Okay, I didn't particularly have much trouble with this chapter. Most of the time was spent doing all this research. Did you know potatoes didn't actually exist in England back then? Yeah, neither did I. No bananas either. Huh.
Anyway, here is chapter five. I have a poll up on my account page asking about your preferences for chapter lengths. I'll keep it up until around mid-December or so.
I also really appreciate everyone's reviews. I was surprised to get over twenty for the fourth chapter. Thank you all so much. Also, those who question the story or fault it, thank you! I sometimes question what you question, but you make me think about what I've written more, and that hopefully makes this into a much better story!
"My soldiers, today we have paid witness to a great tragedy, the likes of which we have never seen come this day. Before you, in the plentiful beds, lay the bodies of befallen innocents, slayed in cold blood by an enemy that could never hope to comprehend honor, nor the way of the sword."
Shirou walked in between the two horses of King Arthur and Sir Bedivere, his eyes downcast as he recalled the speech the king had made over half a day before. After all of the soldiers had finished digging up all of the bodies they could find, Arturia had held a funeral service so that the spirits of those fallen would have safe passage to their final resting place. Shirou had watched from the sidelines, his head bowed in prayer as Sir Bedivere spoke encouraging, yet somber, words for all of those in attendance. While Ceri had been the first person to come to his mind, Shirou had found flashes of all the people he had seen on a daily basis appearing in his head. It was just...difficult to acknowledge that the people he had seen smiling, milling about, doing their jobs, were now all gone, never to be seen again.
"When a man takes up the sword, he thus declares that he will fight those who would oppose him, using his weapon as a means to forcefully pave his own path. The carnage and destruction that our eyes laid upon was not the scene of men who fought with honor, greatness, and a need to procure something to better themselves or their country. No, my friends, this tragedy was born purely from hatred, lack of pride in oneself and others, and an inability to perform for the sake of something bigger than oneself."
Shirou glanced behind him at the marching soldiers briefly before looking forward again. When they had departed from the outskirts of Tryst to head back to Camelot, the king had initially suggested that he ride with her on her horse. When he refused, saying that was unnecessary, she had more than likely thought he still held some kind of grudge against her, and so suggested he ride with Bedivere instead. Shirou had refused once again, wanting to instead walk the entire way on his own. If he was beginning anew, then he had to learn how to walk on his own and get to his goal by his own power.
"To slay an unarmed innocent is not only beneath a knight, or a soldier for that matter, it is utterly reprehensible. Even a boy knows not to attack those who cannot defend themselves, yet, as you have seen for yourselves, the Saxons know no such boundaries. Unlike yourselves, they have not learned what it means to value life, to value others, to fight for what is right and just."
Their pace walking back was fairly slow and relaxed – he wasn't sure if it was because the men were tired from having rushed over from Camelot with hardly any rest, or if Arturia was being considerate of him, or what. Whatever the reason, he had to say he was pretty grateful for it. He had been awake for nearly two days, and if he wasn't mistaken, had the beginnings of a cold coming on. Shirou didn't want to waste the medicine he had received from Myrus though, so he planned to wait until the symptoms possibly grew worse before he would drink down some pills.
"The enemy we face is not one of man, but that of demons – beings that can only act on their desires and instincts as opposed to the resourcefulness and intelligence that is born from merely being human. I ask of you all, what kind of person would it take to brutally strike those who would mean you no harm? Is that how a soldier should fight? Is that how a human should fight?"
There were small echoes of "no" across the ranks.
No, Shirou realized, absently feeling his forehead, he definitely had some kind of fever, though it was probably low-grade. He didn't normally get sick, but the stress from the past week, coupled with his traumatic experience, and the fact that he hadn't slept for a while had probably hurt his immune system a bit. His hands were freezing – he could see blue in his fingertips – but his face was burning up and he was sweating a bit. Shirou wanted to take off his scarf to cool down a bit, but the temperature was nothing to scoff at. For a second, he almost envied all of the soldiers behind and the two knights beside him – their armor might have been ridiculously heavy, but it had to provide some extra warmth.
"We are nothing like our enemies, no, we are far better and more superior than they are! Within our right hands lay the tool necessary for defeating any foe, and within our bodies do we possess the heart and soul to reach for a grander future! Let the tragedy of these people serve as a lesson for all of us to think more deeply about our positions, consider those who are beneath us physically, mentally, and in ability! Let this serve as a motivation to work harder, move faster, and procure better results! Tell me, who would want a repeat of this cruelty? Would that be you?"
The last sentence was belted out with a shout at the men. More men than before raised their weapons high, shouting cries of denial.
Shirou was surprised to see Arturia bring her horse to a stop and turn to look at the soldiers. He heard her shout across the area that they would be resting for the night, and would depart again at dawn. He wiped some of the sweat off his cheek with the back of his right hand and looked up at the sky. Dusk had fallen without him really noticing, so it only made sense that they stop for the night. He watched Arturia and Sir Bedivere move off a ways from the main company of soldiers, while the soldiers themselves grouped up with their friends or close companions. He saw several men gather together piles of dead grass and twigs and dig little holes to make fires.
"Never again shall such a travesty be repeated. Never again shall we allow the enemy to crush beneath them that which belongs to us. Never again will we ever allow trespassers to venture into our lands. We fight not for ourselves, but for better times, better opportunities, and a better Britain! We take up arms not to hurt, but to protect! Not to maliciously cause pain, but to strategically defend and support! My pride demands that this wrong be righted, that this evil be purged, that this injustice be rectified! Tell me, my brothers-in-arms, do you stand with me?"
Cries of agreement traveled through the ranks, all of the soldiers moved by their king's words.
Shirou looked over at the several groups of soldiers, each huddled around their own group fires and starting to eat the provisions they had brought along with them for the trip. He then looked over as the king and Sir Bedivere started their own fire in a position that was neither too near nor far from the regular soldiers. It wasn't as if he could be all buddy-buddy with the soldiers, and there was no way in hell he could lounge around next to the king. He blew some hot air into his hands and rubbed them together quickly as he looked around himself for someplace to start his own fire. Shirou didn't want to sit too far away from the main camp, but it would probably be best if he kept some kind of distance. He plopped down some ways away from everyone and pulled out pieces of grass to pile up.
"Today, we march back to Camelot with much to ponder: how low does one need to go to ruin the lives and futures of so many? My friends, my brothers, let us stand together in a united front. The path before us is clear – we know precisely what we must do. The pain we feel, we will allow it to chip at our hearts and become fuel for our anger. The shame we have suffered, we will reroute it and force it down our enemies' throats. When they show their cowardly figures, we will ride out to them, with our swords there as a greeting. We will show them what it is to be real men, to be real soldiers and knights. We will show them what chivalry and pride truly are.
"My brothers, we will push them back to where they came from. We will prove to them we are lions, not mere kittens meant to be stepped on. Today, we have seen cruelty like none other. Let us return the favor, let us prove to them, once and for all, what it means to be a Briton. We will stand side by side with our countrymen. We will hold our heads high and continue forth with pride. Our sharpened steel will engage the enemy and show them what it means to have the pride of a Briton. We will find our foes! We will show them the errors of their ways! We will fight them with all that we have, and my brothers... My brothers, we will, emerge, VICTORIOUS!"
King Arthur ended her speech with a yell as she raised Excalibur high into the air. The soldiers roared out in agreement, each one moved and empowered by the words of their king. The tension and pressure racing through the troops was enough to make even Shirou want to scream out his own approval and strengthened feelings.
"Is this what that Charisma rank B meant?" Shirou questioned softly, enraptured as he stared at the magnificent king.
Shirou clicked together two rocks, frowning when they weren't producing as many sparks as he would have like. Luckily, the ground was fairly dry, and the grass even more so, so it wasn't long before he was able to get a flame started. He blew gently into the flames to increase the heat and then crawled back away from fire. He wasn't feeling well, Shirou realized, coughing slightly into sleeve. There was little wind that night, fortunately, but it was still ridiculously cold. He kind of wished he could project a shed or someplace where the heat would stay trapped, but even if he weren't surrounded by all the people, it probably wasn't a good idea to start using his skills willy-nilly. Plus, he was really wiped.
Shirou shifted around and pulled his backpack close before opening it and rummaging inside. He found the bottle of ibuprofen and opened it up, careful to hide it from the soldiers' views. While Shirou wasn't particularly in pain, the medicine should be able to help relieve his fever a bit, if he even had one. Gulping down a couple of the pills dry, he tossed the bottle back into the pack and sighed.
"Okay, let's go over the last couple of days," he murmured to himself, staring into the fire. "The villages fell under attack by the Saxons, and the militia were able to hold them off for a while, but eventually were pressured too much. I helped fight some and escorted some people, but ending up getting my butt kicked and knocked unconscious. I was called King Arthur because I stupidly tried projecting a sword and doing a Noble Phantasm that should have been far beyond me."
Shirou rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe the cold's numbing my body so much that I don't feel any pain. Or maybe it's thanks to the fact that I didn't actually try to do the attack in full, not that I would've anyway. Damn, Saber would have killed me if she found out what I'd done. No, first she would have patched me up, then she would have attempted murder, and then she would have yelled at me for another few hours. Yeah, she would have called me an idiot and chastised my recklessness."
Hugging his legs close to his body, he looked over at the main camp, seeing several soldiers sleeping and others either sitting by their fires or walking around, patrolling lightly. A few men would occasionally glance his way, but as no one seemed to show any inclination to come up to him, it didn't really matter. The king herself had invited him to travel with them, after all. Even if they were against the king, none of them were stupid enough to say anything in her presence, and no one seemed to want to put his life on the line just because a foreigner was walking around with them. Speaking of kings, he thought, coughing slightly, – damn, now he was coughing, too? – what was she up to?
