For the past season, Artorias had mentored Fern as his apprentice in the art of swordsmanship. Fern had begun with basic knowledge of fighting and even less when it came to using a weapon in combat, so it had been a long, arduous process for her, essentially starting her lessons from the ground up. The trials he gave her had been grueling, and the classes and demonstrations were rigorous. He incorporated many of the ways his late mother had trained him as a pup into his lessons, helping Fern to build strength, stamina, and above all else, discipline. To her credit, not once did she balk or bend or shy away. She did as she was told, asking questions and throwing herself into her training—perhaps a bit too emphatically at times. He admired Fern's tenacity and dedication. She had come to him asking to learn his craft and she was showing her commitment through and through. Many a day he had seen Fern wandering the corridors or patrolling the plains with her wooden training sword strapped to her back, just as he told her to. Even at meal times, he saw her sitting at the tables beside Rudy with her weapon of choice. Each time, Artorias would surreptitiously smile.

Fern had proven her dedication to her lessons and shown she was taking his mentorship seriously. It was for that reason that Artorias had decided that it was time to move her on to the next phase of their lessons. Heading down to the armory one morning, Artorias pushed the door open with a creak and stepped inside, drawing in the familiar scent of coal and leather and oil. As the only wolf that really maintained and used his weapons frequently, the armory had become Artorias' de facto workshop of sorts—his sanctuary. The Aegis made his way over the armory storage and unlatched the door, waking through rows of armor and weapons before grabbing a particular sword he'd kept stashed away and bringing it out into the workshop. He laid it out on the workbench in its old leather scabbard, then unslung Embershard from his back and pulled it out, the intricate Damascus steel glistening like flowing water in the light of the massive hearth and forge.

Artorias let out a call for Fern, knowing she would likely either be in the middle of her morning exercises or patrol. Today would be different for her. Today he would teach her the proper ways to maintain a weapon. While he waited for her, the alpha grabbed a pot of oil, a couple whetstones, and a few rags, laying them out on the workbench in preparations for their lesson.

WC: 446 / 1500

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

Fern is out in the practice ring, alternating between fighting one of the stuffed dummies and using the agility course. Right now, the gray wolf runs through the obstacles that had been made to test her dexterity while holding onto the wooden training sword. The season has been flying by so fast since the gray girl has thrown herself into her training. True to her word, Fern has carried the training sword everywhere she goes, from the dining hall to patrols and everywhere else the day takes her, the wooden sword is a constant presence. The scabbard that lays across her back has become a second skin, the familiar weight of the sword at rest helps remind the girl of what she is working toward.

At night, she props the scabbard and its sword up next to the bed she shares with Rudyard, the wooden handle within easy reach, should she need it. Her days are filled with training, patrolling, practicing, leaning, and… more training. At first, when Fern would crawled into bed with Rudy at night, exhaustion had quickly pulled her into dreamland and she would awaken with sore, stiff muscles. The first week had been the hardest, the gray girl had been pushed to her limits every day and, every morning, when she could barely move, the girl had questioned if it would be worth it. Every time she met Art, her question was answered, the dedication he had to her as a teacher was easily matched by her eagerness to learn. After the third week, her muscles started to loosen, the deep ache and stiffness that had followed pervious training sessions lessened to a point where she barely noticed it.

As her sword work improved, so did her coordination and agility. Fern is not even close to being a master but she is proud of her own progress. Moving with the sword is more natural now and, when throws her weight sideways on the course, she no longer topples over. A small but mighty victory in her eyes. Light paws move nimbly around a set of poles that had been made to test her balance, coordination, and timing. Halfway through the set, a call catches her ears and Fern pauses. Atrorias is calling for her and, with a wide smile around the wooden grip, the gray girl steps away from the course and slides the wooden sword home into its scabbard. With that, she and her sword make the trip back to the castle, working their way quickly toward the workshop.

Stepping inside, Fern sees Artorais standing near a workbench and she steps forward, saying, “Hello Art. What is my lesson for today?” The Aegis often had little lessons for her and, as she slips her sheathed sword off her back to prop it against the workbench, she hopes this one is about real swords. Her ocean-hued eyes take in the beautiful Damascus steel pattern of Art’s sword, her smile bright as she settles in for whatever lesson he has prepared for her.

