16th of Autumn, 514 AV
Aventis took a deep breath, nervous could not begin to describe his emotion. He slowly brought his arms to his shoulders, dragging the cloak down slowly. His hands trembled as the article of clothing fell to the ground, his face bright red with intimidated anxiety. He wrapped his arms, all four of them, behind his back, standing again to attention. He swallowed his fear, or at least the lump in his throat, as the aged knight looked over him.
“You’re one of those Eypharians, aren’t you?” He said, almost indifferent.
Aventis did his best not to suffocate on his own breath as he choked out a “Yes, ser.” and went back to trying not to lose himself.
Aventis couldn’t help but be intimidated by the situation set before him. A recently joined squire, Aventis already understood that he had to train hard to move up in the ranks, and right now he was nothing more than a whelp. The only useful skill he had was a moderate understanding of the rapier that hung from his hip and the arms that hung from his shoulders, even then he didn’t have much experience. He had seen his knight on occasion, shared a glance or a polite nod with him, but there hasn’t been much interaction beside that. He knew his name. He knew Utis. He knew that Utis was a sergeant knight instead of just a knight, and it was an honor to be taught by him, but he had been too intimidated to approach him directly. It had been five days since he applied, five days since he was assigned, and today he seemed to have the courage to approach him. Today was his “birthday”. His day of… Adoption. Or, the day that his foster mother took him in. It was good luck for him. And so, with his cloak tight around his body, Aventis approached the training grounds, and with a slow and uneasy cadence, ripe with reluctance, he reached his destination.
Squires utilized weapons or fists, and with steely determination, fought either knight or squire, sweating, grunting, and still swinging. It was admirable to say the least. He stopped for a moment to take it in, observing the grounds. A knight blocked a heavy swing from a hammer with his shield, nearly denting the strong metal, narrowly avoiding a blow that would surely crack a rib. Another duo, both of whom were squires, traded blows. A large man of bluish hue took a fair hit from a strong woman at least two feet shorter. The man barely flinched, her fist not even effecting his stance. The man wound back to throw a punch. Aventis didn’t want to see what would happen next.
He, mimicking the determination and confidence of the others, begun walking into the grounds, not with swagger but not with such great nerves as to hesitate. He could recognize his patron easily, but didn’t know what to do. Did he stand to attention? Did he salute? Did he simply greet the old man and draw his sword? Thoughts flew like arrows through his head as he approached his knight, leaning leisurely against a wall, watching a spar between two squires. Aventis approached him more to the left than up front, so he stood straight, stiff, arms behind his back, and waited quietly for the man to notice him. He seemed… Kindly. Worn and a tad wisened in his shiny plate armor, but kind. His baggy eyes portrayed someone with wisdom, his strength and his stature commanded respect. He was strong, as well, but a tad stocky, standing only about six feet to Aventis’ six feet and five inches.
It took a moment, but the old knight glanced over to Aventis, a questioning look in his eye. His left hand was relaxed on this hilt of his short sword, his right hanging loosely by his side. The old man assessed his new squire, his eyes drifting over Aventis’ cloak, to his chin, his legs. He smacked his lips gently before speaking.
“You’ll have to take off that cloak, son.” He said, his voice aged and a bit raspy, yet light-hearted, delivering an air of carefree and platonic affection.
Aventis stiffened, clenching his jaw. The last time he took off his cloak was when he applied to the knighthood, and he had to repress the urge to empty his stomach. He didn’t know if he could stomach it in front of all these people.
“Oh, petchin’ hell… Did I get a deaf squire?” He asked sarcastically.
“No, ser.” Aventis replied quietly, staring into the distance as to not look down upon his knight.
“Then remove your cloak, boy.”
The knight took a moment before speaking again. “Little far from home, aren’t ya’?”
Aventis, now on the cusp of hyperventilating, could barely say “Suppose so, ser.” before having to swallow his food for the second time. This was hell.
“Oh, no…” The knight said, shaking his head. “No no no no no…”
Aventis remained silent, hoping this was some kind of trial. The knight crossed his arms, tutting.
“I sincerely hope you don’t plan to use a gods be damned rapier in my presence.”
Aventis was taken by surprise, any prior scruples were erased and replaced with confusion. “I’ve had it my entire life, ser.” He said to the grisled knight. “It’s all I know how to use. Ser.”
“Is that so, squire?” He said.
“... Yes. Ser.” Aventis said, uneasy.
“That is exactly what we’re here to correct. This is what you’re going to do. After today, you’re going to get a shortsword.” He said, “Short. Sword. Got it? I don’t care if it’s cheap. I don’t care if the blade is going to fall right off the hilt. You get one. You use it. Am I understood?” He asked, still calm, still kindly, but Aventis was beginning to think that it was a disarming demeanor that he had, not a kindly personality.
“Yes, ser.” He said reluctantly.
“Alright. Glad I make myself clear.” He said, pushing himself off the wall and facing his newly appointed squire. “[/b]As you most likely know, my name is Utis. You will never use this name unless by some miracle you become a knight. And even then I outrank you. You will call me ser. On very rare occasions, you will call me Ser Utis. Or, if you feel like making my day, you will call me ‘lord almighty, my savior, my god’. These are your options.[/b]” He said, completely serious, his wrinkled features never failing to intimidate.
“Yes, ser.” The squire responded, as directed.
“There we go. There’s hope for you yet. Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, drawing his shortsword in a quick and delicate motion, then offering it to his squire “for today and today only, you get the honor of using Monica. Afterwards, you either get to learn to block a hit, or you get to use your own short sword, which I know you’ll be getting.”
“Yes, ser.” Aventis said, taking the blade in his top right hand.
