| At Sunset |
| Summary: | A matter is settled between squires…? |
| OOC Date: | 06/04/2014 |
| Related: | You Don't Know What It's Like |
| Players: |
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| Practice Fields |
| It's a field. For practicing. |
| 06 Cri, 229 |
Kierne had an early supper, a simple half-loaf of bread and slab of salted meat, giving it time to settle before Sheat starts to lick the horizon. He drained a great deal of purified water and had a good solid pee before getting into his squirely gear, now with the chain frontpiece mended from where it was broken open by the axe in the dining room. He turns up at the practice yard while the great ball of flame is only half-obscured by the land's edge, giving him some time to move through some warmups before the appointed hour for the fight. He breathes slow and steady, face stoic even if that blow to his cheek's given him a pretty nice shiner.
Oxley ties off his own horse and then sees to Aidan and Nylie's horses. The three of them have arrived together here at sunset. Oxley has his long hair tied in a pony tail and is now wearing his leathers and practice sword. He finishes the horses and then moves out onto the field. Flatly, he nods, "Kierne."
Nylie offers a nod of thanks to Oxley has he sees to tying up the leads of the white mare. A hand settling ont ot Aidan's arm as the pair approach to watch this little contest. Nylie offering a nod and light smile to Kierne,"Lord Squire Kieren."
Aidan arrives on his warmblood, the arched neck of the animal showing more obvious with the proud steps of the beast. Though they've not come alone entirely. A routine of knights have come with them, for the tension of the city of late has been much to high to ride without proper escort, even if the Duke could take on experienced warriors, a mob would eventually get the better of them. So he ensured his precious Duchess and himself would not be in the slightest bit threatened as they rode through the city to get here. Aidan is not wearing sparring gear or anything of the sort, he's dressed as a proud man ought to be, blacks and silvers. Once off the stallion, he takes his wife's arm and smiles to her finally, offering a kiss to her cheek, as he mutters to her.
Aidan mutters to Nylie, "My… hoped to spend… Forgive me… but… and… this, I… both. We should… the… missive… occurance… to… by… things…"
Kierne comes about from the last figure of his warm-up into a brisk salute with his blade to Oxley and the Duke and Duchess behind him. He doesn't smile. Or frown, really. His eyes, as always bear that faintly exhausted, heavy-lidded look to them, but for the most part he wears a look of uncanny neutrality. "Oxley," he answers, maintaining his blunt at that angle of salutation.
Guards, yes, there are always guards! Though likely there is a maid some where in the mix in attendence to the Duchess. Nylie gives a soft and warm smile to Aidan in return. His mutter bringing about a blink at one point, though she murmurs back to him softly, a faint blush rising briefly before she settles to watch the contest to come. Appropriate claps or cheers coming as deemed fitting.
Nylie mutters to Aidan, "As… have… my beloved…. then I hope… to… with you. There… to… the need… I would… is a touch of… that… in this… well…Missive… my brother?… not… to… wedding… and… that… occured…. not… to be… as a… from… husband, you… kept… we should talk… it."
Oxley lifts his sword as well, giving a salute to Kierne. His face is stern, ready for battle, and he widens his stance, readying himself. He sniffs, and then gives a little nod to Kierne, "Bring it."
Kierne shifts the angle of his blunt ever so subtly from the upward salutation to the faint slant that follows the angle of his own body as he shifts from a rigid stance to one more mobile, the standard defensive posture from which Kierne is accustomed to fight. So, when bidden, instead of trying to strike at Oxley, he focuses on blocking Oxley's blade with his own, a secondary focus on striking the blade hard enough to open Oxley up to an attack.
Aidan settles alongside with Nylie, keeping his arm around her and speaking quietly of certain matters. Of course, then the two on the field are preparing to commence this challenge. There is some interest in his gaze for it, for he has helped train Oxley while at the same point, Kierne is his brother's son and Kierne has adapted his fighting style to mimic that of Aidan's. It was certainly a spar worth coming out to see. Yet, there is no outward show of which he approved of, but rather, assessing their stances and choice of attacks.