Shirou turned to peer over at where she and that knight had been sitting. She was resting on the ground with her back leaning against her horse's side. Considering how her head was bowed, Shirou gathered that she must have been catching up on some rest. Sir Bedivere, on the other hand, was sitting in front of their fire, his eyes focused on its flames. The knight probably had the first watch between the two of them, and it wasn't long before Shirou saw him stand up and begin walking over towards the soldiers who were still awake. Bedivere passed him a single glance, but his expression was so indeterminable that Shirou wasn't sure what to make of it.
So, instead, he looked back over to where King Arthur was. She was as gorgeous as she had always been to him, though quite a bit more hardened in some ways. Perhaps she had been protecting him in some ways, but Shirou couldn't remember her ever barking out orders to him like, well, a king, when she'd been with him. She had been graceful, resourceful, tactically intuitive, amongst other things, but cold and relentless? Not necessarily. Despite her issue with his father, she had been kind to him from the very beginning.
Shirou frowned slightly, cupping his chin as he thought. No, she had indeed been cold and relentless in some ways – he would have never expected a little blonde girl to tell him to kill people as if they were taking a walk through the park. No, he surmised, retracting his previous thought, she was hardly any different than she had been when they first met. The main thing that was different, if anything at all, was probably the pressure.
That was it, Shirou thought, snapping his fingers lightly. True, the very first day he had met Saber, he had been completely unable to react around her, but thinking back on it, that was probably because she wasn't technically human anymore by that time. Her wounds healed as if they had never been there, at least on the outside, she possessed abilities that normal humans shouldn't have, and she was capable of doing things that should have been impossible. That strangeness was what had concerned him about her most, at first. It had left him unable to react properly, and he didn't even want to think back to when he had stupidly thought that she shouldn't fight because she was a girl.
Shirou leaned forward slightly, his eyelids feeling heavier than before. King Arthur, he thought adamantly, making sure to call her that so he wouldn't constantly think of her as the person who had been together with him before, was a different beast entirely in this age. Rather, she exuded a pressure that stunned him. He noticed it when she first appeared in front of him in Tryst, and it had been very difficult to ignore when she gave her speech. It was a pressure that made a person want to bow down without a single word being spoken. It was like it paralyzed his limbs and made him incapable of behaving normally.
However, Shirou also recognized the goodness of the pressure. While it did feel like he could lose his head at any time, there was also this other force within her that he simply couldn't ignore. Something about her simply made him want to believe in her abilities. Even if he hadn't met her at all in the future, he got the feeling that he would follow her to the ends of the earth, if she asked that of him. Shirou couldn't really explain it. It's like, her passion, or maybe her virtuous nature, or whatever it was, grabbed hold of his heart and dragged out whatever courage he may have possessed, and vehemently eradicated his fears and doubts.
There were a number of times where Shirou wondered if he had made the right decision to go with her to Camelot. He was scared, he was empty, and he was hardly a shell of his confident self. This was, since the Holy Grail War, the first time he was left to his own devices to accomplish something of great importance. Before, if he had messed up, Rin was always there to support him through everything. She would dig him out of his messes and pave a new path for him to take. At one point, he had actually asked her why she kept cleaning up after him, and all she had said was,
"That's a good question. I wouldn't bother if I thought for a single moment that you were capable of standing on your own without somehow reverting back to how you used to be. Do you remember back to before you met Saber? You had a stupid, ridiculous dream, and no way to go about accomplishing it. You were a husk, simply going through the motions of life without actually living at all. You were pathetic, and pissed me off. I mean, you really pissed me off. How can there be anyone stupid enough to not realize how far off the road they're driving?"
Shirou remembered being confused. Like usual, she had managed to evade his question and insult him at the very same time. On top of that, she made it seem like he was some kind of paradox that shouldn't have been able to exist.
"Mmph," he had grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. "If I'm so bad, then why are you still here? I mean, you make it seem as if I'm incurable."
Rin had turned away from him and flipped a few pages in her book, eyes downcast as her fingers drifted across pages she wasn't actually reading.
"Honestly?" she had asked, head bent down. "Because I'm more afraid of what would happen to you if I didn't. If you were on your own, would you really be able to take care of yourself? Would you remember that there is a life worth living for, something beyond that ridiculous dream of yours? Would you remember that there are some of us out there that actually give a fucking damn about you?"
She had whirled around, her beautiful blue eyes glimmering with unshed tears. He had only stood there staring back at her, unsure of what to say. No, there was nothing he could have said, as he hadn't known for himself, both then, and currently. Rin had looked at him for a short moment before turning away slowly and quietly asking him to leave her alone.
He hadn't been able to answer her that day, or come up with an answer anytime thereafter. She hadn't really spoken to him much over the next couple of weeks, except for work- or house-related things. It had relieved him greatly when, on the morning of the third week, she turned around, gave him a whisper of a smile, and said,
"I'll take my coffee black today, thanks."
He had been so relieved that she had started to talk to him again that he had skipped the bathroom and immediately worked to fulfill her request. Come to think of it, it had been around that time that Shirou had begun calling her "Rin" instead of "Tohsaka". It hadn't been intentional, but had just happened, as if that was the way it should have been. That had been back during his third year in Britain.
Yes, Shirou realized after musing over his memories, that was the reason he had never once been left to his own devices. As Rin had made apparent, he had a habit of filtering out things that determinedly had no place in his life, whether that be fun, desire, whatever. Rin had always forced him to continue living life as a normal human being should – there was no other choice as far as she was concerned, no other alternative. However, that put Shirou in quite a bind.
Before the Holy Grail War, he had simply existed. It wasn't that he worked to do things on his own, it was that he had had a lack of desire to do anything from the start. He'd had a goal, but only a roundabout way of reaching it. After the war, he had no longer been on his own, but had had Rin to help him every step of the way. It was through her that he had gained the confidence to live as a human being would. His decisions had not solely been his either, as he could discuss them with her at any point. In other words, he had had a type of buffer to prevent him from reverting back to how he was.
Now, though, he only had himself. He had to make his own decisions by himself, like a normal adult, while maintaining his humanity. Shirou was certain he could manage back in the future without Rin. He was certain he could carve his own path. Now, though... Now, he was in the past. Any step he took would be an infringement on history, and he took the risk of changing things that were better left as was. Would it have been better to have worked from the sidelines to ensure King Arthur would be safe? Should he have so readily accepted her offer to join her in Camelot? Should he have tried to accomplish things in the most indirect manner, a route that would slowly and eventually end up being effective somehow in the long run?
Both Saber and Rin had brought out his best, and dragged out his worst. Now, he had to forge his own path. Shirou clutched at his chest as he coughed again, his eyes narrowing while he stared into the fire.
"I've made my decision," he whispered, frowning. "Now I have to follow it through. I kept calling myself a man all those years ago, but it's like I've been walking backwards. I have to weed out all of my concerns and fears before I can move forward again, on my own two feet."
He shifted around and laid down on the hard, cold ground, his arms crossed behind his head. "I failed in Tryst, and I couldn't make good on my promise. Saber... No," he sighed, "King Arthur was right. I am weak. If I'm going to do anything and become something of worth, I've got to move forward, get stronger, and avenge all of them. I can't save everyone I see, but I can work as hard as I can to ensure that there won't be as many victims in the future."
His eyelids fluttered a bit as he tried to stay awake. "I should pick a job that will give me more chances to see her. I've also got a keep my emotions bottled up a bit more. She's Saber, but she isn't. Everything about her is the same, exactly like if she'd never met my old man. She never met me. She doesn't love me like Saber did, even if I love her."
And, that was the crux of everything, wasn't it? She was no longer the person who he had been with for those two weeks, but nothing about her was any different. King Arthur was still the same woman who he loved, and probably always would. Right now, he was worthless to her, but, if by some chance, if at all possible, he had to become worthy of her attention. One day, Shirou would be able to fight once again on the battlefield, after he had gathered all of his courage and rid himself of his fears. Until then, he had to pick a job, and do it well enough to be noticed.
"I'm good at cleaning, but, cooking would probably be far more fun and interesting. I don't know the first thing about horses or gardening or anything."
Suddenly, a flash back to when he had asked Saber about food in her own country swept through his mind. He remembered the expression of abject hatred that appeared on her face as she thought back to the food in her time. Maybe Shirou had been lucky, but he hadn't actually had any disturbingly bad food since coming to the past, save for that bread and meat he'd received from Myrus. Most of the soups Ceri had concocted had been more or less okay to him, although he had been quick to hunt down seasonings in the area around the village. Some things just weren't meant to be eaten without some kind of buffer.
Shirou breathed in a deep breath before letting out a long sigh. The fire felt really nice, but realized he had to flip over to his other side since his right side was freezing. He was also coughing a lot more, but the medicine was probably working a little bit. His body didn't feel nearly as hot as before. Shirou, now laying on his stomach, lifted up droopy eyes to look over at where King Arthur was still sleeping. Bedivere hadn't finished his rounds just yet, but it seemed like he was almost done.
"This ground is really cold," he muttered, his eyes slowly fluttering shut as he finally fell asleep.
The first thing Shirou noticed as he woke up some time later was that his body was both freezing and burning up. The second thing was that something cool was pressed lightly against his forehead. Or, maybe it was actually warm but he was too hot to tell? His bleary eyes opened slightly enough to see the expanse of the glittering, starry sky above him. Shirou frowned when he heard the sound of clanking nearby, and tried to push himself up. His body didn't want to pay his orders any attention, but he needed to get up. A quick glance at the tinder where his fire had been quickly told him the reason for his being so cold. Shirou forced himself up to a sitting position.
He felt dizzy, but he had to get up to build a new fire. Just as he was about to shift his weight around to push himself up off the ground, he felt everything around him tilt and swirl a bit. Okay, getting up was not a good idea, then.
"That pack..." came a faraway voice. The sound of clanking and clunking was coming closer and the noise was starting to give him a headache.
"Si–... Shall... You?" Shirou was only picking up a few words at that point. Whoever was talking was still too far away.