WC: 506
Total: 952 / 1500

"Fern"

Artorias was not kept waiting long before Fern appeared in the blacksmith, having just enough time to gather their materials before he saw her trotting in eagerly to greet him. He regarded her with a stoic smile and noticed the sword still slung across her back, proud that she was keeping true to her training, even when he wasn't watching. "Good morning, Fern," he greeted her in return, then gestured to the simple steel sword in the black leather scabbard on the workbench beside him and in front of her. "Today, we're going to be honing some steel together. I've picked out a sword for you to practice with today until you earn yours. Keeping your sword well-maintained and sharp is as important as keeping yourself fed and rested. A weapon not cared for is as useful as a drop in the ocean." Artorias waited while Fern got herself situated beside him before proceeding with the nuances of their lesson.

"Go ahead and unsheathe the sword and lay it out on the bench." Once Fern had done so, Artorias slid Embershard closer to him and began pointing out the different parts of the sword to her. "Every part of a sword needs to be maintained, not just the blade, but the crossguard, tang, grip, and pommel too. If any of these parts fall into disrepair or break, you run the risk of hurting yourself or destroying your weapon entirely." Artorias reached over to grab one of the smooth river whetstones, showing it off to Fern. "This is a whetstone. It's used for sharpening steel. You'll want to find the smoothest side to the stone, then run it smoothly down the edge of the blade, keeping a constant pressure all the way down." Artorias demonstrated on his sword slowly for his apprentice to observe. He took the whetstone in his paw and the grip in his other, then pressed the stone to the blade right by the crossguard and ran it in a slow, smooth stroke from grip to tip. He repeated this a couple of times for Fern to see.

"You repeat this as many times as you need to sharpen the edge. You'll know you're done when you can run a paw pad along the edge slowly and not feel any nicks or burs." The Aegis then very carefully ran a rough paw pad slowly along the edge he had just sharpened, feeling the edge smooth all the way from start to end. "Be very careful not to cut yourself. You're just feeling for any imperfections on the edge of the blade, so don't press into it. When you've finished one side, you do the other." Artorias flipped Embershard over and repeated the sharpening process on the opposite side of the steel he'd just done. "These swords are double-edged, which means we'll need to sharpen all four sides. Go ahead, you give it a try." He gestured with his muzzle to the sword and the second whetstone on the workbench, keeping a close eye on Fern while she did her work to observe her and answer any questions she might have.

He was quiet for some time while he let Fern get used to the sharpening process, speaking only once he felt she was getting comfortable with the weapon. "Still loving the Hallows? Still happy to be here?" he asked her, turning a warm glance her way. While it was his responsibility as Aegis to keep all his wolves safe, his other priority was making sure his wolves were happy and content living here. If any of them had any concerns or problems, Art hoped they would feel comfortable coming to him to voice them.

WC: 616
Total: 1568 / 1500

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

As soon as her light paw pads cross toward the table, Fern allows her gaze to shift to look at the swords and stones on the workbench. After she unbuckles the scabbard and props the wooden sword against the table, she turns her full attention to Artorias. When instructed to, Fern pulls the steel sword from its black leather house and lays it gently on the workbench. The sword is in great condition and she feels her lips tug upward in a smile. Who knew something so deadly could be so beautiful? Turning her gaze back to Art and his sword, she listens as he points out each part of the sword, glancing from the weapon of front of him to the steel sword in front of her. Mentally, she labels each part, and runs a paw of them to memorize the shape of each. Artorias picks up one of the river stones, identifying it as a whetstone and giving clear instructions on how to use it.

Then, he puts his words into actions and Fern watches closely as the Aegis runs the whetstone along the edge of the blade. The sound of steel being sharpened rings through the armory and her smile reappears. Each time the stone works down the edge, making the sword sing, Fern feels her heart zing with it. She listens very intently as Artorias speaks of how to find nicks and burs and she nods her firmly at his warning not cut herself. When he flips his sword over, preparing to sharpen the opposite side, he tells the gray girl to give it a try. The smile grows even more, as she pulls the whetstone toward her and picks it up. Using her other paw, Fern feels both sides of the stone before flipping it over to the smoother side. Holding the grip in one paw, the gray girl places the stone on the edge of the blade near the crossguard.