Oxley smirks a bit once it's clear things have begun. He's definitely the aggressor, and he snarls as he makes his attack. He swings the sword hard and fast, letting out a little yell as he does so. Unfortunately, Kierne's defensive stance is ready, and the strike is blocked.
Kierne stands firm under that first smack of steel upon steel, the vibrations rolling up his whole arm, which tenses against the blow and shoves back hard, trying to open Oxley up to an attack, but barely nudges the blade, leaving no opportunity for him to press an attack, so he brings his blade back to that ready angle, then steps in to thrust with the hilt edge of the blunt for more force.
Kierne meets Oxley's blade once more, this time with the very base of his blade, the force more powerful at that end of the blade. He shoves the blade back, making it point up into the air, fighting against Oxley's arm just long enough for Kierne to pivot his own blow back downward, swinging across from one side of his ribs to his opposite hip before dancing back and lifting his blade once more to the ready, eying Oxley intensely.
Oxley let's out a grunt as he hops back from the blow. He looks down at his abdomen, then back at Kierne. He chuckles, "There you go!" With a determined smile, he readies himself again, and prepares to strike once more.
Aidan watches impassively, though his jaw flexes when he sees the blow coming from Kierne, wanting to issue out advice but keeping his lips sealed for it and his arm around Nylie.
The fighting then begins in earnest, with both squires aptly meeting blades and keeping each other from landing anything. Kierne remains largely on the defensive, moving backward and leading Oxley on after him, exchanging steel blow after blow until Kierne happens to step forward instead of back, shovign the tip of his blunt blade into Oxley's ribs with his whole body behind it. If there were an actual tip to the blade it might well have slid between ribs, but, blunt as it is, it only punches hard at those ribs.
Oxley fights with fervor, meeting the swings and clanks of steel set by Kierne in earnest. Finally, one of them gets a strike in, but Oxley's not happy to find he's the one being struck. Again, he's toppled back a few steps, and he has to take pause to catch his breath from the blow. He gives Kierne a glare, but then looks out at Aidan. Seeing his Duke gives him new resolve, and he stands up straight once again. He looks back at Kierne, and he lifts his sword once more.
Aidan rubs a hand over his jaw, absently, as he watches every move that both of them make. These were the heros of the land in the future times to come, the commanders, the knights to be, the youth of tomorrow. He purses his lips for both are impressively good, turning to murmur something again to Nylie as she remains alongside him, though he keeps her from clapping with a hand going to cover her own and shaking his head a little. Favour would do neither squire any good. This was between them and Aidan and Nylie were simply observing.
Kierne doesn't return the glare. He's still sporting that tranquil expression of eerie neutrality that they'd found him with on the practice field. Maybe his warm-ups include some sort of meditation which brings him into this state. Maybe it's something Ronan taught him. Or some weird expression of philosophical theory in practice. Who knows? At any rate, glare though he might, Oxley's not getting a rise out of him, and he steps back as Oxley's knocked backward, not pressing the attack but waiting for the other squire to collect himself and return to the exercise. When Oxley lifts his blade, Kierne follows suit with a nod, ready at defense.
Oxley redoubles his efforts, and he attacks with newfound zeal. He swings, harder, faster, and the first few times he swings, Kierne manages to block. There are swings, clangs of steel, spins and grunts. "Come on!" shouts Oxley, though it's hard to tell if he's taunting Kierne or encouraging himself. A few more clashes of steal and then finally Oxley gets a blow in. It was worth the wait, as the strike is true and hard, slashing the dull steal edge across Kierne's chest in what could possibly have been a deadly blow with real swords.
