Sharpen the Steel

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"