Difference between revisions of "865/A Dream's Inheritor II"

Revision as of 03:52, 28 October 2014

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    PANCAKES.

    After a miserable last night that sent his head spinning, Shirou's eager to do something to distract himself from it. Because it's still spinning the next morning.

    Not too long ago he hoisted a few bags full of clinking and clanking equipment into his room. Some of those newfangled induction stove plates that just need to be plugged in, a very high-tech super-battery with standard power plugs from the Union, and various cookware and kitchen utensils... a compact, portable mini-kitchen really. Sometimes he's been experimenting with local dishes and new takes on ones he knows using different ingredients that are locally available, sometimes he's brought in stuff from elsewhere. Sure, the kitchens here are excellent, but... not for modern cooking, and he doesn't want someone accidentally shocking themselves or something, does he?

    So he's managed to inadvertently keep most of his actual cooking pretty secret. Or so he thinks.

    That probably won't last after today, though.

    Since Saber seemed so enthusiastically interested in simple pancakes, Shirou decided to get a little elaborate for an impromptu lunch. Lunch for her (probably a bit too much for a simple lunch), brunch for him. (Nightmares of the fire all throughout last night...)

    He's put a tablecloth over one of the tables, and set it for several people. Given the response he got on the Union radio a few days ago, he half expects Sir Gawain and Sir Bedivere to come bursting in at any moment.

    It's pancakes, a very western food, so forks and knives for everyone rather than chopsticks. The beverages available are mostly local ones, though a gallon of milk from some grocery store's also available. There's only four pancakes, but he's brought his self-heating pan and the battery for it to pour more at any time.

    There's a small plate of sausages to take from, and a small pitcher of steaming hot maple syrup.

    The strangest thing is probably the apron he's wearing over his normal clothes though. Strangely suits him! Because Shirou's still futzing with the last bits of the arrangement, waiting for Saber and whoever else heard that on the radio...

    Gawain better not ride right into the keep on his motorcycle. Motorcycles belong outdoors, darnit!

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The path of chivalry is not an easy one.

Early in the morning, almost before his own companion had woken, Sir Bedivere had quietly slipped out of bed and donned the warmest, driest clothing he could find to make his rounds through the village. Dun Realtai's dreary autumn weather combined with the barren soil meant flooding was a real possibility, and the lord of the keep has no doubt that erosion will be a problem until the spring.

So, he had borrowed a farm horse, patting the beast on the neck and coaxing it to slog through the mud, carrying him through the important parts of the village. All told, his tour of inspection had taken him about two and a half hours.

Once finished, he had promptly taken the horse back to its owner, groomed it, and then slogged back through the mud up the hill to the keep. He'd shucked off his saturated clothing and crawled directly into a hot bath to warm up, shivering and muttering curses under his breath in Gaelic.

That done, he'd donned the second-warmest clothing he could find, huddling down in the great hall before the fire for a few moments. When Shirou had expressed his intents over the local band, it was enough time for Bedivere to abscond to the kitchen and prepare a pot of tea while the red-headed youth saw to the table's settings.

Bedivere, thankfully, does not come 'bursting' back into the great hall. He conducts himself with dignity and gravitas wherever possible, as he always has, though he perhaps has a hint of melancholy about him at times. His clothing is mediaeval in the style of commoners' garb, with homespun hempen and linen garments smelling faintly of Castile soap. His hair is still damp, gathered over one shoulder in a messy twist and bound loosely; some of it still stuck to the side of his face here and there. He looks calm and alert, though, refreshed after a hot bath to help him stop shivering.

Oh, and he's carrying a tray laden with a teapot fresh out of the kitchen. Apparently, he'd made a stop at the kitchens, first.

"Master Shirou. I thought I might bring you some tea." The tray is indicated with a slight rattle. His mouth twists in a soft, slightly self-depreciating smile. "I hope you have not had to work too hard... ah, forgive me. You are a guest; I should be the one providing for you. At least allow me to offer you this."

Saber (346) has posed:
     In Dun Realtai, he townsfolk rose early, as those in an agricultural society always did, already working to complete tasks in preparation for winter. Similarly, the erstwhile lord and lady of the keep rose early, though the former rose before the latter, busying himself with the sort of task he had been employed with in her service as a knight. He was already halfway through his patrol when Arturia awoke, roughly about the time that the rest of the villagers did, dressing quickly in commoner's attire just as her marshal did. But rather than descending the stairs immediately, the Servant busied herself with a bit of paperwork, intending to finish before making her way to the kitchen for breakfast. As it turned out, it had been a good decision; Shirou apparently had more pancake batter on his hands than he knew what to do with. And Saber was never one to turn down a good meal except in the most dire of circumstances.

     It almost made her dread revealing certain things to him that he was not going to like, but needed to hear anyway.

     The flaxen-haired knight made her way downstairs into the great hall after first loosely braiding her hair in lieu of fixing it up into the usual braid-encircled bun, entering with all the finely-practised grace of her station. So used to presenting the image of the perfect king day in and day out, it was something she had never been able to simply turn off like a switch.

     "Good morning, Shirou," she greeted with a faint smile, though that smile turned into a slight frown at her marshal. "You are going to catch a cold," she fussed mildly, though both of them knew he was not going to neglect his duties. Her mind was already working on a number of items to pick up on her next shopping trip, foremost among them was proper rainy-weather gear. But at least Bedivere knew that he would never hear the end of it should he overwork himself; and there was one particular duty which demanded that he be in good health. A duty indicated by the intricate markings on his left hand.

     The petite swordswoman eyed the settings appreciatively. "Were you expecting others, as well?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "Sorry I woke up so late!" Shirou hurriedly gets out of the way. He's usually up and about to help early in the mornings. Not long after sunrise, really. Except for when he's been laid up awfully by getting run through, or something like that. Though... even in that case, he's recovering weirdly quickly.

    While he has no knowledge of running a nation, and the various trades involved, he still wants to help - so that's mostly been when the others are out doing whatever, he's been fixing things and hauling stuff around. It's simple work, but hey, someone's gotta do it.

    If only he'd stop using up all his energy trying to save everyone and getting nearly killed in the process, maybe?

    He does look up at Saber as she strolls in however, and is knocked momentarily speechless. Even if everyone ays that's King Arthur, he just doesn't quite see her that way in several ways.

    So it takes him a moment of awkward staring before he gets his composure back. "Good morning, Saber." For this brief moment, every awful topic that raged around in his mind has gone wandering off. He smiles warmly. "Breakfast is served... or brunch... and--" In comes Bedivere.

    SHirou regards him without too much surprise, but he gets the warm look too. Just not the AWED look. "Oh, Sir Bedivere. There's plenty for everyone if you'd like some. Out early like usual?"

    It'd probably be a good idea to actually sit down at some point. Shirou's waiting for the others first.

    "...Well, I knew he'd be coming back," He asides with a headtilt towards Bedivere, "But Sir Gawain might come barreling in too."

    He did just kind of do that, last time, didn't he?

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The marshal turns and winces slightly when the first words out of his lady's mouth are... nagging him about his carelessness. While he might have expected a good-morning, or the smile he's so often come to appreciate, this time he's earned the scolding.

At least he remembered to take a hot bath and warm himself up, instead of bustling right into whatever work needed doing, cold and wet from the rain. He even put dry clothing on! That's probably impressive for him, considering the conditions he regularly worked through in Camelot. When Caliburn was lost, he was up and working a week and a half after the mortal wounds that had almost killed him. His habit of regularly coughing up blood for a time after that, and the blood-spotted bandaging he'd worn for even longer, told of how close he'd come to working himself to death.

It's just in his nature not to think of himself. He doesn't place the same value on his life that he does others... but one of these days he's definitely going to catch cold if he doesn't get ahold of some good rain gear... or worse.

