Chapter 7 - Extraneous Education

As Jaune quietly tested the straps on the armor Mordred had given him, making sure he'd properly fitted the metal plate around his body, a small part of quietly marveled at the similarities (and differences) between the armor he now wore and the one he'd bought at a discount shop in Vale before he'd gone to Beacon.

Just a small part, though.

Ren or Dr. Oobleck would've definitely been able to appreciate it a lot more than he did.

As he moved to wriggling his fingers under his new gauntlets, trying to get a feel for his new range of motion in them, a bigger part of him was busy trying to figure out how on Remnant Cardin could have moved in his full plate armor.

Of course, there was also the question of why in Oum's name Cardin had even worn a set of full plate armor during Huntsman training. Sure, Jaune and Pyrrha had armor too, but the only reason Jaune had even gotten the discount breastplate in the first place was because he'd thought it'd help him fit in around Primary Combat School graduates (also, he hadn't known that Aura had existed), while in Pyrrha's case she'd told him that it had been designed to evoke the image of a strong and confident warrior (for the sake of her fans), rather than with any sort of protection in mind (he still remembered that discussion very well, considering she'd made her point by emphasizing her semi-exposed cleavage and the amount of skin her "armor" showed, along with the discovery that the only reason she could actually pull off the ridiculous flips that she did without snapping her heels or twisting her ankles was because of her Semblance manipulating the metal in her heels and Aura reinforcing her feet).

So why had Cardin, who had been to a combat prep school and had his Aura already unlocked, insisted on fighting in such a clunky and restricting suit of armor?

Of course, his biggest question, the most pressing issue on his mind, was wondering why Mordred had suddenly barged in, declared they were wasting time, and demanded he put it on.

"Oh, good, you've already changed." Mordred spoke up as she joined him in the empty courtyard, enthusiastically stretching her limbs as she walked. "Are you ready to begin, then?"

"Uh, Sir Mordred?" Jaune sheepishly raised his hand. "What exactly am I supposed to be ready for?"

"What, don't you remember?" Mordred blinked in surprise, pausing her movements.

You only told me that we were wasting time and I needed to suit up..." Jaune pointed out.

"... oh." Mordred's voice was curt, and she quickly cleared her throat before explaining: "It's simple, really. You agreed to be an apprentice here, right?"

"... yes...?" Jaune nodded as his thoughts once again turned to his current situation, and especially how he really didn't have any other options.

"Well, as an apprentice, you needed a mentor, and I just happened to be available." Mordred crowed modestly, before slapping him on the back with a grin. "By the time I'm done with you, Squire, you'll be able to kill a dragon with your bare hands!"

"..." Jaune wordlessly glanced down at Mordred's petite armored hands, and remembered seeing the Knight of the Round Table tearing that Addanc apart with just a broken sword. "... uh, let's hope I never have to test that out. Anyway, where do we begin?"

"With the basics, of course!" Mordred announced enthusiastically. "I know you're pretty strong and tough, and you have some training... but I still don't really have a grasp on the full extent of your abilities yet! So let's start with a light warm-up! Give me ten rounds around the castle!"

"T-the entire castle?!" Jaune's eyes widened in horror, as he remembered the sheer scale of Camelot (it made Beacon look small, though to be fair Camelot was the heart of a Kingdom while Beacon was just a school, and Beacon was taller).

"Hmmm..." Mordred thought about it for a second. "Yeah, that's probably too light for you. Let's make it a dozen rounds along the outer walls of Camelot!"

Jaune's eye twitched, but before he could curse overzealous trainers and his big mouth, Mordred reassured him: "Don't worry; this is just to prepare you for all the fun and exciting stuff later, Squire!"

"Oh boy... I can... hardly contain myself." Jaune forced a grin onto his face, before sprinting away from Sir Mordred as fast as he could (he'd learned that lesson well, having barely survived Nora Valkyrie's workout sessions).

Mordred's gaze lingered on her newest (and first) student's energetically-retreating form, before she finally relaxed as soon as he was out of sight. Taking a moment to ensure that her surroundings were clear, she surreptitiously pulling out a piece of parchment, and began discreetly reading from it even as she reflected that things were going about as well as could have been expected, considering the utter impulsiveness of her decision.

Oh, she felt absolutely no regret about having pushed Jaune Arc into becoming a provisional member of the Round Table (only King Arthur had the authority to make the final decision regarding his membership); the King would surely be pleased with the talent she'd scouted (considering even Stuck-Up Lancelot had praised him), this truly was the best way to help him (at least, that's what Agravain had told her, though she hadn't really paid attention to the details), and she was definitely more than enthusiastic about the prospect of no longer being the most junior Knight of the Round Table (especially if the newcomer was someone she could actually get along with).

