Fate/stay night and Fate/zero are the property of TYPE-MOON. This story is a work of fanfiction, and the author makes no claim to these properties. Some lines of dialogue have been excerpted from the above works in their entirety in this fanfiction. They are from the translations by mirror-moon and Baka-Tsuki, respectively.

My group of prereaders has been rounded out with the addition of ttestagr, who has provided a great deal of valuable feedback already.

Chapters 1 and 2 have been updated with non-content changes again. Chapter 1 has had the full list of prereaders added to the author's note, and chapter 2 has several proofreading corrections. I have discovered with some displeasure that this site's formatting restrictions prevent seperating interludes in the style of the visual novel. One of the changes to chapter 1 is making off the dream interlude with my bastardized demarcator.

Continuation of the Dream

Part One: Waking from the Dream

III

Arturia closes the door carefully behind her as she creeps out of her room. Full darkness had fallen almost an hour ago, and she can bear to wait no longer. She has heard no human noises for the past half-hour. When she carefully cracks open her door, the only light she can see comes from the stars and the almost-full moon. She has rested for an hour and a half, and anticipation fills her with nervous energy. Now, she slips through the streets as quickly as she can without compromising her stealth.

Her mission is simple. She does not know when she will have another opportunity, so she will recover Avalon and the rest of her possessions while she has the chance. Time is of the essence; she is most likely sacrificing at least two hours of sleep to this endeavor. While she knows from past experience that she can function on short sleep, she is not certain if she can conceal the symptoms of a sleepless night from the people she must interact with tomorrow. Furthermore, she would prefer to have her wits about her. So, as soon as she can no longer make out the shapes of the buildings behind her, she breaks into a lope, splitting her attention between the road in front of her and the grass to the side.

Arturia slows to a stop after jogging for most of an hour, after she finally spots the small piles of stones on the side of the road. Spotting along the line between the two cairns, she notes the location of the copse of trees, an indistinct darkness against the lighter darkness of the night sky. Slowly, she begins picking her way across the rough terrain toward her hidden equipment.

Retrieving her possessions from their hiding place turns out to be much easier than secreting them there. She discovers that climbing the tree in the dark is more challenging than she anticipated, and it is clear to her that carrying her armor back to the ground will not be possible. With a wince for the noise she knows it will make, she swings the bundle of her weapons and armor out as far from the trunk as she can and drops it. The crash silences the animals in earshot, and Arturia holds her breath, scanning carefully for any sign of movement. After a few moments, the natural sounds of the night resume, and she exhales. She grabs her saddlebags from their perch and climbs back down the tree as quickly as she deems safe.

Once back on the ground, she considers her armor. It is too heavy and bulky to carry the entire way back, and she wonders if she should have abandoned it days ago in the forest. She is unwilling now, as she was then, to leave behind this remnant of her past. With no other choice, she sets about donning her armor in the dark, fretting over the time wasted by the awkward process. Finally armed and armored, she stands and begins carefully pulling her surcoat on over the armor. It was designed to be worn above the armor originally, but it is a tight fit, and she is wary of tearing it. It will conceal the gleam of metal, and she hopes it will help muffle the noise her armor makes as she moves.

'This may be the last time I wear my armor,' she thinks as she retrieves her empty bags and begins carefully walking back toward the road. She feels conflicted over this possibility. Certainly she hopes that circumstances will never require her to don it again. If she is forced to wear it to fight, it will be the end of her life as a civilian. However, she is a knight. Her warrior nature is something she cannot imagine herself without, and her armor symbolizes that.

'I am a knight. I am not a civilian. Why did I think I could live as one?' Doubts such as this assail her as she walks quickly back toward the town that she hopes to make her home. The magnitude of the change her impulsive decision will bring hits her all at once. That morning in the forest, she had simply decided to act on a moment's wish. 'No, it was not a momentary wish. It may not be something I wholly want, but it is also the means to an end. My understanding of ordinary people is lacking; this is an experience I require. But... I hope the experience is one I enjoy.'

Arturia is beginning to feel her fatigue by the time she reaches the outskirts of Trekern. A growing headache throbs behind her eyes, and it is all she can do to keep her steps light as sneaks back toward her room. Despite straining her dulling senses, she neither sees nor hears another person before safely reaching her room. With great relief she drops the bar across the door and slumps down onto the floor. 'What is wrong with me?' she wonders. 'A walk like that should be nothing.' But her weary mind can find no answer, and after a few minutes of squeezing her eyes shut and taking slow, deep breaths, she gives up. Tiredly, she removes her surcoat and armor and searches for a place to put it. She settles for hiding it in the corner behind the chest and stacks of fresh paper and covering it with some of the clothes she had decided not to keep. After a moment's thought, she dumps the rest of the discard pile on top of her armor and nods to herself. If nothing else, she will need rags to clean her armor and sword in the future.

