[Third Person's PoV]
As Lance and Arthur shook hands, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Though Arthur wore a glove, he could still feel the roughness of Lance's palm—and Lance could feel the callouses beneath Arthur's leather. Their grips were firm, a mutual show of strength and discipline.
'How firm… He's strong,' both of them thought simultaneously, their eyes narrowing slightly as they studied one another in silent contemplation.
After a long moment, Arthur spoke as they released the handshake. "Your hands…" he said thoughtfully. "Tell me, are you by chance a swordsman? Or am I wrong to assume?"
Lance blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. "I've had formal training with the sword, yes," he replied carefully. "So I suppose that would place me under that category. I'm surprised you noticed. I thought swordsmanship had long fallen into obscurity with the rise of magic."
Arthur nodded in agreement. "So did I. Honestly, I didn't expect to meet someone else who's studied the sword so soon. I assumed it would be much later into different years—if at all—that I might run into someone who knew how to properly wield one."
He offered a bright smile then. "This is a most pleasant and welcome surprise."
Lance gave a nod of agreement, his expression unreadable but his posture slightly more relaxed. Before either could say more, the girl beside Arthur stepped forward.
"I'm Mer-lynn, by the way," she said, offering a cheerful smile. "Mer-lynn Syrme."
Lance inclined his head politely. "I'll take it there's no need to introduce myself again," he replied smoothly, then turned his attention to her more directly. "Do you also partake in the art of the sword?"
Merlin raised her eyebrows, clearly not expecting the question. She blinked, then pointed to herself. "You're asking me? Huh, that's a doozy. I would've assumed you'd think I didn't, since, you know… I'm a girl and all."
Lance tilted his head slightly in confusion. "What does your gender have to do with your ability to wield a sword?" he asked sincerely. "Some of the strongest fighters I know are women. In fact, my instructor was one."
Merlin's surprise softened into a smile. "You're an interesting one—not bad at all. And yes, I do know my way around a blade."
Arthur's brow twitched slightly. It was subtle, but it didn't go unnoticed. It was the first time he'd seen Merlin compliment another boy their age—and someone who wasn't him, at that. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, it unsettled him. Still, Arthur prided himself on his maturity. He wouldn't let petty jealousy get the better of him.
Instead, he smiled and said, "When we arrive at Hogwarts, we should set aside time for a sparring match. I haven't had the opportunity to duel someone my age aside from Mer-lynn. I'm curious to see how we measure up."
Though Lance's expression remained stoic, a subtle gleam of excitement flickered in his eyes. "Then I'll look forward to the moment our blades cross," he replied calmly. Despite his composed demeanor, it was clear he meant every word. And his gaze wasn't directed solely at Arthur—he included Mer-lynn as well, eager to test himself against both of them.
Outside the train window, the last lines of students were beginning to board. Their shadows moved across the glass as the compartments slowly filled. Inside theirs, however, time seemed to pause as the trio found themselves immersed in passionate discussion.
Arthur and Lance launched into an enthusiastic debate about sword forms and historical weaponry, quickly bonding over their shared love of steel and tradition. Their voices rose with energy, arguments becoming more animated by the second. Mer-lynn interjected here and there, sometimes offering her opinion, sometimes answering questions directed at her by Lance.
"What are you talking about?" Arthur said incredulously at one point, his expression bordering on offended. "A longsword is clearly the superior blade—balanced, versatile, effective in almost any situation."
Lance scoffed with cool disdain. "That's how I know you're not a true swordsman," he countered sharply. "Everyone with experience knows the claymore is the most favorable weapon in a real battle."
Arthur gasped, scandalized. "I can't believe you just said that! That's blasphemy—absolute blasphemy toward every sword ever forged!"
Lance leaned forward slightly, his tone impassioned but composed. "Everyone knows that 'blasphemy' is just the truth that people fear. If claiming the claymore's superiority is blasphemy, then I'll gladly be called a blasphemer."
