720/A Squire's Training

A Squire's Training
Date of Scene:	02 October 2014
Location:	Dun Realtai
Synopsis:	Bedivere teaches Shirou the basics of swordplay.
Cast of Characters:	482, 560

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Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Welcome to Dún Reáltaí, where the weather is cold and the people are surprisingly cheerful! Actually, the weather isn't nearly as cold as it had once been, when the unnatural influence of a nature spirit had been interfering with established patterns. Now that the spirit has retreated, the unnatural winter has faded to a more natural autumn, crisp and cold; with distant clouds and the promise of eventual rain. Or maybe sleet. The cold is fairly intense.

Still, the afternoon now is clear, with a beautifully crisp sky and a few more innocuous clouds scudding eastward.

Down in the inner bailey, the castle keep's courtyard, the lord of the land waits. Contrary to his commoners' garb, he's wearing his full armour of office and mantled greatcloak today, presenting the very image of a noble knight – somewhat ironically. In fact, there are a few children from the village shyly watching at the bailey's gates, half-hiding behind rubble, as though wanting to have a look at their lord in all his finery. The only thing missing is his true sword; instead, he carries two practise swords made of wood.

Realistically, it's just a handicap for Shirou's sake; although carrying the weight of his armour is hardly a problem for Bedivere.

For the moment he does nothing but wait, motionless, apparently calm as he watches the village gate. He sees his onlookers, too, and affords them an inclination of his head and a half-smile, to which they abruptly turn tail and flee, calling excitedly to one another all the way down the hill.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
Shirou's been spending a lot of time going in and out. Most of the time he's been sleeping in Dún Reáltaí, but the amount of times he's come back exhausted, bloodied, or in a similarly miserable state only to get up the next day feeling just a little woozy but perfectly fine is probably causing all kinds of rumors.

Union operations be crazy!

But the last few times it seems he's getting a bit better. Or didn't end up getting in over his head, anyways. Hopefully, with Bedivere's help? That trend can continue. Him and Iianor, anyhow, for two different reasons.

Shirou emerges from the keep in his local garb. Just basic commoner's clothing, nothing fancy, but they're warmer than the outfit he tumbled off a roof here in.

He strolls through the courtyard, and happens to stumble across some kids running off.

The boy blinks. What's so scary?

He glances around, spots Bedivere in the armor... "...Kids..." Heh.

So when he does walk up, Shirou's in a good mood. The redhead has a friendly, slightly competetive smile for the knight. "Yo, Sir Bedivere! Sorry it's taken this long to set some time aside... every time I turn around something ridiculous is happening out there!" And, for whatever reason, Shirou feels the need to run out to each and every single one of them.

Even those that will probably kill him.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Those violet eyes single in on the red-headed magus the instant he comes into visual range. It's extremely difficult to sneak up on a person as perceptive as Bedivere; furthermore, the boy's arrival is expected. So the knight offers one of those half-smiles as he sees Shirou headed up the hill. It might be an open grin coming from anybody else, like Gawain, but Bedivere's expressions always appear mild and reserved. It just seems to be his way.

Come to think of it, it's the first time that Shirou will ever have seen him in his armour. Most of the time, the soft-spoken knight prefers to wear commoners' clothing, much as Shirou himself does. On any other day, he hardly seems to look the part of the man these people look to for leadership... but the clothes certainly do not make the man.

Once he's within reasonable range, Shirou will find that second practise sword tossed to him. The unspoken command is, 'Catch.'

It's not made like an Oriental-styled blade, but a western one. Its blade is very straight, sanded smooth, and there's a crude ring where the hand guard would normally be. It's not particularly thin, nor is it particularly thick, a little reminiscent of the sword Bedivere himself wields – although it's also possible that Shirou hasn't yet seen that, either. Bedivere seems especially reluctant to draw the weapon.

"We will begin when you are ready. Before I can teach you, I must evaluate what you already know, and you must show me what your fighting style is like." He tilts his head, studying Shirou with the kind of intensity that a hare must feel from the eagle eyeing it. "From there, I will be able to teach you proper form, and correct any misconceptions of yours."