"No...him myself." Oh, the voices were closer now. He was able to catch the last bit of that sentence.
The clanking came to a stop beside him and Shirou turned his torso a bit to see someone, no, King Arthur, he realized, looking more closely, standing next to him. Her expression was as cool and placid as usual, though the same couldn't be said for the soldier who had accompanied her to his little spot.
"Sire, if I may," the soldier began tentatively, looking uncertain.
"My order stands," came the quick dismissal. "See to it. When you are finished, clear this area of evidence that anyone was here."
Confused, Shirou watched as the soldier bowed and reached to pick up Shirou's backpack. Not understanding what was going on, he weakly waved a hand in the soldier's direction, trying to reach for it.
"Hey, that's mine," he complained, trying to get up before a gentle force pushed him back down.
For a second, Shirou thought they might have considered leaving him behind and thought taking his pack was worth their effort thus far. He pushed off whatever was on his shoulder and tried to crawl to get to the soldier when a hand – he was now certain it was a hand. A hand in armor, but a hand nonetheless – pushed him down again with a little more force.
"Cease your struggles, Shirou," he heard her say.
"But, my backpack..." he argued, frowning slightly as he looked up at her.
He wasn't sure what caused it, but there was a small frown of disapproval on her face as she peered down at him. She let out a small sigh and gestured for the soldier to continue as he was. Shirou sat obediently next to the king as the soldier bowed and carried the backpack away. He looked up at her again like a forlorn child. He wasn't even sure what he was thinking or seeing anymore. He must have been sicker than he'd originally thought.
"Now, come," King Arthur commanded him as she fell to a knee and draped one of his arms across her shoulders.
Wrapping her own arm around his waist, she supported Shirou as he unsteadily rose up onto his own two feet. As soon as he was standing, he tried to pull his arm back and move away from her, but her grip was as solid as steel. He wasn't going anywhere but where she intended to take him. After ensuring that Shirou more or less had his balance, the king slowly walked forward, directing him towards the campfire where Sir Bedivere was now resting. If the king was awake and the knight was asleep, they must have changed rotations already, Shirou realized. He wished he could tell time by the positioning of the sun and stars. These people probably could though – he'd have to ask one of them someday. Even if he could tell time though, it honestly felt like he'd barely slept an hour. He was so exhausted.
The warmth of the fire was incredibly welcome to him as Her Majesty helped him sit down next to it. She pushed him back to rest against her sleeping horse and then went to pick up his bag and set it next to him. Shirou watched her look over at the main camp for a slight moment before she focused her intense gaze on him. He just blinked owlishly as she frowned further. Great. What had he done to deserve her scorn this time?
"Honestly," she let out irritably as soon as she realized he wasn't going to say anything himself. "What else do I find upon awakening but a stubborn man who proceeds to sleep alone in the cold in the middle of December. Never have I come across such stupidity. Is this a regular habit with you, sir? I know you mean to rest, but this must be resolved first."
Oh, man, an argument. He had to focus a bit more to make sure he didn't say the wrong thing.
"What was I supposed to do? Unless you expect me to materialize a nice, big, warm house out of thin air."
His sarcasm didn't escape her, though she did appear to ignore it. "If you could, that would be a blessing indeed."
Ah. She didn't ignore it. She returned it.
"Look," he grumbled, just wanting to rest, "it wasn't as if I could go up to your soldiers and be buddy-buddy with them. I knew how to build a fire, so I just went a little farther away so I wouldn't bother anyone. Besides, you basically said it yourself: I have to learn to do things on my own and make my own path."
"If you were wary of approaching my soldiers, than why did you not simply speak to me or Bedivere? We would have been more than willing to accommodate you, or rather, that is our current duty, until I have fulfilled my promise to you."
Shirou closed his eyes to rest some as he was scolded, but could practically feel her growing angrier. Opening them again and maintaining eye contact with her, he shook his head slightly.
"What normal person could go up to a king and ask something like that?"
"You seemed to have no problem asking me to decide your life for you, and yet you balk at something so obvious and simple?"
Shirou frowned and opened his mouth to rebuke her, but she cut him off.
"Also, while we are on the topic, you spoke of me saying that you should decide your own path. That phrasing I used, I do not think it means what you think it means. What I originally meant was that you should learn to move and think as appropriate to the situation. Do you honestly believe that falling asleep by yourself, near an untended fire, when you are so obviously ill, was appropriate?"
She let out a small "tch" as she turned away from him, scowling. "Although, I recognize this as being partially my fault. I should have realized the stress of the situation would wear on you. You also looked as if you had not slept in a while. Yes, I am also to blame for –"
"That foreigner is getting a right rippin' from the king."
"Serves him right. Why would the king think to pick up a louse like him?"
"That's just part of the His Majesty's charm. You know, paying homage to the poor and weak, taking up strays, and all that. He's benevolent like that."
"I'd just as soon see that guy's head on a platter though. Scots' heads are so big, but I wonder how big the insides are."
"What insides? You mean the cotton?"
As the few soldiers continued mocking him, Shirou cast his gaze at the ground. He wasn't particularly fazed by what they were saying – after all, he had faced much worse when he'd gone to England to study under Rin. Besides, his hair was red, and these people were fighting a war that involved Scotland. It was only obvious that they should be angry that their king took a probable enemy under her wing, even if only for a short while. As long as no one was going to hunt him down, tie him up, and hang him or something, he was fine. Wait, they didn't do hanging much in the sixth century, right? No, they did the guillotine thing, right? No, wait, it was hanging. France did the guillotine thing. Hell, history was not his best subject, truth be told.
To be entirely truthful, though, he didn't care if they jeered at him – he just wanted this discussion with King Arthur to be done so he could sleep. Ah, blissful sleep. Oh, and he probably needed to down another couple of pills to fight the fever. He couldn't let anyone see his medicine though. That was another good reason for being by himself – he didn't have to hide his stuff.
Just as he was ready to stop fighting sleep and close his eyes, he heard the clinking of armor as King Arthur drew up to her full height. Shirou stared up at her and felt like his body had been splashed with freezing, cold water as soon as he saw her expression. No, it wasn't just the expression of absolute anger, – note: she was pretty pissed – it the pressure that was suddenly engulfing the immediate area. Then tension emanating from her was enough for even the joking soldiers to slowly take notice. Had they been enemies, they would have long fallen by her sword by then.
The expression of anger shifted back to calm placidness, her gaze steady as she stared at the awake soldiers.
"How odd. If my memory serves me correctly," she began, her voice level and low, "I do not believe I employed you to make fleeting, irrelevant comments about the guests with whom I convene, or, have I been gravely mistaken all of this time?"
King Arthur did not shout or raise her voice at all. A good two-thirds of the soldiers under her command were still sleeping after all, and she probably wanted to ensure they would have enough energy to start the next stretch of their journey. Shirou swallowed slowly, feeling his body grow even heavier as he stared up at her. Despite never raising her voice, somehow, it seemed to carry just as easily, and loudly, as if she had indeed yelled. The worst part of it all, Shirou realized, had to be her tone. It reeked of suffused iciness, that seemed to drip down stalactites of icicles as the words flowed across the area.
After the king had spoken those few words, there came about a silence and stillness that seemed completely unnatural. It must have been his imagination, since Bedivere never made any move to rise or even open his eyes. Even asking her about possible super attacks that one night so long ago had never incited such ire. Note to self: don't make fun of any guests King Arthur happens to speak to.
She raised her head slightly, with her eyebrows also arching a bit.
"You are staying silent. I will take that to mean that you are indeed soldiers under my command, and as a result, do not have any such freedom as mocking those with whom I seek to speak. Or, perhaps, you feel yourselves fit to intervene on royal business?"
Shirou didn't hear anyone say anything. Actually, he couldn't hear anything but silence.
"Of course," the king continued as her head shifted to the side barely a smidgen, "if you are lacking for entertainment, I am certain there are many things I can find for you to do. Perhaps you would like to scout within ten leagues of our position for our enemies, or participate in more training with me personally? Yes, I suppose some training is long overdue. I will ensure you have no reason to speak idly of matters that do not whatsoever concern yourselves."
Silence continued before a meek voice interrupted it by saying,
"Ah, begging your pardon, Your Majesty. 'Twas all in good fun, you see. Forgive us – we won't say anything more on the matter."
"In fact, we were actually thinking of checking the area ourselves, to make sure no enemies were around to threaten Your Majesty," spoke another cowed voice.
"Forgive us. We will take our leave now," came the last voice.
"Yes, that would be best," King Arthur responded, nodding slightly. "I look forward to the report from all of you."
Whatever sleep Shirou had wanted had taken a seat on the back burner after that exchange. Saber had always been so nice and kind when she was with him. To see her, or rather, King Arthur, in her natural environment and rightful place as king was absolutely terrifying. Actually, she scared the hell out of him, while at the same time, made him impressed beyond belief. She was frightening to a small degree, but the level of respect she commanded, her ability to bring about complete silence out of rough and gruff soldiers like the ones who had made fun of him was incredibly amazing.
I feel like I'm falling in love all over again, he thought to himself, still staring up at her, petrified.
Her posture losing some of its tension, she turned her gaze back to look at him, and he froze even more. Gone were the normally cool, yet amiable eyes he had grown accustomed to since meeting her in Tryst, and in their place, orbs as dangerously hard as diamonds and as frostily cold as the arctic. Shirou felt his heart start pounding even harder, but he couldn't be sure it was only out of fear.
She must have noticed his unease, because as soon as she looked away and he saw a muscle in her jaw jump slightly as she gritted her teeth, the pressure weighing him down suddenly dissolved, as if it had never actually been there. He almost felt as if his body had lost some weight, considering how much lighter he was. Then again, as soon as that concern was gone, his exhaustion hit him again full force.
"Shirou."
He compelled his eyes to look back up at her.
