Chapter 7

Sir Anders was not a patient man, rather he was impulsive. Sure it helped keep him alive on the battle field by taking the initiative, but he had to remember that impulsiveness was just as much a curse as it was a boon.

"For the last god damned time," Sir Anders began in frustration, hands clenched into fists. "I'm just trying to help you."

The glowing bird glowered back at him from within the animal cage he had placed it in.

In hindsight, arguing with a bird inside an enclosed room might not have been the best idea. More so because he could vaguely hear the whispers of his knight brothers in the other rooms adjacent to his, but he couldn't be picky with opportunities. He wasn't a fool, and he wasn't crazy. The thing understood him, he had no doubts. If it more or less understood the blond child when it decided not to interfere in Palamid's duel, it should damn well understand him. So why was it being so stubborn?!

He restrained himself from stomping on the floor of his living quarters. Palamid had already broken his chairs - after only a damn week of working as a farmer - but nonetheless, the remains were callously left strewn across the floor. He sighed; another mess he would have to clean up on top of the rest of the clutter in the room. It didn't help that the only lighting he had came from a tiny window facing out into Lord Wolfred's open practice fields. From his position he could see them, his fellow knight brothers striking practice swords against sturdy leather bound posts. All of them, at least vaguely, speculating his tardiness. In a way it was fortunate that he only had a single window to illuminate the room; the truth that he was talking with a bird far too much of an embarrassment to subject himself to.

He sighed as he let his mind wander to the sound of ocean waves, trying to relax himself. Bristol was a port town by the South-West region of England who's main means of trade involved sea food caught on fishing boats. It was also why the townsfolk feared Saxon invaders. Saxons always arrived from the seas. It only made sense that Lord Wolfred positioned his manor and Knight's quarters directly adjacent to the ocean to intercept enemy invasion before they reached the main land.

Lord Wolfred was a wise leader.

Visibily calmed, Sir Anders turned his attention back on the bird. He scratched his head, he had to try a different approach. Still though, why couldn't the damn thing just remain unconscious? From the moment he found the bird injured in the forest he should have considered just leaving it there. It was stabbed in three places by a set of long claws, and so it probably would have died through extensive bleeding. However, he knew the bird, at least just briefly from his encounter with the blond named Arthur. In short, he saw a chance in an unexpected encounter. He took it and decided to nurse the bird back to health at his home in the Knight's quarters. The trouble only began after the damn bird was bandaged, then woke up and discovered it was in a cage. Granted, the cage was there for his own protection against the abnormal bird.

"Alright," Sir Ander's said as he raised his hands to show no harm before pulling out a slender piece of oak. "This is a splint," he stated. He motioned towards the bird's broken wing. "It will help you heal." Not that it needs it, Sir Ander's mind wandered. The wounds he had just bandaged up were healing under small flickering flames stemming from the bird. They weren't there before, he continued to muse, staring at the flames. Perhaps its healing was based on conscious effort?

"Out."

Sir Anders looked around, bewildered. There was no one else in the room.

"Out," the voice continued to repeat.

Sir Anders frowned and placed the splint on the floor to look around the room. He was alone wasn't he?

"Out!"

"...Out already Sir Anders!" The voice came from his closed door. The tension left his body as he realized one of his knight brothers was calling him. "Morning duties are due and yer not shirking yours to me."

"Fine, I'm coming." Sir Anders turned his attention back on the bird before picking up the splint and placing it in front of it. "I don't suppose you could do it yourself could you?" Shrugging, Sir Anders quickly left to avoid the suspicion of his fellow Knights.

Efret rested its throbbing head on the floor, trying to quell its rising head ache. Stupid human. All it wanted to do was get out. Besides it healed better in the sunlight, not some dim-lit room in a cage no less.

Efret frowned at the wooden cage. It could burn it, it really could, but for now it had to focus on its regeneration. It took solace in the fact that it could still vaguely feel the connection it had with the master. The master was alright and had not succumbed to his wounds. In the end, that was all that mattered. It wasn't like this cage could truly hold it, and it wasn't like it was unfamiliar with the human who accosted it.

Efret would get out - the fires of its wings ignited as they drew mana from the air, but failed to combust the wood around it - eventually.

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Kay peered out the window, watching as the little blond disappeared into the foliage of the Ashton forest in her excitement. "She's gone," he said.