"Have you any questions, Master Shirou...?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
Indeed. on a second glance, Shirou seems a bit preoccupied with the armor. As if he just now noticed something's... very different about Bedivere. He's so caught up he ALMOST doesn't react in time. His catch is slightly clumsy, but he does manage to snag the weapon out of the air by the proper grip.

"Hmm... this is a training sword?" he's used to shinai... though he does have a basic bokken at home. ... If he can ever FIND home again.

This isn't anything like either. He tests the weight and balance with a few simple swings.

The moment he looks Bedivere in the eyes however, a shiver runs down his spine.

"You'll probably be disappointed. My father and I used to spar with wooden swords, but it wasn't kendo or any forms... we were just beating each other up." He answers a bit sheepishly. Not that he regrets it.

He just doesn't have a whole lot to show. So he ponders. Questions?

"...Hm. Just one. You're wearing so much armor... are these that dangerous?" he's made slightly nervous thinking about it.

But he does spread out his legs a little into a sort of haphazard stance and make a few more test swings. There is NO style at all to it... if anything, only a touch of kendo style swings from watching Taiga. And they are awkward when used with a sword like this.

There is NONE of the skill he's sometimes shown when tracing weapons...

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Once his hand's free, Bedivere brings his own practise sword to bear, flexing his fingers around its hilt. In spite of the heavy leather and metal gauntlets, he seems to have a fair amount of dexterity. It's a fair bet he's used to this armour; it was rare that anyone in Camelot had seen the marshal in anything but his heavy steel plate and chain hauberk. Even the king hadn't seen him in anything but his armour of office until the summer céilidh.

It lends him a certain air of imposition, though, and that had been the intended goal in the kingdom. Such armour was a style favoured specifically by the Knights of the Round Table, and a man wearing such heavy plate and chain was not to be taken lightly, let alone the Left Hand of the King. It was meant to project a certain formidable air.

Now, it's just a convenient handicap.

"As I am accustomed to them, yes. Forgive me, I prepared it myself, so it may be a bit rougher than is normal. I have not had the time to wrap the hilt in leather or cloth." For grip, of course. Those violet eyes settle on Shirou, watching him give an experimental swing and frowning thoughtfully. "You look unfamiliar with such a weapon," he observes. "It is acceptable, I hope?"

Ah, so they sparred, but it wasn't any particular form. Though, 'kendo' seems an unfamiliar term, in turn. There's no sign of recognition given at the word. Instead, he remains silent, waiting for questions... but only one? Unusual, but not surprising. Shirou seems the sort to grab life by the horns, and to learn by doing. He can appreciate that. Once, not so long ago, he was the same way himself.

"A fair question." Bedivere tilts his head, testing the lay of his practise sword, holding it out to take the measure of its balance. Slightly off, but apparently within acceptable range, to go by his slight frown. "Because I prefer to practise while wearing my armour. I will spar without it, but it provides some measure of handicap for you. Forgive me; I do not expect you to be overly skilled. Additionally, as I do not go into battle without my armour, if it can be helped, it is better for me to be practising while I am wearing it."

He looks aside, watching the same village children creeping up on the gate again, stifling a faint half-smile. Hero-worship, it looks like, more than fear. There's going to be an upsurge of boys playing at knights in shining (if slightly battered) armour, now, isn't there?

The smile fades. "They are not overly dangerous, no. Not in the hands of a skilled practitioner. I daresay that at what I estimate to be your current level of skill, you are as much a danger to yourself as anyone else, with that." His own blade flicks to indicate Shirou's practise sword; a brief, terribly efficient motion. "I will help you to remedy that. Before we begin, however, I must ask you. Do you prefer to wield a blade one-handed, or two-handed? It will make some difference in what and how I am to teach you."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
"Un! Just fine." He gives another few test swings, but settles down when he finds himself being watched so intensely. "Well, I'm used to shinai, but these are closer to actual swords." he sounds a bit approving of this fact! And Bedivere's answer satisfies him too. "Oh... sensible. You didn't tell me about padded clothes or armor or guards or anything, so I wondered if I missed something. Guess not."

After another few test swings, the magus gives Bedivere a ponderous look. "... Um... if you don't have a shield or a second weapon, is there any reason not to use both hands?" He is currently using two hands to give the blade a few more formless swings.

