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[Wynn Argall]

The seventh day of summer, 514 AV

Wynn was able to invest about eighty percent of his concentration at any given time into one thing with the other twenty percent either also invested or slightly wandering. Today, it felt as if all one hundred percent and then some were completely focused on the ridiculous weight of the shield attached to his right arm. It wasn't impossible to hold up, but the solid curved metal of the defensive equipment was more than enough to cover his brow in sweat and tug at his equilibrium. Ser Varner tapped Wynn's shoulder, "Loosen up." Attempting to oblige, Wynn let the shoulder drop some. The shift in tension gave the shield slightly more weight than he anticipated, and it slammed against his shin. Letting out a quick yelp of pain, Wynn jerked the shield back and up, catching the side of it with his other hand.

"Smarts, doesn't it?" Ser Varner offered a reassuring smile, "Remember that pain. Bruised shins are a small price to pay when the alternative is a sword through the stomach." Wynn nodded, chewing on his lower lip to distract himself from the now throbbing pain in his leg. "Alright, again." Drawing in a breath, Wynn once more stepped into his stance: right foot slightly forward, top of the shield just below eye level, left arm gripping the wooden practice sword angled across the front of the shield. "Good..." Ser Varner rapped a knuckle against the shield, the force pushing it back towards Wynn's body where the lower part bounced off of his knee.

"Don't hold it out in front of you so far, sink into it. Brace against impact. Anticipate." Wynn has having enough trouble just holding the thing aloft. His anticipation only went as far as what he'd do if he had to drop it again. The shield returned to it's original position, though this time slightly closer to Wynn's body. Another tap was followed by the same result, though this time it fell slightly, bumping against the quickly forming bruise. Wincing, Wynn struggled to push the shield back, but the strain was starting to dig itself into his shoulder and thigh. "Stop stop stop, that's enough." Ser Varner's voice seemed a bit exasperated, but the knight's face only held a slight tinge of disappointment, rather than total frustration that Wynn was used to seeing on some of the knight's faces. "You're obviously getting a little fatigued. Why don't you take a quick breather?"

Wynn carefully let the shield swing to his side, counter balancing the weight by leaning to the opposite side. "I... I can-" Ser Varner shook his head, raising a hand to stop Wynn short. "I don't doubt that you can. It's more of a question of whether you should." Wynn gave the knight a blank stare. "Practice doesn't make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect." Still not quite understanding what Ser Varner mean, Wynn just smiled and nodded. He was tired, and a little rest would probably help him manage better anyway. Apparently satisfied with Wynn's positive response, Ser Varner gave him a slight twitch of his lips - his way of giving a smile while still maintaining his "austerity - before continuing, "Take a few chimes to stretch out, I'm going to go check on Linnae." Wynn nodded, fiddling with the adjustable strap on his arm.

As Ser Varner left the practice area, Wynn leaned against one of the partial columns that spotted the grassy terrain. The shield's strap was being difficult. Squinting down at the buckle, Wynn blinked back some of the sweat out of his eyes. Raising a leg to push the shield up against his arm, Wynn was able to slip the little metal piece from the hole in the leather, effectively releasing his arm from the shield's heavy grip. Carefully setting the shield on the ground, Wynn let out a comfortable sigh as he leaned back against the column.

___

[Oriah]

"Agghh!"

The squire didn't even have time to feel embarrassed over what sounded like the strangled cry of a dying mule that wheezed out of her throat. She was much too concerned at the moment with the unpleasant taste of dirt in her mouth and how her entire face stung like Hai.

Half a bell ago Oriah had been standing at the fringe of the Bronze Woods, listening yet again to her patron's cryptic instructions.

"There are some matters I must attend to today, alone," Sera Mora explained, eyes darting about as usual, like she was hearing whispers in the wind. "To maintain your progress in training, however, you will be joining another knight and his squire at the grounds."

