Arthur stood in the quiet corner of the Martial Hall, wiping the sweat from his brow. His muscles ached, but it was a satisfying ache—the kind that came from hours of rigorous training. Across from him, Musashi sheathed his katana with a fluid motion, his expression calm but contemplative.

"You've progressed," Musashi said, his voice carrying a note of approval. "Your movements are steady, your focus sharper than when you began. But…" He paused, fixing Arthur with his discerning gaze. "Do not let the sword consume all your attention. Balance is the foundation of mastery. A warrior who only knows the blade is as incomplete as a sword without a hilt."

Arthur nodded, taking the advice to heart. "Understood. I'll make sure to broaden my training."

Musashi gave a faint smile and motioned for Arthur to follow. "Come. It's time we rejoin my brother and sister. Reflection is just as important as practice."

Together, they made their way across the expansive Martial Hall, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. Arthur took in the space around him, noticing the deliberate simplicity that contrasted with its boundless energy. The hall had a way of grounding him while also reminding him of the vast potential ahead.

When they arrived at the central seating area, Guan Yu and Hua Mulan were still there, seated at a low table. A pot of tea rested between them, steam curling lazily into the air. Guan Yu's jade-green armor gleamed faintly in the soft light, and Mulan's crimson-lined breastplate reflected her quiet elegance.

Musashi greeted them with a slight bow, his tone light. "Brother. Sister. I've brought Arthur back with me. Shall we continue our tea and conversation?"

Guan Yu nodded, gesturing for Arthur to join them. "Sit, Arthur. You've worked hard today; tea will refresh the spirit."

Arthur hesitated for only a moment before sitting cross-legged on one of the cushions. Mulan poured him a cup with a graceful motion, her hands steady and deliberate.

Arthur looked around the group, noting the easy camaraderie between them. "So," he began, raising his cup, "I believe the manager has been set?"

"Yes, the commander has been decided," Mulan said, her voice steady and composed. She gestured toward Guan Yu with a subtle smile. "It's Brother Yu."

Musashi chuckled softly, lifting his cup. "Our brother, the Saint of War. It is a title well-earned."

Guan Yu, as composed as ever, calmly sipped his tea before setting the cup down with deliberate precision. "While it's true, I can say without hesitation that my brother and sister are equally deserving of the title. My appointment reflects our unity, not my superiority."

Arthur tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Wait—you're calling each other brother and sister now?"

Guan Yu leaned back slightly, his expression warm but resolute. "Yes. We made a pact, a bond forged through respect and trust. It binds us as brothers and sister in spirit, if not in blood."

Mulan nodded, her gaze steady. "It's a tradition from his homeland, but one we all embraced. While outsiders might see Guan Yu as the manager, the three of us hold equal respect for one another. This Hall belongs to us all."

Musashi added, his tone thoughtful, "A title is just that—a title. What binds us is our commitment to the Hall and to one another."

Arthur absorbed their words, his respect for the three warriors deepening. "That's… admirable," he said, raising his cup. "To the three of you, then—brother, sister, and commander."

The group shared a quiet smile, clinking their cups lightly in a gesture of solidarity. As they sipped their tea, Arthur felt a sense of belonging settle over him. Though he was still learning, still finding his place, moments like this reminded him of the strength and purpose that Avalon nurtured.

As the conversation unfolded, the camaraderie at the table deepened. Arthur, sipping his tea and listening to the gentle flow of dialogue, felt the subtle shift from lighthearted musings to something more meaningful—a quiet invitation to share and reflect. It was Musashi who first broke the silence, his calm voice cutting through with a measured grace.

"Let me tell you a story," Musashi began, setting his cup down carefully, the faint clink drawing Arthur's full attention. "It was spring in 1613, in my homeland. I was to duel a man of great renown—Sasaki Kojirō. He was famous for his skill with the long blade, the monohoshizao, or 'Clothes-Drying Pole.' A blade nearly four feet in length, wielded with unmatched precision."

Arthur leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "And you accepted the duel?"

