Training - Battle of the Knights (Tristan/Galahad)

[Galahad]

It was morning and far too early for Galahad’s liking. For years he had imagined what it would be like to be free from his service to Rome. To be able to stay in bed long past the sun had risen, to yawn and roll over and know that no one would be banging at his door yelling at him to get up. To laze about as he wished, not having to worry about his duties or chores or scouting missions. He could drink and eat whenever he wanted with plenty of food and wine to keep his belly full and a grin on his lips. He’d be free from Rome and free from his responsibilities. Yet now that he was free from Rome and his service nothing at all was like he had dreamed. He still had to get up early, he still had people banging at his door demanding his attention. He still had to go on survey missions and had never ending lists of chores and responsibilities that seemed to require his attention all hours of the day. And he still had to train.

There’s where Galahad found himself this early morning waiting in the training field for Tristan. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark unruly locks, why had he gotten himself into this?! Deep down he knew that he had to keep training, keep wielding his sword, keep practising to keep himself sharp and fresh. Especially after the battle with the Saxons they were all a little sore and stiff and the more training they did the better they would feel. The Saxon’s could come back at any time with a bigger and fiercer army and everyone knew they had to be ready for that possibility. So training could never stop, but against Tristan?!

Galahad grunted and spun his sword around in his hand. Agreeing to train with Tristan was like signing up to eat a bucketful of dirt! Not that Galahad was a terrible fighter, in fact far from it! A small smirk spread across the Knights lips as he mentally praised himself for his fighting skills. He was quick and agile and could wield his weapon well but Tristan… damned that scout always seemed to be one step ahead. No matter what trick Galahad tried Tristan always seemed to react with a countermove that landed him flat on the ground with a mouthful of dirt!

But not this time! This time Galahad would going to beat Tristan once and for all! The brunette had witnessed the horrific injuries Tristan had suffered during the battle with the Saxons. Surely he had to be stiff and sore, his reactions slower and his skilled dampened. No, this time Galahad was finally going to beat the scout!

[Tristan]

A pair of piercing eyes stared backed into his. The hawk which sat motionless of Tristan’s arm seemed fascinated by the depth which lay behind them. The moment passed and Tristan lifted his arm into the air while simultaneously the hawk released its grip, beating its wings and ascending into the sky. It had been some time since he had last seen his feathered friend, though the onset of colder weather seemed to little deter the creature’s hunting aptitude; the bird still appeared quite hale. As he watched it soar away over the horizon, Tristan refocused on the trial ahead.

He had walked this beaten path to the training ground a hundred times, and lately it seemed he had been traversing it twice as often. His actions at Badon Hill had left a sour taste in his mouth to put it lightly. His had gently touched his side where the nearly fatal scar now lay, constantly reminding him of his failures. Tristan had sought since then to never suffer a defeat in the field and he had redoubled his efforts in the training ground, much to the chagrin of Galahad and the other knights who he drilled with.

His footsteps were light and barely emitted audible noise to even the most skilled trackers, so it was no surprise that he soon came upon Galahad from the rear. His fellow knight seemed to be going through the motions prior to their scheduled contest as he noticed him spin his blade in his hand. Anxious Galahad was, though Tristan seemed quite content to finish the rest of his breakfast before they began.

He had been slicing off bits of an apple with his dagger, popping them into his mouth for a few moments before decided to gain the attention of young Galahad. Sheathing the smaller blade in his boot, he picked his spot and chucked the apple core towards the center of his back. Immediately afterwards he brushed his hands on the front of his tunic before unsheathing his dao, moving in a wide circle to Galahad’s left.

“You ready? Doesn’t look like it…”

[Galahad]

Galahad continued to spin his sword around in his hand starting to warm up as he waited for Tristan. He was going to win this little training session he had with Tristan, even if it meant that he had to use Tristan’s weakness against him. For nineteen years he had trained with the other Knights and each one of them he had beaten at least once – even Lancelot he had managed to defeat. Alright so the First Knight was ill at the time and refused to admit it, but that was not the point, Galahad had still managed to defeat him. The only person he had never beaten in a training session was Tristan. He’d lost count of how many times they’d trained together and each time he had eaten dirt, but not this time. This time was going to be the time he finally kicked Tristan’s ass!

The younger Knight flinched when he suddenly heard Tristan’s voice, practically jumping on the spot when the scout appeared in Galahad’s vision. He turned to his left, sword raised in instinct as his blue eyes fell upon Tristan. The scout was standing there staring at him and he instantly wondered how long he had been standing there.