Fortunately, his sigh of resignation is cut short by Shirou's greeting. He seems to remember he's holding the tray, setting it down on the table. "Yes. Since nothing grows here, at least not yet, it is important that I am mindful of potential flooding. If it rains too hard, the soil will be washed away, and the consequences of that would be... unpleasant." He steps sideways, pulling out a chair for Saber with a faint, if tired, smile. Only after she accepts does he pull his own chair out beside her, sinking into it with a grateful sigh.

"Sir Gawain comes and goes as he pleases," Bedivere agrees. His eyes close briefly as he shrugs and shakes his head. "He is... hm. Not the most reserved of personalities, shall we say? It has always been his way. Furthermore, he has obligations to his Master, and so he does not always remain in the castle."

He rests his hands on the table, baring his own mark; intricate Celtic-style knotwork in the shape of a sword, lurid red against his skin. He doesn't speak, though, flicking a brief glance to Saber, letting her lead the conversation. She'd called for this meeting, after all.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Saber shook her head with a faint smile. "Worry not," she reassured the red-haired magus. "We rise earlier because we must. There is much work for us to accomplish."

     However, she failed to apply that to herself; often, she needed to conserve her mana by resting, yet she hated having to do so when there was much left to be done. But at least paperwork wasn't too strenuous.

     She was not too surprised by Shirou's reaction -- indeed, the ability to inspire awe had been necessary as the king -- but at the same time, that life was gone, ended at the tragedy of Camlann. Now, she was merely the Servant Saber...Arturia, to some.

     But sadly, breakfast would have to wait for a moment. "I shall return shortly," she stated before disappearing for a few minutes, only to return with a thick towel. "Be seated," she did not /quite/ order the marshal, but he knew better than to refuse. Only after he had done so and she set about to drying his hair /properly/ before retying it did she seat herself. It was, undoubtedly, a very strange way for a Servant to treat a Master, and an especially strange way for a king to treat a knight. It was, however, a completely natural way for a lady to treat her lord. Were they simply acting for the sake of the villagers who needed that stability? Or was it something else?

     Arturia sighed softly, even if she was not especially exasperated. "Ah, it would not be surprising. Sir Gawain has always been of that disposition. He would be as likely to refuse a good meal as I." That is to say, not at all.

     She nodded at Bedivere's explanation of Gawain's unique personality. "He is, by designation, the Knight of the Sun. It is simply his way to be so...boisterous."

     She caught that flicker then, her own acknowledging his unspoken statement. "However, there is much for us to discuss, regarding the recent turn of events."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "Thank you, Sir Bedivere." Shirou adds a bit belatedly, takin a second look at the tray. "I didn't know what teas you liked or I'd've gotten some." Yup, tea is on Shirou's menu apparently! "Also, what's this about not working too hard?" He makes an exasperated, yet somewhat amused grunt, while giving Bedivere this most incredulous look. "Listen, I'm staying as a guest, but you don't need to treat me like roy-- er-..." That phrase gets cut off VERY quickly. The boy even blushes, expression twisting. "...You don't need to worry so much. If getting off easy was what I wanted I'd be at Njorun."

    Yeah. He's here because people need his help, after all. He's never once acted like an honored guest more than he has a dedicated resident...

    He's clearly not on the ball right now, as he's pretty casual and easygoing about all the standards. He's constantly forced to use this unusual 'sir' title, but it's becoming habit at least.

    While Saber's heading off to get a towel, Shirou takes a seat himself. "Oh... erosion. That shows what I know about farming." He could practically kick himself. It's a good thing Bedivere's in charge of this, and not him... "Yeah, I can't imagine hauling in whole fields worth of topsoil." That's a scary, scary proposition. Enough to make him shudder at the crazy amount of work.

    Oh, he'd do it if he had to. But dang, better to not get into that position to begin with!

    When Saber's back, Shirou agrees with a nod. "Exactly. I bet he could eat the entire stack of pancakes while our back is turned too." He adds jokingly a moment later.

    Scooting his chair in, he now looks expectantly between Saber and Bedivere...

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
As usual, Bedivere pays no attention to his own condition. That his hair is still damp hasn't even occured to him, warm and dry beside the hearth. He blinks when Arturia suddenly excuses herself. Had he forgotten to bring something with the tea? It wouldn't surprise him. Tea is still something of a luxury to him, albeit one he's gradually beginning to accept more. He doesn't always remember to bring the things other people enjoy with it--

A towel? He squints a little as Arturia heads straight for him with it, and then his shoulders sag as he realises what she's going to do with it. He endures her single-minded attention with a sigh, and to his credit he doesn't even protest when she ties his hair properly, using one of the etched brass cuffs that he often uses for just that purpose.

"I find I am fond of black tea," he states in answer to Shirou, now that he's not being fussed over. OF course, he doesn't actually mind, for all his air of resignation. It's better to endure that than to endure the ache of her absence, as he once did. It even amuses him to a certain extent. To his perceptions she seems to enjoy fussing over him. He definitely doesn't pay the attention to himself, so...

"Erosion," he agrees. "Throw enough water into the soil, and it will begin to run away, without roots to hold it. I am less concerned over the fields beyond the walls and the hill, where the farming will be, since Lady Stadler has agreed to help us with sowing life back into those dead plains. But if there are problems with the hill itself, we will need to begin shoring up the slopes. I should not like to wake one morning to find half the village buried in mud."

He considers, before shrugging faintly. "Most likely he could. Sir Gawain was never one to refuse food of any kind. That would have been an insult, to him."

Bedivere soon falls silent, though, the better for Arturia to steer the conversation. He bows his head slightly as he moves to pour his tea; a gesture of acquesce to her. /This is your tale to tell him./ And then, as he glances back to her from the corner of an eye: /Would you like some, as well...?/

Saber (346) has posed:
     As muted as her expressions were, it would not take much to observe that Arturia was rather amused. "It is our duty as hosts to honour guests," she explained. "The kingdoms throughout Albion observe old laws of hospitality. To act in any way not befitting a proper host would be to dishonour ourselves, disregarding both Brehon Law and the code of chivalry."

     The knight-king tilted her head just slightly. "However, it would seem you know something of chivalry, if you adhere to the virtues of Exercitium, Militia, Pietas, and Ingenuitas." Perhaps Bedivere had been drilling the proper Virtues into the young man's head along with sword techniques; she would have to observe one of their training sessions sometime.

     In the meantime, Bedivere had his own trial to endure in the form of his liege fussing over him. But it was mercifully brief, seating herself once her task had been completed to her satisfaction. The price of one's duty, it would seem...but perhaps, not an unpleasant one, regardless of how they might make it seem.

     And on the subject of her nephew...

     Oh, he could. He most certainly could. "The abilities of Saber-class Servants consume a great deal of mana," she explained. "We can procure the necessary energy not only from our Masters, but from food."

     Arturia eyed the plate then, maintaining her grace even with what would prove to be a fearsome appetite. "However, a pleasant meal is preferable to a poor one, regardless of the amount of mana being the same."

     Returning the slight nod, Arturia likewise responded in their nonverbal way before addressing the young magus. /Yes, thank you./

     "This concerns your adoptive father, Emiya Kiritsugu, and the Fourth War for the Holy Grail."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "A-a mudslide?!" Shirou gulps. That had NOT been on his mind at all, and the utterly devastated shock in his eyes is sure proof of that. "...If you need help with that don't hesitate to ask. That's... those are nasty." He has seen pictures on the news before... it isn't good at all.

    Though, despite the awful topics, he's eating and enjoying it. He needs his energy too, after all the crazy things going on recently sapping it all!

    Still, he contests lightly against Saber's explanation, "Right, but that doesn't change how much work there is to do." And he's here to do it! Sheesh. Or try to, anyways. "However, you're mistaken on that last part. We haven't delved into that yet." Although they probably will soon... "... Working hard and trying to be fair's just how I've always done things." Or in other words... he's never needed any code to adhere to, they're just coincidentally very similar.

    Though, Saber finally brings up the topic. The air around SHirou turns a bit more somber. "Hmngh. He said he'll e fighting as a Master..."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Truly," the marshal murmurs, in agreement with his knight. He shakes his head, softly. "The man who would breach Brehon Law was considered lower than a criminal. The host who breaks his word, and places his guest into willing danger, has honour and word worth less than the mud scraped from one's boot."