And of course, him being in Camelot would give them more time to experiment with whatever soul magic "Aura" was...

But she definitely hadn't had any intentions of becoming his mentor!

After all, even she knew she was far from a first-rate knight, for God's sake!

But when her Elder-Sister-Who-Was-Still-A-Squire had not only been considered a potential candidate in training Jaune over her (a fully-fledged Knight), but had also (seemingly) dismissed her as a possible candidate...

Well, she may have lost her temper, and decided to seize the chance to prove herself (especially after seeing the looks of alarm on Percival's and Lancelot's faces)...

Unfortunately, she knew absolutely nothing about being a squire, let alone turning a squire into a full-fledged knight (one of the drawbacks of having skipped being a squire herself).

And she definitely couldn't have asked Lancelot or Percival (or Gareth) for advice, not after how she'd fought to convince them to pick her over Gareth in the first place...

... and so she'd asked (pestered) Agravain for some tips.

Although...

"... the hell's got "court etiquette" and "music and dancing" have to do with being a knight?" Mordred couldn't help but wonder out loud, as she finished reading the first sentence.

Was this what Lancelot wasted Gareth's time with?

Maybe she'd judged her elder sister too harshly...

For a moment, she considered simply tossing Agravain's list and instead going with her own personal experience, but she quickly decided against it.

After all, she may not have been human, but she also wasn't unnecessarily cruel or sadistic; the only part of Morgan's training she'd be using was establishing her subject's... student's current "baseline capabilities", so that she could track how much he improved and how fast (alas, she didn't know any Lightning spells, so she couldn't do the same in-depth tests Mother had always performed on her).

Instead, she decided to simply skip over the topics she had no interest (or experience) in, and ask Agravain about them next time.

Just as her eyes dropped back down to the parchment, however, her ears picked up the sounds of heavy metallic footsteps drawing nearer to her, and she hastily stowed it away just as a heavily-breathing Jaune returned to the castle's courtyard.

"Done with a dozen rounds already?" Mordred couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as her new squire came to a halt in front of her.

"Somehow..." Jaune groaned, before shaking his head as he reflected that he really should have foreseen metallurgy in this world being less-developed than Remnant's; the plate armor Mordred had given him was much heavier than the one he'd originally bought in Remnant (or was that just because Huntsmen had Aura, and thus relied less on actual armor?), to say nothing of running in metal boots (the sensation of which he could only describe as "loose cement shoes").

"Huh..." Mordred blinked, before mentally raising her assessment of Jaune's speed and stamina a few more notches.

Then a grin came over her face, as she realized that she wouldn't have to hold back nearly as much as she'd initially thought (which was good, since holding back was boring, and also she really wasn't any good at it).

Jaune couldn't help but gulp as Mordred cracked her knuckles and moved over to a nearby rack of training weapons, before tossing him a wooden blade as she enthusiastically declared: "Alright, now it's time for us to see how you fare in combat against a real Knight!"

-THIRTY MINUTES LATER-

"Lancelot, about your decision last night..." Percival began, as the pair of senior knights casually made their way to the dining hall.

"You doubt it, Percival?" Lancelot raised an eyebrow as he came to a stop, his voice holding no trace of defensiveness or malice but instead only curiosity at the sincere knight's uncharacteristic words.

"Your judgement has never been proven wrong, Lancelot." Percival prefaced, not wanting his friend to take offense. "But your sudden change of heart last night... I wish to understand the wisdom behind it, old friend."

"I had no reason to oppose Sir Mordred's show of initiative, Sir Percival." Lancelot explained simply. "After all, as he said, he is a fully-fledged Knight of the Round Table, by the will of His Majesty. He has every right to choose to take a squire under his wing."

"And what of Jaune?" Percival fussed. "You know our liege; compassionate and honorable as he is, he will always prioritize the well-being of the realm over all else. The only way we can convince King Arthur to launch an expedition in search of the lands Jaune hails from during this time is that he proves the worth of his people, just as Palamedes proved the worth of the Saracen. With all due respect, I believe your first choice of Gareth would have been far more suitable option."

"Perhaps, but this is one of the rare times I have witnessed Sir Mordred being proactive, and perhaps the only time he has chosen to take responsibility for another, Sir Percival." Lancelot defended, shaking his head. "And Sir Mordred's chivalry has never once been called into question."