Arthur looked like he was about to combust with indignation, while Mer-lynn simply laughed, shaking her head.
Despite the bickering, there was an unmistakable camaraderie forming between them. In the heated debate, in the respectful challenge of a spar, in their shared reverence for the blade—something unspoken was growing.
Something like friendship.
Seeing that their conversation was getting them nowhere, both Arthur and Lance turned to Merlin with expectant eyes. "Mer-lynn, you decide," Arthur said, gesturing between the two of them. "Be the tiebreaker for us."
Lance rolled his eyes, folding his arms with a light scoff. "Commonality doesn't equal effectiveness. A longsword may be popular, yes, but popularity doesn't make it the best. Effectiveness can't be decided by something as flimsy as majority rule. Still," he added with a side glance at Merlin, "I admit I'm curious to hear your opinion."
Merlin tapped her chin thoughtfully, then shrugged. "Honestly? I think a katana—"
"WHAT?!" both Arthur and Lance exclaimed in complete disbelief, the word erupting from them like a synchronized thunderclap.
Even Lance, who rarely raised his voice, had spoken louder than usual, his stoic mask briefly cracking.
They turned to stare at Merlin, momentarily united in their shock. A temporary truce formed as they stared at her like she had just proclaimed the sun orbited the Earth.
"A katana?" Arthur repeated, almost scandalized. "Its thin blade already puts it at a huge disadvantage! You can't even use it defensively!"
"Not to mention," Lance added with a critical frown, "it's far more likely to break under strain. That alone disqualifies it in any serious contest of durability or versatility."
Merlin rolled her eyes, undeterred. "First of all, the katana's thin blade is exactly what makes it deadly. It's optimized for slicing and speed. Offense is the best defense, after all. And as for durability—if it's forged by a great artisan, breaking isn't even a concern. You two clearly underestimate—"
Before she could finish her defense of the katana, the compartment door suddenly slid open with a loud clack, cutting her off mid-sentence and startling all three of them.
Standing at the door was a girl around their age, her chest rising and falling with hurried breaths. She had long wheat-colored hair that shimmered gold under the train's light. A single braid dangled in front of her shoulder, while more braids formed a delicate crown across her head. Her eyes, wide with panic, were a rich hazel that nearly matched her hair.
"Please, please tell me there's an empty seat here!" she said in a rush, her gaze bouncing between the three of them. "I came late, and all the other compartments are already full—and we're about to depart!"
"The seat next to mine is free," Lance offered without hesitation, gesturing calmly toward the empty spot beside him.
Relief washed over her face as she beamed at him. "Oh, thank goodness! You're my savior!" she said dramatically, hurrying inside with her luggage in one hand and a covered cage in the other. Inside the cage was a striking white Siberian cat with pale blue eyes that scanned the room curiously.
Arthur stood up when he noticed her struggling with her suitcase, especially given her shorter stature. "Here, allow me," he said politely, lifting her luggage with ease and placing it in the overhead compartment, settling Cosmo back into his lap afterward.
"Thank you—by Merlin's beard!!" the girl suddenly gasped as her eyes locked onto Arthur, recognition lighting her entire expression. "You're Arthur King!"
Arthur offered a modest smile. "That would be me."
Just then, the train whistle blared from outside, making the girl jump slightly. Seeing that Arthur had let out his cat, she did the same, setting her own white feline gently on her own lap.
"I've seen you all over the Daily Prophet," she continued in awe, eyes still fixed on Arthur as if meeting a living legend.
"And you are…?" Merlin interjected pointedly, raising a brow.
"Oh! Right, I completely forgot to introduce myself—how rude of me!" the girl said sheepishly, turning to face the others properly. "My name is Gwyneth. Gwyneth Ardene. It's a pleasure to make everyone's acquaintance."
As she spoke her final words, the train gave a subtle lurch and began to move, rattling gently along the tracks—its journey to Hogwarts officially underway.
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