Indeed, he had plans to drill the chivalric virtues into Shirou's head along with swordsmanship, although he hasn't had the opportunity to just yet. After all, what value would one be without the other? He simply nods faintly in response to Arturia's musings, following her musings with little trouble -- they are alike in many ways, and it isn't hard for one to follow another's train of thought.

To her fussing, he doesn't seem to mind at all. There's even a bit of a fond smile in the wake of it, though Shirou might have to look hard to see it.

"Indeed. Such a thing was not common in the lands outlying Camelot, but it was not outside the realm of possibility. Sand is the best defense for such a thing, poured into sackcloth and piled high. If there is no sand available, gravel will also do." The knight considers as he takes a sip from his teacup. "I will let you know if I require assistance, but as of yet, it seems that the hill is safe. The villagers have also been holding regular patrols at my request. I dislike asking them to leave their homes in such weather, but if the hill gives way, they will once again not /have/ homes."

Bedivere falls silent, though, letting Arturia explain. He busies himself with preparing a second cup of tea in silence, doctoring it the way he's watched her take hers -- ever observant, the marshal is -- and mutely slides it in front of her.

That done, he returns his hands to his own cup, wrapping long fingers around the warm ceramic. Ah, that's nice.

Silence, though, is the order of the day. This isn't his conversation, or his story to tell; he's just here to lend moral support -- perhaps to both parties. It goes without saying that his presence is a balm for Arturia, but perhaps he likes to think that Shirou takes some comfort in Bedivere's stable and steady presence, too; calm, cold water to temper the red and burning iron of Shirou's more enthusiastic personality.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Saber nodded slightly. "Indeed, that is our most immediate concern. Any assistance you wish to render would be most appreciated." A bit on the formal side, perhaps, but that was simply her way.

     As was chivalry. "There are certain Virtues which come naturally, while others present more of a challenge. The code exists to unify them all, for a knight to balance his strengths and weaknesses with his fellow knights. Where one struggles with, for example, Fortitudo, it is the responsibility of his fellow knights to lift him up and lend their strength, thereby strengthening him in turn. And perhaps this knight excels in Generositas, and it would be his duty to set an exampke and encourage fellow knights in generosity in turn."

     And of course, she is more that able to explain and lecture on it; King Arthur was the one who codified it in the first place.

     She had not had the chance to speak with her marshal on the matter; Master and Servant had been too exhausted both physically and mentally for much of anything besides collapsing into bed once they returned to the keep, and had been busying themselves with work ever since. Saber had hoped to discuss the matter in private with Bedivere first, but fate appeared to have other ideas.

     She paused in her enjoyment of breakfast and folded her hand in her lap, her posture becoming even more proper, underscoring the gravity of the situation. Drawing a silent strength from her marshal as she had so many times before in Camelot, she regarded the young magus with serious jade eyes. The Servant's frown was uncharacteristically deep, furrowing her brow. "So he intends to fight, and has yet to summon his Servant..."

     This made things even more complicated.

     It took a brief moment for her to think on how exactly to reveal her knowledge to the both of them. There was no gentle way to do so, unfortunately. It would have to be not unlike ripping a bandage off.

     "The truth is that I was summoned to the Fourth War, and, on behalf of the Einzbern family, Emiya Kiritsugu was my Master."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Truthfully, Shirou's been politely not paying too much attention to the lord and lady's fussing over one another. It's not really his business, and the topic's too awkward. He does periodically steal a glance while trying not to stare... that's been going on for a while.

    "Could some kind of channels be dug to prevent water from collecting in bad places...?" He mumbles thoughtfully to himself. Though, it sounds like Bedivere knows what he's doing.

    He listens attentively through Sabers explanation of Chivalry. Yeah, it makes sense. He nods in understanding...

    But his face pales at her last statement. "...K-Kiritsugu was?!" If he wasn't a little more on the ball, he might choke on the sauage he was just munching on!

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"I am loathe to ask you, as you are already a guest of our hall, but if you wish to help I will not turn aside any aid in this." Bedivere bows his head, somber.

To have the hill erode would be disastrous. Masonry would be permanently damaged, if not outright destroyed. Homes would be swallowed. He can only hoep that the rain slows, and the weather turns less foul. The snows of winder will actually be somewhat of a blessing -- all that water will be locked.

Wait a minute. 'Our' hall?

Bedivere raises his hand, rubbing at his jaw in contemplative gesture. Channels? "Yes, that is an option," he muses. It seems he heard Shirou's mumble, even though it wasn't really meant as a general comment -- keen hearing, he has. "It would require a great deal of digging, though, for the soil is already saturated in many places... but I believe that could be done. Depending on how much rain falls, it may not be a permanent solution, but it may prevent major damage..."

"Indeed. As my king says; you have shown a number of the Eight Virtues in your behaviour, even though I am reasonably certain you know nothing of them as we know them." Bedivere smiles, just slightly. The expression seems proud. "I am glad for that, that such things survive in the modern era, even though they are perhaps known by different names..."

Talk turns back to the matter of Masters and Servants, though, and Bedivere contents himself to pick over his breakfast. He eats, but slowly, following the explanation in silence. At least, until she rips that proverbial bandage off.

"/What/?"

His tone isn't loud, necessarily, but there's no missing the sharp edge of disbelief it has. Bedivere stares openly at the king, eyes... not quite wide, but expression less calm than it usually is.

"/That/ man was your original Master? An /assassin/?" At least, going by Kiritsugu's armament and techniques, he can only assume that's what he is, from their initial meeting. Bedivere gapes like a fish out of water. "/How/?"

Saber (346) has posed:
     Though she refrained from comment on the issue of erosion and channels, it was apparent that Saber was nevertheless listening, perhaps even internally taking notes. The management of a particular land had traditionally been specifically the duty of the lord she appointed to it while she, as the king, managed the kingdom as a whole and co-ordinated from her position. Proper delegation of responsibilities was a crucial skill for a ruler, and if there had been one thing she had at least some confidence in, it had been her ability to assign the precisely right man for a particular job.

     Only now, she had no kingdom to govern, able to help Bedivere with his duties. However, she still entrusted the management to him...and he was starting to grow into the role, as she knew he would.

     "Quite so," she agreed with a slightly wider smile than her occasional faint one. "I had often feared that chivalry would be forgotten, after..." She nearly said /after Britain fell/, but that old wound would be one which would always pain her in some way. "...After so many years. Yet, I have met many knights from other worlds, and many people who continue to uphold the Virtues in their own ways, in their own codes...even if they know them by different names, if at all."

     The proud King Arthur which even the King of Conquerors and the King of Heroes combined could not break. However close they had come, they had nevertheless failed to break her pride and her spirit.

     With her eyes closed and her posture proper, she might very well have reminded Bedivere of his days serving as the Left Hand of the King, and perhaps painted a picture for Shirou of where the fairytales of benevolent kings came from. For the moment, however, she was inwardly troubled, not only at the revelation of Kiritsugu as her Master -- as he was now, the cold and efficient magus killer -- but what the farther-reaching implications were. The multiverse, in spite of being her salvation, was a nonetheless chaotic and inconsistent place. What would happen were he to attempt to summon Saber....summon /her/?

     "Yes. We did not fight alongside one another -- most often, he and Maiya -- the woman you saw with him that night -- would co-ordinate attacks on enemy Masters while Irisviel accompanied me as a decoy Master. It was she I worked most closely with."

     At least, until the end. Arturia had watched her slowly consumed by the will of the Holy Grail, forced to simply keep fighting to realise their strangely similar wishes. It had never been Kiritsugu's goals which had offended the King of Knights...at least, when Irisviel had revealed them. Truly, he had been the Master most worthy of the Grail. Pity his methods were so offensive.

     But now came the more difficult part, at least, what would be for Shirou. "In the end, the final two Servants remaining were myself and Archer. However, Kiritsugu had discovered that the Holy Grail was irreparably tainted, though he did not inform me of this. Instead, he used his remaining command seals to order me to destroy the Holy Grail."