Lots of inefficient motions and wasted movement!

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The knight doesn't so much as shift his weight, but he does tilt his head at Shirou's inefficient swinging and flailing about with the practise sword. He seems to be trying to figure out why the boy is moving the way he is, and there's a certain blank quality to his regard. By the Good Lord, what is he doing? Who taught him the rudiments? That looks awful...

"I did not have the benefit of such things while I was a knight-aspirant, and neither will you. If you do not wish to be struck, you will learn to block, to parry, or to evade." Yep, it's as simple as that. Maybe now Shirou might be getting some inkling of what kind of instructor the marshal may be. Not an easy one, that's for sure. No coddling to be found, here.

He watches Shirou's flailing about with a somewhat detached expression, considering the question. "If you prefer more powerful strikes, it can be useful for that. Other times, it may help you to move your hilt faster, and thus be able to bring your blade to bear for blocking and parrying more quickly. It also allows for a stronger grip. If struck, you will have more blocking and parrying force, provided you are balanced correctly. I, however, personally prefer to wield a longsword with one hand."

Raising his wooden blade, Bedivere sights carefully down its length, before giving it a few practise swings of his own. His strike is much more graceful, with none of Shirou's wasted energy or movement. He makes it look natural, not as an extension of his arm, but more fluid than that; as something completely and unquestionably within his control.

"Strike when you are ready, Master Shirou."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
"....." Gulp. man, this won't be any different than when fighting Kiritsugu, then. If he's not going to be taught forms...

He stares. "...So, we're just going to fight?" No elaborate techniques or anything... oh man.

oh well. He does pay attention though. "... I guess you're going to say I should try both then until I figure out what feels best?" Shirou queries.

But just after that... he gets a determined look in his eyes, and takes the initiative. It's a clumsy rush and swing straight at Bedivere with all of his heart and soul in it. "Huuaaaahh!!"

There's just no sign of the skill he's occasionally shown when wielding traced weapons. Not that Bedivere's seen that, has he?

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"It will be one-sided, but yes, if I'm to evaluate where to begin with your training. Were you wholly unskilled with a blade, I would have simply started at the beginning." Bedivere tilts his head. "Will that a problem, Master Shirou?"

Apparently not. He does give a satisfied nod when Shirou comes to the conclusion of trying both stances to find out what's preferable, though. Thinking for oneself is always a trait he can respect.

The sudden attack is not so sudden in his eyes, though. Aside from a slight narrowing of his eyes, Bedivere almost gives no sign that he had seen any change in Shirou's posture, but he studies every detail. The lunge is clumsy and telegraphed, and so is the swing that comes along with it.

With care, the marshal abruptly steps to one side, and his arm whips out in a single graceful motion – no wasted movement, nothing but absolute efficiency.

If Shirou isn't paying attention, that graceful sideswipe will deliver a stinging slap of the blade's flat against his shoulder in passing.

"Do not telegraph your movements. And do not flail so. It is unbecoming, and wasted energy," he points out. "Nor is it necessary to shout to the world you plan on attacking, in some manner or another; these are all points your enemy will be using against you. Save, he will not give you the benefit of knowing that he does."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
"Hwgh!" It doesn't take much to leave Shirou embarassingly defeated. the slap catches him completely blindsided, staggering the boy from the shere STING. OW. he flinches, but at the same time grits his teeth and straightens his posture with new balance.

"Telegraph..." He ponders on the instructions while bringing his blade up defensively. Of course, Bedivere's movement was very refined. Beautifully so. How can he move like that?

Well, skll and style aside, he does now want to land at least one blow against Bedivere by the end of this.

Tightening his grip and giving Bedivere a gaze like steel, he charges in again. No screaming this time. The strike's a horizontal one. Also obvious.

They are probably gonna be at this for a while before he gets the idea!

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Just as quickly, Bedivere withdraws his blade, stepping back and away from Shirou as he flinches and staggers off to one side. Apparently that straightening is satisfactory, though, for the knight gives a faint nod. Good. He's learning, and he'll be receptive to learning these lessons, even if he has to beat them into the boy. They'll stick, eventually. That's the important part.

Unfortunately those lessons aren't quite so fast to sink in as far as practical skill goes.

CRACK.