"Shirou, I apologize for that interruption. As you appear to be at your limit, allow me to make one last thing clear before I leave you to your rest: you only have one life – there are, and never will be, any repeats. Unless you are very fortunate, or unfortunate, for that matter, there will be no going back to redo what you have already done. I ask that you keep that in mind when you learn to 'stand on your own two feet', so to speak.
"Ensuring that your body is up to par and in good health is the first step to the strength you seek. Rest, and rid yourself of that ridiculous fever so that you may be able to move forward. Well, then," she finished softly, bowing her head, "I leave you to your rest. I will see that you awaken at dawn."
Shirou was sure the irony of her statement would have hit him a bit harder had he had a clear head, but at the moment, he was only barely able to keep his eyes open. He watched through half-open eyes as her skirts swirled as she turned and heard the clanking of her armor as she walked away. Shirou felt around him for his backpack, and as soon as his hand touched the leather, he dragged it closer to him. Not even opening the flap, he stuck his hand into the main pocket, reaching for the hard, plastic bottle. Bringing it out, he uncapped the lid and popped a couple of more pills. As soon as he pushed the bottle back into the bag, Shirou rested his head against the horse behind him.
Readying himself to fall asleep, he suddenly sat up ramrod straight, blinking a few times. Damn it, he had to take a piss. Shirou grunted as he pushed himself onto his knees and then tentatively stood up. As soon as he was up, he felt a wave of dizziness pass through him and he placed his hands on his hips to steady himself a bit. Frowning, Shirou looked up to see the blonde king looking back at him from a few steps away.
"Is there a problem?"
"No," he answered wearily. "I just realized I haven't gone to the bathroom since we left. I'm just going to head over to that bush over there real quick."
King Arthur turned to him fully, her countenance serious. "Ah, yes. My apologies for not even considering that you may have been feeling some discomfort. Then, allow me to escort you."
"It's barely a hundred meters away," he protested, pointing over at one of the many small thickets located a bit of a ways from them. "I'd be able to shout for help if I really needed it."
"It is at times when you least expect danger that you are in the most danger," she rebuked, tilting her head slightly. "Ensuring your safety is part of my duty, and I take my responsibilities quite seriously."
"What, so do you think there are enemies around here?"
"I don't believe so, no," she answered honestly.
"Do you think I'm going to be attacked while I'm over there?"
"The probabilities of that happening are slim to none, so, no, I do not."
"Then I can go by myself, right?"
"I would much prefer that you didn't."
That was a pretty obvious "no" if he'd ever heard one.
She wasn't budging and his bladder was on the verge of bursting. The last time he'd gone to the restroom had been shortly before the entire company had left the burned ashes of Tryst and although he hadn't actually drank or ate anything along the way – oh, he was hungry, too, now that he thought about it – nature still called. Shirou gave her one last glance and after weighing the importance of either using the restroom, with an escort or no, and arguing with her for the sake of just a bit of independence, there was obviously only one answer he could come up with. Shirou just sighed and started walking toward the thicket, with her a few steps behind him.
"Isn't this something one of those guys back there should be doing?" he questioned, genuinely curious as to why a king would be his own personal escort.
"Considering what took place earlier, I wouldn't be surprised if they resorted to violence instead of merely words were I not present," King Arthur answered candidly. "You are still very much an enemy in their eyes, and I am the only reason you still breathe, at the moment."
Well, that was a gruesome thought. So, when she had talked about safety earlier, had she meant security from being killed by actual enemies like the Saxons, or security from being killed by her own people? It made sense in a way – she may have been king, but these were still individual people they were talking about. No matter what any leader did, no one could possibly force someone to stop doing something they so earnestly desired to do. In other words, Shirou was the possible enemy due to his appearance and the soldiers wanted to take care of him. No matter how scary she was – and she had been damned terrifying earlier – if a soldier felt oppressed by a possible enemy sitting near him, it would only be natural to deal with the oppression, even if only to appease oneself.
It was the Holy Grail War all over again – there was just one person, though a very intensely strong one, blocking and shielding him from a whole bunch of people who wanted nothing more than to spill his blood. ...Had he just been born under a dark star or maybe on the night of a new moon to incur so much bad luck in his life? What was it with people always wanting to kill him for some reason?
"Then, I will wait here. Please inform me when you have finished your business."
Oh, they had already gotten there. That was fast. Shirou glanced at her as he passed by her, but her eyes were closed and head slightly bowed as she stood firm. As always, the king's posture was perfectly erect and she was as calm as a trickling brook. He was quickly reminded of when Rin, him, and Saber went to the church together. She had simply waited outside of the gate in much of the same position, her only duty to stand guard until her services proved necessary.
Shirou quickly went into the thicket, did his business, and was wiping his hands on a couple of leaves as he returned to her side. Her eyes opened to look at him, silently questioning if he were done or not. He let the leaves fall to the ground – what he wouldn't do for some antibacterial soap – and looked back at her with a small grin.
"Thanks for waiting."
She merely nodded her head and began walking ahead. Her pace, however, was slow and it was easy enough for Shirou to fall in step with her.
"So..." Shirou began, trying to fill the silence. "What's Camelot like?"
"You will find out within three to four days' time. Could you contain your curiosity until then?"
"Uh, right, sorry," he mumbled, seeing that she wasn't in the mood for small talk. Well, that much should have been obvious – it wasn't like they were friends or anything. Not only that, but who knew if they ever would be able to get as close as Saber and he had been?
When they finally reached the campsite where Bedivere still lay sleeping, the king did not move a muscle away until she was certain that Shirou was settled by the campfire. He let out a long sigh of exhaustion when he sat down in front of the fire. He was still really tired even though the medicine was finally kicking in, but at least his bladder was empty and he was moderately comfortable.
"I will awaken you come dawn," the woman serving as king told him.
He looked up again at her. "Hey, um," he said, catching her attention one last time.
"Um, I know I said this before, but, thank you for bringing me along with you. And, I really do mean 'thank you'. I was pretty unsure after I'd agreed, but, I really think this will be the right path for me. I'll do everything I can to help you in return for everything you're doing for me."
Her green eyes widened almost imperceptibly before she faced him completely. Then, much to his very surprise, King Arthur's facial features relaxed as a small smile graced her face, or what seemed to him like a smile. Shirou felt his heart stop briefly when he saw her expression. It was almost as if their surroundings had disappeared and she had smiled that smile reserved just for him. That was impossible, though, Shirou knew, his heart rate returning to normal. It made absolutely no sense for him to get his hopes up. She was just being nice to him since he had finally resolved to try moving forward. He returned her smile with one of his own as she said,
"I only hope your luck turns for the better once you are situated."
They were kind words. Yeah, she was way better like this as opposed to when she was raging mad. Though, that was fine, too, so long as the anger wasn't directed at him. Watching it was bad enough. He accidentally let loose a small cough, and with that, the moment they shared diffused and her normal, calm expression returned, though she did seem somewhat concerned for him.
"Now, sleep. We have much distance to cover on the morrow."
With that, she was walking away and he was left to his own devices again. Shirou looked down at his fingernails that were a nice shade of blue. He breathed some warm breath on them to get rid of the partial numbness and then scooted a bit closer to the fire. Turning to grab his bag and pull it over for him to rest his head against as he laid down, he sighed as soon as he was horizontal. Still thinking of that beautiful expression she had shown him, the one that wasn't supposed to exist according to the dreams of her past he'd had, Shirou slowly closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he allowed the darkness of sleep to flow around him.
"How odd," a voice to his left spoke, surprising him, and ultimately dragging him out of his near sleep.
Shirou shifted his head around to look at the figure lying down on the ground, his eyes wide.
"Huh?"
Bedivere opened his dark eyes for a moment to meet Shirou's gaze. He looked the auburn-haired man up and down briefly before letting out a sigh.
"You must have been born under a special star."
"Star? What?" Shirou asked perplexedly.
"Never once have I seen the king smile, and so warmly. I must now reconsider my opinion of you," the man said simply before turning over onto his other side and going back to sleep.
Shirou stared at the now sleeping knight, eyes wide with bewilderment.
"What?"
He frowned at the knight before repositioning himself again.
"No," he murmured softly, his eyes slowly closing. "You're wrong on that account..."
His muscles slackened and relaxed as he finally fell asleep under the clear, starry night sky.
Shirou took in a deep breath as he woke from his slumber some time later, his eyes opening to still see the strip of starry sky covering the expanse over him. Had he only been asleep for a couple of hours? It had seemed like so much longer than that. One thing he could say, though, was that he was feeling way, way, way better. It was almost as if he slept the entirety of like a week within the span of a couple of hours. He stretched his arms out above him as he let out another yawn. The fire in front of him crackled and popped, sharing its warmth for anyone nearby to enjoy. He took in another deep breath of the clear, unpolluted air. He really did feel a lot better.
"You are awake, I see."
His head popped up and he looked to his left to see where the voice had come from. Staring at him through eyes full of suspicion was none other than Sir Bedivere himself – an awake one at that. The knight sighed softly, his eyebrows knitting together with some slight annoyance.
"How fortunate indeed. For a moment, I believed the king's efforts to have been in vain."
"What do you mean?" Shirou said with a slight frown. "I've only been out for a couple of hours."
"Is a 'couple of hours' what they call three full days from whence you came? What, then, would you call a full day?"
"Huh?"
Shirou stared back at Bedivere, not really understanding what he was hearing. Blinking once, then again, he slowly pushed himself up off of the hard ground and took a look around at his surroundings. The geography around him had changed incredibly. Gone were the flat lands with trees a splendor, with the rich, beautiful environment being replaced by an assortment of rolling hills, a scarcity of trees, – though, there will still quite a number to be seen – and an inability to see far into the distance in any one direction. If he were to wager a guess, where Tryst had been was far more similar to the location of London than where he was now.
"Where are we?" he asked, gazing around with archer eyes – his prana reserves were finally back at full. "It's been three days? I've been out for three days?"