     She paused to take a sip of her tea, and Bedivere would note that it was deliberately to steady her nerves. This is the part that would hurt Shirou the most, she suspected. "The result of its destruction was the Great Fire of Fuyuki City."

     The very one which had nearly claimed Shirou's life.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    In the face of all this, Shirou's own virtuous nature is not worth talkin about. Not that he'd praise it anyways. That's no way to act, after all. He'd rather not talk about it and just be himself.

    Butt compared to this new topic, maybe bringing up the Chivalry matter would be far more pleasant.

    Saber's words invoke an immediate and awful reaction in the red-haired magus. All strength leaves him and he lurches forward, barely catching himself on the table with his hands rather than faceplant into his syrupy, half-eaten pancake. The eaten half wants to evacuate his gut, but he chokes down on that urge with all his might. Shirou's whole body is trembling even as his mind races wildly to process it all.

Yet he gathers his strength and forces himself to sit upright properly again.

    "Ki...." The boy can hardly speak. He focuses hard, gathers his breath... "...Kiritsugu... caused the fire...?"

    In his mind's eye, he can just see the smiling face. The man who looked so overjoyed to find someone he could save... yes, from the fire he had inadvertently created.

    Shirou's breath has gotten harsh and ragged, without his notice...

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Though he can sense the undercurrent of troubled thoughts, the king's obvious pride inspires her knight to sit straighter in his chair. For a brief instant, he is once more the Left Hand of the King, the calm and stoic man whose very dependability and loyalty had helped hold king and kingdom together. The legends had forgotten the extent of his service as her capable military leader and the charitable extension of her will, obfuscated by layers of misdirection, but it had remembered his loyalty. He was her first knight and her last knight.

Even Bedivere finds himself sitting a little straighter in his chair, practically radiating that placid calm, and maybe a little pride, too... but it fades. He can sense she's troubled. This time, she thinks about things he doesn't know about -- rare enough it may be, though -- and for once he can't anticipate what she's thinking.

He bows his head over his teacup, watching the dark liquid swirl as he lifts it. His attention is wholly on her words, though, eyes somewhat unfocused. He might be looking at the teacup, but he's not actually seeing it.

/A decoy. He would stoop to such dishonourable tactics, and endanger the life of this Lady Irisviel./ His expression twists. /Disgusting, but not unexpected, after seeing such methods as he used in the village. An assassin without morals or conscience./

His eyes lift in time to see her take a sip of tea, with a deliberation that tells him she's steeling herself.

This great fire she speaks of must be something important, but he's not familiar with Fuyuki City in the least, not beyond the context of having stayed in one that had been well beyond its Grail War... but that had been only a place to sleep, and not somewhere he had stayed often.

As Shirou lurches forward, Bedivere is on his feet and at the boy's side, reaching out to help him stay balanced with steady hands. "Easy, lad," he murmurs, in his most soothing voice. "Easy. Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly."

Saber (346) has posed:
     Would that she could continue to speak of chivalry. Even if it was not a part of her very being and something she would always speak with passion about, the following subject was wholly unpleasant.

     A part of her had hoped that Shirou could remain ignorant of the terrible events of the Fourth Holy Grail War. In fact, if it had been possible to keep him in the proverbial dark about the entire Grail War itself, she would have gladly done so. Many magi were reprehensible human beings, and though she would always keep Irisviel, Sakura, Rin, and Shirou -- both versions of them -- close to her heart, and the fact that Rider's Master seemed innocent enough, the truth was that many deserved far worse than the relatively quick deaths Kiritsugu dealt them. They knew nothing of chivalry or even what she would call honour, and few gave a second thought to the lives of normal human beings around them. The worst of the lot even cost them, as the Union allies had witnessed in that terror-struck town.

     But the multiverse could be as cruel as it was kind, and the appearance of her former Master -- rather, the Master-to-be of her past self or perhaps even another incarnation of the King of Knights -- had rendered that impossible. As such, she had an obligation to inform the younger Emiya of what had transpired.

     It was more for Shirou's sake, what she said next, than to improve Kiritsugu's image. And she was not the type to drive wedges between people, no matter her lingering resentment towards her former Master.

     She waited for Shirou to calm before she continued. At least, the worst of it was over. "In fairness, he had no way of knowing that such a thing would happen. He knew that the Grail must be destroyed; if it was permitted to exist, or worse, if a wish was made using it, the results would have been far more disastrous. The world itself was threatened once it had manifested."

     Perhaps her former Master might have found it unbelievable, but the only cause for her lingering resentment was the lack of trust between them. He had not needed to order her to destroy the Holy Grail, she would have done so had he only trusted her. Had she not sworn her sword to him, placed her trust and her loyalty in his wish, so similar to her own? He fought for the same utopia she had. He had indeed summoned the Servant who would either win the grail for that wish or disappear trying.

     Not that Kiritsugu had really had much of an opportunity, she admitted with some lingering bitterness. She had already been entangled in her final battle against Archer. But there was something else. Another vital thing she needed to say.

     "But regardless of his actions, it does not excuse my own. Though he had used his command seals to order me to destroy it, the fact remains that I am as responsible for the destruction as he." It did not matter to her that her body had acted on Kiritsugu's will rather than hers; Arturia was nevertheless responsible in her eyes.

     The Servant bowed her head, in a gesture of repentance. "Please, forgive me. However, if you cannot, I understand."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "Th-thanks." Shirou gets out, grateful for Bedivere's support. He's quick to get his composure back and try to listen, but there's now a haunted quality to his gaze when he lets go of the knight marshal.

    Yes, he focuses hard on listening. This isn't a story he can ignore.

    "..." He has to focus on breathing for a good minute. Throughout it all, his expression changes several times, and eyes close for lengthy periods as he remembers back to that awful fire.

    Finally, though... "...If the results would've been the whole world suffering that hell, or just Fuyuki Central.... I can't fault that choice on his part, whether he knew it or not. .... And I can't fault you either. There's..." This is very hard for him to say, his voice chokes up, but he barely keeps his composure. "...Saber, there's nothing for me to forgive."

    With those words out of his mouth, the boy feels much better. As though some great weight has left his shoulders, he exhales out in a long, pained sigh. He's still shaky, despite everything he's trying to the contrary, but can it be helped...?

    "...That fire was like hell on earth. I remember being forced out of the house, and when I looked back it wasn't there anymore. Countless people were screaming and crying. The air was hot and choking... fire and suffering, everywhere I looked. No way out... I just collapsed. Waited for the end. Then he was kneeling over me, crying in that hell. He looked so happy, so incredibly relieved to find someone still alive... almost like by saving me, he'd saved himself." Shirou lets these words echo across the table for a few moments before continuing.

    "So he adopted me, and raised me in his house in north MIyama. A really big mansion. But he never told me much about his past. He didn't even want to teach me any magic, but I guess he gave in when I kept bugging him." Shirou 'hehs.'

    "...Often, he'd go off overseas somewhere for weeks at a time, and come back in a foul mood that lasted days. ... we lived together for about five years, and until now I never knew anything of who he really was."

    The boy inhales, having forsaken his meal for now. "... Yeah. He died five years ago from my reference. On a warm night, we were talking about his ideals. He'd always told me, if he could be anything, he wanted to be a superhero. Someone who could save anyone, even those who were beyond saving. But the older he got, the less he could call himself that seriously."

    Shirou starts looking a little bit embarassed. He'd normally not be talking about this... it's extremely embarassing. It's hard for him to talk about it too!

    "'Then it can't be helped, old man. If you're too old, then I'll make your dream come true instead.' I said..." He draws his arms in, shoulders scrunching. "'I see. That's good to hear,' he answered. ...it's the last words I ever heard from him. He was still sitting down and hadn't moved, but..." He died there, huh?

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The knight stays braced over Shirou, ready to help the boy if he needs it. Frankly, he looks ill, and it's clear that this matter is one of great importance to him. That was a violent reaction even by the usual standards of Shirou's enthusiasm. It's enough to genuinely worry the knight.

