Flashback A Knife in The Side

[Lance Windhelm]

21st of spring, 523

The training grounds were getting cold. His breath was starting to burn his lungs as he practiced his thrust with a dagger. A fake one, of course, wooden. But it had the weight of the real thing, it caused it to sit heavy in his hand, he tried to get over how awkward it felt. Then with another thrust he would have to try all over again. It made him happy he wasn't the only one in the group stumbling about.

There were fifteen others lined up in the training grounds. One instructor barking when to make a strike. Step, thrust. She demonstrated it with ease. Her stance was perfect, the angle of the knife up, then straights into a thrust as she stepped. He tried to mirror her.

"Three!" She yelled.

Lance plunged his hand through the air. It struck at nothing but a mental image. His foot caught on the ground as he pulled it back, stumbling again. He tried not to shake his head at his embarrassment but before he knew it.

"Four!"

He tried to catch up. Thrusted out fast and recovered. It was probably the most sloppy attack he has done so far. He could almost feel her eyes probing his stance. Lance's feet shuffled a bit back into his stance.

"Take your time. Remember, slow is smooth, smooth is fast. Right now you have the luxury of not being in combat. Think about your movements. Step, thrust, together. It is a singular movement." She said.

Singular movement. He pushed the would be knife through the air and stepped at the same time. He thought he had gotten it. The instructor nodded as she passed, reenforcing his thoughts. He smiled, wiped the sweat from his brow, and went again on five. Six. Seven. When ten came he was glad, his arm was starting to get kind of heavy.

"Now switch." She said and turned around at the end of the line of students.

Everyone switched their feet and let out a yell. They all roared, the echo was impressive. He caught up but stifled the yell and fought not to look around. The group paid him no attention though. They were all focused on their own body, or the instructor.

The knife was now gripped in his left hand, his feet should-with apart, and pointing forwards. He waited for the instructor to bark. In the mean time he looked at his stance, then at the man beside him. It seemed close enough.

"One." The woman yelled.

"Step, thrust." Lance thought as he moved. The left hand was even worse than the right. He didn't think that was possible.


Word Count: 443

[Lance Windhelm]

After the left hand had gotten some air stab experience the instructor paused and looked at the group. Her stiff finger pointed at two people in succession.

"You, and you." Her finger fell on the man next to Lance. He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't ready to be the center of attention. "Face each other." The students complied swiftly. "Left side. Stand at rest position. Right side, attack with The stab on my command." She looks toward the line of students, "now pay attention. Do you see their feet?" She points. "They are in what is called a, "closed" position. Each, "position" allows for a certain repertoire. Here at The Proving Grounds I want you to choose a few moves, and focus on them. Have a couple responses for this situation. For now, I want you to," she moved as she spoke, "step back, with your front foot, as the attack comes. This maintains the position and allows you to move in a circular movement. Come up with a knife hand block, you can strike the opossing knifes hand, or you can grab and pull. This will throw the opponent off balance. Then with the knife in your right hand, come and stab your partner. This attack can land in many places. You can go for any part of the body on your opponents left side. Let me demonstrate."

The instructor stood at rest on the opposing side of her new partner. With a forceful noise from her mouth she told her opponent to attack. He didn't look like he was holding back, but that just gave her more momentum to work with. As the attack came in she stepped back, grabbed the hand which held the knife, hip tossed her partner to the ground, and pretended to stabed him in the neck while he lay helpless. The dust from the arena clouded around them for a moment. With a curt nod from the instructor both of them got to their feet.

Her gaze fell on the two volunteers she had In front of her.

"Ready. One!" She yelled at them.

The one being attacked had his timing messed up, he couldn't get out of the way fast enough before the fake knife hit his stomach.

"Sweep with that leg." She demonstrated. Her foot arched across the ground as she pivoted around. "Everyone pair up."

Lance stood in front of another man. Like everyone else in the city the person seemed hesitant to look into his eyes. It must be something they are born into, something everyone in the city does, Lance thought. Before his mind could wander any further.

"One!" She yelled.

Lance was the defender. He tried to sweep his leg, and grab the man's wrist but his body was too far from his opponent. He did get out of the way though. Lance shrugged inside.

"Two!"

Lance defended again. He grabbed the man's hand with his block, swept his foot as he pulled, the man's stance was elongated and twisted as Lance moved. Lance quickly jabbed the man in the side with his wooden knife.

The exercise went on like that for the remainder of the lesson. It took a few times of them switching and experimenting with the guidance of his instructor. But eventually he got the hang of it.

WC: 557

[Lance Windhelm]

Lance was covered in sweat and dirt. His clothes dirty from his partner trying to throw him like the instructor demonstrated. Sometimes he just ended up falling all over the place and getting stabbed by the fake knife. His sides were sore, his hands were starting to blister from holding the weapon, and he was tired. Not to mention it has only been the first hour.

After the exercise was complete, ten on each side, and switching three times the instructor centered herself in front of the group.

"Ok. Line back up. We are going to do a bit of sparing. You know the basic stab, you know a basic block, now put it into practice." She said. "I want a cercle, lets move it!" The students dashed into position. Lance fell into an empty space between two fairly large people. One was a female that stood to his right, and a male that was on his left. Both looked like they have been doing this kind of training for some time.

"You!" She pointed at Lance.

Sweat started to poor down his face more than it was before. His hands became clammy. His stomach turned. Then he moved his feet. Lance franticly tried to push his nerves aside and stood in front of everyone. He could feel the eyes drilling into him.