Musashi's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile but an acknowledgment. "Of course. I agreed to meet him at Ganryū Island, a small, quiet place by the sea. But for me, the duel didn't begin on the island. No, it began the moment the agreement was set."

Arthur tilted his head, curious. "What do you mean?"

Musashi's dark eyes gleamed as he elaborated, his voice steady and reflective. "A duel is not merely the clash of blades—it is a battle of the mind. Kojirō was skilled, yes, but he was also proud, confident in his technique and reputation. To face an opponent like him required more than skill. It required strategy, an understanding of how to unbalance the spirit."

Guan Yu raised an eyebrow, his deep voice breaking in, "So, you sought to disrupt him before the fight even began?"

"Exactly," Musashi said, inclining his head. "I delayed my arrival, allowing Kojirō to stew in his own anticipation. Time is a weapon, just like a sword. With every passing moment, his confidence became impatience, his focus a distraction. When I finally arrived, it was not with a blade forged in steel, but with an oar I had carved into the shape of a sword during the journey."

Arthur blinked, startled. "An oar?"

Musashi chuckled softly. "An oar. It was deliberate. Kojirō's blade was long, a weapon meant to outmatch any other in reach. By carving an oar into a longer, heavier sword, I ensured that advantage was neutralized. But more importantly, the sight of me with such a crude weapon only added to his frustration. To him, it was an insult, a mockery of his skill."

Hua Mulan, her expression thoughtful, leaned forward slightly. "So, every decision you made—your arrival, your weapon, even how you carried yourself—it was all part of the battle."

Musashi nodded. "Precisely. A duel begins not with the first strike, but with the first thought. Every action, every choice, is part of the conflict. When Kojirō finally attacked, his anger drove him. His focus was unbalanced. I saw the moment to strike, and with one blow, the duel was ended."

Arthur sat back, letting the story sink in. "And you don't think that was unfair? Manipulating his emotions like that?"

Musashi's gaze grew sharper, though not unkind. "There is no honor in allowing oneself to be defeated for the sake of fairness. The purpose of a duel is not merely to fight—it is to win. But victory without understanding, without reflection, is empty." He paused, his expression softening. "It is why I wrote in my teachings: 'The Way of the warrior does not include other Ways, such as Confucianism, Buddhism, or arts. However, even if these are not part of the Way, if you know the Way broadly, you will see it in everything.'"

Arthur nodded slowly, understanding the depth of Musashi's words. The tale was more than a recounting of history; it was a glimpse into the warrior's soul, a philosophy that intertwined with his every action.

"An impressive strategy," Guan Yu remarked, his tone respectful. "You wield the mind as deftly as the blade."

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Musashi inclined his head slightly, his calm demeanor unwavering. "A battle is won long before it begins, if one knows how to see."

The table fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment, the weight of Musashi's story lingering in the air. Arthur sipped his tea, reflecting not just on the tale but on what it revealed about Musashi—his discipline, his intellect, and his unwavering commitment to the philosophy that had guided his life. It was clear that every action Musashi took, whether in battle or at rest, was rooted in a deep understanding of balance and purpose.

As the table settled into a thoughtful quiet following Musashi's tale, Hua Mulan gently placed her cup down, the sound faint but purposeful. Her gaze softened as she looked at Arthur, then to her brothers. A faint smile graced her lips, a mix of pride and reflection.

"I, too, have a story," she began, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of emotion. "It is not one of duels or famed swordsmen. It is a tale of duty, of sacrifice, and the weight of decisions made not for oneself, but for others."

Arthur leaned forward, intrigued by the shift in tone. "Please, tell us."

Mulan nodded, her fingers brushing the edge of the table as she began. "I was the eldest daughter of a family in a time of turmoil. The empire was under threat, and every household was required to send a man to serve in the army. My father was old and frail, my younger brother too young. There was no one else. To send my father to war would have been to send him to his death." She paused, her gaze growing distant as she relived the memory. "And so, I made a choice."

"You took his place," Arthur said quietly, understanding dawning.