"We will soon be back in Devon," Bedivere answered calmly. "Yes, you have been asleep for the entirety of three days, much to my displeasure, to be sure."
Shirou turned back to look at the knight again. "What could that possibly have to do with you?"
"Who was it, pray tell, do you think was forced to lift your unruly carcass for travel each and every single time? Honestly, I agree with the men. We would have been better off leaving you back in the remains of that village, or dumping you somewhere along the way."
The redhead scowled slightly as he sat back down. "Okay. I get it. You don't like me."
"Was it so obvious?" came the retort.
"Fine. Why?"
"Must I entertain you so, stranger? Think for yourself. Since the day you came, the king has bent over backwards just to see that you feel comfortable and safe. What reason would a king have to do that much for a villager unless there was actually some merit or benefit to doing so?" Bedivere ranted – and yes, he was ranting, Shirou realized.
Bedivere gestured in Shirou's direction. "Tell me, boy. What reason is there for the king to so concern himself with the needs of a peasant? Are you a fighter? Perhaps an astute and intelligent scientist? Maybe you can foretell weather and plot map guidelines of time? Might you even be a powerful and wise mage?"
No, he wasn't any of those at all. He used to be able to fight, but that was before he got sent back in time, before he'd turned into a whining sack of nothing. Shirou crossed his arms over his chest, unwilling to admit how pathetic he currently was. To be truthful, Bedivere was pretty much right. There were wasn't much of a reason for a king of England to bother with saving someone like him. Sighing, Shirou simply shook his head to Bedivere's question, with the latter looking none too surprised.
"Yes, I had not believed so, and yet, here we are. I do not despise you for being powerless, for all man is until a certain point. I despise you because you force others to make up for your complacency and weakness. Had you instead refused His Majesty's proposal, I would have thought you brave and courageous. A peasant who had suffered so would choose instead to march his own path without the help of another to encourage him along the way – now, that is someone to be respectful of.
"But you," Bedivere continued, "you did nothing of the sort. You took the king's proffered hand and used it as a means to level yourself, and that is all. Indeed, you did not even simply use His Majesty as a mere stepping stone, but sit dumbly next to him without a care in the world."
Next to him? Shirou turned to his right to see King Arthur resting beside him, having heard not a word of the conversation. The time traveler continued to stare at the young king as the blonde's chest rose and fell in time with her breathing. Across her lap lay none other than the sword of Excalibur, the real and genuine one. She seemed nothing short of defenseless, though he knew that was as far from the truth as possible. Shirou gulped slightly. How had he not noticed that she was right there beside him?
"That's the king," he managed softly.
"Yes, that would be King Arthur," Bedivere agreed dryly. "How wonderful that your eyes do not fail you as much as your ability to function as a normal human being appears to."
Something about Bedivere bothered Shirou, but it wasn't until that comment that he realized what it was, exactly. Bedivere, someone who Shirou had thought of as being a quiet, loyal knight to King Arthur – emphasis on the quiet part – was acting just like a certain Servant that Shirou had hated with all of his being. The sarcasm, the accusations that were right on point, the unwillingness to let him alone after he'd made mistakes, all of these things were exactly what Archer EMIYA had done.
Shirou hadn't even known who the Servant was until the day Rin had made several comments on how similar they had seemed. He wasn't sure when Rin had made the connection – he hadn't exactly been her Servant for that long. However, maybe it had come about years later when Shirou had developed the Kanshou and Bakuya on his own. Then, there were the several connections as far as his Reality Marble and projecting went, and well... It had probably been an easy answer for her to devise.
Ugh, just thinking of the guy ticked him off, and to think that Bedivere was like a living predecessor of him was enough to make Shirou hate his unfortunate luck.
"For some reason," Shirou muttered, "I'd always thought you were kinder, more laidback, and you know, less talkative."
"Your whining offends me," Bedivere retorted, just as softly. "I'll be kinder once you have proven your worth and become something of use to the king."
The Japanese man grunted slightly. The knight had a point there, though Shirou didn't really want to admit it.
"Now that we have approached that particular topic," Bedivere continued, sitting forward somewhat eagerly and yet unenthused at the very same time, "what do you intend to do once we arrive in Camelot?"
"I'll become a chef," Shirou said, having given his future quite a bit of thought. It was one of the only things he could really do at that point.
"I'll wow the entire kingdom with my culinary might." That was sarcasm.
"Chef?" questioned Bedivere. "I am unfamiliar with this term. From 'culinary', however, I assume that to mean you are an expert concerning food and meals. You intend to join the kitchen then."
"Yeah. Just have to run it by the chief, first."
Bedivere merely cupped his chin as he mused over Shirou's words. Shirou knew good and well that the food in the sixth century was terrible – again, he had been lucky in that regard. They also had very little of the foodstuffs he was so used to working with in the future. How could they not have potatoes? That was like the basic of the basics. Those, however, did not come to Britain until further along in the future. No tomatoes, either. That had definitely caused him some distress.
The one thing that did seem to grow aplenty here had to be the spices. Of course, most of them were used as herbal remedies and not as actual cooking spices. While he could find basil and rosemary growing out in the fields, and although he could find peppercorn, prepping it into pepper was a bit of a pain, and took a lot of time. He was lucky that a lot of the spices had been discovered or known about during the reign of the Roman Empire. So, they definitely existed in this time period, it was just hunting them down that took so much of his time.
Then, there was the problem with meat. So, apparently, cooking meat thoroughly was not exactly a thing, or so he had come to understood when Ceri criticized him the first time he'd cooked any. All of the flavor dies when a person cooks the meat too, too much, she had complained. Well, that was true, but he hadn't wanted to deal with E. coli or anything either.
Speaking of E. coli, there was a whole slew of things he had issues with in the past, not all of which including food. Firstly, no baths! He hadn't had a freaking bath in months! Two: no toilet paper. He had to use leaves to wipe his butt. Three: insects! Mites, lice, bedbugs...they were everywhere! He had contracted lice within the first two weeks of being in the stupid time period (after he had finally woken up), and had had to dunk his head into a vat of alcohol for a decent amount of time before the itching would stop, only to replaced by a lot of pain from the alcohol. Four: water! No one drank water, like, ever. He had constantly been fetching water from the nearest stream and boiling it for a fresh supply. Five: boobs. Okay, this wasn't exactly an issue, but bras had been invented with good reason. Seeing boobs bounce around and essentially say hello to him was not the way to maintain his chasteness. Ceri had thought he had seen the devil the first time she had clung to his arm and bounced with glee.
"How long, precisely, have you devoted yourself to the art of food?"
Right, so enough ranting and back to food.
Shirou ran his fingers through his hair as he thought back. Before the finale of the fourth war, he had never cooked a single day in all of his life. He had been about seven-and-a-half-years-old when Kiritsugu had adopted him, and it only took a few months for him to realize that his old man and Taiga were simply not meant to be in the kitchen, or working with anything even remotely sharp. Plus, since Kiritsugu had been gone for so long all the time, Taiga had been the only one around to take care of him, which meant he would have to deal with horrible dishes, like her intending to make tamagoyaki and instead making okonomiyaki over rice. Dishes like that were absolutely and positively disgusting, so he'd had to make his own way through the kitchen.
The first things he had made couldn't have been called, well, food, no matter how you looked at them. Shirou had been content initially to make cup ramen, before he started wanting things that weren't processed at every corner. He had forced Taiga to buy him an assortment of cookbooks – it was around that time that she started popping over at the Emiya house on an almost daily occurrence. Let's see, then he had finally learned to make the simplest dishes possible, like nikujyaga and sukiyaki. So, that had finally happened when he was eight, give or take a few months. In other words...
"I guess it's been about sixteen years or so," Shirou murmured, still thinking back. "Yeah, give or take a few months here and there, about sixteen years, since I started when I was around eight-years-old."
Bedivere looked pleasantly surprised. It was the first time that a genuine smile had crossed his face. "I had merely thought you to be a beggar, but even you have something in which you take such pride. That is good, very good. Rather, having you in the kitchen would be a delight, I'm certain."
Shirou frowned a bit. Sure, it might have been a delight if he had even a fraction of the food choices that were available for him to use in the future. All of the key components to Japanese dishes were, obviously, inexplicably unavailable to him, and although he had studied some about European food, he had been more intrigued with the French and Italian dishes as opposed to English dishes. There was nothing wrong with the English dishes – they were delicious enough as they were, but that had been more Rin's territory than his. She also made a mean chow mein once she had discovered the right way to make Chinese food. That had normally been Sakura's forte, but hey, sisters were sisters, right?
In any case, unless someone was willing to hook him up with a supply route, then Japanese food was just not going to happen. He could do something with fish – there was plenty of that in this time period. Plus, Camelot was only like a couple of days travel away from the ocean or so, if his memory served him correctly. The map he'd looked at that supposedly charted Arthurian places was somewhat bogus, if Shirou was to be honest. If he had fish, and access to a bunch of vegetables, and various meats and stuff, then he could probably come up with some decent dishes. They weren't going to be amazing, but they'd be better than anything this time period had ever seen.
"I'm not a beggar," he stated grudgingly. "I guarantee I can out-cook anyone you put me up against. I am the best damn cook you will have ever met."
That was more than likely a fact, and not simply bravado. After all, these people didn't know how to cook – there was no way Shirou could possibly lose in any cooking contests. He hadn't fallen that far from who he'd originally been in the future.
"A challenge if I have ever heard one!" Bedivere claimed, looking eager. "Well, then, I would like to think a demonstration might be in order."
A demo? Well, Shirou was hungry, as he hadn't eaten or drank anything in well over three days. Of course, thanks to that, he had no need to go to the restroom. Silver lining where it counted, he guessed.
"Uh, sure, I guess," Shirou said with some hesitation. "I don't exactly have any food with me, though."