“Says you old man…” Galahad growled back, eyes narrowing in determination as he stepped back into a battle pose.

If truth were to be told – not that Galahad would ever admit such a thing aloud – if he ever needed to reply on another Knight he would chose either Gawain or Tristan. Tristan was a mystery and even though Galahad had known the scout for nineteen years he knew very little about him. But what he did know, and have utter faith in, was that Tristan was the best fighter he had ever known. Whatever tactic an opponent tried against the scout Tristan was always able to be one step ahead. Galahad trusted Tristan with his life and knew the scout had saved his ass on more than one occasion.

“You up for training or do you need me to fetch you a chair so you can sit down?” Galahad teased a cheeky smile spreading across his lips as he gripped his sword in preparation.

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[Tristan]

Conversation time was over. Tristan ignored his fellow knight’s jibe. He may have been older but was hardly feeling the wear of time. His extensive work in the training yard had allowed him to regain and perhaps even surpass his form prior to Badon Hill. If Galahad had been expecting a blunted edge, he would soon know otherwise. On the contrary, Tristan was fresh and full of guile on this day. Both which would aide him in this exhibition against his younger foe.

He held his blade forward with his right arm, the tip of the blade pointing directly ahead of him. His face bore no real expression and he began taking several slow steps toward Galahad. His motions were careful though deliberate as the majority of his weight rested on the balls of his feet. He turned his body slightly, offering a much smaller target to hit as he approached. Tristan’s eyes were locked straight ahead on Galahad, in particularly his hips as well as his own blade.

As he closed the distance he took a sharp, quick step forwards. It was meant as nothing as a test to see how quick Galahad’s reaction time would be, and to see how quickly he would shift into a defensive stance. Withdrawing that step immediately, he started to circle the opposite way that he had been. The first few moments of this duel would be a psychological game; though the physical would soon come. He was teasing the young knight, hoping to move him to strike first, as Tristan so desired.

[Galahad]

Galahad had to admit that he was not surprised when Tristan chose not to reply to his jibe. That was Tristan perfectly. He only spoken if and when he chose to and whatever he said made people listen. Galahad knew that was part of the mystery of the Scout, no one knew anything about him unless Tristan wanted them to.

The younger Knight’s deep blue eyes instantly widened when Tristan pointed the tip of his blade directly at him. Galahad knew what that meant, he was being challenged and Tristan being Tristan did not like to lose. Those same blue eyes watched intently as the scout slowly began to take several steps forward. Taking a deep breath and exhaling quietly Galahad held his ground, his sword slowly rising. Then suddenly Tristan took a quick step forward a testing lunge perhaps. Galahad reacted immediately using his speed and agility to quickly dart sideways and away from the lunge. His feet landed one slightly in front of the other, his sword held out in front of him in a pure defensive pose as though waiting for another strike.

Defensive stance set Galahad watched as Tristan began to move once more like an animal circling his prey. Slowly Galahad turned, swallowing hard as he kept his blue eyes locked on Tristan. He knew exactly what the scout was doing; he was summing him up, getting an idea of his opponent. Although at this moment Galahad could not help but feel like prey. He also knew that Tristan was waiting for him to strike. It was in the younger Knight’s instinct to strike first, it was just part of his personality. He hated to wait, loathed it and would rather launch into battle and to his destiny than to wait and worry. But then if Tristan was expecting Galahad to strike first maybe he shouldn’t? Maybe he should try and still himself and wait, do what Tristan least expected? His tongue darting out to run along his bottom lip Galahad waited, slowly turning in time to Tristan’s pacing.

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[Tristan]

Galahad was a young and temperamental knight. Tristan would set his strategy for now to frustrate and confuse him in an attempt to eventually drive him into a mistake. It had worked a hundred times before and even if it did not, Tristan still believed that Galahad was the lesser skilled than he. The braided locks of his hair hung off to the side, though a bit of it tended to shift in his field of vision, doing just enough to obscure his eyes from Galahad without affecting his vision.


Yet it seemed that Galahad would not strike first and Tristan would not waste any more time in an attempt to provoke him so. Galahad seemed just as quick as he remembered, though soon his technical abilities would be tested. Moving forwards quickly, Tristan lashed out with several quick strikes which reflected the grace of his swordsmanship. His sword remained pointed at Galahad with the first two blows being slashes and the last much of a fencing jab. He expected a majority of the blows to be parried, though they were surely not feints as his initial step had been.