Almost reluctantly he lets go of Shirou. While he's still concerned that the boy may fall, part of helping means trusting others to their own strength, and so he backs away and resumes his own seat. His gaze slides to Arturia just in time for her heartfelt confession.

Does she take responsibility for that, too? Something she never could have foreseen, even if she was in her Master's confidence? Bedivere finds himself frowning at her guilt.

Hasn't she suffered enough?

She might find that he's reached beneath the table to take one of her hands, a silent gesture of support, but his eyes slide back to Shirou.

Is he lying about his forgiveness? He seems to struggle just to say the words. Even if he does, though, now isn't the time to chide him, but it's an interesting detail to make note of. He seems geunine in that assertion, though...

There's no commentary from him, though, silent and stony-faced as he listens to the report, rapt.

A hero...

Was that not what knights were to the downtrodden and the forsaken? Yet this man, this false ideal that he had passed on to the boy he had adopted, could not be heroic when he had achieved his goals through such shameful methods. The knight's expression remains stony. He isn't sure what to think. Yet this boy seems to disdain the methods that had stained Kiritsugu's otherwise noble goals...

In fact, he doesn't seem to have anything to say about any of this, silent to the point where the others might be a little concerned; deep in thought to go by the faint furrow of his pale brow.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Once more, she found herself thankful for Bedivere's presence and silent support...not to mention his figurative and literal support of Shirou. She did not have that right, really, not after being one of the causes of the fire which had robbed him of his home and family and would have killed him had it not been for Kiritsugu's intervention. Not to mention that she had learned from Shirou himself what had saved him, in the end.

     And she could not fault Kiritsugu for that, either.

     The older Shirou, the version of himself who had lived through the Fifth War she would never see, had forgiven her hand it it...at least, he had forgiven the Saber who had been his Servant, who had given up her wish at the War's conclusion and returned to her own time. She knew only a little of Rin's sweetheart, on friendly terms though it was not the same as when he and the other version of her had fought at each other's side to end the War. She did, however, know that he was a good and honourable person. If this younger self was anything like him at all, forgiveness was simply in his nature, just as the unnamed chivalry was. And yet...

     She needed to ask it of him, for her own sake as well as his. What glimpse she had caught of that fire just before she disappeared and then strangely ended up in the multiverse as a result would have been enough to scar anyone's psyche. Not unlike the fires of Camlann which still haunted the dreams of both king and marshal, from time to time.

     She nodded slightly at the talk of ideals. "Kiritsugu spoke truly. His wish was the same as my wish for my kingdom; to end all war and suffering. Our ideals coincided perfectly, if not our methods."

     She frowned slightly; she would never agree to his way of doing things. But she did understand Shirou a little better now; the older him had rarely spoken of him, perhaps already having poured his heart out to the Saber he had known.

     She became aware of the hand over hers, even as her eyes likewise remained on the red-haired magus. Some small part of her irrationally feared that working with the magus killer might have lowered her in his eyes. But had he not said that nothing would, not even her hand in the destruction of Annu? That was something far more deserving of scorn. Yet, he remained her loyal knight and her lord. In response, she squeezed his hand lightly. /Thank you,/ she implied simply, but no less heartfelt for the lack of eloquence.

     "I see," she replied as Shirou spoke of his wish to become a hero of justice. "Yes, I could imagine that he needed to atone, and in rescuing you and raising you, he had begun to do so, and perhaps pass on those ideals. It may be that your wish saved him."

     She remained silent for a while, allowing him some time to absorb it all before she moved on to something not as heart-wrenching but no less important. "There is more that I must tell you, however."

     Lifting her hand to her chin and clasping it between her fingers in a gesture of thought, she appeared to study the young man for a long moment, perhaps making him uncomfortable with her scrutiny. "I must ask you; have you noticed any unusual healing abilities you might have? Wounds that should require days to mend, yet disappear within a day?"

     The silver-haired knight might guess at where she might be going with her line of questioning...but that was surely impossible, wasn't it?

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    There were many questions Shirou might imagine Saber asking him, in circumstances like this. That wasn't one of them.

    "Huah?!" The youth blurts, gaping a bit... but he quickly clamps his mouth shut. "ever since dropping in here." Dropping being almost literal, indeed. He toppled off the roof! What kind of first meeting was that?

    "It's almost like my body's not my own... it's some strange property of this place, I thought. Then Sir Bedivere said he's not enjoying anything of the sort. I can't explain where it's coming from, so I don't like relying on it."

    Why, though, did Saber somehow know of it..?

    He peers quizzically at her, then glances at Bedivere once...

    "... to think Kiritsugu uses Assassin tactics... fighting dirty to bring down that monstrous magus, well, I can't fault that too much. But that style's the last thing I'd imagine from someone who wants to save everyone." His expression turns a bit disgruntled.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
There are times where silence and restraint are the best thing to be done, and the knight is fairly certain this is one of those times. His instincts have rarely led him wrong. He relied on them to chart the dangerous political waters of Camelot, and they've helped him in less dangerous but equally important situations such as this. It would be better if he refrained from interrupting either his king or the red-headed magus.

So... the man, the assassin they had met with in that village, was completely morally bankrupt. Yet his goals were nonetheless noble? No matter his goals, such methods are in opposition to everything the chivalric codes stand for. How could Bedivere condone such a thing?

His fingers lace with hers in silent support, thumb absently caressing the back of her hand. /Do not blame yourself. It was beyond your control. You could not have known of it./ Especially not with a working relationship like that with a Master. Kiritsugu's command seal must have been very plain, he decides, considering that some seem to believe his are unusually intricate. /And do not fear. Did I not tell you that you could never dishonour yourself before me?/ There might be the faintest ghost of a smile to accompany that, but it fades quickly, expression somber once more.

As before, though, he remains silent when talk turns to Avalon, the Ever-Distant Utopia, the scabbard that granted her such astonishing powers of healing. Perhaps she might sense that he's suddenly paying incredibly sharp attention to the conversation, though, more even than he had been.

When Shirou points out that he doesn't have any kind of benefit to his healing, Bedivere's expression turns very bland.

He's been scolded enough by Arturia to know that, yep.

The red-headed boy looks to him, and Bedivere returns that gaze calmly.

"I would not think too deeply on it," he finally says, voice soft. "In any case, there is little to be done about it. This is a different man than the one you remember."

Saber (346) has posed:
     On the subject of Kiritsugu's tactics, all three would invariably be in agreement. "Nobility of goals aside, I was frequently at odds with him over them. I personally felt that he should have been by Irisviel's side, though I understand the necessity of his tactics."

     And he had been, she was forced to admit, every bit the tactician as her marshal, though without Bedivere's rigid morality. It would have been entirely possible for the knight to have become a similar conflicted person of lofty goals and amoral means.

     No, and she thanked God that chivalry had guarded the gentle soul of the Left Hand of the King. His stoicism had been merely armour to protect himself and his king. But beneath that, the gentle soul equally repulsed by that amorality remained. And she was thankful for it, even smiling back faintly.

     The magus's confusion was understandable. But it did indeed confirm her suspicions. "No, it is nothing which originates from this land," she explained. "But this demands some exposition."

     It might pain him to learn that even after the massive amount of deaths, the Grail had not been completely destroyed even after the full power of Excalibur had been released upon it. "Tragically, the Grail was not fully destroyed. There was a final War ten years later, though I have no recollection of it, as my own part ended at the conclusion of the Fourth War."

     And this is where things were about to get strange. "Elsewhere, there have been other Wars, some of which are occurring even now...Sixth, Seventh, or wholly different Fourth Wars of which we were never participants. But the conclusion I know anything of would be the Fifth War, in which I personally did not participate. Yet, I would have had my own reality not Unified when it had."

     Saber once more lifted her teacup to her lips, only now it was not to steady her nerves. This time, it was to give her a moment to figure out just how exactly she was going to explain alternate realities and timelines...especially when the Servant really didn't understand it all, herself.