Oriah groaned a little inwardly. This had only happened about two or three times already. She felt a bit like an orphan that kept getting passed around from relative to relative. Not that she could fault her patron for being busy and having rather unpredictable responsibilities, but still. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park, getting all the way to the city and back again after the duress of relentless training.

"Understood. I'll be going then," she responded in the most neutral tone she could muster.

"Ah, and one more thing, Little Bird," Sera Mora chimed, earning another suspicious glance from her squire. "Today you will be training specifically with shields. So, to build up your endurance, as you will undoubtedly need in a true battle, you will practice your shield blocks and sword thrusts the entire way there."

Oriah's mouth dropped all the way to the forest floor.

Having no choice in the matter, the squire simply grit her teeth and did as she was instructed. There was no cheating to be involved, either; all the Chaktawe had to do was whisper to her little plants and whatnot and she would know.

Normally, if she ran most of the way, Oriah could make it to the city in no time at all. But with the added labor of thrusting and rethrusting her sword whilst bearing up her shield in an assortment of blocks every few steps of the way, it took considerably longer. 1, 2, thrust! parry! 3, 4, deflect! smash! She chanted the steps one after another as she slowly progressed, knowing full well to a passerby she'd look the complete lunatic. But the better and faster she did this, the less she would have to deal with later. That was the usual mentality Oriah adopted when faced with Sera Mora's exasperating supply of eccentric exercises.

Half of the maneuvers involved rapid pairings of offensive swordplay and defensive shield work, while the second half dealt with the exact opposite. Her patron firmly believed, as a member of the Green Company, that any knight be able to hold off at least five or six average skilled fighters in close combat. This meant not relying solely on any one weapon or tactic, but being able to utilize several at any given moment. Fortunately, her weapon of choice was a short sword and her shield a buckler. They were much lighter than their larger counterparts and meant for close, hand to hand combat. Even so, it didn't make for a particularly scenic or relaxing trip.

The Benshira managed to arrive at the city walls in decent time. She was panting and sweating by the time she got there, to be sure, but at least it was still bright and early and she had plenty of chimes to get to the grounds.

Carrying her equipment through the crowded streets proved a challenge unto itself. Even with her short sword sheathed and buckler strapped firmly to her back, Oriah had to take extra care not to jab or poke someone by accident. It was yet another factor to take into consideration, but she did not entirely mind. She was getting closer to the life of a true knight, after all; if she couldn't get used to this, then what good would she be?

Still recovering from her morning exercise, Oriah found her mind drifting as she made her way to the training grounds. Which was why when she finally arrived and rounded her first corner, head well up in the clouds, the squire was blind to a similarly equipped figure propped up against the wall, taking a quick breather.

And why she tripped on said figure's shield, which was lying prone on the ground, before ending up face first in the dirt.

Oriah managed to pick herself back up with a faint spark of dignity. She patted most of the dust from her leather armor and face, then looked up to find another squire standing before her. Much to her deep, deep chagrin.

"H-Hello!" the Benshira blurted, utterly flustered at the realization that this young man had seen her eat dirt. "I'm Squire Azari of the Green Company." She shot out her hand with pure will to forget her undignified tumble. "A pleasure to meet you. Are you a squire too?"

[Wynn Argall]

____

At the sound of footsteps from around the stone divider, Wynn straightened up, pushing himself from the wall and wincing slightly at the protest from his shin. True he was taking an ordered rest from his training, but that certainly didn't mean he could throw all manner of decorum out the proverbial window. Or, at the very least, Wynn wasn't entirely sure he could do that given the circumstances, in which case his uncertainty was just as good as an immutable law that he remain chivalrous. Though standing straight and ready to salute should he need to, Wynn had completely forgotten about the discarded shield on the ground. Out of sight out of mind.

