Mark of a Swordsman

The four freaks and their mare travelled deeper into the forest during the rest of the day, gathering supplies for their journey to reach the capital. Tinnie figured the journey would be four to five days, Jakov figured closer to seven. Lyana had decided to name the mare Bura while they bickered amongst themselves. While Luka’s patrol kept some bread and mead in the saddlebags, they only had around a day or two’s worth of food between the four of them. Jakov took it upon himself and shot down a hare, even with his two black eyes, allowing themselves a comfortable enough meal for their first night on the road.

While Peter had avoided the worst of the skinning and gutting of the creature, he knew he’d have to be comfortable enough with the act soon enough if he was going to survive on the road. No more hamburgers, burritos and pizza joints he could order from. And while he cooked enough on his own, it was a whole different story to see your meal moving around only hours before. The meat was gamey, the bread a bit stale and the mead heavy enough to make a guard’s night watch far more bearable, he felt a sort of helplessness that he had not procured these things on his own. Until he could understand what lay dormant within him, he knew he was next to useless at making it in this world unless he learned to adapt.

As Jakov bit down on a few bites of the hare before handing it off to his former captor, Peter eyed the sword that was sheathed at his side. While Lyana had been reluctant to hand back the weapon to the scribe, the two had kept the worst of their words to themselves.

“Jakov”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“May I see your blade?”

Jakov drew his blade and handed it to his lord. “Of course, but for what would you need it?”

Peter rotated around the blade, seeing his own reflection and the campfire’s across the sharpened steel. It was surprisingly lighter than he thought it’d be, and seemed simple enough to swing, though he knew he’d be even worse off when confronted by a man like Luka with it. “Do you think you could train me to swing it?”

“Your Grace, that’s why you have me by your side.”

“I-I know, but I need to be able to fight my own battles too.” Jakov grew silent, then nodded.

Tinnie bit out a piece of the hare and squealed as his eyes brightened as much as the fire. “Your Grace, nothing is more sacred than the flow of the blade,”

Lyana smirked as Jakov went to break off some tree branches to serve as their tools for training. The two picked out a plot of land just outside the campfire and Jakov widened his feet and gripped his hands together, bringing the stick into a defensive stance protecting his body. Peter attempted to mirror the movement.

“There’s two areas to watch, how a figure moves their feet and how they move in their stance. Strike at me.”

Peter took the branch and swung down at Jakov with force. The two branches met, but Jakov let the blow limply fall onto his blade. He then repeated the same gesture his former knight offered, and gave Peter a light pommel into his cheek. The scratching of the bark peeled some of the skin from Peter’s face, and he rubbed on his newfound wound with increasing annoyance.

“It’s about reading people, their intent. If you go in strong, I go weak and punish you for it, too weak and I catch you in a bind.”

Lyana got up from her spot by the campfire and approached the squire. “You’re far too predictable, that's how you ended up tied up to that tree. ”

Jakov's face flushed bright red. “That was a cheap trick and you know it.”

“There’s no tricks, just living or dying, and you would’ve died if I wanted you to.”

Jakov broke into his stance. “I don’t make it a habit to strike ladies, but you’ll look like you got the lash if you tried that on me again.”

Lyana snatched the stick from Peter’s hand. He knew far too well not to try talking any sense into the two of them at this point. The two glared each other down before Lyana stepped forward with her arms raised for a lunging strike. Jakov prepared in low guard to counter, but as she looked to swing downwards, she then stabbed forwards. Jakov stepped behind, shuffling in a rush to deflect the blow. The two binded at mid-guard. The squire pushed forward to overpower Lyana, but as she lost foot, she swept down kicked Jon behind the back of his right kneecap. He staggered and grunted from the blow, and Lyana was already preparing her next blow. She struck the stick on Jakov’s forearm, disarming him in the process.

“You’d be quite the one-handed squire right now.”

Jakov’s eyes flashed in a blazing fury. “And you’re quite the dishonorable wench.”

She broke into her stance, facing Peter head on. “If you want to survive, Your Grace, it’s gonna take a lot more than these fencing lessons. Defend yourself.”

Before Peter could protest, she charged at him. Peter dashed out of the way, narrowly avoiding the strike to the rear in the process. Jakov rolled his stick to his lord and got out of the way, grumbling to himself as Tinnie delighted in having company beside him once more. As Peter went to pick up the stick, Lyana lunged again with an overhead strike. An impulse deep within Peter could see the blow downwards in what felt like slow motion. His hand grabbed to stick and took a defensive stance as he brought his other hand to reinforce his grip. Lyana’s eyes widened for a flash before narrowing at the sight of her sparring partner, “So there might be hope for you yet.”

She slashed upwards, attempting to leverage the stick out of Peter’s grip. He played weak, as if she’d succeed with the effort , before pushing downwards with all the strength he could muster. Lyana broke her stance as she overstepped and staggered onto her backfoot. Peter kept his defensive stance. The two circled around each other, waiting for the other two to pounce. Lyana broke the cycle and swept low, as if she were aiming for Peter’s groin. He tried to readjust his makeshift sword, but the blow cleanly struck him across his gonads.

A bestial fury erupted within Peter as he screamed out while the blow shot through every nerve in his body with the sweeping strike. The same sort of bearish roar boomed across the forest, blowing out the campfire and causing Lyana’s legs to buckle in on themselves as she attempted to step away from the outburst. She looked up at Peter with shaking eyes,

Embarrassment filled him as she looked down at the whimpering woman looking up at her. He offered his hand, but as she struggled to move her mouth to speak, “That’s what you are.” Peter helped position her into her makeshift cot. But the shock and fury didn’t leave her face, even as the rest of camp slowly regained their movement from the surprising call of the Krsnik. His secret was now lost to her.