Bedivere was only too happy to spin around and dig into one of the several pouches hanging from the saddle on his resting horse. He looked into it, nodded, untied the satchel from the horse, and then tossed the entire thing over at Shirou. The latter caught it, and raised an eyebrow when he felt something squishy. Opening the bag, Shirou was blasted with a smell of death – whatever was in the bag reeked, horribly. Shirou had smelled worse, sure, but he hadn't been prepared for it this time around.
Setting the bag on the ground, Shirou used the light of the fire to peek inside. It was a couple of legs of something on the smaller side – he was going to guess a rabbit. That was encouraging actually. Rabbits were rather tasteless and dry on their own, but with some seasoning or soup, they would naturally absorb the flavors they were bathed in. Unfortunately, Shirou wouldn't have time, and didn't have the ingredients for that matter, to make a broth or cook it with any vegetables. He had to use the materials he had on hand.
Ignoring the foul stench, Shirou pulled his pack closer to him, opened it up and looked inside. Luckily, he had all of the spices that he'd taken from before the battle in Tryst, and even some churned butter and whipped eggs. It was cold enough that both were still in good condition, although it would be far better if he chose to use them now. He had his basil, some pepper, a decent amount of salt, and some lard taken from a number of wild animals. There was also some honey left, but he wasn't really in the mood for a sweet base.
Hm, he could use the eggs and butter as a simple base, which meant he wouldn't actually need the lard unless he wanted make some fried rabbit legs. Realistically speaking, the fried legs would probably last him and Bedivere for a longer period of time than simply broiling or grilling them. It was also way unhealthier, but this wasn't the time for considering stuff like that. The main problem was that he didn't want to use all of the eggs for just two little, rabbit legs. If they had some other type of meat to work with as well, that would balance the ingredients just a bit better.
"Do you have anything else I can work with, too?" Shirou asked. "Like, some more meat? Two rabbit legs might not be enough."
Bedivere seemed somewhat disappointed. "That is all I have on my person. Perhaps the king..."
Right, the king, who was calmly and blissfully sleeping next to him. Shirou took a chance glance at the aforementioned person, only to find the blonde awake with a slightly disgruntled expression. What? Why was she upset this time? He hadn't done anything wrong for once.
"What is that foul smell?" she muttered, her torso rising as she sought out the virulent odor.
"Dead rabbit, Sire," Bedivere said simply, and King Arthur grimaced slightly. "This boy means to cook it."
She turned her annoyed gaze over to Shirou, who backed away slightly unconsciously. "You are familiar with cooking?"
"Yeah," Shirou started, before wincing as he corrected himself. "I mean, yes. I was going to cook this, but the thing is, it may not be enough to hold the both of us for very long, plus I don't want to waste any of my ingredients."
"Yes, wasting would not be a satisfactory course to take," the king agreed, still rather groggy and out of it. "Perhaps I can be of service."
She reached behind her blindly for another much larger pouch. Unhooking it from the saddle, she held it out for Shirou to accept. When he gingerly took it, King Arthur sighed again softly and rested back against her horse again. Shirou frowned a bit – she was obviously dead tired, and, if the grumble of her stomach was any indication, also quite hungry. Oh man, he wasn't just dealing with an exhausted king, but a hungry one, as well. Scary thought. Waking her up with noxious fumes from the get-go probably hadn't been a good idea either.
"Splendid," Bedivere said excitedly. "There is now enough meat for you to work with, is there not? You are ready to cook, yes?"
Well, no. He needed something to cook with, though that would be more difficult to track down. First, he needed a knife, but he could technically tear apart what had apparently been two full rabbits within King Arthur's pouch. Did people in this time period just carry around dead carcasses just because?
So, knife aside, Shirou still needed some kind of large pot to fry the stuff with. He also needed a relatively small bowl for dipping purposes, and then utensils to eat the crap with. Of course, if he had just the small bowl, then he could make do somehow. Tongs would've been nice, but those didn't exactly exist where they currently were. A couple of knives would've made up for that. Anyway, first and foremost, a bowl. They didn't have plates back then, sure, but what about bowls?
"Do you have any bowls?" Shirou asked, wary of the answer.
"Bowls?" Bedivere inquired. "What do you mean by this?"
King Arthur, surprisingly, was the one to answer. "A container, Bedivere," she stated, eyes still closed. "A container with which to hold soup, or something of the like."
"It is but a small one," the knight said, "but might this do?"
Bedivere pulled off one of the crude, metal things attached to his horse's saddle. Shirou took it in his hands. It was about the size of a small soup pan, and fairly convenient. He wouldn't be able to fry everything at once, but it would have to do. It really was rather simple, but it wasn't as if he had expected anything really detailed. Shirou rolled the bowl in his hands before placing it down on the grass. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to start projecting in front of the king, and any and all people who had known of his magecraft were long since dead. Again, silver lining and all of that.
Grimacing slightly, Shirou reached into Bedivere's pouch and pulled out one of the legs. It hadn't been skinned just yet, so he would have to work on that first. He glanced over at Bedivere, and made a cutting motion with his hand. Luckily, the knight was quick on the uptake and immediately produced a dagger for Shirou to use. The cook took it and made a tentative slice through the rabbit skin. The skin came apart like sliced butter, causing Shirou to grin a bit. It was nice and sharp. That was good.
It was simple work skinning the two legs and both of the full rabbits. Shirou didn't even realize he had an audience of more than just the two knights next to him as he tossed in pieces of the rabbit onto the ground. He wiped his hands on the grass around him to clean them up a bit – some alcohol would've worked better, but he wasn't really complaining. Next came out the butter, eggs, and lard. Shirou dumped about three-fourths of the container of butter, both of the whipped eggs, and a good majority of the lard into the bowl, and started mixing them up together with his hands. A wooden spoon would've been nice, but that obviously wasn't happening either.
King Arthur, Bedivere, and some curious soldiers who had heard Bedivere's voice full of eagerness watched with heavy interest as Shirou reached back into his pack for some of his seasonings. Out came the pepper, salt, and basil, each one filtering into the pot without hesitation. When satisfied, Shirou then tossed the seasonings, the remainder of the butter, and the lard back into his backpack.
Now, came the tough part, Shirou realized as he glared at the large fire as if it were his enemy. He needed to bring the contents to a heavy boil, but he didn't exactly have the instruments to do so. There wasn't a ladle on the bowl, so he was going to have to be careful about how he did this. There wasn't a cooking spit to be found either, so, he'd instead have to use a couple of knives to carefully hold the bowl over the fire. He also needed another knife for turning the rabbit around.
He turned to look at Bedivere, who met his glance readily. "Yes, is there something more you needed?"
His readiness to help Shirou completely surprised the latter. Only half an hour before, the man had been ready to cut his throat, and yet now, he seemed nothing short of keen to be of service. Shirou exhaled slightly, eyes wide as he stared back at Bedivere.
"I need another couple of knives, if you've got them. I also need someone capable of holding the pot after it starts boiling so I can fry up the meat."
A soldier from behind Shirou raised his hand up high as he proclaimed, "I would be more than honored to take part in this practice!"
Another soldier, too, much to the surprise of Shirou, Bedivere, and King Arthur, also exclaimed, "I, too, would like to be of service, if I may!"
Both soldiers relinquished to Shirou their own personal daggers, and Shirou took them hesitantly, his eyes never leaving their faces. Uh, what was going on? Why were there so many people watching what he was doing?
King Arthur must have sensed his distress. "This manner of cooking is unknown to us, Shirou. It is but a matter of course that so many would be intrigued by your display of cooking proficiency."
He wasn't exactly proficient unless the stuff tasted good, but who could say with rabbit? Wolf meat, or some other animal, like some kind of bird, would've been much better to work with. The thing that was really bothering him though, was that everyone was looking at him like he was in charge. Wouldn't that be the blonde next to him?
"Why do you hesitate, Shirou?" the king asked. "My soldiers await your commands."
"Uh," Shirou started, looking back at the interested soldiers. "Is it really my call to order them around?"
"Who else if not you? No one here is particularly astute with cooking, and it does seem to fall into your line of expertise. My soldiers are at your beck and call."
No one had even tried anything yet, but they were so eager to say he was an expert? Well, he knew he could manage something, but, weren't their expectations just a bit too high? What the hell did these people eat to make him mixing together ingredients appear so entertaining?
"Uh, okay," Shirou said, just accepting that he was apparently in charge. "So, you," he said, pointing at one soldier, "hold both of these knives to the bowl as hard as you can, and make sure it stays level over the fire. Make sure not to get too close to the fire, or your armor will burn you from the outside in."
The other soldiers seemed a bit put out when he didn't assign them anything to do. He didn't have enough ingredients to feed all of them anyway, so he hoped that wouldn't be a problem.
As soon as the soldier gingerly held up the bowl over the fire steadily, – his arm strength was really good. Shirou shouldn't have been surprised – Shirou began rubbing blades of grass over the skinned rabbit. The grass would add a small touch of sweetness, but not overload it as much as honey would. It was also the only green thing around, and would have to do for the moment.
No one seemed to question him at all as he worked and he was granted sweet silence. It was somewhat awkward that everyone kept staring at everything he did, but that was just as well. Better that they stare than glare with animosity. Just like that, fifteen minutes had passed by without any trouble, and Shirou rose up to his feet.
"Are you doing okay? Do you need to trade out with anyone?"
"No, sir!" the soldier barked out in response, his eyes focused. "I am perfectly fine and prepared to hold this for four more hours, should that be necessary. Even more, if it were requested of me!"
Yeah, hopefully it wouldn't take Shirou four hours just to fry up some meat. If so, he may as well have given up before even making the attempt.
Shirou reached down to pick up some pieces of meat and tossed them into the bowl. Everyone could hear sizzling almost as soon as the contents had swallowed the pieces of meat. Still seeing some room left in the batter, Shirou tossed in a couple of more legs and shifted each one around a bit with Bedivere's dagger. Each leg wouldn't take more than five minutes to cook, but now he had a different issue. How were any of them supposed to eat it? He looked at his lone knife and frowned. He was going to need a few more knives. That, or if they had some more bowls... Nah, knives were easier.