She runs the whetstone down the edge, grunting when the stone jumps slightly from her lack of constant pressure. Returning to the top, Fern adjusts her shoulders and tries again. The blade sings its happy song and her smile is as bright as the sun. She settles into a rhythm, monitoring the pressure as she slides the stone down the edge in slow, even-ish strokes. When Art asks if is still happy here, Fern chuckles and says, “More than happy, Art. I am building a beautiful life here. With family. By the way, did Rudy tell you… I proposed to him?” Keeping her eyes on her sword, the gray girl uses her peripheral vision to try and catch Artorias’s reaction. After another pass along the blade, Fern sets down her whetstone and lightly runs her paw pad over the edge. There are no dips or sharp divots so she turns the sword over to work on the other side.

As the sword rings out anew, Fern says, “I have been meaning to ask you something Artorias. What kind of stuff does Rudy like? I know your birthdays are coming up and I want to get him something very special. Any ideas?” The stone glides more easily over the sword and Fern puts the stone to the side and runs her paw pad over it. Giving a small nod to herself she gestures for Art to check her progress so far.


"Fern Lark"

While the pair of mentor and student worked on their respective weapons beside one another, filling the armory with the metallic singing of stones on steel, Artorias kept his keen gaze Fern, watching how she moved her paws as she sharpened the sword. She began a bit unevenly, as was expected for someone new to the practice, but with every stroke of the whetstone she became more and more sure of herself. With time, Fern had sharpened one edge of the sword to a wicked point, all without cutting herself in the process. He nodded his approval when Fern checked the edge and was satisfied with her work. It was a decent honing for her first time. She'd improve with practice and time, of this the Aegis had no doubt. "Good. Keep going until all the sides are sharpened to your liking," he instructed her as he finished up his second edge and turned his sword about to work on the opposite edge of the blade. They talked while they worked, and when the gray monochrome girl smiled and expressed her earnest joy at being a part of the Hallows, a smile spread across Artorias' muzzle. "Good, I'm very glad to hear that," he said, then blinked in surprise and turned to look at Fern as if to discern whether she was being serious or not. He chuckled and grinned while he shook his head. "No, he didn't tell me that. I suppose congratulations are in order, future sister-in-law." He snickered again, then asked, "So when's the wedding? I'm assuming you'll need an officiant if you want the whole ceremony." He supposed if Rudy and Fern were serious about getting married, they'd want a wedding ceremony, which means he'd be officiating for the first time ever for his brother.

Artorias had moved on to the last edge of his sword, listening to the smooth scrape of the river stone on the blade. Damascus steel always seemed to produce more resonant sounds to regular steel, almost as if the blade was actually singing its praises to its thoughtful owner. Fern speaks up again, and Artorias turned the closest obsidian ear towards her to catch her words while he hums to acknowledge he'd heard her. She asked about a gift for Rudy's birthday, a question that made Artorias purse his lips in pensive thought for a minute. "Rudy has never been really big on possessions. You probably guessed that when you saw how bare his room was." He chuckled and checked the edges of his sword before setting it aside until Fern caught up so they could move to the next step together. He turned his focus back to his apprentice and ran a paw pad over the edge she'd honed with a nod. "Good. Now do the other side and then we'll move on." While Fern worked, Artorias thought some more about her question. "If you want to give him something, how about an accessory? Something he could wear all the time to remind him of you. Maybe something you make, or something with a special meaning behind it." He thought about the armlet Briar had made for him, the black leather band around his foreleg studded with fire opals that matched his eyes. "Or you could do something nice for him. Plan a day trip, take him on a special hunt or something. Rudy does love a good hunt."

