Paulus watched with bemusement as Henry and Arthur faced off against each other, their training swords arced in their respective ready positions.

  Henry's stance was steadfast, solid, as textbook as Paulus knew Sir Gallant had taught him. His pose was exactly matched that from the training manuscript.

  Arthur's was relaxed, loose, yet still retained an air of grace; it oozed of the arrogant cockiness that Paulus knew only too well.

  Henry moved first, his sword like lightning as it was thrust forth in a stabbing motion; Arthur batted it aside with ease, before stepping forth to counterattack.

  As the two dueled, Paulus mulled over his thoughts, lost in his own contemplation; Gallant's passing was problematic in more ways than one, with Henry's Trials at the forefront. To have vanished on the eve of his squire's Trials... it was uncharacteristic of him, and against a foe such as Bazelius, no less. Something about the battlefield, the whole situation, didn't add up...

  A thwack momentarily returned him to reality. Arthur had landed a blow on Henry's side, leaping back from the latter's counterstrike with the finesse of a gazelle.

  "Still feeling smart, squire?" Arthur laughed.

  Henry said nothing, instead resuming his defensive stance.

  Paulus smiled; he could see Gallant's early stoic nature had rubbed off on his squire. Gallant had always been the stick in the mud when he and Paulus had gone through training together, and yet the former had finally gradually loosened up with each new squire he had trained. Henry was Gallant's third squire, and one of his most studious and serious; Paulus almost laughed, knowing Gallant was likely flummoxed with having to train a young boy who was the spitting image of his youth.

  He wished Arthur had learned more from himself in that same vein, that the two summers he had spoken of had actually been spent training together instead of Arthur merely lounging about at his father's insistence. The Braddocks had pull within the Regency, and that pull had landed Arthur right into Paulus' lap two years ago; Paulus had been reassured that the boy could take care of himself, that he had already been trained in the basic arts and only needed Paulus' supervision for the minimum two years needed before he would undergo the Trials. Any questions, concerns, or rebuttals Paulus had were immediately brushed aside with one simple explanation: the Braddocks had willed it, and so it must be.

  Still, he had to admit, in spite of Arthur's laziness and sarcastic nature, the boy had talent; he watched on as Arthur landed another blow on Henry, this time against his face.

  "Trouble keeping up, old chap?" Arthur's voice dripped with disdain as he taunted Henry. "Maybe Sir Gallant's teachings were lost on you after all."

  Paulus frowned. He had intended this bout to be an outlet for Henry, for the young squire to not only release his pent up shock, but to also knock Arthur down a peg or two; unfortunately, Arthur's block-headed character saw this only as another challenge to his ego, rather than something meant to help the squire.

  He made to step forth, intending to halt the fight; however, a look in Henry's eye, or rather the lack of it, stopped him in his tracks.

  There was no rage nor humiliation in the squire's eyes, no wild look of fury nor wounded submission, as Paulus had grown accustomed to seeing in beaten squires; no, it was something Paulus had seen before with Gallant, many years ago when they had trained together.

  Henry was utterly calm, his face and eyes expressionless. He didn't react even as Arthur landed yet another hit against his leg, the wooden rod cracking sharply against the squire's trousers.

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  "That's three to none, lord squire," Arthur snickered. "You want to catch up this year?"

  Again, Henry said nothing, only resetting to his defensive posture. The pair clashed again, the wooden sticks rattling with each strike.

  Paulus was dumbfounded at first; what was Henry doing? Surely, Gallant had taught him better; after all, the squire's posing and guards were immaculate, his strikes purposeful and solid, as Paulus knew Gallant would have taught. And yet Henry was losing sorely, to a braggart like Arthur no less, and even from this distance-

  He started, finally spotting what he had missed this whole time. The fight had shifted its location at a very subtle pace, slowly moving away from the table and towards the washbasin near the door. With each round Henry had "lost," he had reset it ever so slightly closer to the washbasin, luring Arthur there for some as of yet unknown purpose.

  Paulus leaned in, fully invested now; what, indeed, was Henry doing?

  Arthur flashed another toothy grin as he twirled his weapon around for another showy finish; as he lunged forth, aiming for Henry's hand, the latter swiftly sidestepped his attack and let him run straight into the washbasin.

  Arthur was so committed to his attack that he didn't even have time to stop himself; before he could react, he had smashed right into the side of the basin and fallen straight into the scummy, filthy water, tumbling headfirst into the grimy liquid. Sputtering and spitting, Arthur blindly groped about and hauled himself out of the tub, his resplendent gambeson now soiled and stained from the impromptu bath.

  A faint smile crept across Henry's face as he sheathed his sword and tossed a rag to Arthur. "Sorry. Didn't see that there."

  A wild look in Arthur's eye prompted Paulus to prepare himself, but instead, the apprentice laughed and sheathed his sword as well.

  "Not bad, old boy," he said, wiping himself off with the rag. "Not bad at all."

  Paulus breathed a sigh of relief as Arthur offered a hand, Henry shaking it after a second of hesitation.

  "I still won though, three to one," Arthur sniffed. "Don't forget that."

  Henry's faint smile didn't waver. "Don't worry. I won't."

  The two of them returned their wooden swords to the rack and sat back down at the table, Arthur still wiping at the filth on his gambeson.

  Paulus allowed himself a chuckle as he also took his seat. "Well, I hope that was to everyone's satisfaction. I've some last news to share, then I must be off."

  Henry nodded, while Arthur shrugged.

  "As you know, the first Trial is the Trial of Forging. You must gather the materials to craft your first set of armor, to use for the rest of your Trials." Paulus sipped on his ale. "The quality itself is not important, though I should remind you that you must wear this armor. It is the act of attaining these materials yourself that counts; that means no purchasing them from merchants or artisans, no wheedling or haggling with scavengers or marauders."

  Arthur scoffed. "You can thank me for that last part."

  Henry raised his brow, but Paulus shook his head. Don't ask.

  "Furthermore, you will have two months to gather said materials, from wherever you would like. Once you have them, you may submit them to a smith to craft your armor. The price for their services will need to come out of your own pocket." Paulus cocked his his head at Henry. "Of course, you are welcome to visit my smith at my estate. Irwin misses you as well."

  Henry nodded, smiling; it had been too long since he had last seen the old blacksmith.

  Paulus finished his drink before standing up. "Right, then. Have you any idea where you're going to procure your materials?"

  The squire pondered for a moment, before his eyes lit up. "Sir Gallant had always sourced his metals from the Whistling Mines. The ores there are hardy, pure, and relatively easy to obtain."

  Paulus nodded. "Then it's settled. Mine your ores, bring them back to Irwin, who I'm sure will be more than happy to aid you. And Arthur?"

  Arthur looked up irritably, still wiping away the last of the muck from his face.

  "I expect you both on your best conduct." Paulus sighed as he gathered his things and made for the door. "I should return not long after you. Keep to the task, and we shall meet again."

  He stepped outside, as Henry quickly dashed by him and fetched his horse. Arthur, as usual, came strolling out afterwards, giving a half bow to the knight as Henry returned with Paulus' mount ready.

  "Thank you, lad. The Lady bless you both on your journey." Paulus winked at Henry and gave Arthur his customary stern look, before mounting his horse and riding out of the courtyard.

  He had no qualms about Henry completing his task; Arthur, though, was a different story.