She stumbles toward her pallet in the dark, turning her surcoat inside out as she goes. The heavy cloth will provide her with warmth and some extra protection against the scratchy straw. Turned inside out, there is no evidence that it's anything other than a plain piece of clothing. Arturia conceals Avalon and her sword under the straw against the wall, where they will be near at hand in an emergency. Satisfied with her work for the night and painfully tired, she wraps herself in her coat and curls into her pile of straw. Warm and comfortable for the first time in days, she falls asleep within minutes.

~~~CotD~~~

Energetic knocking at her door draws Arturia out of a sound sleep, and she sits up, blinking blearily. The small room is lit by sunlight through the window, and Arturia closes her eyes against the brightness. After a moment's confused squinting around her, she recalls where she is. She stands and rubs her eyes as she goes to answer the incessant knocking. With a grunt, she levers aside the bar across the door and pulls the door open. There is a startled yelp from outside as the door swings open, and Arturia winces as the full strength of the summer morning sun lances into her eyes. Blinking, she makes out five people standing outside her door, one with his hand still raised to knock.

"Arthur, right? G'mornin' to you." One of the figures steps forward. "My name's Eadwyn, and I-" he cuts himself off, looking her up and down. His gaze takes in her disheveled hair and rumpled clothing. "Were you sleeping?"

"Ah, yes..." Arturia chokes back a yawn and takes a moment to examine the young man in front of her. He is dressed in clean and well-kept clothing, with no obvious signs of mending, and unarmed. Arturia assesses that he is not a threat.

"Can I help you?" she asks, not bothering to stifle her yawn this time. 'This had best be important,' she thinks. 'If they're simply here because they're curious about the new person in town...' She knows that it is natural curiosity, and the people in front of her appear to be young adults, if not older children, but the possibility still makes her wish to teach them some manners, preferably with a practice sword.

"Um... I'm Eadwyn, er, as I said. My father- that is, Sigbert, sent me to show you around town?" Eadwyn trails off into silence as her expression darkens. "Is... something wrong?"

"I am tired. Please excuse me for a moment." Arturia pushes the door closed and turns back to her room. There is a pitcher, and a basin for washing, that she found in one of the piles of odds and ends left on the floor, but she has no water. She settles for running her fingers through her hair before tying it back, and scrubbing her face with the cleanest part of her surcoat she can find. 'I must inquire about water, and laundering clothes,' she thinks as she turns back to the door. The thought of water makes uncomfortably aware of the fact that she is thirsty.

She opens the door again, pasting a smile onto her face. "Hello. I apologize for my rudeness. My name is Arthur. I am pleased to meet you." Her response is five faces staring at her with varying looks of amazement. "Ah, is there something on my face?"

Eadywn coughs, and the young woman standing next to him laughs. "No, "she says cheerfully. "We were expectin' the new scribe to be a bit older, is all. And maybe more organized than the last one?"

Eadwyn interrupts her, clearing his throat. "Erm, right. I'm Eadwyn, as I may've mentioned, and Master Sigbert sent me t'show you around town."

"And the others?" Arturia interjects, although she believes the woman's earlier statement explains the presence of the other four.

"Ah... " Eadwyn looks embarrassed. "They're my friends, well, some of 'em, anyway. They tagged along to see the new scribe. This is my betrothed, Osthryth." The young woman smiles at Arturia. "The young lass there is my sister, Ceolwin." He gestures at a girl several years his junior fidgeting with something behind him. "Next to her is Emma, her fellow 'prentice, they're both apprenticed to my mother, who's a weaver, you see... and the lad there is her brother Osric." Arturia smiles at the girls. The younger one smiles back shyly, but the elder one refuses to meet her eyes.

"Well, I hope I've not made too much of a muddle out of that!" Eadwyn continues blithely. Arturia nods slowly, committing faces and names to memory. "Right, then. Would you care for some breakfast?" He laughs as Arturia's face lights up. "Father thought you might, seein' as you'd've had no time to find anything yesterday. Catch!"

Arturia catches the object he tosses her reflexively, and eyes it curiously. It appears to be bread, but is too heavy. She takes a hesitant bite, and finds that it there are chunks of meat baked in. Eadwyn and his friends watch in amazement as she rapidly devours the entire thing, then licks the crumbs from her fingers. Arturia turns her attention back to her guide. "Do you have anything to drink?"

He blinks at her for a moment. "Ah, right. Ceolwin." The smaller girl steps forward and hands Arturia a wooden mug, wide-eyed, then scampers back to hide behind her brother, who laughs. Arturia immediately raises the mug to her lips, and is pleasantly surprised to find it filled with cool, sweet cider. "Well, Arthur, now that you're fed, shall we see about showin' you around town?"

Arturia wipes the last of the cider from her mouth. "Please." She pulls the door to her quarters shut behind her.

Eadwyn takes three steps along the street, then stops and turns to the four following them. "You lot have work to do! Ceolwin, Emma, I know Mother gave you permission to come meet the new scribe, but now you've met him. Back to work with you." He turns the younger boy. "Osric, you too. I don't know what excuse you're planning to give Master Piada. Get going, and if you're lucky, I won't tell him where you were this morning."

The younger boy gulps audibly and turns to run down the street. The two girls watch him go.

"See you at dinner, Brother!" Ceolwin waves to Eadwyn as she walks away. Emma, however, gives him a serious look.

"Please don't tell Master Piada that Osric came with us to meet the new scribe, Eadwyn. Father will beat him again if he finds out." Without waiting for a reply, she follows Ceolwin, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind her.

"The scribe's duties?" Arturia asks finally.

"Oh! Well, I can only tell you what Ubric used to do," Eadwyn answers. "Father asked me to show you around town, this morning, then bring you by for dinner so he can explain your duties in more detail. He's been busy trying to fix Mother's loom. Uh, he said you're welcome t'join us every day for breakfast and dinner. Ubric always did; he said Mother's cooking's the best in town. If you want something for supper, you can stop by the inn and get leftovers from Caelin. It's part of what the town trades the scribe for their services. Come on, if we don't get started, we'll be late for dinner!"

As Eadwyn walks down the street toward the town square, Arturia is left gaping at his ability to rapidly switch topics. Osthryth giggles at her expression. "He's always like that. You'll get used to it, though." She pushes Arturia after Eadwyn. "Move it, Arthur. I don't want to miss one of Gode's dinners!"