As the woman came around the corner, Wynn tensed even more. He had a natural distrust for the opposite gender that tended to knot up his stomach and catch at his throat. She seemed rather engrossed in her own thoughts, however, and paid little attention to him. Both unable and unwilling to speak right away, Wynn merely watched the woman take a few steps before tumbling over the shield on the ground. The corners of his lips twitched at the spectacle before he realized the shield she'd tripped over was his own. Immediately the slight smile turned to a much more panicked clench of his teeth and tightening of the neck. "A-Are you alright?" His tone came out garbled mess of mirth, concern, and fear - a strange combination to be sure.

Immediately afterwards, the woman extended a hand, introducing herself as a squire from the Green Company. Blinking several times in an attempt to consolidate everything in his head, Wynn quickly defaulted to his natural, good-natured smile. He shook her hand without saying anything, still trying to wrap his head around what was going on. She acted as though absolutely nothing had happened, despite the fact it had. Wynn wasn't entirely sure whether he should re-ask whether she was quite all right or not or just drop the entire thing like she had and act as if nothing had happened. Realizing his hand was still gripping the woman's - Azari's - hand with a friendly firmness, Wynn quickly let go. He stood for a moment with his hands at his side and his face turning a bright shade of pink before he decided he should at least introduce himself in the same manner. "Purple Company!" It came out a bit more of a yell than he intended and the wrong words to boot. "Oh, I meant... I'm in that. As a squire..."

Extending his hand, Wynn's face was not a solid red. "I'm Wynn. Er, Squire Argall." Realizing they had already undergone the ceremony of shaking hands (and had done it for much longer than was usually proscribed), Wynn pulled the hand back as if he had touched something hot. Glancing back at Azari, Wynn cleared his throat, unsure of what to say next. "It was mine. Sorry."

___

[Oriah]

The fellow took her hand with a sunny smile, which Oriah mirrored wholeheartedly in an attempt to forget the humiliation of her stinging face. For a while, the two of them stood there, shaking hands and beaming like they'd both gone simple. By the time the gesture had ended she'd quite forgotten why she was standing there in the first place and began wondering if this was the polite moment to say something. Fortunately, the young man beat her to the punch as he withdrew his hand and introduced himself.

Oriah flinched in surprise when he belted out his company, then held back her mirth as he fumbled through a proper response. How earnest and guileless the younger squires always were. By the looks of it he was some number of years her junior, though one might not be able to tell at first glance, given they were of equal height. He had a bit of an advantage though, being in full armor. The Benshira wondered if the boy's patron was as subtly sadistic as her own but saved those speculations for later. A slightly closer look led her to notice that he had honest, clear grey eyes, a sturdy build, and hair the color of fresh earth. She found she liked him at the onset, regardless of how awkward his introduction had become.

"Not to worry, Wynn," Oriah encouraged, patting him heartily on one armored shoulder. Her accent was still noticeable but had grown less harsh over the years. "I should not have been day dreaming in such a place."

She looked around for a moment, then back down at his shield. A niggling feeling--the kind that tended to precede realization--snuck its way into her mind. Everyone else at the grounds was training with defensive combat today. It seemed she and Wynn were the only one of the few with shields.

"It appears we are both learning how to use these things." Oriah unstrapped the buckler on her back to show him. "Perhaps I can train with you and your patron?"

It was a hazard guess, assuming his patron was there. But she figured if this was the squire Sera Mora had intended for her to train with, it wouldn't hurt to try and see if this assumption was correct. Either way, she sorely needed a partner in training and Wynn seemed more than good natured enough to humor her.

She could only hope she wouldn't embarrass herself further, but there was little chance of that happening with equipment so utterly unfamiliar.

[Wynn Argall]

___

Squire Azari seemed to be extremely agreeable. Her speech held an accent to it, a fluid sort of melodic tinge to her words that Wynn found quite pleasing. She wasn't entirely put off by his botched introduction, which meant she was probably a more gentle sort of person than both Linnae and Tareesa - a refreshing change. At Azari's question, Wynn frowned in thought. Ser Varner had said someone would be joining them later, but Wynn had assumed it was Tareesa, not his newly met acquaintance. Before he could say much, Ser Varner returned with his half smile and raised brows. "Ah, Squire Azari of the Green Company, yes? Sera Mora said she'd be sending you over to work with me today." He glanced over at Wynn then back to Azari with a sly grin. "I see the two of you have already met."

