervousness. Very well.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "I can't complain. You're offering this without me asking, after all." Shirou replies, slightly perplexed at Bedivere's wondering. Why wouldn't that be acceptable? If you're injured, you rest! Seriouisly...

    He'd say that.

    And then, later, probably ignore his own insight.

    "Erm... on another matter. Saber, Sir Bedivere, most of my Union pay's going towards the reconstruction, whatever I don't need for searching for my home Fuyuki..." So, most of it. "You two would know what the best use for it is. I think the only thing I'm likely to get sometime soon is more clothes and maybe a bike."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"I was not subjected to quite the same training as my lord," Bedivere explains, looking back to the oak as he speaks. His gaze is a little distant, slightly unfocused. How many years has it been since he had trained, as a knight-aspirant in Arturia's court? Perhaps not so many as he might think, but it is difficult to recall the details. They were hard years, all of them, and those years were seldom kind to him. "In fact, I did not have anyone overseeing my training, as she did. Occasionally I would receive instruction from a senior knight once I had arrived in Camelot's court, but for the most part, I sought to train myself, and did so until I would split training swords in twain."

Wait, he hadn't been there from the start? A foreigner? Apparently he doesn't think much of it, for he doesn't mention it. His head shakes after a moment, gently. "I did not haul water buckets, myself, but after my knighting, I would carry my armour, and I would practise at putting it on and taking it off until it became second nature. I did not take a squire," he adds, "and I would not have one now."

He flicks a brief acknowledgement to the King of Knights, something dimming in his gaze. No. You are right. This is... our home; such is not needed here. Forgive me, my lady.

When she sighs, he looks back to Shirou, studying him once more. Already he can envision training exercises, and ways in which he might put the boy to some use. Thankfully, there isn't much need to improve his constitution or his physical condition; he looks as though, with a minimum of encouragement, he could handle even a two-handed blade adequately. Perhaps he isn't strong enough to do so with finesse, but he would be able to in a pinch.

Bedivere blinks back to reality when Shirou speaks up again. "Hm? I offer because if left unchecked, it is possible that your talents would be a danger to yourself and others. Do not mistake this offer as pure generosity, although I would not mind to offer you such if that was your wish, even if these talents of yours were not a factor." He tilts his head, slightly, folding his arms as he considers. "You would make a fair squire, and would do some knight proud, I think. You simply need guidance, and that is not outside of our capability to provide you."

When Shirou reveals where his wages are going, the silver-haired knight frowns, though the expression quickly twists into one of puzzlement.

"What?"

He's donating almost the entirety of his wages to the construction effort? That would explain where some of the newer masonry came from, and those new workmen he had spotted last week; people he had not recognised from not two weeks prior. It would also explain the supplement of hardwood to the stock of bamboo that had been donated by Kagenashi; before that, all the hardwood had been exhausted. Or, perhaps, the additional plumbing and piping, and more than the handful of workmen to install it that he'd taken note of...

"I am honoured. And I am grateful for your generosity, Master Shirou, as are all the people of Dun Realtai whose homes you have helped to rebuild." He inclines his head, and though he doesn't bow, the gesture very nearly is one; respectful and humble. "It would be churlish of me to turn away the option to train you, in light of this. Please, you need not feel obligated." Bedivere drops his gaze, eyes closing briefly. "You do more for me by this gesture of generosity than you can know."

Saber (346) has posed:
     As if to further the appearance that king and knight were extraordinarily close, Arturia did not so much as express mild curiosity over Bedivere's revelation that he was, in fact, not a native of Britain. While she was most certainly listening, it was as if she knew of this fact well in advance. After which, she continued her own recounting. "My own training was rather unique...my father taught us many skills which lay beyond the purveiw of a squire's training, such as survival in the wilderness. The reason had been that, should we ever become separated from our units, we would need to know how to survive and return to our superior."

     Strangely, when she referred to her 'father' in a familiar sense, she was referring to Sir Ector. What then of her birth father, Uther, from whom she inherited the Pendragon lineage?