     "I only know of the Fifth War from what you have told me."

     Hold up, did she just say /him/?

     "Through some strangeness of the multiverse, it is possible to encounter the same person, but from different points in time, or from points which have diverged noticeably. For example, it would be possible to encounter an older version of yourself, one who had become a Master in the Fifth War."

     And finally for the final shock. "As it happened, the elder you summoned me as your Servant. You managed that because Kiritsugu had, upon finding you, implanted you with the artefect he had used to summon me. It is Avalon, the scabbard of Excalibur, which grants powerful healing to he who is in possession of it."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Things are getting strange indeed, alright. Shirou's eyes can't really get much wider. Nor his face much paler. "From me?!" Yeah, there's only one way that could make sense... and Saber just explained it.

    Consternation settles in over Shirou's face. This, atop of everything Kiritsugu's revealed, is enough to make him dizzy and ill in a few ways.

    But he could never feel that way over the idea of trying to help Saber, that much is certain.

    He's taking this news the best way he can... quietly. A few lessons from Bedivere were picked perhaps, that hadn't bee taught. Or maybe he's just that stumped at this news.

    "...Excalibur's...sheath." Echoes Shirou, almost reverently. "... sorry, my head's whirling..." And indeed, it is. He flumps forward again, holding it in his hands, elbows rudely on the table.

    "... Ten years... if that matches up, this fifth Grail war might be just months away...!"

    And oh, he just recently learned that the name Matou is no coincidence. Meaning Sakura might get caught up in this mess. Uuuuuuuuuugh.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The knight can't help but be repulsed by methods like that. They stand in stark contrast to everything he's ever fought for in his life. It would be the chivalrous thing to do, to forgive the man in spite of it, but such tactics are better suited to an assassin. A coward. Furthermore, he had dismissed Arturia out of hand, insulting her to her face.

Few things enrage him quite like insulting the honour of his beloved king.

Still, he listens in silence to her explanation of the way things work. His expression reveals nothing, neutral as it's been since the start, but his hand never leaves hers beneath the table. He knows that speaking of that terrible tragedy is as much a burden to her as it is for Shirou to have to relive it.

His eyes narrow just slightly, though, at the mention of Avalon... and he frowns at the tale of how it came into this boy's possession.

As for the rest, it doesn't seem to come as much of a shock as it could. After all, he had known she had been in the multiverse for some five years; approximately the same time he had been wandering, lost in the weald, his world having Unified without his knowledge -- and he having lost his way completely, leaving the ruins of Camelot and the horrors of Camlann countless leagues behind.

But... how in the /hell/ did Kiritsugu come by that scabbard in the first place? He has to wonder, considering it had been lost even to the king. Such a thing might have prevented the grievous tragedy at Camlann, or at least given them a point from which they might have survived and rebuilt Camelot... if that loss hadn't crushed their spirits, anyway.

Who knows? Perhaps if she had survived, their situations might have been reversed, and she would have had to endure Bedivere being the one struck down. Yet for all that... Bedivere couldn't wish that pain and loss on anyone; not even the one who had caused it.

"Excalibur's scabbard," he confirms quietly. His own voice is almost a tone of wonder. "That explains your healing. I had wondered... you had been struck down, many times, with wounds that should have killed you. Now I understand. I had not even considered... of course, how could I?"

"But take heart. Already the timeline has been changed," he observes softly, to Shirou. "Your world has Unified. Perhaps it may be that your War of the Holy Grail will not even happen. Were you not intended to be one of the Masters, if I am listening to this tale correctly? Yet now you are absent. And that is, indeed, if this was fated to happen at all. After all, yours is a different world, just as ours is different from yours. If I lived in your world, the Bedivere there would not have been the same as me. And your King Arthur would not have been Arturia," he points out.

Oh. Hey. He said her name, without titles.

"M-my king, that is," he corrects himself hastily, flushing and dropping his gaze away. She'd indicated to him it was alright to call her such, since she wasn't really a king any more... but it still feels awkward and presumptuous. "I-in any case," he continues, "they are different worlds. Just because this Fifth War happened in another world... that does not mean that it will in yours." He cants his head slightly to one side, regarding Shirou seriously. "Does that make sense?" he adds, not unkindly.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Now that the big revelations have at last concluded, Saber relaxed slightly. Though only enough for Bedivere to notice; to him, she might as well have been slumping in her chair.

     The boy was strong. She could appreciate that; for all his own gentleness of spirit and overeagerness, he was nevertheless able to weather the storm. What Kiritsugu had doubtless thrown at him and all of her own revelations, it would have been enough to drive anyone mad. Perhaps she had revealed too much too soon, but with a potential Fourth War upon them, and now the red-haired magus musing that the Fifth War might be close at hand, time was not a luxury any of them had.

     And then there was the matter of the Chicago War, whatever War Jeanne and Mordred were a part of, the War in which Saber of Silver and her Master were the sole participants who had not mysteriously disappeared, and then the Rider of Blue and Sieg...it was enough to give even a Servant of Saber's calibre a headache.

     "It is a great deal to take in, I will admit," Arturia replied with a bit of sheepishness. "I regret that I have burdened you with so much all at once. But we have all been thrust into this situation not of our choosing, and we must prepare quickly."

     The flaxen-haired knight toyed with her now empty cup with a languid gesture. "For my part, I have no interest in any of these Wars, not my own should I be thrust into it once more. Even if, by some miracle, the Grail is not tainted, I do not believe that it is worth the risks involved."

     But then, Bedivere pointed out something she had not considered. Already, the timelines have changed completely. With Unification, it seemed that the next War would not happen in her reality, so perhaps the Fifth of Shirou's would never happen. It might very well be that Kiritsugu would be unable to summon her, or whatever alternate version of her existed. "Hm. Yes...that is correct. Nothing, it would seem, is 'written in stone', as it were. Perhaps your War will not come to pass."

     Her gaze once more turned serious, however. "Nevertheless, I do recommend that you continue with your training, though I believe that you would, regardless." He did have that Exercitium spirit, after all. "If not for the War, than for what we as knights are tasked with: to defend the people, and to bring succour to those in need." She might very well be dragging the poor boy along with them on their shelter runs during the holiday seasons. She doubted he would object; they'd make a proper knight out of him yet.

     But all her seriousness was sent straight out the proverbial window to hear Bedivere call her by her name. A very unkingly, unknightly blush dusted her cheeks then, and even as he stammered out an apology, her sea-green eyes suddenly found the grain of the table's wood utterly /fascinating/. "B-be that as it may..." she stammered out at last, "...the future is yet indeterminate, regardless of Kiritsugu's Unification or my own. The future is yours to determine."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    "...Y-yeah. I get it. ...but there's too many things lining up to assume anything." Shirou finally gets out, exhaling. His composure's returning. But he's biting his tongue on the many irritated barbs that are bubbling up about various topics right now, as always.

    Despite everything Saber has to say though, his words are comparatively few. "...I don't know how I'd do this without thinking, but if you're right... then shouldn't I give back this scabbard? I'm not the one it was meant to protect." Though he's not arguin about that protection - it's saved him, after all.

    He sighs, a moment later, as if relieved. And gazes down at his plate. "Of course I would. I made this promise. Kiritsugu being an assassin doesn't change my goals." Embarassing as they are, yet speaking of them to a knight is giving much different results.

    "Saber... I can't ask much of anything, but maybe you should tell him about what happened. I'm not blaming either of you for that fire... but if anything can be done to prevent it or something like it..." He frowns. Fiercely, even. "... Seven MAsters killing each other over a tainted wish... it's like some kind of sick joke... I'm glad you're here with Sir Bedivere doingg this. Helping these people has some meaning."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
By its very nature, the multiverse seems to be an agent of chaos. It's not necessarily in the traditional sense, conjuring images of destructive anarchy, but simply as an agent of change. The normal rules of worlds drawn into the multiverse seem to fly right off the rails, for whatever their destiny might have been. And how couldn't they? It introduces things that could never be foreseen or even imagined.