Wynn felt as thought Ser Varner was alluding to something that he wasn't quite aware of, but he decided blatantly asking the knight what exactly he was referring to was more trouble than it was worth. Instead, he nodded confirmation that the two of them had indeed exchanged names. Moving his attention back to Azari, Ser Varner gave her an appreciative nod of the head, "It's good to see you prepared for training! Wynn," Ser Varner gestured towards the shield that lay on the ground. "Strap that on and get into a ready stance beside Squire Azari."

Taking a few moments to plod his way over to the shield, Wynn knelt down and slid his arm through the straps, securing them tightly around his forearm. Once that was done, he stood up and hurried over to where Azari and Ser Varner stood, sinking down into his ready position: shield out and sword crossed in front. "Good, I'm going to throw some rocks at the two of you, please deflect them." As he spoke, Ser Varner walked backwards, kneeling down to grab several medium sized rocks. Without much warning, the first was lobbed at an alarming speed, smashing into Wynn's chest plate just below his neck. A startled yelp escaped his lips, but that was the only response he was allowed as several more rocks hurtled towards the two of them.

Not sure how to handle the onslaught, Wynn moved the shield to cover his face, bending lower to the ground and aiming the shield more towards the sky. He felt and heard several thuds from both his shield and Azari's buckler. Two of the rocks bounced off of the stone below him and ricocheted up into his face. One found its way right down into his armor, clanging around to settle on top of his thigh. "Good, good! Try to keep yourselves better covered. Protect your heads and minimize your targets!"

Not sure how to shrink any smaller, Wynn huddled down behind his shield as the clanks of the rocks continued on.

Head's up!Ser Varner is just an NPC (not Wynn's patron), so feel free to write him into your posts as well.

___

[Oriah]

She could see the confusion in the other squire's eyes, followed by a spark of recognition. Perhaps he was her intended partner after all!

Before either of them could say another word, their hesitant silence was interrupted by the congenial speech of a proper knight. Oriah looked up at Ser Varner with a bit of doe-eyed reverence, as she normally did around those of higher standing within the Order. It couldn't be helped, what with the way she was pretty much training every day just to be like him.

"Y-Yes!" was all she managed to blurt in response, right about the same time Wynn nodded his head in confirmation.

The Benshira balked for a moment, then offered, "Please, you can just call me Oriah. You too, Wynn!" She added the last part as extra assurance, hoping she would get the message across. Her new partner seemed to be a quiet one and she figured addressing each other informally might help ease any lingering tension. She had very few friends to begin with, given her reclusive training with her even more reclusive patron, and things grew horribly quiet sometimes. Too quiet for a Tent swelling Benshira who had spent most of her life living in a sea of noise, laughter, arguments, and snores. Making a new friend was about as important to her right now as not failing miserably at shield practice.

When Ser Varner gave Wynn orders to strap on his shield, Oriah did the same without hesitance. Being only a buckler, all she had to do was ensure she had a solid grip on the handle protruding within it, but she readied herself all the same.

And then to her utter surprise, the knight announced he would be throwing rocks at them.

Oriah gasped as the first one hit Wynn in the chest plate. He was well protected but it still looked like might have hurt. Ser Varner, however, give neither of them any time to recover as he began pelting more rocks in their direction. Not even having the chance to curse her lack of plated armor, the squire had to move vigorously to knock away the missiles she could reach and duck from the ones she couldn't. A couple of them smacked against her thigh or shoulder but thankfully--and most likely intentionally--none seemed to want a violent connection with her face.

The longer the exercise continued, the more sure Oriah became of her patron's intentions. Sera Mora knew everything about everything. Or, at least enough to be able to warn her squire ahead of time that Ser Varner would be utilizing such unconventional tactics. But the Chaktawe knight had not. And now, her squire was facing a hail of rocky ammunition with naught but a tiny buckler and hardly protective leather armor.