The old knight turned, motioning behind him for the squire to follow, and follow he did. The knight, without hesitation and without looking back, led the squire to a sparring area. He drew his shield, and pointed to an area approximately five feet away, and Aventis stood. He got himself ready, and then instructed the squire.
“You’re one of those Eypharians, aren’t you?” He said, almost indifferent.
Aventis did his best not to suffocate on his own breath as he choked out a “Yes, ser.” and went back to trying not to lose himself.
Aventis couldn’t help but be intimidated by the situation set before him. A recently joined squire, Aventis already understood that he had to train hard to move up in the ranks, and right now he was nothing more than a whelp. The only useful skill he had was a moderate understanding of the rapier that hung from his hip and the arms that hung from his shoulders, even then he didn’t have much experience. He had seen his knight on occasion, shared a glance or a polite nod with him, but there hasn’t been much interaction beside that. He knew his name. He knew Utis. He knew that Utis was a sergeant knight instead of just a knight, and it was an honor to be taught by him, but he had been too intimidated to approach him directly. It had been five days since he applied, five days since he was assigned, and today he seemed to have the courage to approach him. Today was his “birthday”. His day of… Adoption. Or, the day that his foster mother took him in. It was good luck for him. And so, with his cloak tight around his body, Aventis approached the training grounds, and with a slow and uneasy cadence, ripe with reluctance, he reached his destination.
Squires utilized weapons or fists, and with steely determination, fought either knight or squire, sweating, grunting, and still swinging. It was admirable to say the least. He stopped for a moment to take it in, observing the grounds. A knight blocked a heavy swing from a hammer with his shield, nearly denting the strong metal, narrowly avoiding a blow that would surely crack a rib. Another duo, both of whom were squires, traded blows. A large man of bluish hue took a fair hit from a strong woman at least two feet shorter. The man barely flinched, her fist not even effecting his stance. The man wound back to throw a punch. Aventis didn’t want to see what would happen next.
He, mimicking the determination and confidence of the others, begun walking into the grounds, not with swagger but not with such great nerves as to hesitate. He could recognize his patron easily, but didn’t know what to do. Did he stand to attention? Did he salute? Did he simply greet the old man and draw his sword? Thoughts flew like arrows through his head as he approached his knight, leaning leisurely against a wall, watching a spar between two squires. Aventis approached him more to the left than up front, so he stood straight, stiff, arms behind his back, and waited quietly for the man to notice him. He seemed… Kindly. Worn and a tad wisened in his shiny plate armor, but kind. His baggy eyes portrayed someone with wisdom, his strength and his stature commanded respect. He was strong, as well, but a tad stocky, standing only about six feet to Aventis’ six feet and five inches.
It took a moment, but the old knight glanced over to Aventis, a questioning look in his eye. His left hand was relaxed on this hilt of his short sword, his right hanging loosely by his side. The old man assessed his new squire, his eyes drifting over Aventis’ cloak, to his chin, his legs. He smacked his lips gently before speaking.
“You’ll have to take off that cloak, son.” He said, his voice aged and a bit raspy, yet light-hearted, delivering an air of carefree and platonic affection.
Aventis stiffened, clenching his jaw. The last time he took off his cloak was when he applied to the knighthood, and he had to repress the urge to empty his stomach. He didn’t know if he could stomach it in front of all these people.
“Oh, petchin’ hell… Did I get a deaf squire?” He asked sarcastically.
“No, ser.” Aventis replied quietly, staring into the distance as to not look down upon his knight.
“Then remove your cloak, boy.”
The knight took a moment before speaking again. “Little far from home, aren’t ya’?”
Aventis, now on the cusp of hyperventilating, could barely say “Suppose so, ser.” before having to swallow his food for the second time. This was hell.
“Oh, no…” The knight said, shaking his head. “No no no no no…”
Aventis remained silent, hoping this was some kind of trial. The knight crossed his arms, tutting.
“I sincerely hope you don’t plan to use a gods be damned rapier in my presence.”
Aventis was taken by surprise, any prior scruples were erased and replaced with confusion. “I’ve had it my entire life, ser.” He said to the grisled knight. “It’s all I know how to use. Ser.”
“Is that so, squire?” He said.
“... Yes. Ser.” Aventis said, uneasy.
“That is exactly what we’re here to correct. This is what you’re going to do. After today, you’re going to get a shortsword.” He said, “Short. Sword. Got it? I don’t care if it’s cheap. I don’t care if the blade is going to fall right off the hilt. You get one. You use it. Am I understood?” He asked, still calm, still kindly, but Aventis was beginning to think that it was a disarming demeanor that he had, not a kindly personality.
“Yes, ser.” He said reluctantly.
“Alright. Glad I make myself clear.” He said, pushing himself off the wall and facing his newly appointed squire. “[/b]As you most likely know, my name is Utis. You will never use this name unless by some miracle you become a knight. And even then I outrank you. You will call me ser. On very rare occasions, you will call me Ser Utis. Or, if you feel like making my day, you will call me ‘lord almighty, my savior, my god’. These are your options.[/b]” He said, completely serious, his wrinkled features never failing to intimidate.
“Yes, ser.” The squire responded, as directed.
“There we go. There’s hope for you yet. Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, drawing his shortsword in a quick and delicate motion, then offering it to his squire “for today and today only, you get the honor of using Monica. Afterwards, you either get to learn to block a hit, or you get to use your own short sword, which I know you’ll be getting.”
“Yes, ser.” Aventis said, taking the blade in his top right hand.
The old knight turned, motioning behind him for the squire to follow, and follow he did. The knight, without hesitation and without looking back, led the squire to a sparring area. He drew his shield, and pointed to an area approximately five feet away, and Aventis stood. He got himself ready, and then instructed the squire.
Aventis