Sir Ector grumbled a response, gaze set on Arturia's wooden sword. From appearance alone, nothing seemed out of the ordinary - wooden hilt, pommel, and sword length - but he knew of the magic now present in the sword.

He grasped the sword's hilt, watching as blue interface patterns travelled up its length and a majority of his sword arm. Suddenly he was a young man again, his old joints and weakened muscles re-invigorated by a sudden inflow of energy. It felt like lightning was coursing through his veins, but the pleasant kind; just a slight tingling sensation beneath his skin.

"Careful old man," Kay smiled wryly. "I know that look on your face, and I know it feels like you can take on anything right now, but don't get any ideas. You retired a long time ago."

Sir Ector grunted as he reluctantly let go of Arturia's sword. "Well I suppose a grown Knight wielding a child's wooden sword doesn't paint the best image."

"Would you really care?" Kay crossed his arms. "A sword sharp enough to cut a beast's hide, and durable enough to withstand the force of the Ashton's attack is not often come by."

Sir Ector smiled at Kay's response. "Point indeed," he said before he began to ponder on a different aspect of the previous night. "The boy called the attack Hrunting?"

Kay nodded, he was too close to the boy to have misheard. Yet why would the name of the attack matter?

Sir Ector furrowed his brows. He was familiar with the name from a childhood folktale he could barely recall. The story was more prevalent in his home town so he would have to go there to seek his answers. Either way, he would keep it as a memo. But on to more important matters, he would first have to seek answers from the boy about the specifics of his magic. He creased his brow as he realized he should have questioned the Ashton before he left earlier in the morning to look for his companion: Efret from Arturia's words. The boy was probably another Merlin, a child wizard; another puzzle impossible to solve with all the missing pieces.

Not all 'Wizards' like to reveal their magic to the common folk.

He sighed as he couldn't really fault Shirou for his actions. The Ashtons were assassinated due to suspicions of their involvement in delving in an art beyond mortal control. A world changing magic of some sort. Based on what he had previously seen of Shirou's 'magic' perhaps there was a genuine motive to the Ashton assassination - not that he would condone the actions of assassins, but in this very instant, he understood their reasoning. Therefore, his eyes once again glanced over at Arturia's practice sword, trying to comprehend what had been done to it to no avail.

Not all 'Wizards' like to reveal their magic to the common folk.

Blasted Wizards, secretive lot; well at least the ones he knew, and weren't in hiding to further their magical abilities. As far as he was concerned, Merlin was the only genuine Wizard. Not only was his magic openly displayed, but he used it for the benefit of King Uther as Britain's most famous Wizard. Shirou on the other hand, had yet to explain anything about his magic, but then again he was friends with Arturia. In the end, that was all that mattered, but a little prying surely wouldn't hurt. If that didn't work, there was one thing he was confident in.

Merlin would know.

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Arturia walked carefully through the foliage of the forest, a tad depressed at the confiscation of her sword. She stared at the spear she had received from Kay instead, and frowned in displeasure. Sure she could use a spear, but her favoured weapon had always been a sword.

The crunching of leaves beneath her feet echoed across the tranquility of the forest. It was early morning, a time where the sound of birds cawing seemed to add a layer of mystery and wonder to the worn forest path.

She pulled her grey tunic closer as a gust of wind caused her to shiver. She regretted not bringing her cloak. It was foolish of her as she knew that the summer was near its end. The cold would be coming soon, and a blanket of white would fall over the land. Before then, she hoped that Efret would be found.

Her eyes drifted to Shirou who walked closely up ahead. He was an Ashton, and he was not a child raised by fairies. It had taken her long enough to come to terms with the fact, but she had to stop acting like a child. If she had called for help last night rather than move on her own...

She watched Shirou attentively. She could tell from the way his eyes were glancing back and forth that he was frustrated at himself. She had seen that look too many times on her own face when she blamed herself for her faults. Besides, it was an exact mirror of her own face last night. Sweat gathered on her palms as she swallowed slowly. It was her fault that Shirou got injured. Her fault that Efret was missing.

They walked slowly through the forest, making sure nothing was unchecked. Their efforts payed off in the from of singed wood.

"Efret must have been here," Shirou said as he touched the burnt wood. "He was fighting," Shirou closed his eyes, picturing the scene that ensued. "Running after taking an injury."

