[ It's a sunny day in Britain, and a celebratory cheer is evident, even within the castle walls of the newly crowned King; an observation made by a certain white-clad mage, who strolls to the halls with a skip in his step as well as a mischievous smile on his lips. There is even a small hum that escapes him.

The training grounds are up ahead. A place where knights spar off and on against one another.

A place where he has often had Artoria now go against him, in order to prepare the young blond better for the role of King in this land.

It's easy to see him approach, yet none seem to take notice.

'Too relaxed', is the thought that comes, audible to the point that it may as well have been spoken by the one observing this memory.

That being the case, Merlin tosses off his cloak, takes up a training blade, and surges forward to the least suspecting knight, before swinging wide, subsequently disarming him. ]

Hmm...is this what's to be expected from King Arthur's knights? Having fun is good, but having no potential is no good as well. I guess none of you will ever amount to anything, will you?

[ Just like that, this is how he seems to rile up those still training. Another person dares charge him.

This isn't for funsies, however.

Merlin is certain to bring the attention of a certain short king soon enough. Their would-be King is due for another training session, after all... ]