Aidan had witnessed the come around of Oxley, nodding for his squire to redouble his efforts. Yet, he reserved a smile or any show of approval other than that. Sparring always made him twitchy though, wishing to feel the hold of steel in his hand, yet, this time, with no steal at his hip, his hand climbed to the new scars underneath his tunic, feeling the shape of the jagged slashes running down his chest. He turns a soft look to Nylie, then back to the youngsters, some conclusion made in that moment.
Even with practice blunts it's a hell of a strike, a pain radiating through Kierne's ribs and he bends double, gasping at air that hesitates to come back to stricken lungs. One hand planted on top of his thigh, he half-crouches there, finally dropping his practice blunt the few inches into the dirt before he lifts one hand in a gesture of yielding, looking up with that same unmoved expression.
Oxley stands there a moment, watching Kierne on the ground. It's just long enough that he holds his sword still that one might begin to question if he's going to still strike the downed man. And then finally, Oxley lowers the blade, sheathing it at his side. He just stands there, watching Kierne for another long moment before he sighs and steps toward Kierne. He holds his hand out to help the other young man up.
Kierne retrieves his blunt while down there crouched near the ground, sliding it into place before he notices the hand being offered to him. He regards Oxley's face for a moment, as if trying to suss out whether the other squire is about to start yelling at hi or hitting him again, but, finally, glancing from Oxley's eyes to his hand and then back again, he chances taking the hand and giving it a shake as he rises. He still doesn't say anything, nor does his face move from that impassive neutrality.
As the spar comes to a conclusion that Aidan wasn't expecting, since Kierne was named a champion after all, he murmurs something to Nylie that has her kiss his cheek and encourage him in those little ways she does. With a quiet smile of affection, which lasts only long enough for her to see it, he turns impassive as he approaches the squires, marching out toward where they had sparred. There is approval for the hand offered to aid the fallen squire, eyes bouncing between the pair, "Is that good and out of your system now?" A brow raised high, "Kierne, on the battle field, never give your enemy the opportunity to strike at you or to recollect himself. Oxley," his eyes turn to his squire, "Your aggressive turns in the first opened you up for attack, a light hit here… will be deadly on the field." He nods to both of them, "Good. Now. You can spar again or you can both enjoy a pint."
"Yes sir," come briskly clipped words from Kierne, the first since he'd addressed his opponent by name at the beginning of the match, as he comes to attention, facing his uncle for the reception of notes. He has no particular desire to spar again, but he leaves the decision up to Oxley.
Oxley nods as well, "Yes sir." When the choice is given, he stands a bit straighter, and he answers quite seriously. "Actually, sir, I have some reading to do. I thought I would just retire to my lessons, sir."
"Whatever this was about-" he tells them both with a lifted finger, "get it sorted out before we go to war." He tells them before he turns from them, gesturing approval with his hand for Oxley's choice. "I've a night to spend with my wife now boys," another knight is already bringing forward his horse, since Nylie was mounted and ready to go.
Kierne doesn't say anything. His lips finally betray some sign that a human being lives in the person behind them, twisting faintly to one side, line of vision trending toward the ground as Oxley still won't drink with him. But all's well— he'll drink alone, and copiously, the best way he knows how, with a great deal of very poor wine. But he offers his uncle a dutiful salute farewell, holding it until he moves off with his wife.
Oxley stands there waiting a moment until Aidan has stepped away. Then he turns and he looks at Kierne. His face is rather flat, and he says quietly, "Don't go to the pub. Go home." He glances at Aidan again, and then back at Kierne. "You drink too much. It's a bad reputation to have." Then he nods to himself, and moves to follow his knight.
Kierne has been sober all day, and on a day when he badly needed a drink, he drowned his emotions in pure water. The daylight will allow for such a substitution, but with the night the need steals hard upon him, and it's a hard thing for a lad of his particular temperment to resist for long. So he offers Oxley up a helpless shrug, moving to the barn to properly clean his blunt, at least, before he goes off whithersoever.