She had wanted Oriah to endure this. This much was obvious. Sera Mora had told the freshly recruited squire on several occasions that to be one of the Green meant possessing something other than chivalry and bravery and strength. It meant being able to sneak into enemy territory unseen, perhaps take down a threat or two form the shadows, before sneaking back out to report all she had seen to her own forces. Those of their company were meant for more delicate tasks--scouting, infiltration, delivering messages, things of that nature. And in order to become fit for such duties, Little Bird would have to train for them.

It was hard work, deflecting the flying rocks with such tiny surface area. Harder than hard, even. But Oriah's single upperhand was that her buckler was smaller and lighter. She had to use it to her advantage, because, well, there just simply wasn't much else she could do.

The desert bred squire kept her eyes zeroed in on the rocks, tracking them all the way until she was absolutely sure she could knock them aside. If not, then she chose to dodge them as best she could. She would be going home with more than a few bruises to be sure, but bit by bit she could feel herself beginning to gain a better grasp of how to work with her shield. Everything she did, aside from the bow, was meant for close quarters. Be the situation quick and quiet or messy and chaotic, it would be her job to make it out alive to complete her given mission.

Oriah channeled these thoughts into her focus, weaving it along with her will. Here, there was only try. But out there, it would always and forever be do or die.

[Wynn Argall]

___

As the onslaught continued, Wynn listened to his companion's feet stamping, sliding and gliding over the dirt beside him. Daring to turn his head, Wynn watched with wide eyes as Oriah moved side to side, swinging her buckler like a weapon, deflecting the incoming projectiles by smashing them to the sides. A few of the rocks bounced off her buckler and into his armor: startling but nothing he couldn't handle in his iron-clad isolation. Many of the rocks still collided with Oriah's body, but their impact was lessened by her continual movement to avoid them. In his plate mail, Wynn was both too weak and under-practiced to be able to employ his own agility, though he couldn't help but feel a bit inadequate in comparison.

"Yes, yes! Excellent, Oriah!" As Ser Varner spoke again, the hail of rocks subsided. "You're exactly as I would expect for a squire under Sera Mora." Wynn had risen up, resting his shield on his knee as he gazed between Oriah and Ser Varner. "Of course, there's always room for improvement. You should both focus less on what's happening at that moment and more upon what is going to happen. Anticipation." At this, Ser Varner made a lightning quick flick of his wrist, losing a speeding projectile that slammed into Wynn's lowered shield with an alarming clank of stone upon steel. Flinching with widened eyes, Wynn felt his heart burst through his neck before settling low in his stomach.

Ser Varner grinned, offering Wynn another of his "mysterious" winks. Turning his attention back to Oriah, he continued, "I saw you starting to understand the need to think ahead, a quick learner you are." Offering both of a them a friendly, though reserved smile, Ser Varner clapped his hands together. "All right, grab your swords." Giving both squires a few moments to ready their weapons, he continued, "Wynn, close your eyes."

Now, while Wynn found Oriah Azari to be an agreeable young woman, his past had taught him that women were, if anything, not to be trusted with more than a friendly smile. He gave Ser Varner an uncertain frown which was greeted with an expectant raise of the brow. Frowning instead at Oriah, Wynn's cheeks glowed a bright red as he shut his eyes, his hand clenching onto the pommel of his sword. "Good, good. No peeking now, Wynn. If you peek, that'll be three laps around the grounds. In plate." Deciding it was better to be defenseless in the presence of a female rather than boiling in his own sweat, Wynn nodded that he understood the repercussions of opening his eyes.