     The jade-eyed knight shook her head slightly. There is no need to apologise. Simply, you should relax here...there are no enemies, you may finally have a measure of rest. Ah, so that was her train of thought.

     as her marshal did, so too did the King of Knights wear a surpried, even an astonished expression upon learning where the lion's share of Shirou's wages was going. "That being the case, than it is we whom owe you a boon," she replied with an equal measure of humility. "Any kindness rendered unto my knights or my people is a kindness rendered unto me." And indeed, as her Left Hand did, she now considered the people of Dun Realtai as her own. "According to the virtues of chivalry, I am in your debt."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "That's-" he's doing what he should be doing, right? There's people here in need, and what's he going to do with the money?

    So Shirou blinks a few times. He apparently doesn't think this level of generosity is oh so special. "It's nothing... I don't want to see these people out in the cold when winter comes." Simple as that, right?

    Does he value his paycheck at all, when he's already risking his life?

    "Alright, then I guess it's more of an equal exchange..." But this is still kind of awkward. he clears his throat, then bows his head slightly at Bedivere. "I accept the offer, Sir bedivere. Please teach me to wield a weapon properly." A little overly formal by his standards, and forcing himself, but it needed to be said.

    "None of the exercises I've been doing are like that. Carrying water up a hill?" He blinks Saber's way. "..." he peers at her. Then her arms. "...Hrmngh..."

    ... Where did all the muscle go?

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"It is more than simply wanting them to have a roof for the sake of it. If they are out in the cold when winter comes, they will not survive." Bedivere shakes his head, looking a little more solemn than usual. "I know this well enough from Camelot, and the winters there were perhaps not so harsh as these. And this is not even yet truly winter. The old, the young, the infirm... they would not survive, and I know this well."

That would explain his mad and seemingly self-destructive rush to finish the work that remains before the equinox. There's no telling when the snow will fly in earnest, but it can't be too far off, if the cold is any indication. Lately, the wind's had a bite to it that can only herald the beginnings of winter. He's had more than a few mornings of having absolutely zero desire to get out of bed and into the frigid morning air.

"No." He shakes his head in silence when Shirou mentions an equal exchange. "It is not equal. But if that is what it takes for you to think of it so, then so be it."

He blinks a bit, studying Shirou again in that slightly disapproving way when he makes a point of studying Arturia and evidently drawing attention to the fact that she doesn't have quite the muscle mass one might expect of training like that. Truth be told, neither does Bedivere – but for him, it's more an issue of having deteriorated for five years.

After the Battle of Camlann, he'd all but lost his will to live, and he had not paid any especial atteniton to his conditioning or training. He'd simply neglected himself for a time, and even now, he's still trying to build himself back up. The potential is still there, though those high cheekbones of his are a bit hollow, and though his ribs may stick out a bit.

He shrugs, then. "It may not sound like much, but much of a squire's training is tedium. It is as much physical conditioning as it is the learning of a knight's purviews... and mental conditioning, too," he adds, tapping a forefinger to a temple.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Arturia folded her hands and closed her eyes, as was her custom when she expounded upon the chivalry she had held so dear in life and beyond. "Whether you believe this simply the 'right' thing to do or for some other reason, it is in fact what it means to live by the virtues of 'generositas', 'pietas' and 'humanitas'. Likewise, your humility is an expression of 'ingenuitas'. These virtues are among the underpinnings of chivalry, what separates a knight from a mere warrior."

     Opening the jade eyes, her gaze at the boy was piercing. "We have done as much as we have been able to, and Sir Bedivere is quite correct. It is more than simply a wish to shelter them from the winter which is to come."

     As to the agreement of sword training, the Servant merely nodded her head. "In truth, it is as much a benefit to us to train you. Exercitium, too, is a chivalric virtue."

     For her part, Saber was puzzled at first by the scrutiny, if not especially bothered by it. And then, she noticed what had drawn his attention. "Ah. Hm. In truth, I had used something of magic when I was human. I do not know the precise nature of my abilities, though perhaps Me..."

     Conspicuously, Arturia cut herself off before she finished the name, shaking her head. As much as his knowledge would be a boon, the aggravations of dealing with the mercurial wizard were not with idle curiosity. And that was even if he felt like *sharing* that knowledge. Often times, he didn't...or it came at an unpleasant price.