"Yes," Mulan replied. "I cut my hair, dressed in my father's armor, and rode to the conscription camp. There, I was no longer Hua Mulan, the dutiful daughter—I was Hua Ping, a soldier among thousands."

Musashi watched her with a quiet respect, his head tilted slightly as if considering her story through his own philosophical lens. Guan Yu remained still, his expression one of deep contemplation.

"I trained alongside men who knew nothing of who I truly was," Mulan continued, her voice growing stronger. "I fought beside them, endured the same hardships. At first, it was not courage or skill that drove me—it was fear. Fear of discovery, fear of failure. But as the days turned into months, I found strength in the camaraderie of my brothers-in-arms. I learned that courage does not mean the absence of fear—it means acting in spite of it."

Arthur listened intently, imagining the weight of her secret, the dangers she must have faced. "How did you manage to keep your identity hidden?"

Mulan's smile grew faint, almost wistful. "Carefully. I was always the first to rise and the last to sleep, ensuring no one would question my habits. I trained harder than anyone, knowing that even a small mistake could reveal the truth. And when the battles came, I fought not as a woman pretending to be a soldier, but as a soldier—nothing more, nothing less."

She paused, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "There was a moment, though, when my identity was revealed. It happened in the heat of battle, during an ambush. My injuries were severe, and my comrades discovered the truth while tending to my wounds. I thought they would cast me out, scorn me, but instead…" Her voice softened. "They stood by me. To them, I was not defined by my birth but by my actions."

Guan Yu nodded, his deep voice resonating with approval. "It seems your brothers-in-arms understood true honor. They saw your spirit, not your appearance."

Mulan inclined her head in acknowledgment. "That moment taught me the value of trust and unity. The bonds forged in battle are unbreakable, and they transcend the boundaries of gender, rank, or status."

Arthur, captivated, asked, "And what happened after the war?"

"I returned home," Mulan said simply. "I hung up my armor and took back my place as Hua Mulan, the daughter of my family. For years, no one outside of my comrades knew of my deeds. It was only later, when the emperor himself learned of my service, that my story became known." Her eyes glinted with quiet pride. "But recognition was never my goal. My actions were born from necessity, from love for my family and my people."

Arthur sat back, absorbing the weight of her story. "Your courage is… beyond words," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "You didn't just fight—you redefined what it meant to serve."

Mulan gave him a warm smile, one tempered by humility. "Courage is not reserved for warriors, Arthur. It lives in everyone, waiting for a moment to be called upon. My story is not unique—countless others have made sacrifices for the greater good. I was merely one of them."

Musashi, ever the philosopher, nodded thoughtfully. "You embodied the spirit of the void, Mulan. Acting not from desire or anger, but from necessity, letting your purpose guide your every step."

Guan Yu lifted his tea, his expression resolute. "To act for others, to endure for them, is the highest form of honor. You have my respect, Sister."

Mulan bowed her head slightly, the bond between the three of them palpable. Arthur, watching the exchange, felt a sense of awe. These were not just warriors—they were legends, each carrying a story that had shaped not just themselves, but the worlds they had come from. And here they sat, bound by a shared respect that transcended even the titles they bore.

As the group's attention turned to Guan Yu, Arthur noticed the subtle change in his demeanor. The Saint of War sat tall and composed, the quiet authority in his presence filling the space. He set his teacup down gently, the porcelain clinking softly against the table, and his calm, deep voice broke the silence.

"I, too, have a story to share," Guan Yu began, his words deliberate and steady. "It is a tale not just of battle, but of loyalty and the bonds we forge in pursuit of a greater purpose."

Arthur, already captivated by Mulan's tale of sacrifice and Musashi's philosophy of the void, leaned in slightly. "Please, tell us."

Guan Yu glanced briefly at Mulan and Musashi, as if grounding himself in their shared understanding. Then he looked to Arthur. "I served under a man named Liu Bei, a leader of unparalleled integrity, during a time when chaos engulfed my homeland. The land was divided, warlords seeking power at the expense of the people. Liu Bei sought not power for himself but peace for the people. It was this purpose that drew me to him."