"Now..." Ser Varner switched his focus to Oriah, a little impish glint bouncing about in his eyes. "I want you to take non-lethal strikes at young Wynn there." He made a gesture of swinging a sword in a lackadaisical manner. "Before you strike, I'd like you to shout or do something that makes noise." Patting his stomach to make a point, he continued, "Your armor isn't quite as noisy as plate." Nodding at Oriah, Ser Varner turned to give Wynn his instructions. "And you, Wynn, are going to deflect her strikes." Giving a hesitant nod, Wynn found himself uncertain of which fate he dreaded more.

"Excellent! Oh and-" Ser Varner turned to give Oriah a final instruction. "Wynn, if you manage to deflect a blow, strike back." Squinting, Ser Varner made a quick amendment. "In fact, even if she hits you, I want you to try to get her back. All right, go!" With a clap of his hands, the merry game began, and Wynn found his knees shaking slightly.

___

[Oriah]

Oriah flushed at the abundance of praise. She spent almost all of her time in the presence of Sera Mora enduring either silence or cryptic comments; the squire was anything but used to open compliments anymore.

At Ser Varner's mention of anticipation, however, she snapped back to full attention as a memory was evoked. One of her patron saying almost the exact same thing, except then it had been about an arrow and an apple. The lesson--as well as the exceptionally rare praise--had been largely overshadowed by the latter half of her day spent with Marrick and Kiter. Just the thought of that incredible day sent warmth spreading through her limbs.

No, stay focused. What were they doing now? The knight had ordered Wynn to close his eyes. What could that possible be ab--ohh...

Oriah gulped once as the task before them was explained. She was to use non-lethal strikes and poor Wynn was to be her blind target. Glancing at Ser Varner with a questioning look, the Benshira wondered if he might be somehow related with her Chaktawe patron.

Nonetheless, she took her lesson seriously and swapped her short sword for a wooden practice blade. It was light and blunt, but could still cause considerable damage if aimed carelessly at someone's eye or fingers. Fortunately for Wynn he was covered rather thoroughly with plate so such things would be of much smaller concern. Pushing past her own reluctance to strike at an unseeing, fellow squire, Oriah steeled her will and readied her practice sword.

"Don't worry, Wynn," she encouraged, seeing his obvious uncertainty and discomfort. It must have been rather stuffy and cumbersome in that plate armor, the poor fellow. "I am terrible with this thing."

As soon as she was done speaking, Oriah stepped forward and stabbed a bit clumsily at Wynn's left arm plate.

"Your attempt to show your brother in arms courtesy may be admirable outside of combat, Oriah," Ser Varner commented from the side, "but you do him no favors by going easy."

The Benshira nodded with a hint of embarrassment and readied herself again.

"Feet shoulder width apart, make use of your range, and don't forget you have one arm free as well."

Oriah stared at him for about half a tick, almost in disbelief that he really expected her to smack Wynn with her bare hand. But the look he returned was one of utter sobriety so she had no choice but to take his words at face value. With a huff of exasperated determination, the squire proceeded to thrust, slice, punch, and even slap with the flat end of her wooden blade her partner in training.

Apparently, though, that was not enough. The knight also expected that she get creative with her warning noises as well. Simple grunts, yells, and scrapes of her boots against the dirt evolved into the harsh rapping of her sword hitting against her buckler or some mildly colorful taunts. "That tickled!" and "You'll never get out alive!" were a couple amongst them.

All the while Oriah defended herself as best she could as well, deflecting or dodging a few retaliating hits from Wynn with her small buckler. It was growing increasingly tiresome, keeping up the defense, offense, and strange taunting goaded on by Ser Warner himself all at once.

When the exercise was finally over she shot Wynn an apologetic smile--which was all she could manage at the moment--and collapsed onto her rump, panting from sheer exhaustion.

"Blessed Yahal," the girl mumbled to herself.