"That... is true..." Percival slowly conceded as a bird landed on his shoulder, before chirping once at him. As he reflexively pulled out some seeds for the little creature, he admitted: "But I am still worried for Mordred. Full knight though he may be, he has still spent less time in Camelot than even Gareth; is this not too heavy of a burden, that he has suddenly thrust upon himself?'

"I agree, Sir Percival, and that is exactly why I feel Sir Mordred's first squire should be Jaune." Lancelot countered with a nod.

"... I'm afraid I don't follow, old friend." Percival reluctantly admitted.

"Did I tell you what he said, when I thanked him for aiding Sir Mordred?" Lancelot asked rhetorically, a small smile gracing his face. "He told me, "strangers are just friends you haven't met yet". Can you imagine that? Waking up in an unfamiliar land after a disastrous battle, coming across a duel between a demon and a lone wounded knight, and actively choosing to intervene while armed with only a stick and a shield?"

"..." Percival found himself rendered speechless, not only because of the sheer idealism behind such a saying, but because he could imagine such a situation. "When you put it that way, he almost reminds me of you, Lancelot..."

"You flatter me, Sir Percival." Lancelot began, before the sound of heavy footfalls caught both of their attention. Turning in its direction, they found armored knights sprinting across the corridor. The two senior knights immediately tensed up, and Lancelot stepped forward and demanded: "Knights! What is the hurry?"

"Ah, Sir Lancelot, Sir Percival!" The addressed soldiers immediately halted, and the one leading their group gulped. "Forgive us for not showing proper decorum-:

"It's fine, it's fine." Percival stepped in to reassure them. Just to be sure, they took a surreptitious glance at the First of the Knights of the Round Table, before relaxing at the lack of an impending chastening. "We merely want to know what the rush is, this early in the morning."

"Is there an emergency or something that requires our attention?" Lancelot asked, his hand already resting on the pommel of Arondight.

"Oh, nothing of the sort, Sirs." The knight hastily answered. "We just heard Sir Mordred got a new squire and was training him! Word is, they've been training since before daybreak, so we're going to watch!"

"We've all heard of Sir Mordred's legendary swordsmanship, but none of us have ever witnessed it before!" A second added.

"I'm more curious to see what poor soul ended up with Sir Mordred as a mentor..." The third murmured under his breath.

"Dismissed." Lancelot reflexively nodded to them, before turning to Percival and exchanging apprehensive looks.

"... this I have to see." Percival finally declared, before taking off after them.

Lancelot couldn't help but sigh, and hope he hadn't just made a big mistake as he joined Percival.

The scene that greeted them, as they reached the crowded corridors overlooking the castle's training grounds, was one of absurdity and destruction; Lancelot, veteran of many ferocious battles, managed to maintain his composure, but the younger knights around him couldn't help their hanging jaws.

Meanwhile, below them, at ground zero, a panting Jaune took a quick moment to catch his breath even as he kept an eye on Mordred, and mentally revised his assessment of his new trainer.

Sure, Sir Mordred may not have been quite as agile as Pyrrha (if Sir Mordred could pull off half the flips and twists Pyr had in his full suit of armor, Jaune would have called him a monster), but he was certainly as fast as her (at least), and he had an unholy combination of Nora's strength and Yang's ferocity (at least).

The only reason Jaune (with his zero wins in Glynda Goodwitch's Combat Classes) had even lasted this long was because he'd completely abandoned offense in favor of dodging and running for his life; counter-attacking was completely out of the question.

Of course, that didn't mean he was going to just give up; he did have his pride as Pyr's student, as a Huntsman-in-Training, and as the leader of Team JNPR (also, judging by the way the sparring session had gone, his instincts told him Mordred wasn't going to accept a surrender).

Mordred, for her part, was also panting heavily under her helmet even as she glared at her squire, pleased by his spirit.

Not a whisper of complaint or any indication of surrender after all this time, and no matter how many blows she landed on him he'd always manage to pull himself back up!

Truly, she'd never had such a satisfying sparring partner before (to be fair, the only person she actually dared to ask to spar with her was Agravain, who always rejected her for obvious reasons).

Tightening her grip on her latest training sword, she roared before once again kicking off towards him, creating yet another furrow in the ground.

Jaune gulped and immediately rolled to the side, before instinctively raising his sword just in time to intercept Mordred's own as she easily kicked off the ground towards him.

As soon as the two blades made contact, Jaune immediately poured his strength into his arms, focusing purely on parrying the blade to the side (if he hadn't known beforehand that locking blades with someone who made Nora Valkyrie look like Ruby Rose was a bad idea, he'd definitely learned it repeatedly a few dozen minutes ago).