Arturia made to speak, but held her tongue. Instead she decided to eye her surroundings. Her eyes widened. "Over there," she said, fingers pointed. Another scorch mark, followed by another.

Shirou grunted. "One of Efret's wings must have been injured." Shirou paused before frowning. "It isn't like Efret to run into trees."

"The beast was chasing." Arturia observed the flattened grass. It wouldn't have mattered before as many animals reside in the forest, but this particular trail was following in Efret's direction.

Shirou was silent for a moment before he decided it was time to move on.

Following the trail, the two soon found themselves at a small clearing. Craters littered the area, small bits of jagged rock wedged into nearby trees. Shirou's eyes narrowed on the tree bark, noting the amount of strength necessary to achieve such an outcome. Based on the craters around the area, most of the rocks were unearthed from the soil.

One of the beast's arms was constantly eaten away by flame.

This was probably where it happened, Shirou rationalized as he inspected a crater. "The beast was playing with Efret, amused after injuring Efret's wing."

Arturia brought a hand to her chin, unable to add anything to Shirou's deductions. She creased her brow in frustration, an action Shirou took notice of.

"The path we followed, there were no craters till now," Shirou explained.

Prompted by Shirou, Arturia put together an image in her mind. It was last spring, and Sir Ector had brought her out hunting for red deer. Most of the time was spent searching, and even when the deer was found, it took a great deal of time to finish the job.

Suddenly it clicked.

No need to waste energy now, we have it.

Sir Ector had managed to score the deer a flesh wound deep enough to hinder the deer's movement. From there, regardless of where it went, She and Sir Ector had simply followed at a leisurly pace until the deer wore itself out. "The beast was confident in its kill," she muttered.

"Exactly, and Efret used it to its advantage." Shirou let out a breath. "This is probably where Efret launched a successful counter attack, and enraged the beast." The destruction around was evident to the beast's rage.

Shirou walked around the clearing, plucking a feather tangled in the foliage, and inspecting the missing chunk of a tree. His eyes narrowed. "This is where the battle took a turrn for the worse." Shirou ran a hand over the damaged tree's surface, watching thoroughly as bark chipped away, brittle as paper. "The beast managed a solid blow that not only connected with Efret, but disfigured this tree as well. Based on the direction of the attack, Efret should have landed over -"

A rustle in the leaves halted Shirou's deductions. He motioned for Arturia to stay behind him, but she would have none of it as she remained firm with her spear ready in her hands.

Who did Shirou think she was? Arturia fumed. There was no way he could expect her to leave him alone, not when she could still picture him lying in the dirt, bleeding and motionless everytime she closed her eyes. There was just no way. She made her point by pushing past Shirou and moving in first.

She nearly yelped in surprise when Shirou grabbed her arm and yanked back hard. "What?" She hissed.

Shirou patted her shoulder and made sure he had her attention by drawing his face in close enough for their noses to touch. "Together," he whispered.

Shirou's words didn't register in Arturia's mind, to preoccupied with forcing down the blush that she could feel was already crawling up to her ears. Too close, he was too close! She could feel the warmth of his breath, and the concern evident in his eyes. "Fine," she muttered out, eyes glancing diminutively to the ground as she fiddled with the grip of her spear.

"Together," Shirou repeated.

Arturia took a breath, and nodded her head. "Together."

Moving quietly, they crept through the foliage and in the direction of the noise until they were right beside it.

3...2...1

Shirou jumped out first, arms raised to trace his weapon, but faltered upon noticing his adversary.

"Ashton?"

"Sir Anders?"

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Word was spreading in town, of magic and beasts.

Charles snorted as he filtered the whispers and utter lunacy of the town's folk; his immaculate red cloak covering his inner blue tunic and black leggings, snagging and tearing on a splintered sign post. He didn't notice as he was too absorbed in thought.

It was all just another child's tale, Charles surmised. As a member of the upper echelons of nobility by relation, he - unlike the rabble of peasants around him - was educated. Beasts? A simple exaggerated animal. Magic? Mere smoke and mirrors. Beast Hunter? A Sword Child? Utterly preposterous. He had more important matters to deal with, namely if an Ashton truly did live.

He walked carefully down the street, mindful of the filth gathering on his boots after every step. How filthy. His gaze wandered to the simple homes around him, not a pound of elegance to be seen. Peasants.