[Wynn Argall]

___

Oriah Azari offered Wynn a bit of a reassuring statement intoning her lack of skill with the weapons Ser Varner had chosen for them. Still not entirely sure how to handle the whole situation, Wynn turned his face in the general direction he'd heard her voice from and nodded. He was painfully aware that her skill at the sword had little to do with what he was going to have to deal with. Bracing himself for the first strike, Wynn flexed his legs, shifting his weighty shield about as he slowly waved his sword about like the blind man he was. The first strike was announced with a rather weak "yah" followed by an uncertain bump on his arm. The blow was weak enough that Wynn simply couldn't retaliate, as it felt much like striking a child for spilling soup on his shoes. Instead, Wynn made a half-hearted swing of his sword into the air in front of him, frowning underneath his helmet.

It appeared none of them found the beginning of the exercise to be particularly pleasing. Ser Varner addressed Oriah Azari's tentativeness, suggesting it would be better for everyone if she participated wholeheartedly - a statement Wynn understood to be aimed at him as well. Upon Ser Varner's reminder on form, Wynn shifted into the stance alongside his training partner, the sounds of her shuffling feet obscured by the creak of his mail. At the mention of Oriah Azari making use of her free hand, Wynn straightened up some and turned towards where Ser Varner's voice was coming from. "Wait... Wh-" His budding question was interrupted by a much louder - and measurably more ferocious - battle cry to his left that was quickly followed up with a slice down onto his forearm. The blow connected, but the other squire hadn't put enough force into it to knock the training sword from his hand. Retaliating out of - quite literally - blind surprise, Wynn pushed back with his shield. It was far too slow to connect with Oriah Azari, but it gave Wynn enough time to back up a few paces towards where he'd last figured her to be.

She struck several more times, each time taking care to announce her presence with a series of yells. As the chimes passed, Wynn was better able to discern her location, even landing several strikes on both her buckler and twice on what he supposed to be her ribs - though both strikes were more grazes than anything. While Oriah Azari landed a multitude of blows, Wynn found the exercise to get a bit easier as time went on; though he also found as the two of them tired, the strikes began to land with a bit more force. As he felt his body begin to strain, Ser Varner - who had been strangely quiet for the longest time - spoke up over the clink and clatter of their one-sided brawl.

"Don't just yell at him, Oriah! Say something... I don't know, witty! There was a pause in the deluge of strikes during which Wynn too the opportunity to swing wildly in the direction he'd last heard her, though the blade found nothing to connect with. "You may never get another opportunity to batter your opponent with both your sword and your razor wit!" Completely lost in the darkness of his temporary blindness, Wynn just swung his sword about in front of him as he took steps in the opposite direction of where both Oriah Azari and Ser Varner stood.

When his partner shouted a hesitant, ""Have at you!" Wynn frantically turned as best he could to deflect the blow from behind. The sword connected with a solid strike right on the top of his helmet, sending a buzzing feeling into his ears. This time, as his shield was shoved forward, he made a connection with the other squire, quickly swinging his sword to connect with either her leg or her side. It was the first palpable hit he'd managed, and despite the little starbursts that had began to populate the darkness, Wynn felt rather proud of himself.

The pride declined rapidly as Oriah - most certainly prompted by Ser Varner - explored more and more of the taunts. "Insult his mother!" Wynn sung around to face the direction of Ser Varner once more. "My-" Oriah Azari, already juggling offense, defense, form, and taunts, shouted out something garbled followed by a rather painful blow to his lower calf. Swinging about, Wynn stumbled backwards with a grunt, striking out in retaliation at the wind. "Don't let it get to you, Wynn! You can't be the victim of psychological warfare!"

At that point, Wynn had little idea what was even going on. Oriah Azari was shouting things like "You'll never get out alive!" and "I'll roast you on a skewer!" while Ser Varner was shouting and jumping so loudly, Wynn was hardly able to tell where any of the noise was coming from. His entire body was covered in sweat. His shield arm shook so badly that he almost welcomed the other squire's slashes and jabs at it just to feel something other than the weight of the blasted thing. The few more times he managed a strike on Oriah Azari were rewarded with several new bruises of his own. At that point, both he and she were far too weary to curb their strength, and the wooden weapons had become tools designed for the sheer pleasure of making bruises.