     Her smile had a faint wry edge to it as the violet-eyed knight spoke of the tedium of squire's training. "Indeed...much of it was also to effectively 'weed out' those who were impatient, only sought knighthood for prestige, or lacked proper commitment. If a squire did not embrace 'fortitudo', then he would not do so as a knight, and would therefore be unsuitable."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "I know that." Shirou states simply and irritably Bedivere's way. No, not irritated at Bedivere, but the situation. No wonder he's so vehement about the donations. "So we need to get roofs over their heads. If all else fails there's the keep or a nearby world, but getting the homes up quickly's the answer everyone wants. What's the ratio of those without homes still?"

    A few breaths later, and he exclaims simply, "And it's not equal. I wasn't looking for a reward to begin with. Putting this money towards something that helps people is enough... we're not going to get anywhere arguing the merits or values of this." Shirou seems a bit amused. Maybe slightly irritated at how hard it is to nuance these things. "I'll help the villagers rebuild, you teach swordsmanship, hopefully I won't tear down a wall again and everyone can be happy." There, that's the simplest way he can put it, right?

    Yeah. He's got no interest in trying to play a 'who's being more generous' game.

    He quiets when Saber speaks though, easily stunned by her clear spirit and manner.

    "Hrm. My father said a few things like that too. Magic should be used to help others, and anyone who can't endure pain can't be a magus. Though these lessons apply to life in general if you ask me. But... exercitium?" He has trouble pronouncing the word!

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The pale-haired knight quirks a brow at Shirou's sudden annoyance, but he offers no comment, and seems otherwise undisturbed. He does glance briefly at Arturia. She would understand his unspoken question of what had set him off. Had he said something untoward or uncalled for? After all, there are still quite a few differences between the people of the modern age, and the people of their own era... he is, unfortunately, still discovering those differences for himself.

Bedivere bows his head slightly. "I am sorry if I offended you, Master Shirou; I seek only to impress upon you the enormity of the situation. It may not mean much to you, but it is humbling that you would donate so much of what is yours to these people." His brief flicker of a smile is almost melancholy. "It seems an unequal exchange, to me, that I would offer you mere tuition in exchange for giving so much and so freely to these people. If that is what you are content with, though, so be it. I would not deny you the opportunity if that is what you wish to do."

The tall knight shifts his weight. Perhaps Arturia might note that he seems tired. It's almost as though he had been steadily fading through the conversation. While his injuries are healing nicely, he's still building his strength from the ordeals and aftermath of Camlann. He had spent nearly five years with only enough rest to push his weary and broken body onward; though he has more opportunity to rest, here, that old exhaustion will haunt him for some time yet.

"Exercitium: Training, and honing of one's skills. A knight is expected to be fit of form and ready in service, and he must not allow his training to wither. I am shamed to say that I have also let slip this virtue, personally... training with you would be a good opportunity for me to rebuild my skills, as well." He ducks his head, briefly. "It is the art of dedication to one's training, essentially; a devotion to perfecting one's skill, no matter how tedious or fruitless it may seem. The desire to better oneself, and the will to act on that desire."

He shifts his weight again, ducking his head in respectful gesture. "Perhaps milord can instruct you further, if you've more questions... but, I am sorry, I must take my leave. I am still recovering." His faint smile is apologetic; almost awkward. "The sun is low, and I am tired; it would be best if I retired for the evening. We will meet again, I am certain. And you are free to seek me out at any time, of course."

With a faint but respectful bow to Shirou, he turns, then, and makes his way toward the keep. It's not without a brief glance to Arturia, though; simple acknowledgement that he'll be waiting for her whenever she feels like following – he really does look tired, with shadows under his eyes, and despite the early hour he probably won't be awake for much longer. Not if he can help it, anyway.

While some part of him doesn't particularly enjoy sleeping so much, even he can't deny that he's been feeling better, lately... slowly, he's come to accept her view of it, that he's not being lazy; simply trading off a bit of time now to be able to work through the winter. Surely that isn't so bad...