Once Fern had finished honing the other side of her blade and was satisfied with her work, Artorias picked up one of the rags and passed it to her, picking up another for himself and sliding the pot of oil closer to them. "Once you finish sharpening your sword, we're going to clean the blade. First, you rub the length of it down on all sides with a dry cloth." He paused his instructions to demonstrate on his sword, polishing the fine Damascus steel free of any blemishes or marks. "Then you dampen it with some oil and wipe everything. The blade, the crossguard, especially the leather around the grip. It keeps it from drying out and cracking." Artorias carefully dipped the rag into the oil and began to wipe down every part of his sword, making the steel shine in the fire's light and keeping the leather on the grip supple. He took extra care to polish the topaz stones around the crossguard, knowing how much effort Briar had gone through to get them for him when she'd had his sword repaired.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

Fern works the whetstone; the ringing steel of their swords making a sweet symphony in the armory. She nods to Artorias as he instructs her to sharpen all the edges to her liking and she watched as his deft paws turn the sword around in his hold. As he begins to work on the opposite edges of the Damasus sword. They talk while the blades sing, the gray girl comfortable and relaxed in the presence of her mentor, a feat she was afraid would never happen. She watches the smile that spreads across his muzzle and she matches it with her own happy one. And then, keeping her eyes on the blade she drops the bombshell, lips clamping shut hard to hold in the laugh while watching Art in her peripheral vision for his reaction. The surprise that appeared has her giggling and the gray girl’s smile grows.

When he congratulates her and calls Fern his ‘future sister-in-law’, heat floods her cheeks and the smile becomes a beam of joy. Art asks about the wedding and Fern laughs lightly, her whetstone never missing a beat. Giving a small shrug, she says, “Whenever Rudyard accepts that he has been bested.” Eyes dance with joy as she explains, “I fought him for the right to propose… and won.” Her laugh is light and happy as she remembers the look on Rudy’s face when she had sprung that surprise on him. What was she suppose to do? There was no way he was getting rid of her and Rudyard was kind of a slow mover. Glancing toward Artorias, Fern says, “I would love for you to officiate the ceremony Art. I guess I will have to try and light a fire under Rudy. I will be two at the changing of the season and time waits for no one.” Another chuckle fills the air as she tries to picture having a wedding.

Truthfully Fern had never really thought about marriage, of meeting someone she would spend the rest of her life with. This is all uncharted territory for her but the gray girl is happy to exploring it here, with family. Her question about getting Rudy a present is met with pursed lips and deep thought. Geeze, Rudy really doesn’t like stuff? She laughs at Artorias’s comment about Rudyard’s bare room, saying, “Yeah it was very bare. But, I will say that doesn’t seem to mind the additions I made.” Tossing a wink to the Aegis, Fern waits for him to look over her work. He nods in approval and she smiles while turning her sword about and setting to work on the opposite edges.

Artorias suggests getting Rudy an accessory and Fern giggles as she says, “Do you think a band with ‘Property of Fern’ would be too much?” The thought tickles her and the giggles continue for a moment as the stone works to smooth the edge. Then Art suggests planning a trip for Rudy. Oh, that is good one. Rudyard had promised to take her on adventures, what would he think if she planned one for him? Nodding to herself, the gray girl says, “I really like that idea. Rudyard has always loved adventures, maybe I can plan something special.” Ideas roll around as she checks the blade before flipping it over and starting on the final side. Lost to her thoughts and the rhythm of the whetstone, the last edge passes in silence and before she knows it, Fern is checking the edge.

Satisfied she lays the sword down and waits for Artorias’s inspection. She passes and he hands her a rag while sliding the pot of oil closer to them. Fern listens as he explains cleaning the blade and she watches as he rubs all sides of his sword with the dry cloth. The steel is beautiful and she grins in happiness at the shinning Damascus sword before Artorias dampens the rag with some oil. He explains about oiling every part of the sword and she watches for a moment as he begins to spread the oil across the sword. Fern takes the dry cloth and works to remove any blemishes or marks, taking her time and being checking her work continuously.

Once she completes that step, Fern then dips her rag in the oil and begins to work it into the sword. Starting with the blade, she works until every part of it gleams upon inspection and the turns her attention to the hilt. The leather soaks up the oil as the rag passes and she works until the crossguard and grip are well oiled and shining. Once she is satisfied with her handiwork, Fern presents the sword to Artorias and says, “Art, I don’t know if I have said this enough but… thank you. Thank you for taking me on as student. You are a great teacher.” A smile rests on her muzzles.