Tristan showed remarkable quickness despite his age and failed to utter any words or even breathe heavily during his brief assault. If Galahad was paying attention, he would realize that age had truly been ineffective in dulling the senses of the knight. On the contrary, it seemed that Tristan may have even picked up a half-step since Badon Hill. A chilling thought for any training partner or foe.

[Galahad]

Despite deep blue eyes watching every move Tristan made with great intense, the scout’s sudden strikes forward completely took Galahad by surprise. He was utterly convinced that Tristan would hold him out, make him wait, frustrate him until finally he could take no more and strike first. But it seemed – as always – that the scout was one step ahead (or perhaps several). It seemed as though Tristan knew what Galahad was thinking and decided to change his tactic mid step.

Instantly the younger Knight raised his sword in defence. He had been training and fighting for nineteen years of his life, more than half of his years, and defending himself came as naturally as breathing. Galahad blocked the first few strikes, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing in the air. The last blow however was not a slash but rather a jab towards him and Galahad had to use his sword to defend himself, hitting Tristan’s sword away from his body as he jumped to the side quickly.

Galahad’s eyes widened as he took another step backward, sword raised in defence once more. The quickness and speed in Tristan’s attack had surprised the younger Knight. He had thought that after being so grievously wounded Tristan would be slower, less powerful but it seemed as though he was very wrong. How in the name of the Gods it happened but somehow Tristan appeared faster and stronger than he had ever done before. Galahad cursed in Sarmatian under his breath instantly regretting getting himself involved in the battle. Perhaps things were not going to go in his advantage after all.

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[Tristan]

An obsession bordering on the unhealthy was the answer in response to Galahad’s own question concerning Tristan’s seemingly renewed vigor and battle prowess. The Sarmatian was eating, sleeping, and breathing training such as this, though his real motivations were darker and twisted. His own feebleness had gnawed at his soul since Badon Hill. His perfection had been marred and though it appeared Tristan did not appear so perfect, it was the strength of arms in which his own perfection was applied. When that had been shattered, a piece of his soul was lost and he sought its reclamation. The path to such was shrouded and he began here in the yards, spending hours. Now Galahad was seeing the effects of such dedication.

He moved ahead again, his first step notably slow as his word was raised slightly higher than normal in the air, indicating some sort of overhead slash. In its stead, Tristan took another side step to the left, and brought his blade down suddenly. It was not an attack, but merely a quick realignment as he swept his sword upwards into Galahad’s with considerable force. Enough force to drive his arms into the air along with his sword allowing Tristan to execute his real attack.

With his momentum moving slightly forward, the Sarmatian knight flashed his left leg out quickly, hoping to see his boot colliding with Galahad’s unprotected stomach. At best, Galahad would tumble onto the ground and eat dirt. As ever, Tristan’s emotions were masked behind his stoic face, revealing no indication of what he was capable of next.

[Galahad]

Galahad watched intently as Tristan raised his sword, his own lifting up slightly higher in preparation for an overhead slash. The scout moved quickly and Galahad was ready for his attack… at least ready for most of his attack. The younger Knight took a quick step backward as Tristan moved, angling his own sword just in time so that he could block the scout from stabbing him. Yet the force behind Tristan’s upward thrust took Galahad by surprise and his arms and sword were thrust upwards into the air above his head. He used his strength to grip tightly onto his sword to stop it from being knocked out of his hand, but his attention was not focused on Tristan’s next move.

Suddenly Tristan raised his boot and Galahad realised that he had left his stomach open. He tried to bring his arm down quickly but he was battling against Tristan’s blade and he was unable to do anything in time. The scouts boot connected with his gut with such force that it took Galahad completely by surprise. The breath rushed out of his lungs and he was pushed backwards. Stumbling backwards Galahad had to use the strength in his upper legs to steady himself so that he did not fall flat on his ass. A hand instantly flew to his stomach, wrapping around his middle as the brunette doubled over as waves of pain rushed through his belly. Gasping, doubled over and just managing to stand upright, Galahad raised his sword in an attempt to continue to defend himself despite struggling to breath.

He looked at Tristan and was not surprised to see any emotion upon his still features. “Tris…” Galahad gasped, brow furrowing in pain as he tried to pull himself back upright, sword wavering before him still in defence. This fight was turning out to be more than Galahad had bargained for and somehow he had the feeling that Tristan was trying to prove something. What the younger Knight was not yet sure. Both he and Tristan knew the scout was the better fighter between them, so what was he trying to prove?

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