~~~CotD~~~

Dinner with Eadwyn's family was a lively experience. The food was plentiful, if plain. Arturia thought wryly as she ate that no food in Britain can be anything but plain compared to the food that Shirou, Sakura, and Rin could cook. There was bread fresh from the baker, moist and steaming when she broke it open, and thick mutton stew with a great variety of vegetables. Arturia had done her best to simply eat and stay quiet, and the others had made no effort to draw her into the conversation.

Sigbert and Eadwyn, who Arturia determined from the conversation was following in his father's footsteps as an artificer, had mostly ignored the other three at the table in favor of arguing about the design of the loom they were attempting to repair for Gode. Gode and Ceolwin discussed weaving, fabrics, and patterns in increasingly technical terminology that Arturia could not follow. Her surface knowledge of science and engineering at least let her understand the conversation between the men, but the conversation between the women was beyond her. Emma, also an apprentice under Gode, was the only one Arturia could talk to, but she ignored Arturia's few half-hearted attempts to start a conversation. Eventually Arturia gave up applied herself to her food, although she did catch Emma staring at her a few times. Arturia reasoned that is was likely due to her refined table manners being a poor fit for the simple table.

With a last swallow of cider, Arturia leans back from the table, replete for the first time since at least the night before the final battle with Mordred. Her army had celebrated the impending battle as the end of their fighting, one way or another. The war against Mordred's army had followed a long campaign in Gaul, and they had all been tired. Thinking about it now, she realizes that her memory is muddled by her time as a servant. Although she has memories of eating and resting with Shirou, her body has been pushed to its limits by many sequential battles. In that light, her slow recovery from her wounds, even with Avalon's magic, makes more sense to her. As she considers this, she realizes that it is a great relief to her to be able to eat in relaxed company like this.

As soon as he finishes eating, Sigbert stands up.

"Well, then, I'll take over with Arthur from here," he announces. "I've got to tell him the details of his job while I've got a chance. Eadwyn, you can try to prove your point by fixing the loom while I'm out." Ignoring his son's spluttered protests about that not being enough time, he pushes Arturia out the door, leaving the women to clean up.

"First thing to do is to stop by your room to pick up some things you'll need," Sigbert says as they step onto the street. "Can you find your way back there from here?"

"Of course," Arturia responds confidently. Even though Eadwyn's disorganized tour started at her door and ended at Sigbert's, she is certain she can find her way back. She is used to keeping track of her allies and enemies on a battlefield. Managing the relative distances and directions of the points of interest in a town is a simple matter for her, and the town of Trekern is not even the size of Fuyuki's residential district. "This way," she points, but sets off without waiting for confirmation.

"Very good," Sigbert says with a smile. "Now, I'm sure Eadwyn told you about the town's arrangement to feed you. He's always hungry, so that sort of thing would have struck him as important." Arturia nods emphatically, and Sigbert laughs. "Well, I guess he's not the only one. We eat breakfast as soon as they sun's up, so you'll have to get up earlier than today if you don't want to miss it."

He pulls Arturia down a small alley. "This way is faster. Now, in exchange for room and board, you're responsible for all business matters in Trekern. That means contracts and correspondence, including apprentice contracts. Anything personal is your own business, and you can take what you like in trade for it. Just make sure to take enough to at least replace any supplies you use. You'll be expected to keep track of what you use and whether it was used on personal or professional business. If you need references for how to write a contract, Ubric kept the ones he wrote around somewhere. You should learn the general forms of them as soon as you can. Here we are."

Arturia notes with a little surprise that they have arrived at the back of the inn. She had thought it was a longer walk, and corrects her mental map of the town.

"Go on in and pick up what you'll need. Quills, inks, papers and parchments'd be my guess, and Ubric had a block of wood he used to use to write on when he was working outside. You sit outside in the square in fair weather, but in deference to the paper and ink, Caelin will reserve a table for you in bad weather. Let's go get you set up. I'll keep you company for as long as I can, but I'll have to get back before Eadwyn breaks the loom worse than it already is." As soon as Arturia finishes collecting what she estimates she'll need for the afternoon, Sigbert hurries her out the door and around the inn to the town square.

~~~CotD~~~

Arturia curses under her breath as she pricks her thumb again with the needle. Not for the first time, she wishes that she had more aptitude in the domestic arts. She had prioritized acquisition of a sewing needle as soon as she had discovered that the previous scribe had not owned one. The majority of the clothes he left behind are in fair condition, as she had discovered upon examining them, but were far too big for her. She finds it somewhat distasteful, but it is easier to alter the dead man's clothes to fit her than it was to acquire clothing in her size. Although all knights learned to use a needle for making field repairs to equipment during their time as a squire, Arturia had never had any particular talent for it, and as king she had not been called upon to practice her needlework. Now that she has the tools, she has spent every evening for the last week refreshing her skills with some urgency. The clothes she wore under her armor were the only ones she brought with her, and until she has others that fit, she cannot launder them.

She ties off the thread and shakes out the pair of pants on her lap to examine her handiwork. The length seems about right, but she grimaces at the sloppy stitching. 'It is serviceable,' she thinks, then reaches for the pile beside her. 'A shirt. I am half done.' Arturia had decided the best plan was to do all the pants first, hoping that by the time she finished with the less-visible alterations of hemming the legs and taking in the waist, her stitching would have improved. 'Well, I have certainly gotten much better,' she thinks, recalling her first efforts, 'but I will have to be more careful. It would be shameful to be seen in public with such crude work.' With a sigh, she stands up and holds the shirt to her torso, trying to decide how best to make it wearable. 'This is almost a tunic on me.' Her thought is annoyed, but she brightens immediately. 'This will work to my benefit. I will simply shorten the sleeves and take in the neck slightly. Loose, baggy clothing will assist me in concealing my sex.'

Content with that thought, she applies herself to the needle and thread again, taking extra care with her stitches.