"Fern Lark" | "Puff"

Fern's wit and banter keeps an amused smile on Artorias' face throughout their work. He'd wondered more than once what sort of girl would be able to tame the heart of his wild brother, and it seemed like it had taken a Fern to do so. Someone vivacious, spirited, tenacious, and unyielding. Someone who could banter and bite. He was glad the two had found one another; it seemed like they had both been what the other needed. A barking laugh came from Artorias when Fern explained that the wedding would be whenever Rudyard admitted he'd been bested, to which the Aegis responded, "I'm afraid if you're waiting for my hardheaded brother to admit defeat, you'll never get married! There's no rush. We only just turn two this season as well, you know." Then Fern asked if a bracelet deigning Rudyard as "property of Fern" would be inappropriate, and again Artorias was laughing so hard his deep voice echoed around the armory. This was why he liked Fern and why he didn't worry about her dating his brother. She was no shrinking violet; she was hardy and resilient. It was good; she would need to be if she wanted to get into the Carpathius family. Like the mountains they were named for, the Carpathian wolves were a strong and unbreakable bunch, indomitable spirits within equally formidable bodies.

Artorias watched like a proud teacher observing his apprentice while she followed his every instruction to the letter. Not once did she cut herself during the sharpening nor cleaning stages of maintenance. She asked smart questions and picked up practices quickly. Once he was finished honing his sword, Artorias watched Fern with quiet patience while she took her time following his example. She was meticulous, moving slow to ensure she did things right. The swordsman appreciated that. He would rather her take her time and learn to do things right than move fast and do a sloppy job of it. Once Fern had finished polishing and oiling the sword, she presented it to him, and Artorias picked it up in careful paws. He inspected every inch of the blade, turning it to and fro, nodding as he went through his inspection. "Very good. Nice even sharpening on all sides. No noticeable scuffs or blemishes." All in all, an excellent job for her first time touching a real sword.

While he judged her handiwork, Fern once again thanked him for teaching her and complimented his skills. Artorias peered up at Fern from over the glistening blade for a moment while she spoke, then carefully lay the sword down on the workbench before her again. "You don't need to thank me, but you're welcome all the same. The Hallows was founded to be a place of shelter, of healing and of growth, Fern. When my mother Resin established it, this was the cornerstone of her creed. Protect those who need protecting, strengthen those who desire to grow." Artorias turned his fire-emblazoned eyes back to the two swords on the table, lifting a paw to rest it on the green leather hilt while he sorted through haunting memories. "When I was a pup, I trained with my mother constantly. It was all I grew up knowing. It was hard and brutal, but it made me stronger in the end. I thought that all it would be good for was keeping my family and my home safe. But as I got older, as I started maturing and taking on more and more responsibilities and leadership, I began to realize that wasn't all my training was good for. I could protect my home, my family, but I could also motivate others, teach them to be strong for themselves as well, give them the opportunities my mother gave me and every other wolf in the Hallows."

After a moment of silence, Artorias finally turned his gaze back to Fern's cool blue eyes, giving her a crooked smirk. "My mother's beliefs in a better world, a safer world, didn't die with her. They live on through the Hallows, through me and my training—just as they now live on with you too." Every wolf he taught, every warrior he trained, every soul he helped was another Resin's influence would be passed on to. After giving Fern a moment to process his words and her own thoughts, Artorias glanced down to the sword Fern had been treating. "Now that you've honed and cleaned it, what do you think of the sword? Is it ready to be wielded in combat?"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

Artorias laughs with Fern, the easy banter and comfortable teasing about Rudy rings out with the steel. The Aegis barks a laugh about Rudy not admitting defeat and the girl gives him a coy smirk and pretends to be offended. Feigning exasperation, she says, “Oh, Art! And here I thought you knew me so well. Tsk, tsk. You see, Rudyard doesn’t stand a chance once I set my mind to something.” She laughs lighting, tossing him a teasing wink as they continue to work. Fern will have a wedding. Soon. Rudyard just needs to be told. Artorias’s laugh has her ginning widely, tail wagging lightly at her hips, joy written on her features. Continuing to sharpen the sword, Fern lightly says, “Maybe if I get myself a matching band that says ‘Rudy’s Owner’ everyone will get the hint.”