"Nor do I." Bedivere lifts his own hand, baring the intricate knotwork of his own command seals, seemingly in agreement with Arturia. "I am a Master, but it is not by my choosing. Were it my choice, I would not have accepted, but it was the least damaging to her former Master, who was also a dear friend of my king's. It would not have been right to subject her former Master to the potentiality of a renewed War of the Holy Grail simply because a Servant from elsewhere in the multiverse decided that any Servant of any War would make for a convenient target."

He looks away, as though troubled. "Furthermore, we decided it was better to have her Master close at hand. Someone she trusts, and who understands chivalry as well as her previous Master..." For as much as he might fuss about the title, it's an honour to have been given such a fragile gift. He holds her very existence in that marked left hand, and the gravity of the situation doesn't escape him.

Neither does the gravity of Shirou's goals escape him. While a person from the modern era might laugh, the fact of the matter is that the description is easily that of a knight and his vows -- to protect and to serve the people, rather than have the people serve them. To be the shield for those who can't defend themselves. Is there that much of a difference in those two things...?

"To aid others is all the meaning we need." He looks to Shirou, calm. "Participating in a 'war' like that... it isn't what we knights were meant to do." He looks away, briefly closing his eyes. "And that is another reason why I am grateful. I am now in a position to see that she is never misused so, and her honour sullied so, ever again."

He smiles, then, the expression faint, and a little melancholy. "Master Shirou. I had my doubts about you, at first. I do not pretend that my standards are not unreasonably high, at times, and something that most cannot hope to live up to." That smile broadens, just a little. It's a subtle expression, but on anybody else, it might otherwise be an ear-to-ear grin. "I think you would have made a fine knight."

Saber (346) has posed:
     It might have been to the surprise of both men, but Saber shook her head, refusing the offer. "No. I am a Servant now. I have less of a need of it than you do. I believe that, with you, it is accomplishing the most good."

     And she meant it. It would be a great boon to have Avalon again in her possession, but the young magus was still learning, and was far more vulnerable. No, she was reassured that it was in deserving hands.

     On Shirou's observation that perhaps she should tell him of what was to come, Arturia did not stifle her soft sigh. "I had considered that, but as you have seen, he considers Servants to be mere tools. No matter what I say, he would disregard it, and continue along his path until it cumulated in the Great Fire." As dissonant as the two were, it was clear that she did very well understand how the assassin thought. She did, however, gaze intently at the young magus. "But it would seem you have gained some measure of his trust. Perhaps if we were to approach him together..."

     As useless as it might be, if there was some slim chance to avoid that tragedy, it was worth pursuing. A sidelong glance to her marshal would likely tell her that he would feel the same. As she had said not moments before, it was their duty as knights.

     Once more, she felt utterly blessed for their reunion. With a slight nod, she agreed. "Sakura is a formidable magus, and one whom I was honoured to call Master. But I do not wish for her to become embroiled in these affairs, not after all she has endured. No. She has her own path, and I would see her free from these troubles."

     It had been a bittersweet thing, the dissolution of their contract and the formation of the new one with Bedivere. But while the younger Tohsaka had been saddened to release that bond with the Servant who had become her friend, there had been an inexplicable joy; Sakura had been positively giddy over Bedivere's arrival. Only recently had Arturia figured out exactly /why/ that had been.

     Saber's smile had become one that would otherwise have seemed out of sorts for the Once and Future King. Her fingers entwined once more through his, unspoken gratitude and much more in the gesture.

     At the violet-eyed knight's assessment, Arturia nodded, smiling in what was, for her, a similar ear-to-ear grin, undeniably radiant. "Aye," she agreed. "Among the Knights of the Round Table, we all shared a dream: to be an example to the downtrodden, to be the hand which saves them in their time of need. That is what it means to be a hero, and what it means to be a knight."

     The little king straightened once more, the smile never leaving her face as she decided to reveal something of her new dream. "Camelot can never be rebuilt...but I wish for something better. It is my hope to create something of our dream here, in Dun Realtai. A new Round Table, as it were, and the Knights sworn to it tasked with the salvation of the people, and to act as paragons of the Eight Virtues of Chivalry. And I believe that you, Emiya Shirou, could be one such knight, one day."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Seeing Saber smiling so happily is enough to clear up all of Shirou's doubts and frustrations, at least briefly. It brings a similar one to his face for whatever dumb reason, some might say... but it does. Briefly, though.

    Though it breaks quickly. Wait, what, he's supposed to keep such a valuable treasure? Shirou blinks bewilderedly at Saber, but can't see any opening to disagree in her demeanor. Well, he lost that argument... he'll have to make his deeds worthy of the king's treasure, won't he? After all, she's now saved him, as well, several times.

    The talk of maybe being a knight has him boggling for a few blinks. "A-a knight?" They want him to maybe one day be a Knight of a new round table? Is he hearing this right? "S-some day is right. I'm not ready for something like that..." But the idea's burrowing into him. It's a kind of way to fulfill his goal. A knight and a hero are very similar, differing mostly in title, in some ways.

    He imagines himself looking i the window and seeing plate armor... and his expression briefly sours. Never mind that, though.

    "H-hold on a moment... Sakura? .... Uhm.... thre are just too many coincidences, I'm not buying this anymore... when you say Sakura..." Don't say it. His gut's warning him. Don't broach this can of worms. DON'T.

    ... But if the 5th WAr is coming, he needs to prepare.

    "...M-...Matou Sakura?"

    How many times have people mentioned the name Matou now, after all?

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
It comes as a surprise that Saber would deny the scabbard she had lost for so long, particularly now that she's found it again, and in the most unlikely of places. Bedivere's brows arch at the denial, although the reasoning doesn't seem to be that surprising. Where better to let it be than in the hands of this heroic lad, still learning how to properly express his desire to be a hero, a saviour of the people...?

The reasoning isn't so surprising, in that manner. It's the properly chivalrous response, and he can't help a small, soft smile at it. His fingers tighten momentarily over hers. /A worthy gesture, my lady./ If there were any worthy of carrying that relic, it's this young magus, so close to their own ideals... especially with as much as he throws himself into trouble.

Knowing that the chivalry Camelot had established had survived, even in this nameless form, is an encouragement.

To the matter of Kiritsugu, he remains silent. He doesn't know the magus-killer very well, except of what he's seen and heard; that was enough to sour his opinion of the man. It doesn't help that both men are tacticians to their core, unable or unwilling to rely on brute force to solve their problems, although one of them has honour and one of them doesn't. That similarity is only cause for more disgust.

"I am also willing to be there, if you should require a meeting with him." Even so, Bedivere hides his disdain well. For Shirou's sake, if nothing else. The man was like a father to him, even if in another life and another world. "I am sorry to say it, but if that meeting should take place here, I should not like to trust him to walk these grounds unsupervised."

He wonders, briefly, if Kepas could actually be trusted to guard. The creature is utterly puppyish in every way, but it /is/ closely tied to this land. Would it truly act in Dun Realtai's defense if it felt something were a threat to the land or the people...? Hmm. It's certainly worth considering.

His eyes snap back to focus, flicking to Arturia when she reveals their new goal, and then lower to the table.

"Aye," hemanages, softly. "We would create the best of what was fallen. It would serve as a beacon of hope in this new world, to the people who have need of protection."

"Know this." Bedivere's voice is soft when he settles his gaze on Shirou again, softer than usual. "For twenty years, I served my king, and refused to accept any responsibilities that would compromise my ability to come to her defense. I took no lands. I bore no heraldic arms. And I took no squire."

He lifts his chin, violet eyes solemn. "I had many beg me to take them into my service, for as Marshal of the Realm, it would have been an illustrious position that would have afforded much honour to the one whom I chose. But I never dared allow myself the responsibility for their lives, for Camelot was a hard realm, and our times were dark times, for all that we sought to change them. I could make no such guarantee."