Mulan tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "You chose to serve him out of conviction, not obligation?"

"Yes," Guan Yu replied, his tone firm. "In my homeland, loyalty is the highest virtue a man can hold. When I swore allegiance to Liu Bei, I vowed to serve him with my life, no matter the trials ahead. Alongside us stood Zhang Fei, a man of unparalleled strength and unwavering spirit. Together, we forged a bond, a brotherhood, not of blood, but of purpose."

Musashi's eyes glinted with interest. "A bond forged in shared ideals. Much like the one we have made here."

Guan Yu inclined his head in agreement, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Indeed. The three of us swore an oath in a peach garden, pledging to stand together, to live and die as one. We vowed to restore balance and justice to the land, no matter the cost. That bond… it was the foundation of everything we achieved."

Arthur felt the weight of Guan Yu's words and asked, "What trials did you face?"

Guan Yu's gaze grew distant, as if recalling a memory etched deeply in his soul. "There were many," he said simply. "But one stands above the rest. It was during the height of the conflict, when I was captured by a rival warlord, Cao Cao. A man of ambition and cunning, he sought to sway me to his side. He offered me wealth, titles, even lands of my own if I would abandon Liu Bei and serve him."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "And you refused?"

"Without hesitation," Guan Yu replied, his tone resolute. "For me, loyalty is not something to be bartered. My bond to Liu Bei and Zhang Fei was worth more than all the riches Cao Cao could offer. But I was not reckless—I knew the lives of my men were at stake. I agreed to serve Cao Cao temporarily, on the condition that I be allowed to leave once I discovered Liu Bei's whereabouts."

"And he accepted that?" Mulan asked, her brow furrowing.

Guan Yu nodded. "He did, though perhaps he thought he could sway me with time. During my service, I repaid Cao Cao's trust by defeating his enemies in battle, never breaking my word. When I finally learned of Liu Bei's location, I informed Cao Cao of my intent to leave. He honored our agreement, though his advisors warned him against it."

Arthur leaned forward, fascinated. "You left without taking anything he offered?"

Guan Yu's voice softened slightly. "Nothing, save for the lives of my men, who returned with me to Liu Bei's side. Loyalty, Arthur, is not a burden—it is a strength. It was my guiding principle in every decision, every battle. Without loyalty, there can be no trust, and without trust, there can be no unity."

Musashi nodded thoughtfully, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. "You wielded loyalty as one wields a blade, directing it with precision and purpose."

"Exactly," Guan Yu said, his eyes meeting Musashi's. "And it was not without sacrifice. Our bond—the bond I shared with Liu Bei and Zhang Fei—required us to endure countless hardships. But it was through those trials that our brotherhood was strengthened."

Mulan, her expression reflective, added, "You speak of loyalty as the foundation of your strength. It seems to me that your bond was as unyielding as steel."

Guan Yu smiled faintly, the lines of his face softening. "Steel, yes. But like steel, it was forged in fire. And it is that fire that makes us stronger."

Arthur, taking in Guan Yu's words, felt a sense of awe. The Saint of War was not just a warrior but a man whose every action was guided by an unshakable moral compass. "Your loyalty… it's inspiring," Arthur said quietly. "It's not just about strength, is it? It's about what that strength is used for."

"Exactly," Guan Yu said, his deep voice resonating with conviction. "Strength is a tool, Arthur. But loyalty and purpose—those are what give it meaning."

The table fell into a contemplative silence, each person reflecting on Guan Yu's story and the principles it embodied. Arthur felt a quiet resolve settle within him. These three warriors, with their shared philosophies and experiences, had given him more than training—they had given him lessons in life, ones that would shape him as much as Avalon itself.

The conversation drifted to lighter topics—more stories from their pasts, musings on the Hall's design, and playful jabs between the warriors. For Arthur, the moment was a reminder that Avalon wasn't just a sanctuary; it was a place where connections were forged, where bonds grew as strong as steel.