Bedivere does not so much as move or shift his weight; his wooden sword flicks neatly upward, deflecting Shirou's off at an angle that might sting – for Shirou.

"Do you know why I prefer not to fight, Master Shirou? Some think me cowardly for my resistance to bare steel, or to strike first, but aside from my reluctance to spill blood, there is a practical reason for it." The silver-haired knight lifts a brow, as though prompting an answer from his red-headed pupil. "Why do you think that is?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
"Hwugh—" Shirou halts the advance when his blow's deflected, wincing and trying to subdue his reflex to wring out the stinging wrist.

"...?" He does recover the boy quietly thinks, whilst his gaze is solemn. ".... I don't get it... what's more practical than trying to avoid having to fight at all?" He blurts, sounding befuddled by the question.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Fighting is sometimes necessary, even if there are some of us who would prefer not to," Bedivere says gently. "There was no negotiating with the Saxon raiders who preyed upon Camelot, and no hope of entreaty. There was no negotiating with them."

His eyes seem distant for a moment, as though remembering that terrible battle. It was among the worst he had ever been in, one in which he wasn't certain that the Arthurian host would pull through. He himself had almost died of his injuries.

Shaking his head, the silver-haired knight seems to return to the present, regarding Shirou thoughtfully.

"Swordplay is more than a simple contest of agility and strength of arm. It is as much a game of wits. Sometimes, it is necessary to be deceptive, and to obfuscate your intentions and your purpose. To this end, it is better to bring the fight to yourself, and to force your enemy to breach your defenses. You are causing him to work that much harder; while if you pick your battles, you are, hopefully, remaining in a relatively defensible position."

He twitches his blade left in a feint, then right, ensuring that Shirou is watching him with proper attention.

"Perhaps the most important point is not to be hasty. You must exercise care and caution, Master Shirou, for as in anything else, haste makes waste. Efficiency of movement and grace are to be striven for, for they allow you to hide your true purpose. Aye, perhaps some, like Sir Gawain, may consider such reservation to be cowardice." He shakes his head. "I do not. And it has never failed me."

"Indeed, haste and an eagerness to rush to such 'glory' is a damning thing. I have seen it bring down many a good knight."

His blade continues to flick hither and yon like a serpent, as though he were considering where to strike from, advanting on Shirou carefully, deliberately; almost nonchalantly.

And then, quick as thought, Bedivere is in motion – a single efficient lunge, no wasted movement; to land right before Shirou and attempt to tag him, almost gently, in the chest with the point of his blade.

"More than that, the swift sword is the one that strikes. It does not matter that you may not strike deeply, in war. To open a wound is victory enough, for even the smallest wound will bring down your enemy. In true battle, a match of swords is a battle of attrition; of who will bleed and tire and ultimately fall first. Far less often is it the decisive or glorious match of arms so many knight-aspirants think it is." One pale brow arches, and Bedivere steps back, fixing a thoughtful look on Shirou. "Do you see?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
"....." Shirou falls silent to listen. His bright expression dims and sours as he does so though. Indeed, he starts frowning. His mind's flashing back to previous battles. Definitely. Bedivere's definitely right. Just rushing in cost Shirou a lot of pain and agony, and he only survived because of this freakish, inexplicable healing thing.

"...You're right. I don't like admitting it, but I should be dead ten times over for doing that kind of thing." Though... he doesn't sound at all like he regrets it.

It's just a somewhat chilling statement of fact and realization.

In the future, he should consider tactics more. He has allies. He doesn't need to charge headlong at things to do what he can.

But he's so caught up in that that he barely reacts when he needs to. His weapon comes up in a clumsy parry that fails to touch Bedivere's in time, and he's pushed back off-balance by the tag.

"Wh-uh—" The boy staggers a little, coming back to his senses and listening while resuming the duel himself. No more slacking and just standing there.

He does resume the attack. An attempt to feint to the side and then come down from above! Not much of an improvement, but made with all his heart.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Some would tell you that battles are won or lost by the strength of the host on each side. I disagree," Bedivere states, circling the boy and regarding him thoughtfully. His practise sword hangs loosely in his grip, but not through negligence; rather, it's ready. "A battle is won or lost on tactics. It is not the strength of arm that determines victory or loss, although it can certainly contribute. It is how those soldiers and knights think that determines the battle."