~~~CotD~~~

Arturia darts through the door of the inn, slamming it shut behind her. On days like this she almost wishes there were a connecting door between her room and the rest of the inn. She shakes water off herself with a grimace and carefully sets down the oilskin-wrapped bundle in her arms. Outside the inn, a late autumn storm rages, and Arturia is thankful for the fine waterproof hooded cloak she received from the clothier in exchange for penning and reading letters to and from his cousin further north. The two mostly discussed business, making their lengthy notes back and forth tedious to read and to write, but it was worth it to stay dry in this weather. After hanging her cloak, she carefully unwraps her bundle and makes herself comfortable near the fire. However, she doubts that she will have much business in this weather.

"Arthur!" Caelin greets her with an amused tone. "I wasn't expecting to see you today. This weather's enough to keep any reasonable man indoors."

Arturia smiles in response. "Truly, Caelin? Did you expect me to sit in that room all day and listen to the rain?"

"Of course not," the innkeeper chuckles. "I expected your stomach to drive you here no later than noon, if you were unwilling to brave the weather to walk all the way to Gode's table." She nods with a smile, acknowledging his point.

"So you think I will not risk a little rain for dinner, rather than suffer through your burnt porridge again?"she fires back. It is common knowledge in the village that Caelin feels some culinary rivalry with the woman, and that Gode does not acknowledge it. "Besides, it will be impossible for Eni to keep bread dry while bringing it here."

The innkeeper shrugs, resigned. "Not like there will be anyone here to eat most of it. You're the only one crazy enough to come out in this weather." He sits across from Arturia. "Speaking of Eni, I'd like to make a request. I'm not sure what I can offer you, but I want a contract for him."

Arturia raises an eyebrow. "What sort of contract? For most, all that is required is paper and ink."

The man clears his throat. "A betrothal contract. To Osmond's daughter, Nerienda. The two of them are friends, and we both think they'll not mind it. It's security for both families, right? Eni needs an apprenticeship, and Osmond only has the one daughter, and his wife died giving birth to her. So Nerienda gets a husband, and Eni gets a trade. And Arthur gets an ostler. You've met Arthur, right? I don't think I ever introduced you."

"Ah, no. I mean, yes. We have met." Arturia is used to Caelin's rambling after seeing him almost every day for the past two months. He will cheerfully chatter on about the weather, the produce from the farms, the day's stew or porridge, or his family. She found him a valuable wellspring of information in her early days while settling in. "He said you named him after the king."

"Aye, that I did. He was born just a few days after we heard about King Arthur's victory at Badon Hill." He smiles as he recalls it. "We had been celebrating for days, and maybe I was a bit drunk, but I can't say as Arthur's ever minded the name. My son, not the king," he clarifies.

'The king does not mind it either,' Arturia thinks to herself, amused. 'Although she would prefer not to be reminded of that battle.'
"It doesn't look like King Mark will be winning any more great battles against the Saxons," Caelin continues. "I'm glad we've got peace now, but I'm not sure how I feel about making peace with those that killed so many Britons, eh?"

Arturia is taken aback by the question. "I am of mixed feelings about it as well. Peace is valuable, but I am not certain if it is worth the price. I do not believe the Saxons will honor this truce if it should profit them to break it.

Caelin does not respond, and an uncomfortable silence settles in. "And the details of the contract?" Arturia prompts, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, right. Err, let's see. Eni son of Caelin, will marry Nerienda daughter of Osmond, when both have come of age. The dowry will be the waiving of Eni's 'prentice fee. Osmond will take him and teach him." He pauses. "Am I missing anything?"

"That is sufficient," Arturia answers after a moment of thought. "Bring Osmond, and you can have it written and sealed now."

"You want me to go out in that and get him?" Caelin asks incredulously.

"I consider that fair trade for writing a short contract." Arturia says decisively. "Unless you would rather pay me in ale and cider?"

"I'll get Osmond," Caelin offers quickly. "Just wait here." With that, he hurries out into the torrential rain, leaving Arturia alone with her thoughts.

~~~CotD~~~

Arturia shivers as she hurries back toward Trekern. She pulls her thick woolen cloak closer about her body, tugging it over the hilt of her sword. The wind is cold, and the sweat on her body makes it feel colder. She looks ahead, narrowing her eyes against the wind, and sighs. Her breath mists, although it is barely visible in the dark. 'Still another half hour at this pace,' she thinks with dismay. 'It is getting too cold for me to keep doing this.'

She rolls her shoulders as she walks, trying to keep her muscles from stiffening in the cold. Since she settled in, she has been sneaking out at night to the moor to exercise and maintain her familiarity with the sword. It is not an ideal situation, but she feels it is better than nothing. Fear of injury limits her to jogging carefully on the road out and back, and swinging her sword in place to maintain muscle tone. She does not wish to risk spraining an ankle in the dark.

Now, the onset of winter makes brings the risk of catching a chill, and any snowfall would make stealth impossible. 'My sword will have to rest until spring. By then, my calluses from the sword may have been replaced by calluses from the quill,' Arturia thinks with some dismay. 'Although I can manage some exercise, there is not space inside my room to swing a sword.'

Her late-night exercise has been one of the highlights of the past few months for Arturia. She still feels somewhat out of place amongst the townsfolk, and her concealment of her identity weighs on her conscience. The nights she slips away to repeat the practiced motions she learned in her childhood are the only times she feels she is truly herself. As the days grow shorter, she worries that she will lose a part of herself over the long winter when she has no escape from being Arthur the Scribe.

