The young man blinked at the question, obviously thinking. The sword fell to a single hand as he reached into a pouch at his belt and withdrew the pipe. He didn't fill or light the object, but instead inserted the curved stem into the side of his mouth. It was clearly a comforting act, and the man frowned as he absently rolled his tongue over the stem. Still mulling things over, he spoke after a long moment. "I.. I don't know. I was raised with my brother in Syliras. We.. ah...we had our own paths. He was training to be a knight, and me a common laborer. We both learned how to fight at a young age, our master was a retired knight." He shook his head and looked to the sky for a second. "It was... later that I picked up his sword. I wandered the roads... in search of .. vengeance. All I found was blood." The warrior leaned back on his heels as he spoke next. "I came here after getting lost out among the plains. A group of bandits I was tracking tricked me, and I almost died. A young hunter rescued me, and a healer helped nurse me back to health." He paused, clearly pained by something. "Hey, if you take anything at all from this, let it be something my master taught me. Its the golden rule of fighting. Don't draw that blade unless you intend to kill. Even then, you need to consider what you are doing. There is always another option. I wish... I wish I had listened to him." Matthial looked down at his hands pointedly, and then sighed. "Oh? No... no. I can't ride worth a crap. I lost my horse several seasons ago. I can't tell you how to fight while riding. I've never had to do it." |