He turned back to face the soldiers, feeling a lot calmer now. Shirou was finally in his element now, and nothing could really throw him off of his groove now. He gestured towards one of the fifty soldiers – how were there suddenly fifty of them surrounding the knights' corner? – and asked for another few knives. Within moments, ten knives with their handles turned towards him appeared without hesitation. It would've been intimidating had he been doing anything other than cooking.
Shirou took three of the knives and held them in his left hand as he stirred the pot. Stabbing one particular piece, he pulled it out to see its condition before letting it fall back into the pot. It would need another five to eight minutes or so. It had already been five minutes since he'd first let them start frying.
"Shirou."
The redhead looked back down at the blonde king as she glanced up at him. "Uh, yes?"
"While you wait for the food to finish cooking, I would like to inquire as to whether you are feeling all right."
Shirou frowned. That's right, this is the first time she had seen him up and ready to go for three days. A glance from Bedivere and Shirou immediately knew what the knight had wanted to say: I told you so.
"I'm great," Shirou responded calmly, again checking the meat. "I feel way better. You're the reason I'm doing so well, right? You carried me on your horse, right? I'm really thankful."
"That is good to hear."
She'd sounded relieved, but he couldn't tell because he now knew that the rabbit was fried up and ready to be eaten. All four pieces were ready to go, actually. Shirou picked up one piece with one knife and then used a different one to cut it open and check the inside. It was a nice white color on the inside, perfectly cooked. He held the knife up with the rabbit leg dripping hot grease down onto the grass. Turning to the king, he was about to hand it to her when Bedivere asked him to wait.
"Is it not customary that the cook first taste his meal before the guests?" Bedivere asked, looking at the leg with a bit of suspicion. "How can we be sure all of what you put in was fit for consumption?"
Murmurs erupted in the audience of soldiers and King Arthur merely tilted her head, neither supporting nor denying Bedivere's inquiries. Shirou blinked a bit and then looked down at the rabbit leg. They'd seen every single thing he had done, but it was true that he hadn't exactly explained the process to anyone. For all these soldiers and knights knew, he may well have added some poisoning. Come to think of it, taste testers were big at that point, right? It wasn't like they had technology to automatically pick up on poisonous traces, and this was the king he'd been about to give food to. It was only obvious that everyone should be so wary, even if they were curious about the entire process. Well, whatever. He had no problem eating it.
Shirou took a large bite from the rabbit, and found it wonderfully crunchy, though a little bit too bland. He nearly smacked his head as he chewed, only remembering right then and there that the butter he used here in the past was not imbued with salt, and so he should've added more salt to flavor it up a bit. Well, it was considerably better than if the rabbit had just been flame-broiled or something. Shirou took another bite as he used the other knives to take out the remaining legs.
Handing one knife to King Arthur first, who just looked down at it with an eyebrow raised, and then one to Bedivere, he wondered what to do about the fourth piece. Spotting another metal bowl attached to the king's saddle, he asked if he could borrow hers to stick the rest of the cooked food in. She obliged him, albeit slowly, as she continued staring at her piece of rabbit. Bedivere looked closely at Shirou, but as he showed no obvious signs of collapsing due to poison, and considering the king obviously wanted to eat her portion, he tentatively took a bite.
"This is fantastic!" he exclaimed, surprising himself. "I have never once tasted a food as wonderful as this. Surely if there is poison, it must be something that only brings out the best flavor of the meat!"
There were a series of "oohs" and "ahs" from the crowd. Was this really a campsite or some kind of food game show?
It was just fried rabbit, Shirou thought, finishing his piece quickly before throwing in more uncooked meat. Not only that, but it was just bland, fried rabbit. He would've preferred to sprinkle some more salt on the cooked pieces, but he was running out as it was. Besides, if a badly fried rabbit piece was all it took to make a knight like Bedivere happy, then Saber really hadn't been joking when she said that the food was crap. She was hardly one to tell jokes in the first place, but Shirou simply couldn't imagine something tasting that bad, unless they were eating it raw, or something.
The king did not say a word as she ate her piece, not a single one. Shirou only saw the barest of nods that indicated her appreciation for the taste. Well, he hadn't expected her to jump for joy or anything – she, rather, Saber had never done anything of the sort. Well, as long as she wasn't grimacing or glaring at him for cooking something terrible, then Shirou guessed that it wasn't all bad.
Now, what do I do about them?
Shirou turned back to look at the crowd behind him, with several of the soldiers drooling a bit as they looked at the cooking meat. The one holding the bowl seemed to be staring at the boiling pot the most as he licked his lips slightly every now and then. Crossing his arms over his chest, he didn't know what to say. He wanted to give them food, but it wasn't exactly his to give. He was also still really hungry, but the soldiers looked so pathetic that he really wanted to let them try it. If nothing else, letting them have a bite might improve his relations with everyone. No one seemed to care that he was a supposed enemy now that food was on the table, and Shirou would've much preferred they kept thinking of him as harmless.
He bent down to be face to face with the king and she looked away from the forlorn rabbit bone to make eye contact with him.
"Um, so, about the rest of the rabbit meat..."
Her solders' antics had not gone unnoticed by her either, apparently. Eyes closing, she turned her head away and said,
"All those desiring an opportunity to taste this food are to line up in their particular groups. As there is not enough food to feed every individual, it is unfortunate, but you will need to share each piece. Only those present may partake in this meal. Do not even think to wake anyone else, and do not let it be known that you were given this opportunity. Might I suggest you show your gratefulness for this man's, and my, charity."
The soldiers were quick to dash back to their own group campfires, with one representative from each group coming up holding a metal bowl. The soldier who had been holding onto the main boiling bowl seemed nervous, and Shirou spared him a grin.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure there's enough left for you to have your own piece."
Both the eyebrows of Bedivere and King Arthur raised, though neither said anything. The soldier in question seemed taken aback, enough so that the bowl teetered a bit in his hands. Shirou continued to smile at him though, and checked the pieces of meat every now and then. They were cooking faster now that the heat had stabilized, and another plus was that Shirou couldn't even feel the cold as much anymore. His focus had been shifted entirely to cooking, so he didn't really take notice of the nearly below freezing temperatures.
For the next couple of hours after Shirou had finished cooking everything and cleaned both Bedivere and King Arthur's bowls to the best of his ability – water would've been nice, as cleaning with straight up whisky had probably been a bad idea – found the redhead sighing as he looked back up at the starry sky. The men had loved the rabbit – they were so easy to please – and apparently, their opinion of Shirou actually went up a few notches. Most of them actually thanked him with happy expressions, although most of them hadn't been able to eat more than a couple of bites total, due to sharing amongst their group.
Bedivere had long since retired for the night, probably as much as an hour before. He did make sure to tell Shirou that his outlook over the time traveler had indeed changed, slightly. What was that saying again? "The way to a man's heart was through his stomach"? That was probably the only thing going for Shirou right now, and at least King Arthur didn't have to pull another one of her ice-cold moments to get the men to leave him alone anymore. Well, at least not those fifty.
He was tired again, but in a good way, this time. After handling that raw meat, he had really wanted to wash his hands thoroughly, but the best he'd been able to work with was the alcohol. Luckily, he hadn't had any cuts or wounds on his hands to make it a painful experience.
Now, though, the only thing he was doing was staring up at the sky as he sat in front of the fire. The king next to him seemed to have fallen back to sleep, or, at least she appeared to be asleep. Her eyes were closed and her head was down, so he wasn't sure, but probably? Her serene expression also made his heart skip a few beats, but it was nice seeing her like this. There was no pressure, and it was almost like they were normal comrades again. Shirou smiled again slightly without mirth. As if that was actually possible.
"You displayed yourself well, Shirou."
He jumped. He couldn't help it. Shirou had completely thought that she was dead asleep, but the second she spoke, she had scared him out of his thoughts. He calmed his breathing quickly and looked back at her.
"Huh?" That, quite possibly, had to have been the most unintelligible comments that he could have come up with. "Uh, sorry. I just...sorry. I thought you were asleep."
She opened her eyes to look at him directly. "Just with that one feat, you have managed to not only obtain their good faith, but establish yourself as something more useful than a simple peasant. To that, I give you my commendation."
"Huh? Oh, no," Shirou said, stuttering a bit. "I feel bad that I couldn't do anything else, you know, like something bigger. Or, I mean, something."
He wasn't making any sense, though King Arthur seemed to ignore his rambling. She shook her head slightly with a frown.
"You have done precisely what appeared to be within your ability to do. In any case, what could be more important than feeding good food to those incapable of feeding themselves such?"
"No, I mean, I'm not... I can't fight like you guys can." Well, at one point, he'd been able to, up to a point, but now he had to find himself all over again. He had lost something back in that skirmish against the Saxons, and now he had to figure out precisely what it had been.
"Is the ability to fight what you believe makes someone important?" she asked. "It is not. The ability to hone your technique, whatever it may be, in a fashion that will suit you and be beneficial to others is what gives you worth. For me, yes, holding a sword and fighting for the sake of my kingdom is what gives me my worth. There is nothing else for me, and nothing else I know how, or better, to do. That is both my destiny, and my fate. I have spent years perfecting my skill as a warrior, and it would do no one any good for me to fail at my one trade.
"However," she continued, making sure that Shirou was listening, "that is not the same for you, is it? If you were a warrior, that would be all you would think about, is it not? If you are a cook, then you would consider food and its preparation techniques the most – they would fill your mind and leave you without a means to doubt anything concerning it. If you are a fighter, then you will work to strengthen yourself in a way that will benefit you most. If you are a pacifist, you will strive to ensure no wrongdoings ever take place. Whatever you choose to become though, holds worth. Above all, you, as a person, have worth."
