Tale of Four

Within the training ground, numerous men stood around, either chatting, taking care of their weapons, or training. Oliver looked at them for a moment before turning to Jeremy, who stood before him with a training blade, slowly circling around. "You can’t wait for your opponent to attack you all the time, Jeremy," Oliver said, once again removing his attention from Jeremy, hoping he would use the chance to strike.

Once again, the young boy didn’t move, hesitant to make the first move. Oliver sighed and stepped forward, without intention to strike, yet Jeremy tensed up. "Don’t focus on my sword alone. My eyes, my feet, my chest. I am sure I have taught you this before." Stepping forward again, Oliver swung, pulling back his strength to make sure he didn’t hurt the boy.

The clashing of the two blunt blades echoed throughout the courtyard as Jeremy stood firm, pushing the sword back. Finally, he made his move, throwing a fury of attacks at Oliver, trying to break through his defence, but failing to do so. "Too wide." Oliver said, seeing another attack coming and easily deflected it, placing the tip of a blunt blade on Jeremy’s neck, "Don’t commit unless an opening reveals itself or you have a plan should it fail."

Pulling the sword back, he retook his stance and waited once more. Once again, he took his attention off his squire, and when Jeremy didn’t attack, he sighed and sheathed the blade. Walking over to Jeremy, the young boy looked at him in confusion, before yelping in pain when he got a swift slap to the back of the head, "You are never this cautious. What is going on?"

Jeremy looked at him with pitiful eyes before frowning, "I’m worried. About the war." Flicking his forehead, Oliver chuckled.

"I don’t have plans to let you fight, brat, but care for my amour and sword. Why are you so worried?" Rubbing his forehead, Jeremy looked away in embarrassment.

"Because you’re fighting." Oliver suppressed his smile, knowing he couldn’t let it show when he was neglecting his training and knelt down, placing a firm hand on his shoulder

"Jeremy. What is your ambition?" Jeremy looked to the ground before meeting his gaze, his bright blue eyes sparkling.

"To be a great knight," Jeremy said proudly. Even looking into Oliver’s eyes, he could tell the young boy looked past him at a grandiose image of himself as a great and famous warrior.

"And what must you do to become one?" The boy’s lip twitched before he laughed at himself in embarrassment.

"Fight."

"Exactly." Oliver smiled and stood up again, "You’ve waited for me when I was in battle before, so why is this different?" Jeremy fiddled with his sword for a moment and looked around the training ground, staring at the other men training their squires, none of the young boys having the same concerns he had for their teacher.

"This is different. I know you say I’m stupid, but even I can see that. Before, you only fought bandits or helped fight in a minor lord’s squabbles. This... There are going to be so many famous knights fighting this time. I’m worried for you. Like, what if you fight a Great lord? I heard they are all monsters, I mean, look at lord Alkaris. He is massive." Jeremy smiled and rubbed the boy’s hair, shaking his head.

"It is different, you’re right. But at the same time, it is also a chance. This is a chance to earn glory like no other. Sure, war is quite the awful thing, but it is also the only chance a knight like me has to make my name known. A tourney is one show, a battle is where you prove yourself." Oliver said, pulling his sword again, "And I have no intention of dying, Jeremy, after all, who would want an unruly brat as their squire other than me?"

Oliver smiled and looked at Jeremy, once again turning serious. "Although I said I have no intention for you to fight, reality can be different. Whilst this is a way to earn a reputation, it will also be a chance for you to earn your knighthood."

"Really?" Jeremey said with excitement.

"Of course. Now, take your stance."

Jeremy smiled and took his stance. Once more, Oliver diverted his attention, and Jeremy finally took the chance, charging him. Quickly twisting his sword to block the strike, the two exchanged blow after blow, with Oliver easily deflecting, leaving a purposeful opening that Jeremy would sometimes take advantage of. For a minute, they went back and forth, Jeremy slowly getting quicker, making Oliver pick up the pace.

Leaving another opening, Jeremy smiled and threw a wide strike, aiming for it. Oliver suppressed his smirk and closed the opening, intercepting the attack and kicking Jeremy in the chest when his blade bounced back. On the ground, Jeremy went to stand but felt the tip of the blade on his throat. "Not all openings are real. If one opens without you doing anything, assume it is to lure you in. And like I said. If you fail, have a plan to account for that."

"Am I getting better?" Jeremey pushed himself up and rubbed his clothes free of dust. Setting the sword, Oliver nodded and smirked.

"You are. Unlike me, you’re very quick, but you lack strength. Sure, it ain’t anything special yet, but once you grow, that speed will be your weapon, not strength."

"But I need to be strong."

"Strong enough." Oliver corrected, "If you’re fast, you should use it to your advantage. When you’re really into our sparring, there are times that I struggle to keep up with you, not that you notice."

"Really?" Jeremy’s smile widened, but it was returned with a flick to the head.

"Don’t be an arrogant brat. You’re quick, but lack the strength to defend yourself. And your feet, you’re too stationary most of the time." Oliver closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "You remember when we went to that circus in the Artlands." Jeremy nodded, "Those dancers on the stage are what you should try to be like. Always moving around, but with a purpose, not for the sake of it."

"You’re telling me to be a dancer?" Jeremey lifted an eyebrow, unsure if Oliver was thinking correctly. Oliver chuckled and thought carefully about how to get his reasoning across in a way Jeremy would understand.

"Battle is a kind of dance. Matching your opponent’s movements, making sure no move is wasted and that they flow correctly. And the same thing with a dancer is that you have to make sure you match someone whose style you know you will suit. Of course, you don’t always get to choose on a battlefield, but if you can, make sure it’s correct." Oliver slowly said, making sure Jeremy understood. Although he only half nodded, Oliver could see he understood enough.

"So what about you then, Ser. What’s your strength and weakness?" Oliver thought for a moment about the question.

"The clearest one is equipment. I’m poor. My blade is old, and my armour has been repaired one too many times." Jeremy frowned, annoyed by the answer. Chuckling, Oliver continued, "I’m slow on my feet most of the time, but unlike you, I understand my body. I’m strong, not like Lord Alkaris, but strong. I can hold my own against most attacks and can force an opening in people because of it."

Jeremy stared in wonder, opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the correct way to ask what he wanted. Finally, he nodded to himself and spoke, "So why am I your squire. The way you speak, it feels like what you know I can’t learn."

Oliver smiled, "I didn’t take you in becuase I saw great potential or a desire to train someone different to myself. I did it because I like you, you stupid boy. You got that drive inside of you, and can take a small beating without complaint." Despite his words, Jeremy looked down to the ground to hide his small smile, "Granted, I ain’t the greatest teacher for you, but I know enough to teach you. I met people who have your strengths and beat enough of them."

"In that case." Jeremy looked up at Oliver, "When you get paid after this, can you finally buy me my own sword?" Oliver looked down at him and sighed.

"If I have enough. I’m buying a new one for myself first." Oliver replied, chuckling to himself. Lifitng his blade, the two were about to begin sparring again, but were interrupted by a booming voice.

"ATTENTION!" A man called out from the side of the training ground, as a man stepped in dressed in leather armour, "LORD ALKARIS CALLS THE WAR COUNCIL TO MEET IN THE HALL IN FIVE MINUTES!" With the command, the man left. Olivee took a deep breath and clicked his tongue.

"Lessons over. Come." Sheathing his sword, the two did a slow jog towards the council room.

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