The Carpathian wolves may be strong and indomitable but Rudy doesn’t stand a chance against the stubborn passion that is Fern. They work in comfortable, silent concentration, the gray girl taking her time as works the oil into the sword. It is satisfying to watch the steel shine; the leather soaking the oil in and taking on a sheen. Finally, she sets aside the rag and presents the sword for inspection, Artorias carefully taking it. As he begins to give it a thorough inspection, she watches with barely concealed eagerness. His comment is met with a happy smile and she thanks him. Art’s fiery embers peer at her over the shiny blade and she meets them with her cool ocean depths.

Gently, Artorias lays the sword back on the table and begins to tell her about why The Hallows was founded. Fern watches the Aegis’s fiery eyes turn to the swords on the table and he rests a paw on the sword she had been taking care of. He talks about training with Resin and the gray girl remembers her own mother and the lessons that Meadow had tried to give her on healing. The puppy Fern had been bored and never had much of an interest in learning about plants. Ah, what she would give to be able to sit through a lesson with her now. Fern pays close attention to Art as he speaks, the girl getting a more intimate look at the wolf that is Artorias. Understanding and respect grow for the young Aegis, her soon-to-be brother-in-law.

Silence falls for a moment and Art turns his blazing embers to gaze into her cool blue eyes. A crooked smirk adorns his face as he continues, a knowing, loving smile spreading across Fern’s face as he says Resin’s beliefs live on. There is a part of Fern that had felt lost when she came to The Hallows, the fact that the one wolf who she believed could help was dead almost too much to handle. Fern had found Resin gone but, in her place, the gray girl had found a family. Pride and happiness swell in the girl as she realizes that she is helping to keep her aunt’s legacy going. Art glances to the sword, asking if she thinks the sword is ready to be wielded in combat and Fern lets her eyes return to the table.

The green leather handle shines in the light and Fern carefully picks up the sword, looking it over carefully before saying, “The sword is beautiful and I think it is ready for combat. With proper love and care, I think the sword and its owner will be make a fine weapon.” Light lips tick upward as she lays it back on the table and looks to Artorias. When he deems her ready for a sword, the gray girl hopes that she will have a sword as fine as this.

"Fern Lark"

Fern had listened to his monologue with respectful patience, truly drinking in every word he said. Artorias could see it in her oceanic eyes as she internalized his message. Their parents had done the best they could for them. Now it was up to them to take the lessons and carry on the legacies to make the world a better place. The young Carpathian patriarch watched while Fern carefully lifted the sword she'd been working on and inspected it further, just like he had. She confirmed what he already knew—the sword was ready for battle—and then went on to state that with love and care, the sword would be a fine weapon to its owner. Artorias nodded his head assent. "I agree, which is why I hope you'll continue to care for it as well as you did today."

A little knowing smirk twitched on the corner of Artorias' lips while he waited for the meaning of his words to sink in for Fern. Before she could say anything else, Artorias continued, motioning with a tip of his head towards the sword while he spoke. "I've watched you carry your training sword diligently. You followed all the rules I gave you. You've proven that you are responsible and diligent and take pride in honing your skills. From now on, you are not required to carry it with you all the time, only when you wish to." Artorias rested his paw on the sword's hilt, turning it towards Fern again as he laid the matching hunter green leather scabbard beside her new blade. "This sword belongs to you now, Fern. Treat it well and with respect, and it will never let you down." As he finished, Art let Fern have a chance to bask in the moment and savor it. This was a big step for her and he was very proud of all the work she'd put into her training. Though they still had work to do before she'd be considered proficient, this was a major checkpoint on the path of a swordsman.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

Fern looks from the sword to Artorias, wistfully wishing that this was her weapon. The gray girl knows that, when Art determines her ready, he will allow her to have a sword. A smile is on her lips as she speaks about it, deeming it ready for combat. Ocean-hued eyes turn up to the Aegis’s fiery gaze, hoping she has made a good assessment. Art agrees with her and the smile on her light lips grows only to fall a moment later as Art finishes his sentence. Eyes round with wonder and look to steel broadsword, the green leather of its hilt glistening in armory light. Mouth pumps a few times as she looks at the weapon before turning back to the Aegis. The corners of mouth ticking upward as words fail her.