Shirou took her words to thought as he looked down at his hands. "What if I don't want to be just a cook?"
"Then," she started, rising to her feet, "I would suggest that you start training yourself into that which you would like to become. You are the only one who can forge the path in front of you after all. I said this before, but being independent demands that you learn how to act and move when appropriate."
Her features relaxed slightly as she looked down at him. "Asking for help every once in a while does not make you weak, Shirou. It only shows your determination to become stronger. If you need that help, be certain to ask for it, such as asking to sit next to a king and his knight for warmth so that you do not perish to the cold overnight."
Ah hah, she was still mad about that. Shirou looked away quickly, uncertain of what to say. Her point had been made and was fairly clear. In other words, he wasn't alone on his journey, but he had to be the one to execute every single action. Well, that only made sense. Who else was going to make him stronger if not he, himself? He didn't have Rin to rely on, but that didn't mean he couldn't simply use whatever was available to him. Shirou looked up again as King Arthur walked away, thanking her silently for her advice.
Shirou clenched his fists tightly. He had a lot of work to do.
It had taken them hardly more than half a day afterwards to finally reach Camelot. Now, Shirou had thought it an incredibly impressive sight the moment he had seen the castle in the distance. After all, this was the legendary castle of Camelot, the castle of King Arthur, and right now, he was legitimately walking, sometimes jogging, next to the King Arthur. Of course, he had been well aware of who she was, but even if he had met her before, seeing the castle that had been erected for her rule was another story entirely. It was incredible to believe the place had actually existed, but for there to be no traces in the future, the Saxons must have done a real number on it.
As Shirou walked along the wide main street leading from the main gates of the outer garrison wall, he took time to take in the magnitude of the town – no, city was probably more accurate. For all the men, women, and children who weren't taking the time to point and stare at him, or reveling in the majesty of their king, there were several hundred more bustling about doing whatever work necessary for the city to function. Shirou wasn't sure, but the entirety of Camelot had to have been at least a good five to six kilometers around in circumference alone. It was widespread, and just full of unbelievable energy. It made him realize the vast difference between it and Tryst – there was simply no comparison.
The gates of the castle itself towered above him as he walked through with everyone else. He continued staring at the humongous castle, his mouth gaping open slightly even as King Arthur and Bedivere dismounted from their horses and the soldiers dispersed – more than likely to rest or get some food to fill them. Shirou looked left at the expanse of land – the training fields, barracks, archery range, smithery, and other military-related stuff seemed to be over that way. To the right and furthest from the main castle itself were a few housing units, probably for the main staff for those who worked outside to sleep in. Nearest to the castle on the right, however, were the gardens, and some kind of place for a possible outside event. On the left nearest to the castle was the place where they probably ran the executions.
Frowning, Shirou looked at the execution stand with a bit of presentiment. Seeing it with his own eyes was more than enough to convince him that execution by hanging, and, Shirou grudgingly admitted when he saw the platform next to it, by beheading, was a thing here. Then again, in a way, it was hardly any better to hang or behead someone than it was to stick in a lethal injection. He turned away from the sight and focused again on the large castle itself. Something about the building gave him hope, even though it was just a building. It might have been because it was her building that he felt as much.
Shirou made sure to stay out the way as several people came out to talk to the king. A brunet-haired man in armor and beautiful, petite brunette woman stood next Bedivere and King Arthur, with the man's expressions varying widely as he spoke with both of them. He kept taking peeks at Shirou every now and then, much to the latter's disconcertment, and flailing his arms wildly. Shirou just turned his gaze away after a while – it was weird having someone constantly look at him like that.
He heard some clanking heading straight for him and he looked back up to see the brunet suddenly right in his face. Backing away, Shirou stared back with wide eyes, unsure of what to make of the situation.
"Is it true that you made a wonderful feast for His Majesty and Bedivere?" the brunet eagerly asked.
Just who was this guy?
Shirou noticed King Arthur, Bedivere, and the gorgeous woman coming their way, but was forced to back up again as the man came even closer to him.
"Is it, is it?" the man continued to ask excitedly. "Please do say it is so, and that Bedivere is not merely jesting with me as per usual!"
"Uh...I wouldn't call it a feast but I did –"
"By the God in Heaven above, I knew it!" the man exclaimed. "I said to myself, I said, 'By golly, now that is a man who knows his way around a kitchen! A warrior of food! A master of that which is meant to fuel and empower man! A true saint!"
The brunet posed with his right index finger pointed to the sky, his left hand firmly placed on his hip as he made a fierce expression. Shirou had met some odd people in his life, but this guy had to take the cake. He looked up and down at the brunet, taking special note of the armor that was so similar to Bedivere's. Was he a knight too? Was he a knight of the Round Table? Shirou was slightly hesitant to believe as much, though.
King Arthur and her company reached the two of them and she raised an eyebrow at the brunet, not even seeming to be fazed by his antics. Shirou shifted to his left a bit to try and hide behind her when the brunet clapped him on the shoulders.
"SIR!" the brunet shouted.
"YES?" Shirou shouted in return, really wishing he could run away instead.
"Might you do me the honor of marriage? I certainly love a man who can cook and –"
Bedivere slammed a fist into the back of the brunet's head, his own expression annoyed. The brunet grasped at the back of his head, looking at the other man and whining pitifully.
"Bedivere, you cruel beast! How could you hurt me in such a manner?" the brunet complained, before his eyes sharpened and his entire countenance seemed to darken and grow fierce. "I'll kill you, you bastard."
"I have a father who loves me," Bedivere replied simply, clapping a hand on the brunet's shoulder and shoving him away. "Besides, this peasant isn't someone here to become your friend. His Majesty saved him from a terrible plight and has allowed him protection here within these walls."
Was this a convent now?
The brunet frowned, obviously not pleased with how Bedivere had worded his comment. His dark sapphire-blue eyes turned to look at the blond king, his arms folded.
"King Arthur, I will not stand for this. I wish to become friends with this man. He is a man after my own heart, with the ability to make scrumptious, wonderful food meant for actual consumption. Quite unlike that slop your wonderful, brilliant, mess up of a cook named Baeddan makes in that castle. Do you fault me for this, Lord?"
The king looked as if she wanted to be anywhere that wasn't where she currently was at that moment. She glanced at Shirou briefly with an expression that he could only describe as contrite. The brunet walked a step closer to her, though she didn't bother moving whatsoever herself. He put his face right into hers and she completely took it in stride. Shirou gawked at the two before looking over at Bedivere and the woman accompanying them. Neither person seemed surprised in the slightest. The man leaned in even closer, enough so that there was hardly even a couple of centimeters in between the two of them.
"Unless you intend to kiss me, I would ask that you back away," deadpanned the king.
Was she being sarcastic?
The brunet blinked once before grinning. "Oh, can I? Can't let the queen have all the fun all of the time."
He'd actually planned to kiss her?
Shirou's eyes widened further. Who the hell was this guy, and how was he so freaking gutsy? To a king, nonetheless?
King Arthur gently shoved the brunet away out of her personal space as he leaned in with pursed lips and cleared her throat. Turning to Shirou again, she seemed slightly remorseful still as she said,
"I'm afraid Percival has taken a liking to you. Please do not become too irritated, and be certain to feed him treats every now and then."
"I'm not a dog!" came an indignant shout.
"Quiet, mutt," quipped Bedivere, an evil grin on his face.
"Fuck you, bastard!"
"I have a father who loves me. We've been over this."
Him? This guy was Sir Percival, one known for his ferocity and natural prowess in battle? The man in front of him who was currently having a spat with his fellow knight, Sir Bedivere, was the Sir Percival? In a way, somehow, Shirou felt cheated. The myths and legends had played him as a fool, but...
"He is no fool, mind you," spoke up King Arthur from beside him. Could she read thoughts now, too?
"He simply does well playing the part," she finished, with a slight nod. "And now, I leave him to you."
"What?" Shirou managed out. "To me? What? Isn't he your knight? What do you mean?"
"Of course he's my knight," she said, frowning slightly. "But, he likes you, so it would seem. That, and you need someone to show you the way to the kitchens. I have other business to attend to now that I have finally returned, and will leave it to him to be your guide. Until we meet again."
Shirou watched her walk away and saw the woman that had been with her take the king's arm as they walked back towards the castle. Wait, he thought, looking over at the still feuding pair, had she just dumped her baggage on him? Percival cast him a grin, and walked away from a frowning Bedivere to wrap an arm around Shirou's shoulders.
"Hey there, mate. So, how about I give you a nice, little tour, eh?"
"Uh..."
Honestly, he just wanted to have a place to settle in. He was tired, and all of the commotion wasn't helping any. Percival frowned slightly, both eyebrows raising as he looked at Shirou's condition. The brunet made a show of sighing before detaching himself from Shirou and crossing his arms over his chest.
"You look exhausted," the man said calmly, all games and mischief apparently over and done with. "I'll show you to where you get to sleep for the night and then we can take the grand tour tomorrow."
Shirou looked at Percival directly, unsure of what to think. "Sir Percival, are you –"
"Just Percival, mate," the knight said a small smile. "I'm not a fuddy-duddy like the king, or some kind of crazy madman like Bedivere. We're both men, no need to consider status all the time. I like who I like and kill those who I hate, or who His Majesty hates, at least. It's simpler that way."
"Okay. So, Percival, are you sure you have the time to do something like that? I mean, I can find my own way around."
"Have you looked around you?" the brunet asked rhetorically, gesturing at the grounds. "I guarantee you'll be lost within the hour."
"All right, if you're sure, then thanks."
Percival grinned toothily at him. "Oh, no problem, mate. Now...about this rabbit I heard you cooked..."
Shirou chuckled a bit.
So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I loved writing Percival and Bedivere, and of course, our dear King Arthur. Let me know how you guys feel.
Make sure to take the poll! And, I would still like to have a beta-reader!