Now the Ashton's, they had class befitting nobility. Even now he could remember them vividly: the Ashton's exquisite hues of purple, blue, and gold aligning the interior of their manor in what had been the greatest ball he had ever seen. He envied them just as much as he had looked up to them as a role model of sorts. Now if only he hadn't inherited their land.

If an Ashton truly did live, then the thousands of acres of land that now belonged to him, would therefore be delegated back to Ashton control by way of birthright and noble blood. Not only would his influence drop, he would no longer be able to receive the tariffs from the serfs working the land. All his luxuries born from trade, gone.

He shivered and decided to distract himself in the foolishness of the crowd around him.

"Isn't he familiar? I just can't put a name..." One peasant spoke.

So the peasants knew of him? Of course, he had been the one to host that farce of a competition.

"A name? Wasn't he Chart?"

A vein throbbed on his head. These ruffians, can they not even remember the name of their betters? He glowered at the people around him.

"Quiet you all," a shoptender working his stand said as he gave Chalres a measuring look before recognition dawned.

Finally, Charles thought.

The shopkeeper glared at the crowd before clearing his throat, ready to claim a business opportunity by giving proper recognition to the noble. "Can't you see?" The man leered before giving a toothy smile to Charles. "You're in the presence of Lord Deadsacs." It was only luck and a good ear that allowed the shopkeeper to hear the name of this noble, partly due to the blond child and archer at a certain competition.

Something exploded in Chalres mind, whether from the sheer humiliation, or the fact that a god damned goat just snatched his wig again, it didn't matter. Either way, his anger was directed at a single man. "Bastard I'll have your head!"

The shopkeeper backed away, Charles stepped forward. "Lord Deadsacs please-"

To hell with it all. Charles raised the sleeves of his tunic and chaos ensued in the market area.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Shirou eyed the rather plain estate as he drew closer, thoughts drifting back to earlier in the morning.

Well uhm, oh, I have your bird?

Sir Anders had said when he noticed Arturia step out of the shrubs. He had explained that he had found Efret injured and decided to nurse the bird back into health as a sign of friendship with Arturia. Something in which Arturia didn't buy at all as she remembered Sir Anders's objective, namely Shirou.

Still though, it was why Shirou found himself alone at the front of Lord Wolfred's estate to meet the Lord himself. Arturia had been forced to stay behind as Sir Ector had chosen then to begin Arturia's punishment for the previous night's recklessness.

Patiently, Shirou knocked on the door and waited for a response. A disgruntled Sir Anders and a narrow eyed Efret was not what he was expecting.

"Take him Ashton," Sir Anders grunted as he let Efret perch on Shirou's shoulder. "Just take the damn thing away." There was nothing left of his room. A fluke ember of some sort lit his quarters on fire. His eye twitched as he stared accusingly at Efret. Devil.

Shirou raised a brow at Efret.

"Splint, lit fire." Efret shrugged before relaxing. The master was okay, it wasn't going to be alone again and that was all that mattered.

Efret began to preen its good wing, but paused as it noticed a change in elevation.

"No," was Sir Anders immediate response as Shirou presented Efret back to him. His long blond hair fell loosely behind him, the small thread of twine he used to normally hold it up frayed and somewhat singed. His upper lip twitched as he recalled his utterly useless attempts at salvaging anything from his burnt living quarters.

Shirou presented Efret once again, paying Sir Anders's internal conflicts no mind.

"Hand me that bird and I swear I'll-"

"Ah," a voice began. An attendant peaked his head around the door. "Sir Ashton, the Lord has been awaiting you." The attendant pushed past a stunned Sir Anders, and pulled Shirou along, not minding the way Sir Anders literally screamed in frustration when Efret landed on his head.

"I wait here," Efret said as it made itself comfortable. There was nothing dangerous in the estate so the master should be fine. Besides, Efret had a score to settle.

Shirou nodded to Efret before he and the attendant disappeared around the corner.

The interior decoration was not what he had been expecting of a noble's home. Far from the lavish riches most nobles were eager to decorate their homes in, the inner layout of the hallway Shirou walked in was bare. Strictly speaking however, Shirou couldn't deny the practicality it presented.

The attendant beside Shirou had explained that they were in the hall joining the knight's quarters and the Lord's lodgings. There was no need for luxuries in the hall as it was mainly used by the knights after patrols, or training.

Shirou didn't comment at the heavy double oaken doors the attendant eventually motioned him towards, only steeled himself for what was to come next.