The exercise came to a close as an extremely fatigued Wynn managed to headbutt Oriah's sword, sending his helmet into the air and his body onto the ground with a thud and an exhausted grown from Wynn. "Well!" The pleasure and excitement in Ser Vaner's voice were poorly concealed. "I think we can safely say that a break is overdue, hm?" Wynn blinked several times, first at Ser Varner's grinning face, then at Oriah Azari's mirrored expression of weariness. She offered a weak smile, a gesture Wynn did all too often, as an apology before plopping down onto the dirt with a huff, muttering under her breath between pants. "So, what did you learn?" Wynn looked at Ser Varner, the sweat dripping down his sopping wet hair as the air rushed in and out of his lungs in heavy wheezes, offering an incredulous look before falling onto his back with a clunk and closing his eyes.

"Hm. Not quite what I was expecting." Ser Varner turned to the seated Oriah. "Perhaps we'll start with you." Wynn opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly to stare at the other squire over the brim of his chest plate. Where there was an opportunity for learning, Wynn did his best to place himself into it; unless, of course, he had to actively participate it in after having sweated out what felt like every last bit of water his body held.

___

[Oriah]

She squinted up at the knight, so tired that decorum seemed, if only for a moment, utterly trivial and the urge to tell him to bugger off became rather hard to resist.

Only for a moment, of course. Then reality and sense came rushing back as her lungs swallowed enough air for actual words to come out of her mouth. "Um," Oriah began, gulping more bone dry doses of air, "I learned...that I won't...be able to hold my sword and shield for more than ten chimes in a real fight?"

Ser Varner stared at her in open amusement. "Not quite what I was hoping to get at, but not entirely wrong either."

Rubbing the bottom of his chin, the blonde haired knight glanced between his two charges with merriment undiminished by a hint of concern. "Well, you two look like a right proper mess. I suppose I'll have to get a satisfactory answer after your break." He leaned forward a little as if divulging a secret. "And I think you'd best collaborate, what with each of you at half your wits and all."

And then he was gone, strolling along to advise some other trainees as Oriah and Wynn sat sprawled on the ground like a pair of ragdolls. The two of them were drenched in sweat and their muscles in full boycott of any and all physical motion.

Oriah wasn't sure she could remember the last time she felt this tired. Even Mora had her limits, feeling it was more useful to have her squire use brains over brawn. But the Benshira supposed this was as necessary as all the rest of her training. Being a knight, after all, entailed more than just abilities with swords and shields and horses. One had to have a certain level of endurance as well. What would be the use of all the cunning and skill in the world if you couldn't hold up your shield for half a bell without becoming so exhausted you fell to the grown like a helpless babe?

None. Because you would be dead.

She rubbed some of the sweat out of her eyes and looked over at Wynn. Her partner had to have an even harder time of it, being in that plated armor of his. And they both had enough bruises, aches, and pains to keep them limping around all day tomorrow. And only tomorrow, if they were lucky.

"You alright?" Oriah managed to croak as she fumbled around amongst her belongings and pulled out a water skin. Lifting it above her mouth, the squire took a long, liberal drink. She let some of the water spill to cool her face as well and relished the sensation of cool water on her skin. Mopping it up with a quick wipe of the sleeve, she extended her arm to offer Wynn some water as well.

"Here," the Benshira encouraged with a grin, "I filled it from a fresh spring this morning. Very cool and fresh, much better than the wells here."

As she sat there, propped on one arm and legs splayed out before her in complete uselessness, Oriah thought about Ser Varner's question."What could he be looking for in our answer?" she pondered, all too used to her own patron's enigmatic intentions. "He already said we should anticipate, so that is probably not it. What do you think?"

Having noticed Wynn seemed to be the reserved type, Oriah scooted up next to him and laid on her back as well, wincing once from a pending bruise on her side. "We'll figure this out yet, you and I. As you say in Common, two heads are better than one, am I right?"