~~~CotD~~~

Arturia hands shake from the cold as she carries her scribe's paraphernalia to the town square. The morning sun barely warms her and the wind keeps tugging her cloak open, but she has no hand free to hold it shut. 'I should work in the inn today, too,' she thinks. 'My fingers will be too chilled to write if I spend the day outside.' Thus resolved, she hugs the wall of the inn as she hurries around the building, trying to take some shelter from the wind.

She pushes the door open with her foot as soon as reaches it and rushes inside, kicking it closed behind her to cut off the wind. With a sigh of relief, she sets her bundle down and huddles next to the fire, holding out her hands to warm them. As she defrosts, Arturia notes that she is the only person in the main room of the inn. 'Caelin must be out, but he was already in to start the fire.' As soon as her hands have warmed, she spreads out her stacks of paper and parchment and begins preparing her inks and quills.

A burst of cold air sends her scrambling to keep her valuable supplies from blowing to the floor, or worse, into the fire. Holding down her precious vellum, she turns to glare at whoever is holding the door open and letting the winter chill into the inn. Her anger is quickly replaced by confusion when she sees a dozen men from the town, and several more she does not recognize, carrying and rolling in barrels and kegs. She watches, bemused, as they all hurry back out into the cold as soon as they've moved their burdens away from the door. Another group enters as soon as the first has left. As the morning passes, half the space in the room is filled, and Caelin is left standing alone in front of the collection, arms crossed and exuding satisfaction.

Arturia coughs quietly in an effort to avoid startling Caelin, who seems to be unaware of her presence, but as she does, the door swings open again, and Sigbert backs in, yelling to someone outside. She cannot make out what he is saying, but as he turns toward the innkeeper, Eadwyn runs through the door and slams it shut with a sigh of a relief. He hands his father something to his father and hurries toward the fire. Arturia cannot see from this distance what he was doing, but she does notice that he seems to have forgotten his cloak.

"Hullo again, Arthur," Eadwyn mutters as he throws himself onto the floor in front of the fire. "Wasn't expecting to see you again so soon after breakfast."

Arturia nods to acknowledge his greeting. "What are you doing here, and without your cloak?"

"Father made a new blend of mulling spices, and left to convince Caelin to try it out. Of course, he was so excited to talk about it that he left without them, so I ran after him to remind him. By the time I caught up with him, he was most of the way here, though," Eadwyn shrugs, "I decided I might as well come in and warm up." He looks up at Arturia. "What are you doing here, though, Arthur? And with your inks and pens, too."

Arturia gives him a blank stare, and his eyes widen.

"You didn't know? Tomorrow's the solstice! The festival starts today and ends the day after! What did you think all this was for?" He gestures expansively at the casks lined up along the walls of the inn. "Nobody will be doing any work until it's over."

Arturia blinks him and cocks her head. "Then..."

Eadwyn nods emphatically. "Go put that stuff away and meet me back here. I've got to run home and get my cloak, so just wait out front for me." Without waiting for a response, he climbs to his feet and heads for the door. Eadwyn visibly braces himself against the cold before opening the door and darting outside.

Arturia begins slowly packing up her things. 'A solstice festival, is it? It has been a long time. I have not attended one since Kay and I snuck away to see one the summer before he was knighted.' She smiles in reminiscence, but her smile quickly dims. 'Ector was furious. I thought he was going to have us both whipped.' She shrugs philosophically. 'There is no reason I cannot enjoy this one. Except for the cold, of course.' With a shiver, Arturia slips out the door as someone opens it, noting in passing that it's another face she does not recognize, and rushes toward the back of the inn to deposit her burden.

Eager to be back in the relative warmth of the sunlit square, she wastes no time on the walk, although she does linger in her quarters, enjoying the warmth radiated by the wall shared with the inn. She resists the temptation to wrap herself in her blankets and nap, and arrives back at the front of the inn only a few minutes after she left. Eadwyn is nowhere in sight, but she takes the opportunity to observe the crowd of strangers. Most of them are clearly peasants from the surrounding farm villages, but a few seem to be better dressed. 'Perhaps travelers, or traders,' she speculates, but makes no move to investigate.

After several minutes of waiting, however, she is cursing Eadwyn for asking her to wait outside and is considering moving back into the inn. She puts aside that thought when she notices out of the corner of her eye someone gesture toward her. Curious, she moves slightly closer to listen. Her years as King taught her how important it is to be aware of the gossip and rumors surrounding her.

"-the new scribe? Ain't he too young for that?" The voice is female, and the figure speaking is looking back over her shoulder at Arturia.

"Ain't he too comely, y'mean?" a second girl laughs. "I thought he'd be old an' wrinkled like th' last one, eh?"

"He's a scrawny bit, too. Look't him shiver!" the first girl replies.

"I'm of half a mind t'go offer t'warm him up," the third girl, who had been silently staring at Arturia, interjects.

"Aye, I'd not mind takin' that one for a tumble in th' hay!"

"You'd not mind tumblin' anythin' that's warm an' movin', Acha! Though he's certainly pretty enough, and that hair!"

The three girls dissolve into laughter, and Arturia feels her face beginning to flush. 'I am relieved that their interest was not founded on anything malicious, but this is unseemly!'

Arturia begins to sidle back toward the inn, determined to retreat with dignity.