"And... You!" she pointed to the large female that was standing to the side of him just moments before.

A girl. Of course it had to be a girl. Lance only got more nervus. Now he was going to get beat up by a women, how embarrassing. He gripped his knife tightly and got into position. The lady across from him did the same, but her stance had and air of confidence behind it, experience.

"Fight!" The instructor said and stood off to the side.

Some how Lance doubted she would stop the fight unless one of them was about to die. And who knows, if it got that far one of them might die anyway.

Lance watched the female in front of him intently. She moved to the left, stepping slowly. He stepped to the left in kind. Then reached out with the knife, step, thrust, he thought. But with a quick movement, she blocked, grabbed, and pulled. Lance caught himself from going off balance and pulled his right hand, the hand with the knife, but the woman used that momentum just as easily. She pushed as he pulled and before his other arm could react the fake knife had already hit his chest.

"Reset!" The instructor barked.

The woman was smiling. No one around him laughed or cheered. They all watched, he could almost feel them studying them both. There wasn't a feeling of malice or hatred, his opponent wasn't trying to embarrass him. He was starting to gather that here, in this ring, was neutral ground. A place to learn, to study, a place to be forged into something more. There was nothing to be worried about.

"Fight!" The instructor said again.

Lance started to move to the right. His focus was intent, all on the knife in her hand. If only he could get rid of that, he could have an advantaged. She rotated the wooden blade with her wrist. His head almost followed it as it moved. His opponent stretched her arm out to the right, he stepped forward, reached for it. Before he knew it the women struck him in the ribs with a quick jab, as he flinched, the knife berried itself in his stomach.

"Reset!" The instructor yelled. "Don't focus on the knife. Look at her center, see the whole person. Try and react to the slightest of movements. I know its your first day, but eventually you will get the hang of it. Fight!"

The woman rushed at Lance before he could get into position. He just missed the knife as it swung past his belly. Then, again as it came back. Lance stepped into her as she moved towards him, his knife held close to his chest, he reached and grabbed her hand as it moved to cut. He jabbed at her. His hand was caught by her own. With a quick knee to his stomach and a slice to his neck, the fight was over.

"Good try. Get back in line." She pointed to the empty space.

Lance got to his feet and stood back in the circle. A few more people fought. Lance watched each one just as intently as the others. He could understand how people found this entertaining. Especially as he was starting to get the hang of it, he tried to imagine what he would do in their stead. But when the person did what he thought, they often ended up on the ground or stabbed. He still had a lot to learn.

WC: 812

[Lance Windhelm]

"Line up!" The instructor barked.

Everyone darted into position. Lance was among them. He's noticed that they were not moving out of fear of punishment, but out of respect for the woman. He didn't know the woman's past, but he gathered it was something heroic. Living in a city like this, it had to be.

"We are going to work on slashes." She swept the weapon in front of herself. "Keep your arm up in a guard, and move the weapon through the air like this." She demonstrated again. "You want to strike at vital parts of the body with this, but ultimately, any damage is good. If you can get at their wrist, or cut deep enough into tissue, well... I've seen people lose the use of an entire limb with strikes like that." The women smirked. "Lets begin. One!"

Lance swung the weapon in front of himself, being sure to keep his other arm up in a defensive stance. The pain in his hand was starting to become dull, but with each new movement came new pressure to his hand, new pain that shat made it hard to concentrate on the attacks. It took a lot from him not to nurse his wounds. He tried to think about an actual attack. How he might, sometime, have to push past an injury to save his life, or someone else.

He swept the weapon in front of himself every time the instructor told him to. Switched hands when he was supposed to. Lance listened intently on every word from his instructor. Until it was time for it to end.

"Alright. That is all the time we have today. Please put your weapons back and proceed to the exit. I will see you all next time." The instructor said, then started to head towards the exit as well.

Lance placed the weapon back where he found it and left the training grounds. On the way home he kept thinking about the lesson, but was also carful to keep his eyes to himself. It was morning, but the city was dangerous at any time of the day. The thought only fueled his urge to think about the knife lesson. Each swing. Lance looked at the blisters on his palm and sucked on them.

Leaving The Proving Grounds Lance went north, then east, taking the long way around to The Drunken Fish. He thought that he would stop at the Armory and pick up a dagger. With all that practice he minds well actually own the tool.

The large crowd that filled the castle commons was just another day. Lance watched the people flow around him with care, each person could be a danger. He took comfort in the fact that everyone watched him with the same sort of look. He made his way around the odd sorted cards thrown in makeshift lines and entered The Knights Armory. The heat hit him like train.

Sounds of hammers hitting metal, blowers going into furnace, and a large crowd meandering through the small cramped area. Young and old, and everything in between, all looking for a weapon, or armor. He wondered how much the place made each year, it had to be killing. Lance looked at the wrack of weapons along the walls, grabbed a dagger that was in good condition along with a sheath to match. His eyes fell on a longsword. It was a beautiful peace of weaponry, from what he knew of swords at least. He grabbed it, with a sheath to match, and continued his way through the shop.

In the corner he saw a set of armor, leather, it looked like it would fit under his coat, and there seemed to be a piece for each part of his body. Legs, arms, and chest. With it he grabbed a weapon harness and proceeded to the counter.

In front of him was a young looking man. "Is that all?" He said loudly, though in the environment it was just right. Lance sat the dagger, and sheath, Longsword, and sheath, then pointed at the suit of leather armor.

"All of those please." He smiled. He would be sure to put on what he could before heading back home to The Drunken Fish.

WC: 710