"I have led men into battle against forces over twice the size of my own, and we have succeeded." Those violet eyes settle on Shirou, solemn. "I have also been in battles where my men were lost to the point where we were outnumbered, simply because the enemy chose to strike at a disadvantageous time. Such things can be overcome... but not by strength of arm."

The sword moves slowly, left to right, like a serpent hypnotising its prey, just screaming for Shirou's eyes to follow it. Or perhaps it's just idle gesture. "This is why you need to learn to cool your head, and to exercise care. You have pointed it out yourself. You should be dead, many times over, for the carelessness with which you have charged in. Wanting to help is admirable, and noble. Yet it is foolish to do so at such risk to yourself."

"Helping in battle is one thing. But I will teach you to do it in a way that is smart, and cunning; and will come at the least cost to yourself."

Abruptly, the wooden sword hisses through the air – feinting left, and then striking right; a single economic movement that uses the momentum to check its own direction and then whip around for Shirou's shoulder – a stinging blow, but one done slowly enough that the boy can, perhaps, deflect if he's smart about it. Blocking it probably won't work, for it's still given with a bit of power, but if he thinks for an instant and instead attempts to turn it aside, he'll be luckier.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
Shirou can agree with almost all of that. It's never foolish to risk himself. Because he doesn't matter.

Not that this is something he can consciously process too well. That part just goes in one ear and out the other. It doesn't compute, so he mentally shrugs at it.

ut the redhead nods. All through the speech he's keeping up his guard, eyes shifting to keep locked on Bedivere's weapon. A very novice thing to focus on, but at least he's focused?

Cool his head? That'll be tough. It's practically his nature to get worked up and hot-blooded, but at least right now he's focusing that. He will figure this trick out and–

Suddenly, movement. Shirou's own blow is dealt with, and now he struggles to recover and counter. It's not quite quickly enough to catch it fully. He doesn't quite think this one through and goes to block. And he DOES manage a parry - but the force wrenches his arms around and he takes a partially blunted blow anyways.

"Gh...."

They're REALLY probably gonna be at this for a while.

But he will learn. Train his reflexes and tactics. He may need to fall over a thousand times, but he'll always get back up.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Realistically, the knight and the red-headed magus aren't so different in their outlook. They view themselves as a resource to be used, rather than something to be protected through any intrinsic value. Bedivere's never had a high opinion of himself; indeed, he views the least among the commonfolk as having more value than his own life. He is no more than a shield for them, or a shield for the king he holds so dear.

The training does take some time, but few things worth achieving are done easily or quickly. Bedivere will prove to be a patient teacher, however unsmiling his regard, or however much he may seem stern – he really does want to impart these lessons, and for Shirou to embrace them because he wants to.

Hours pass, and perhaps the marshal loses track of the time.

When finally he straightens up and slashes his blade out in a gesture of cessation, he steps back, armour clanking quietly.

"Enough, for today." All things considered, he's not that winded – but he also seems to move with preternatural efficiency, thanks to a lifetime of training and necessity. He offrs that faint half-smile. "I have seen worse. I think you will be able to learn that which I would teach you, Master Shirou." Setting aside his stave-sword, he strides over to the large, twisted roots of the monstrous oak tree that dominates the courtyard. The roots are so large and gnarled they're almost like benches, and it's on one of these that Bedivere seats himself. "It is a good start..."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
Hours of training, and SHirou never manages to land a single SOLID blow. A graze, maybe, if he's lucky, but nothing solid. He's left gasping and panting after pushing himself with EVERYTHING he had. Every erg of his heart and soul went into the training efforts and every swing. every time he was knocked down he struggled to get back up again. No matter how he's hit, no matter what comes at him, he never once gave up.

Yeah. It was BEDIVERE who had to call it quits. Because Shirou sure wasn't gonna.

It's not until Bedivere does that SHirou really realizes just how tired and sore his body is. "....Ghuh... all that, and I couldn't land a single..." He has so little skill. Forget trying to match Odin. he can't even match a mortal knight with his own skills.

He follows after Bedivere and flops against the tree, sloppily sliding down onto his rump with a deep sigh. of EXHAUSTION.