"I heard from my cousin in town that he's a noble's get. That'd explain the good looks, eh?"

"Who cares about his looks! He's a scribe, ain't he? I'm more keen on what he can do with his talented fingers!"

"I'd say the size of his quill's more important than that!"

Arturia turns away, blushing furiously, and bolts for the door to the inn, but runs straight into someone.

"Oof!" Eadwyn stumbles back and reaches out to steady Arturia. "What's the rush, Arthur?"

Arturia flinches away from his hand and sputters incoherently.

"The village girls were havin' some sport of him, although I don't think they meant him to hear," a voice answers from behind Arturia, and she turns to see Osric leaning against the wall of the inn. "Not sure what's got you so flustered though," he says teasingly, "Pretty face like that and your noble blood... You must've tumbled plenty of girls back in your home town, eh?"

"What? No, I never-!" Arturia feels her face reddening again and bites off the rest of the sentence. With a huff, she turns back to Eadwyn. "What took you so long?"

In answer, he bursts out laughing. Arturia glares at him.

"I fail to see what is so amusing."

"You! Ah, no, wait." He takes a deep breath to compose himself. "You always act like such an old man, it was funny to see you acting as a kid... I guess?"

"I act like an old man?" she demands.

It is Osric who answers her. "You're so serious all the time, eh? Like everything's a matter of life and death. You gotta learn to lighten up. Come on," he raises his voice, "I think Emma's about ready to stop hiding around the corner, so as soon as she and Ceolwin join us, we can go start enjoying this festival!" There is a startled "Eep!" from the corner of the inn, and Osric winks at Arturia as Emma stumbles out from behind the building, looking chagrined. Ceolwin saunters after her and pushes her forward again. Emma catches herself on the wall, and Ceolwin steps past her to hug her brother.

"Is Osthryth coming?"

"Nope, sorry." Eadwyn ruffles her hair. "She's lookin' after the little ones. Don't look so sad about it, you know she loves taking care of them."

"Yeah, I know," Ceolwin nods.

"Right then," Eadwyn declares, "enough standing around in the cold. Let's go try some of that mulled cider Father made." He pulls his sister into the inn without waiting a response, and Arturia follows him, happy to get out of the cold again.

~~~CotD~~~

"'Scuse me," a hesitant voice interrupts Arturia's cloud-watching. She pushes herself into a sitting positions and looks up at the lanky young man standing next her.

"Can I assist you?" she asks hopefully. Today has been a slow day for her, and the prospect of something to do is more exciting than she thinks it should be. Her services were in great demand with coming of spring, but in the time since, requests for her skills have tapered off significantly. Now, she estimates that she has two or three slower days each week.

"Yer Arthur the scribe?"

"Yes."

"I'd like t'hire you..." He trails off, fidgeting with a piece of paper in his hands.

"For personal business, I take it?" She judges him too young and too nervous to be here on business, unless it was at his master's command. As her requested her service for himself, she feels confident in assuming it is personal.

"Ah, yes. Here." He offers her folded paper, but as soon as her fingers touch it, he snatches it back. "Um, you keep things quiet, right? Ubric never spread 'round what was in my letters."

Arturia nods, trying not to feel offended by the question. She is young and relatively new to the job, she tells herself, and it is not unreasonable to ask. "I assure you I am perfectly discrete. Unless you are plotting murder or some other crime, I will not speak of the contents of any correspondence I read or transcribe."

"Murder?" The young man steps back with a yelp, paling. "I, no- I'd never-!"

"I am sorry," Arturia interrupts, "It was a joke. You seemed uncomfortable." She frowns. 'Caelin thought it was funny. I wonder if his sense of humor or my understanding of it is mistaken.'

"Oh." He scratches his head.

With a sigh, Arturia stands up. She notes with some irritation that the top of her head does not even reach his shoulders. "May I ask your name and the nature of your business?" she asks a bit stiffly.

"Letters. Bertwald. I mean, m'name's Bertwald and my business's letters. That is, readin' and writin' 'em. You'd be readin' and writin' 'em. Readin' what's in 'em and tellin' me, and writin' what I tell you to write back." He trails off, looking uncomfortable as Arturia just stares at him, bemused.

"You want me to read letters to you and write your responses, correct?" she clarifies.

"Yup!" Bertwald hands her the paper. "They're all I hear from my Leofrun back home. We send 'em by merchants and tinkers, but she has t'wait for a travelin' scribe t'read 'em. There's only a few a year. Since I'm just a journeyman mason. I can't afford to write much, but since I can't see her 'til I finish my 'prenticeship..." He trails off, looking sad.

"I understand." Arturia feels a sudden rush of sympathy for him. "You will have to provide for the materials, but I will waive any addition fees. In exchange, though, I will only be able to help you when I have no other work. Is this acceptable?" At his nod, she unfolds the letter and begins to read.

"Dearest Bertwald... I hope you are well. The winter was very cold, but everyone here survived. This letter will be sent with the first thaw-" Arturia stops reading and looks sharply at Bertwald. 'The first thaw was over a month ago.' He fidgets uncomfortably under her stare, and she decides to let is pass. "I have begun looking for a place to build our home. There's a nice spot by the creek we used to play at..."

~~~CotD~~~

"Havin' a slow day, Arthur, eh?"

Arturia squints up against the glare of the sun, trying not to move out of her meager shade.

"Ah, yes. Good day, Osric. Hello, Emma."

"'Lo," Osric nods and waves vaguely as he slouches against the wall next to Arturia, taking refuge from the hot summer sun in the shadow of the building.

"Hello, Arthur," Emma responds quietly, with a small smile. She presses her back against the relatively cool stone of the wall with an audible sigh of relief.