The gray girl looks to her mentor with glittering, joy-filled eyes as Artorias goes on to praise her, Fern’s chest filling with pride and happiness. He turns the hilt to her and lays a matching hunter green leather scabbard beside her sword. Her sword. Fern’s eyes linger on the weapon, lifting a paw to green leather of the hilt. Turning her gaze back to Art, the gray girl offers him a beaming smile as she says, “I won’t let you down Art.” Picking up the wooden training sword, Fern lays it on the table, letting her paw linger on it for a moment before moving over to touch her sword. Paw resting on the hilt, she casts a glance toward Artorias and says, “I once heard all great swords have a name. I… want to give mine one too.”

Clearing her throat in a sudden fit of nervousness, Fern once more looks at the shinning steel that is now her’s to care for. After a moment, she says, “Lark’s Song. I… I think I’ll call it Lark’s Song. Is that a good name?” Ocean-hued eyes turn to her mentor for confirmation as a smile slowly grows on her lips.


"Fern Lark"

Artorias had been expecting some degree of surprise or amazement from his apprentice when he revealed to her that this was her sword now and that she was moving on to her next phase of training, but the look of shock on Fern's face had been even greater than he imagined! The way her mouth hung open and closed like a fish as she scrambled to try to say anything at all, her eyes moving from sword to him back and forth as she comprehended what was going on, and then that joyful look in her eyes as she computed what he was saying. It was a moment of great pride for the teacher to see his pupil succeed and he was eager to see how she progressed with the rest of her training. In time, she would become a master of the art of swordsmanship as well, of this there was no doubt. But more importantly, her success and skill was a testament to Artorias—a testament that his family's beliefs, his beliefs, and his art were worth buying into and passing on to others.

Fern returns her training sword to him with a bit of trepidation. Artorias understood; when he stashed away the wooden sword Outlaw had given him as a pup and graduated to real steel, it had been a bittersweet moment for him as well. A crossing of a threshold; an outgrowing of the past and into the present. Fern vowed that she wouldn't let him down, and Art responded with a simple nod. "I know you won't." Then she mentioned hearing that all great swords had names and wanted to give hers one too. He smiled and gestured with a paw for her to go ahead. He watched patiently while she looked to her blade and christened it Lark's Song. A fitting name, and one she'd be able to pass down to her future generations with a story behind it.

"A fine name," he stated, then shifted his sword across the table so it was beside hers, both blades shining in the firelight. "Lark's Song and Embershard. May they guard the realms of wolves and Hallowed lands for centuries to come. May they always be wielded by their rightful masters and strike with righteous fury." Their sappy moment concluded, Artorias gathered up Embershard and slipped it back into its black leather scabbard before slinging it over his back, then began to stow away the materials they'd been using. "You have free access to the blacksmith and armory whenever you wish to maintain your sword, Fern. You're responsible for it from here on out. If you have questions or need advice, you can come to me anytime. We'll use our proper swords in our trainings from here on out, so get used to its heft. Learn to make it a part of your body as much as your legs or your tail are." With that, Artorias headed for the door, motioning for Fern to join him and go about her day or remain in the armory a bit longer if she wished.

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"

The moment that Fern had been dreaming of had finally arrived and the gray girl worries she is in a dream. As she looks from the sword to Artorias, she knows this is real and, with that knowledge, her smile keeps growing. She vows not to let him down and Art responds with a simple nod stating that he knows she won’t. She gives a brief nod before turning her attention to naming the sword. The Aegis waits patiently as the girl tries to think of a fitting label, finally settling on Lark’s Song. While most larks have a beautiful song, this one has a sharp edge with a promise of death. She looks to Art once more, asking if it is a good name and he states it is. Then he slides his sword over next to her’s and says some words. Fern latches onto them, holding the promise close to her heart as the blades shine in the firelight.

Artorias finishes his speech, moving to gather up his sword and Fern mirroring his movements, sliding the honed blade into the hunter green scabbard before slinging over her back. The weight settles and the gray girl looks to Art as he explains the next steps, absorbing all the information eagerly, nodding when he mentions using their swords to train with now. With that, the Aegis heads for the door, the gray girl with her hunter green scabbard following him out. When she crosses the threshold, Fern casts a look back to the room, a new sense of happiness blossoming in her chest. Now that she has free access, she will be here a lot, if not to hone or maintain her weapon, then to familiarize herself with the equipment. With that, Fern follows Artorias out with a new spring in her step.


"Fern Lark"