"So this is the Beast Hunter?" Was the mirthful voice that greeted him upon his entry. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm James Wolfred, but most call me Lord."

James sat upon the only desk in the room, his hands intersecting as he leaned over his desk.

"You best not repeat this information to anyone else. Never know who would want to kill you."

"Shirou Emiya," was Shirou's curt reply as he took Sir Anders words into account, before he looked around the room. It wasn't bad per say, but it took after the sparseness of the previous hall, the large windows being the only difference by adding more light into the square room made of stone. At least there were chairs and enough furniture to appeal to one's sense of home.

James's smile grew. How the child knew politics at such a young age astounded him. Not only did he introduce himself with a name uncommon to Britain, but he intentionally neglected to mention his status as an Ashton. How clever. It was possibly the best political move the child could have done, hiding from his enemies in plain sight. All everyone had to go on at this point was that a child of the Ashton's lived. Only he and his personal knights knew of the boy's true origin, courtesy of Sir Anders.

"Like the room?" James asked as he noticed Shirou's eyes wander.

"...It wasn't what I was expecting," Shirou conceded.

"Exactly." James leaned back in his chair. "To show luxury is to show difference. It is easier to relate to others, to command their respect, under similar circumstance."

Shirou nodded. It was easier to work with someone who could relate to similar issues and responsibilities. Be that as it may, he would rather get to the point of the issue. It was his favour to Sir Anders after all. "Why am I here?" He asked.

"Rather blunt aren't you." James sighed before laughing. "Finally, I hate talking like an ass. Doesn't feel very natural." James got up from his chair, and stretched to relieve the soreness of his muscles. It was time to get to the matter of the topic. Why did he want to meet the boy? Not only was the meeting meant to gleam insight on the boy's capabilities, he was intrigued about certain rumours. "I trust your bird was returned to you safely."

"At Sir Anders's expense, yes."

James cracked a smile. He could remember the sheer devastation on Sir Anders's face earlier in the day. Luckily, he had plenty of other rooms."Then I believe your problems are settled. Your friend is safe." Thanks to me.

Was left unsaid.

Shirou could read in-between the lines of the conversation. You owe me, was evident in the eyes of Barron Wolfred. Efret was saved by the hands of Sir Anders, and therefore by extension, Lord Wolfred himself. "What do you want?" He asked.

Lord Wolfred smiled. Educated child. "Since you're asking, I want to learn magic," Lord Wolfred replied testing the waters of a certain rumour.

In the short silence that ensued, Lord Wolfred watched Shirou's facial features carefully. He had learned early on in his life as a Lord about the importance of reading another's intentions. It was a key factor to gleaming insight about an individual.

Which was why he noticed the subtle creasing of Shirou's brow, and the way his mouth stretched into a thin line to obscure the way he seemed to bite back an immediate response. Interesting, the boy really did know magic. He supposed he could play along and let it go.

"It can't be done? Well then I'll change my last answer to a question." Lord Wolfred sat back down on his chair, and leaned forward onto his desk, hands cupped beneath his chin. "What services can you offer this domain?"

There was no hesitation in the child's eyes this time, Lord Wolfred observed. His lips are sealed in matters regarding magic, but I suppose it was the most likely outcome after the Ashton assassination.

It's earlier than expected, but...

"I can offer technology, education, and an agreement to protect the village." Shirou stood with his back straight, his gaze kept firm on Lord Wolfred's.

"Technology?" Lord Wolfred asked. He could understand education and a protection agreement - most nobles were educated young and the boy was an Ashton - but what could a child offer in terms of technology?

Lord Wolfred didn't have to wait long as Shirou lifted his hand and a bow double his size appeared in his outstretched palm.

"This is a long bow," Shirou spoke slowly. "Different from regular bows, this has longer reach, shoots quieter, and is lighter."

Shirou waved his hand, and the long bow disappeared before Lord Wolfred could get a good look at it. What replaced the long bow, was a long sword that flickered a dull blue before returning to its original steel.

"A Longsword?" Lord Wolfred asked puzzled.

"A reinforced one," Shirou replied as he stabbed it hilt deep into the stone floor. "On top of swords like this, I'm confident in my smithing skills. Perhaps you'll see a weapon never before seen."

Lord Wolfred's eyes widened.

"Have we come to a conclusion Lord Wolfred?"