"It has been very slow. I think nobody wishes to endure this heat," Arturia offers in explanation. "What brings you two here?"

"Not much," Osric responds. Emma elbows him in the ribs. "Uff. It was a joke!" He rubs theatrically at his side. "Eadwyn and Osthyrth are finally movin' into their new place today, Arthur. So we've got the job've invitin' all their friends over t'celebrate, eh? Be there around sunset; it'll be your last time to see 'em for a while. They're gonna be busy settlin' in." He pushes himself off the wall. "I'll go find t'other Arthur. See you at home, Emma," he says over his shoulder as he saunters out into the heat.

"Osric!" Emma calls after her brother in irritation. "I hate it when he does that!" She turns to Arturia. "Well, I guess that's all?"

"Will they truly be so busy settling into their new home?" Arturia asks before the other girl can leave.

"Aye," Emma agrees sadly. "It's a lot of work, and they're hoping to start a family, I'm sure," she says somewhat wistfully.

Arturia makes quiet noise of agreement. 'A family, is it? I surrendered the possibility of having a family when I drew Caliburn from the stone. The king certainly could not take a husband, after all. And the one son I did have tried to kill me... But now, I could... A family with Shirou?' She indulges herself in imagining it. 'I dare not hope!' She shakes her head, blushing slightly, then reddens even more when she notices Emma is staring at her. "I apologize. I was lost in thought."

"It's okay!" Emma says quickly. "I was, too." Now she blushes, too. "I'll see you tonight!" Without waiting for a response, she runs out into the sunlight, leaving Arturia nonplussed behind her.

~~~CotD~~~

"Arthur?"

Arturia looks up from cleaning and packing away her quills at the sound of her assumed name. She glances around the emptying town center. Emma is standing in front of her, fidgeting. Standing out of earshot behind her is Osric, who glares at her when he catches her eye. Arturia rises to her feet.

"About yesterday..." Emma continues, taking Arturia's attention and silence as acknowledgment. "You seemed jealous at the party last night. Ah, no! Not jealous!" She waves her hands in front of her as if to wave away her previous words. "You were woolgatherin' most've the evenin', and it seemed like every time Eadwyn or Osthryth spoke to you, you'd clam up. Aggh, I'm making a muddle of this!" She groans in frustration and looks back at her brother.

'I thought I had hidden it well enough, but if Emma noticed, perhaps the others did as well,' Arturia frets to herself. 'I hope I was not rude. It was difficult to be surrounded by such happiness that I cannot take part in. I was truly happy for them, but lately it is as if every small thing sends my thoughts back to Japan.'

"-Osric to ask you, but he said t'ask you myself. Hey, Arthur, are you listening?" Arturia starts guiltily. Emma frowns. "You're doin' it again! Please pay attention, Arthur. This's important!" She takes a deep breath. "Y'seem to want a family, so I was wonderin' why you've not asked me t'be your wife, Arthur. Y'seem to like me well enough, and I certainly like you," she continues in a rush, "so what is it?"

"Ah..." Arturia's mind goes blank. She gapes at Emma, unable to formulate a response. 'I was foolish!' she berates herself. 'No, stupid. I should have foreseen this. Men are expected to marry, settle down, start families. It was a mistake to think I could simply live like this forever. Of course Emma would wonder why I have expressed no interest! How could I be so naive?'

Emma backs away from Arturia as the silence lengthens without response. Finally, with a sob, she turns and flees. Arturia, caught up in self-recriminations, does not notice. Nor does she notice when Osric approaches her. His punch takes her completely by surprise, and she stumbles backward. His quick catch at her shoulder keeps her from falling, but his grip is too painful to be misconstrued as assistance.

"What was that, Arthur?" he growls. "You couldn't at least turn 'er down gently?"

"No, that is..." Arturia struggles to gather her scattered wits. "I never noticed that she regarded me that way." She turns away, refusing to meet Osric's eyes.. "I was startled, and too busy thinking myself a fool to think to respond." Arturia tenses, expecting another blow. She stumbles when Osric releases her with a push. She looks at him in confusion.

"Aye, you're a damn fool, eh?" Osric sighs heavily and visibly relaxes. "Y'can still go after her and explain." He steps to the side and gestures in the direction Emma ran. "I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Arturia shakes her head at his misunderstanding. "Osric, I do not love your sister. She is a good friend, but my heart is for another." She holds up her hand to forestall his protests. "Before I came here, I was forced to leave behind my..." She trails off, unsure of how to describe her relationship with Shirou.

Osric grunts. "Emma's the one y'need to tell that to, not me. Still, must be some woman, if y'still don't even think 'bout other girls, eh?"

"Ah, yes, Shiro was..." she trails off. 'I cannot talk about Shirou! That would draw too much attention, or risk revealing that I am a woman!' She thinks frantically for a way out of the situation.

"Shiro? Strange name," Osric says noncommittally. "You were sayin' she was somethin'?"

"Ah... Shirou was... very beautiful, but her personality was the most striking thing about her. She tried so hard to be gentle and refined, but she was in truth very clumsy. She had a strong sense of justice, and was very passionate about her beliefs. However, she did not think that was appropriate for who she wanted to be, so she tried to hide it behind her cold mannerisms."

'What am I doing?' she thinks with disbelief as her mouth continues without her consent. 'That is not Shirou, that is Rin!'

"She sounds like a troublesome woman, this Shirou of yours." Osric frowns, then shrugs. "I'll tell Emma y'don't hate her, but you'd best apologize to her yourself tomorrow, or I'll punch you again, eh?" Without waiting for a response, he turns and walks away, leaving Arturia dazed behind him. She stares after Osric until he is out of sight, then snatches up her things and hurries back to her quarters.