"... Geeze, you're good. What was that about being rusty?" He playfully snarks.

At least he's getting a better idea of his limits, maybe?

"Whew... there's just no beating an opponent when they're that much more skilled, no matter how how determined I am. You're right... strategy really matters." His shoulders sag and for now, he focuses on breathing.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Even if the pale-haired knight were outmatched in strength, it would be of little concern to him. He had been overpowered even by the fellow knight-aspirants when he had first begun his training in Arturia's service. Brute strength was never a tool in his arsenal; it was cunning that he had always turned to, to win his battles. When he was appointed marshal, he turned that cunning against the Saxon host.

In almost all cases, it was the only thing that would defeat them. They were too numerous, and seemingly impervious to losses, pain, or defeat. The only way to overpower them was to outfox them.

Were he less dedicated to the chivalric ideals, that strategy might have come at the cost of integrity, falling back on ruthlessness and deception to accomplish his goals. To some extent, the Knight of the Lake had done so; Lancelot acted as the king's able Right Hand, using espionage and fulfilling his duties as the king's spymaster. Yet Bedivere had never needed to do that – he's always stayed just on the honourable side of the line, although perhaps that's not to say that he doesn't consider the less honourable approaches in his strategies.

Now, though, he has no need of thinking over such things – his strategies are on an individual level, and the days of generals answering to him are well behind. In some ways, it's a relief, he decides, slumping a little against the branch; to not be responsible for so very many lives, or to be depended upon to pull a hopeless victory from thin air.

"You will in time," he reassures Shirou, with a quiet exhalation. In anyone else, it might be a chuckle. "Have patience, Master Shirou, for that is the only way you will learn what I have to teach you. Cool your head. Think. Those are the most important things I can point out to you. You will accomplish nothing by wasting your strength, but you have everything to gain by using your mind. It is a weapon more potent and more valuable than the sharpest sword."

Again, that half-smile, though there's a slightly self-depreciating note to it. "Aye. Did you know? When I was a knight-aspirant, and a squire, I could not beat any of my fellow trainees by strength alone. I was physically weakest among them. So I learned to be more cunning than they." The smile fades. "Such is how it goes. Brute strength is useless, for once it is exceeded, there is no hope of victory. But if you can outthink your opponent, it will never matter how strong you are, or how weak you are. You will always be in a position to put up a fight."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
"Let's hope so. Right now all I'm learning is that these things hurt." Shirou retorts unseriously, slumped against the tree. "... Yeah, I guess everyone starts somewhere. I never got anywhere with my dad anywhere, he was just way too big." And apparently he was a crappy magic teacher too, judging by recent developments.

"...You've given me plenty to think about though! Tactics and outwitting, huh..." Another weary exhale follows. "Thank you, Sir Bedivere.... I'll have to keep all that in mind."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Climbing to his feet, the knight offers a faint half-smile. Everyone starts somewhere, and he can still remember the frustration he had felt as a knight-aspirant, outmatched and overpowered by every other determined boy who had come to King Arthur's court, but he had persevered. He can see in Shirou that same determination and fire.

Willpower is no problem. What he needs is to have that strength of will tempered by cunning and patience. He needs to be taught strategy, and the wisdom of knowing when to use it. To the violet-eyed knight, those are more valuable and will serve Shirou better than any measure of strength.

"I was a sickly child, and I fought hard to be where I am. It can be done." Bedivere pauses to eye Shirou as he files past him, armour clanking quietly. "Think them over. Mm? They will serve you well. And if you should ever wish to spar, you need only ask. I will make the time. If you prefer more of a contrast, ask Sir Gawain some time, for I do not think he would mind. He and I are night and day... and it does not take much wit to determine which of us is which."

Chuckling, he inclines his head in respectful gesture. "Rest, lad. You've earned it. Speak to me if you have need of anything, and keep that." He gestures to the stave-sword. "This will not be the last time you will use it. You did well, today. Do not forget what I've taught you, and you will not go far wrong, I think."

With that, provided Shirou doesn't stop him for anything, the silver-haired knight turns, making his way back into the castle. Time to wash up, and then see about a few construction projects around the keep... for a lord's work is never quite done.