And, of course, just like the past few hundred times this had happened, Mordred didn't let such a cheap trick let her become overbalanced, but instead followed her momentum to step into his guard, and rammed her shoulder into his gut.

This time, however, Jaune had been expecting it, and managed to grab her shoulder even as he tried to (finally) return the favor and thrust the hilt of his sword into her face.

"Nice try!" Mordred laughed wildly even as she ducked under the blow, having instinctively kept track of his hand as soon as he'd deflected her strike, and Jaune had barely enough time to gulp in apprehension before she butted her head into his gut like a bull, sending him flying away.

Even as her squire bounced off of the stone walls of Camelot with a loud thud, Mordred was already launching herself towards him, swinging her wooden blade at his falling form.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me..." Jaune couldn't help but groan, as he spotted the human missile flying towards him. Unable to manoeuver himself in mid-air, unwilling to let himself get smashed into the ground, Jaune could do little more than tighten his grip around his blade, grit his teeth, and meet her blow directly.

A loud cracking sound rang out across the field as the two blades met, and a gust of wind swept across the abused grounds, as Mordred's blow pushed Jaune back towards the wall.

And then, as his feet made contact with the stone surface, and he braced himself, Mordred's wooden training blade shattered into splinters against Jaune's Aura-reinforced one, splinters that fell to the floor and joined the other remnants of training blades that littered the grounds.

"Tch!" Mordred clicked her tongue in annoyance as the two of them landed on the floor, and Jaune quietly breathed a sigh of relief as Mordred pulled away and callously tossed the broken hilt onto the floor, before stalking off to the weapon rack to grab yet another one, neither of them taking their eyes off of the other.

Then Jaune blinked in surprise, and as Mordred carelessly reached for another training blade, Jaune spoke up: "Uh... Sir Mordred?"

"What is it, squire?" Mordred allowed, still not taking her eyes off of him.

"There's no more training weapons." Jaune informed her, as her hand closed around empty air.

"This time, it was Mordred's turn to blink, and she looked at the weapon rack to find that it was, indeed, empty.

Huh.

Just how many swords had they gone through already?

"So... does this mean we're done?" Jaune inquired hopefully.

"... just because there's no more swords doesn't mean there's no more weapons, squire!" Mordred called back, shattering Jaune's hopes, as she gripped the rack with one hand and raised it like a club, grinning ferally the whole time.

Sure, what she was doing now was far from the superb and sophisticated swordsmanship that King Arthur had praised, but the King wasn't watching, and this wasn't an actual fight against enemies of the realm!

This was training.

After all, there were many enemies who wouldn't surrender just because they were disarmed!

She was just doing her job as Jaune's mentor!

Also, this was the most fun she'd had in sparring with a person, and she was not going to lose to her squire!

Jaune groaned again, before gulping as he saw Mordred's grip tighten in anticipation.

And then, just before she could launch herself at him and resume their bout, Agravain's stern voice rang out: "What in the Lord's name has happened here?!"

Author's Notes: Something something hate dialogue something something hate action scenes something something delays something something.

Yes, I am aware that medieval plate armor is not quite as heavy as people tend to imagine (for the obvious reason that people actually need to move in it). With that said, in this story, Jaune bought his initial Beacon breastplate at a discount store, and given the prevalence of Aura in Remnant that piece was meant to be more decorative than functional (not that he'd know that). Naturally, it's not nearly as thick and heavy as a fifth-century breastplate bestowed upon him by a homunculus who doesn't really understand human limits.

Also, at this point in the story, Jaune's pretty good at fighting monsters. Fighting other people without his team backing him up? Not so much. Fighting Mordred? As was mentioned in the story, he only lasts for as long as he did by essentially running away from her at every chance, letting his Aura restore his stamina and boost his strength and speed in order to stop her from landing a decisive blow.

Also, as I've mentioned before... at this point in the story, Mordred is actively avoiding tapping into her Magic Core, because as far as she knows it's just something Morgan and her unknown father (who left her at Morgan's tender mercies) left her. Meanwhile, while it is true her swordsmanship was also drilled into her by Morgan, at least it is the culmination of her years of hard work and suffering, and was even acknowledged by the Perfect King himself, which is why she'd rather prove herself only using her skills than using Mana Burst.

Edit 21/03/2022: I didn't think I needed to mention this, but yes, I am aware that sabatons are also not nearly as restrictive as most people would imagine. With that said, please do remember that Jaune only ever fights in what seems to be sneakers. Take a guy who's only used to wearing sneakers, force him into combat boots, and tell him to suddenly run a few dozen miles. It doesn't matter that combat boots aren't heavy and they're meant for movement; he's still going to be bitching about them when he comes back.