"I can make no such guarantee now. But I can offer you instruction. I can teach you what a knight is required to learn. I realise now that you will use them in every aspect of your life, as they are meant to be used, for a knight does not practise the Eight Virtues selectively." He closes his eyes, momentarily. "I know now that you will do honour to those teachings."

"Emiya Shirou. If you accept it, if it is something you would strive to achieve... I would formally have you as my squire." His head bows, slightly. "If you do not wish for that, however, I will think no less of you. The choice is yours."

He must have made quite an impression on Bedivere. For as long as she's known him, his unexpected offer may well stun Arturia... at least a little.

Sakura? Well. He's familiar with the young lady, but that's not his question to answer, either; instead, he's content to wait for an answer of his own.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Arturia's smile never wavered. "Of course...it requires several years for one to become a full-fledged knight. The training is rigorous, and many are unable to complete it. And even then, to be a knight is a responsibility, not a privilege. Some may think it prestigious, but the only prestige is in becoming a shield and sword for those who cannot defend themselves. For indeed, that is what it means to be a knight."

     The King of Knights was very much stunned at Bedivere's offer, and nakedly so. There was no hiding her openly astonished expression. Just as he said, the marshal had never taken a squire, fearing that he would be unable to properly protect a young man in his service, and it would personally tear at him to witness a squire being cut down in the heat of battle. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Avalon would protect him so long as he was in the king's presence, or perhaps the sheer earnestness and commitment to his dream had swayed him, but whatever the reason, it was previously unheard of.

     She remained silent, allowing the young man to make his own choice. Nevertheless, her demeanour hinted that this was indeed a great honour, that he had impressed knight and king to such a degree.

     On the subject of Sakura, however, her expression softened with a faint bittersweet note. "Yes. Matou Sakura, though she was born to the Tohsaka family. The Sakura who was my previous Master has since rejoined the Tohsaka family, alongside Rin." That revelation might also come as a shock: Rin and Sakura were sisters?

     The Servant's expression darkened. "The Matous are a dangerous, insidious lot. I know little of them other than the horrors Sakura has described to me, though the Master of the Fourth War summoned someone who is quite dear to me, though his mind was clouded with Madness." And Bedivere would know the man of whom she spoke, her own Right Hand, Lancelot. The Berserker of the Fourth Heaven's Feel.

     But for the moment, she was focused entirely on the family which had brought her friend terrible pain. "Should you encounter the Sakura from your own reality, I would ask that you protect her. Though I do not know her as I do my previous Master, I trust that she is the same kind, gentle soul. She has power, but she nevertheless ha need of a knight to save and protect her."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    If any more bombs were dropped tonight, Dun realtai would be a smoking crater. As it is, Shirou's brain is reaching that point. She did mean Matou Sakura... and RIN is her sister?! WHAT?

    Shirou clamps down ard on this one, mentally. He's just not prepared to think about it. How... is he going to manage when he finally finds Sakura again...? How? Is she hiding something from him...? Should he worry, if she is, since she seems happy enough?

    Ugh.

    If Saber's right, Sakura might be in a nasty bind.. how's he supposed to save people from trouble when he can't even see it? This is utterly unfair.

    And some of this is visible right on his face as he ponders what's being said. He ends up sighing. "You don't have to ask me that. Sakura's like family to me already. I'll figure out what's happening if I can find home." Then answers Bedivere,

    "... Sir Bedivere, you know by now that honor and positions don't excite me at all. If you're offering me training then to me it's from a friend and ally... yeah, I have a lot of respect of knights, but it's not the same for someone who wasn't living under their protection. It's not some great mark of prestige to me the way it would be anyone else aspiring for it."

    He's apparently smart enough to think about how things would've been for tehse others Bedivere's mentioning.

    He really doesn't take any pride in what he does the way the knights do, not right now. But he still does it without complaint, without prodding, and without any apparent rewards offered or expected.

    Freaky.

    "... But I can't do this alone. And I owe Saber for this unexpected gift... no, my life was saved by her as much as it was Kiritsugu. I'll listen to any training you have for me. If Dun Realtai needs a knight and you think I can handle it, then why would I refuse? Except." Inhale, exhale.

    "Home's still out there, and the Grail War might be too. Would that really work? I have too many obligations."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Indeed." Bedivere fixes those violet eyes on Shirou, solemn. "It takes many years to complete one's training, although the exact amount varies. It depends on how quickly one learns, and how well they take to heart those lessons. When I was a knight-aspirant in the court of the king, there were many fellow aspirants who chose to leave the court and return home. Many, I think, did not expect their training to be so arduous."

After he had been appointed the Marshal of the Realm, he had tightened those standards further. There would be neither laziness nor breach of chivalry among those who hoped to become Knights of the Round Table. He was considered a harsh but fair trainer in the few instances he oversaw knight-aspirants' training, his standards high but reasonable... and while all of the aspirants were each sponsored by a knight, Bedivere had never accepted any of them as his own.

For him to even consider accepting a squire is unusual, to say the least. He chuckles quietly at Arturia's open astonishment. /Do not look so surprised, my lady. I have not the same concerns as I once did in Camelot. Does he not possess Avalon? And has he not proven himself worthy, beyond the shadow of any doubt?/ For that he has, and impressed the knight, as well. Shirou's goals are in keeping with the Eight Virtues, but more importantly, so are his methods. Bedivere's seen that for himself. /If there are any worthy of knighthood that we have met, here in the multiverse, surely this boy must qualify./

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, violet eyes hooding at the talk of the Matou family. They're not anyone he's personally familiar with, and so he'll leave talk of them to Arturia and Shirou. He glances slightly to the side at mention that Sakura has need of a knight to protect her, eyes hooding. Is it wise to goad him when he has no idea where his home is; especially when he seems so desperate about finding his home?

Still, he trusts her to know what she's doing, and silently dismisses the matter. Ultimately it's not his burden to carry. Shirou will do what he feels is right with that information.

Hmm. Hopefully it won't involve 'giving himself an ulcer from stress.'

His gaze turns back to the red-headed magus, regarding him for a long moment; long enough that he might even grow uncomfortable under that intense scrutiny. Thoughtfully, he watches as Shirou cycles through emotions at the revelation of who Sakura really is. He sighs through his nose, expression almost disappointed for a moment. The poor boy. It seems as though this is all an unfortunate shock to him.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"I understand if you would prefer to dedicate yourself to the War of the Holy Grail, or your home. I would do the same in your position." He makes a soft, thoughtful sound, considering. "However... consider this. If you stick to your training, would it not put you in a better position to face the challenges there, both in the War, and in the protection of your home?" Those violet eyes settle on the boy, curious. "It is something to consider, anyway."

Bedivere smiles, though the expression seems a little subdued.

"Ah, of course. Forgive me; I should have clarified. I do not expect an answer immediately. Take time to think it over; it is not something you should decide in haste." The knight shakes his head. "Think it over, and do so for as long as you must."

He closes his eyes for a moment; it's clear that he's tired, in spite of breakfast and tea. He'd gone out before the sun had even risen, and braved both wind and weather to ensure the hill wasn't eroding. There's also the matter of five years of sleeplessness to catch up on, which he still is, gradually. It will be months yet, if not years, before his fortitude is what it once was. All of that is weighing on him; there are shadows under his eyes when he glances down to the table.

"However... I think it would be best if I rested, for now. The weather is foul, and it weighs on me, though I am glad to know that the rain is not yet a threat." He smiles a tired smile, squeezing Arturia's hand briefly before disentangling his hand from hers, pushing himself to his feet. "Think it over, young master. I will not be going anywhere, nor will my king. I would be glad to train you. But for now, I would implore that you rest." He dips his head, respectful. "Thank you for breakfast."

With that, he moves to trudge for the staircase, and the promise of a warm and dry bed at the top of the stair -- accompanied by Arturia, who perhaps wouldn't mind the prospect of a nap. Given his inadequacy as a Master, food and sleep make up the differences; Arturia is pragmatic enough to take advantage of such things when she has the opportunity.

Silence falls on the keep once more, then, broken only by the driving rain and the relentless wind.