~~~CotD~~~

Arturia slams the door of her quarters shut behind her and slumps against it. "What was I thinking?" she berates herself aloud, thumping her head back against the solid wood. 'That was foolish! I came far too close to saying something I must not.' With a sigh, she steps away from the door to put away her things. She wonders if perhaps she is getting too comfortable in her new home, but she cannot bring herself to feel that it is a bad thing. She values the relative tranquility she has found, and is content with it. With a frown, Arturia notes as she cleans her quills that her hands are shaking slightly. 'This is... fear of losing my place here?'

As soon as she finishes the maintenance of the tools of her most recent trade, she bars the door to begin the maintenance of the tools of her previous trade. Settling herself on the floor with her armor and weapons to her side, she selects a soft, relatively clean rag from her pile of cloth scraps and picks up her sword to begin. The familiar routine is comforting, and she lets herself become absorbed in the mundane task. Her racing heart slows as the fear fades, and she mentally reviews the conversation with Emma and the confrontation with Osric as she works.

"Ah... I certainly must apologize to Emma." She shakes her head, dismayed by her reaction. 'Gaping stupidly is not a response to a lady's advances suitable for a knight.' She puts down her rag as she finishes the back of her plate armor, and touches her cheek carefully. 'Osric has a strong punch. This will be swollen tomorrow.' She moves her jaw experimentally. 'I will have to find some excuse. To explain why Osric punched me would impinge upon Emma's honor.'

She lifts her breastplate into her lap and picks up the rag again. Safe in her room with the door soundly barred, she feels her tension ease. However, something about her last thought nags at her. "A lady's honor..." she mumbles, thinking. "Ah! I am sorry, Rin!" She flushes with shame. Falsely claiming a relationship with a lady is behavior unbecoming of a knight, and she had certainly claimed one with Rin in all but her name. Yet, Arturia does not think the magus would have minded. 'It was for a good cause. And... it is not entirely untrue.' Her flush deepens, and she shakes her head. 'She would have demanded payment though, I do not doubt.' Arturia wonders idly what the other girl would have done in her situation, but the thought brings with it a wave of longing.

'I want to see all of them again, not just Shirou,' she realizes. 'I miss Shirou the most,' she thinks, feeling her cheeks warm again, 'but I also miss the others. Taiga's refreshingly outgoing and honest nature... Sakura's quiet strength... I would have liked to get to know them better. Illyasviel von Einzbern... The daughter of Iri and that man... I would have been happier if she was never our enemy. The time she spent at Shirou's house was almost like being with Iri again. Rin... I am glad she was not our enemy. Had I not been a Servant, I think I could have called her a friend.'

Arturia smiles sadly to herself. 'I have lived here for a year, and yet I am homesick for a place that was only my home for a few days.' Yet she does not find it strange. Shirou, Rin, and Illya knew who and what she was, and accepted her anyway. 'Is that why I do not feel happy here, despite having made many friends?' she wonders. 'Is it impossible, while keeping such secrets? Still, the quiet happiness of the people here... I wish everyone could experience it.'

With a yawn, Arturia sets aside the last of her armor and stands, stretching to ease the stiff muscles in her back. She carefully hides her armor under the rags in the corner of the room. Her fingers trail lingeringly over the engravings and delicate tracery on Avalon as she sets it and her sword down against the wall by her pallet. Yawning again, she blows out the candle lighting her room, and crawls gratefully into her bed.

~~~CotD~~~

"Arthur, y'busy?"

Arturia opens her eyes and bites back a sarcastic response. She think it should be obvious that she is not engaged, as she has been spending the afternoon napping in the sunlight. Although she spent the morning writing until her hand cramped, there has been only a single request for her services since she returned from dinner. However, she reminds herself that the young man standing over her is scrupulously polite, and simply shakes her head as she sits up.

"I am unoccupied, Bertwald." She accepts his offered hand and lets him pull her to her feet. "Has another letter arrived from Leofrun?"

Bertwald shakes his head sadly. "I've not heard from 'er since midsummer."

"I see." She looks at him quizzically. "Was there something else you needed?"

"No," he says, and clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I overheard yesterday." Arturia grunts noncommittally and waits for him to continue. "Is that th' reason you're helpin' me for free? 'Cause you've got a lass waitin' for you back home?"

"Yes," she admits. "Although, I do not believe she would ever expect to see me again. The people I left behind when I came here have no reason to believe I am still alive."

Bertwald seems taken aback by her stoic admission. He turns away from her and coughs. "It's hard, ain't it? Leavin' 'em behind. Leofrun cried when I left," he says slowly, "and I have t'admit I cried too." His voice is hesitant, and Arturia realizes it is a difficult thing for him to admit to.

"I shed tears, also," Arturia responds quietly, "when I realized I would have to leave. There is very little I would not give to be able to send a single letter to the ones I left behind." Bertwald spins around, wide-eyed. "It is my pleasure to assist you, Bertwald."

"I- thank you, Arthur!" he says thickly. "If there's anythin' I can do t'help you..." He trails off, looking frustrated.

Arturia shakes her head. "You have helped already. Aiding another who is suffering the same pain eases my own, somehow."

Bertwald bows his head. "Thank you again, Arthur."

Arturia smiles slightly. "As I said, it is my pleasure."

'So this is what it feels like,' she thinks as he walks away with a wave, 'to have my efforts to help people welcomed. Shirou, I think I am beginning to understand.'