by Rodistair on December 3rd, 2013, 5:34 am
Rodistair almost cursed himself out loud for being so brash, and impatient with a senior knight, but he was quickly reabsorbed back into the training session. He followed where Ser Trema had pointed, watching as a pair of squire spar. He could see that they were about his age, but they didn’t have a bulking Akalak to train with all day and night. The young boy nodded as he watched, and listened to Danough’s encouraging words. He turned back to face the knight- someday maybe he would have time to hear about the adventures that this man had been on.
Rodistair quickly surveyed the massive training ground that made the roof of the Dyres District. It was a beautiful, and chaotic place, that the squire had made his home. His bed was just a place to sleep, the training grounds was where he felt drawn too each morning, and every day when he leaved after sundown, he felt the ache to return as soon as he turned his back.
He listened intently to what his seniors had to say, and as his stance was slowly adjusted, he thought it would feel more natural, but with every adjustment he could feel a new set of muscles strain, and ache from the weight of his weapons. He couldn’t contain the grin as he enjoyed the dull pain of aching muscles. He nodded as he listened to their advice, and he ignored the complaints of his muscles.
The young squire watched the two veteran knights fight, it was an impressive display- both men were far more advanced than he was, and it was interesting to see how a fight between two experienced men would turn out. It was more intense than any fight he had been in with another squire.
The young boy faced Ser Trema, and waited until the man was ready before assuming the stance he had just learned. It was slow, and almost painful to enter into it, but with some careful and delicate work- and a few reminders from the senior knights he finally got it. It was sloppy, and awkward still, but the boy lived for challenges. He stepped forward swiftly, this was his favorite part of a fight, stepping closer, making the opponent act. With his arms in such an unusual position, his opening thrust was slow, and awkward.