Stay

[Brian]

Breke's eyes still wander around, not fixing on anything at all.  "Ah.  Soldier, then.  Service of Hamar."  He ruminates.  "Won't lose your head in a battle ... carry yourself like you know how to fight.  Very well."

He climbs to his feet, incidentally knocking his chair over behind him, and thrusts a wrist at you.  "Lead me to the courtyard.  I want to fight with you."

[Bjorn]

Bjorn rises, taking the profferred manacle, and leads the way out to the courtyard.

[Brian]

Breke follows behind you, walking with a slow, shuffling gait.  It's annoying, but with a pace like that, you have a hard time seeing how this guy would be useful in combat.  Either way, you manage to get him to the courtyard, his pace slowing again by half every time you encounter a staircase or ramp.

Once you're there, he raises his face, and sighs.  "How long until the Dreadmarch arrives?" he asks.

[Bjorn]

"I'm not sure," Bjorn says, thoughtfully.  "They are ahead of schedule, but it's not clear to me just how much so."  He shrugs.  "I suspect at least two or three days, but I would need to speak with my superiors to know for certain."

[Brian]

"Eh, I think Hamar has better things to do with his time than tell us the specifics," he grumbles.  "Choose a fighting circle."

When you look across the courtyard (which, today, has far less armored men in it), you do see a few circles drawn in the ground with stone.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn leads the way to the nearest unoccupied circle, nodding deferentially at the soldiers he passes.

[Brian]

The few there all stay what they're doing, turning to watch you.  They're evidently pretty surprised by something.  Either him coming out, or you being there and willing to spar with him.

You hope it's sparring, at least.  When you stop in the circle, Breke frowns, and raises one hand to the hilt of a sword.  He hesitates, though for a second, before shaking his head.  "You can let go of the chain, now," he finally says.  "Come at me when you are ready."

[Bjorn]

Bjorn lets go of the chain, and steps away, keeping his eyes on Breke, moving to the far end of the circle.  He studies his opponent for a second, and then, with a single almost invisible motion, draws his sword and moves straight into a sweeping slash, aimed flat across Breke's chest.

[Brian]

Breke draws his sword and deflects your slash with the same motion, his feet not moving in the slightest.  Nodding in approval, he draws his other blade.  "Not bad," he says.  "Again."

[Bjorn]

Smoothly, Bjorn pulls the deflected cut around in a spiral to bring it down in a heavy, overhanded chop, aimed straight at Breke's head.  But as Breke's swords move to deflect, he shifts, still bearing down hard with the sword as he steps in to slam his free left hand as hard as he can into Breke's gut.

[Brian]

This actually gets through, and Breke grunts, stepping back a half-step.  "They teach you that at the temple?" he asks, whipping one blade towards you -- the metal actually matches the colloring of the hilts, one blade white, one black.  The blackened blade deflects your guard, while the white narrowly misses your shoulder.

Either way, you've gotten Breke to use his feet.  He shrugs his shoulders, pulling the chains so they snap like whips, landing behind him and out of the way.  This time, he drives at you, one blade held high, and the other lower.

[Bjorn]

It's dangerous to assume that the people of this world use the same principles of sword-fighting that Bjorn was trained by, but he hasn't got much choice, under the circumstances.  Two swords when effective move as one.  The first binds and deflects the opponent's blade, and the second moves into the created gap.  Treat them as one blade, and defeat both.

As Breke charges forward, Bjorn steps in as well, bringing his sword in an upwards diagonal, held in both hands.  As Breke blocks his cut, Bjorn pushes in again, twisting the sword around to drive the locked blades towards Breke's other blade, aiming to foul up his arms.

[Brian]

The plan is brilliant, but it seems that his swords nearly have minds of their own.  The black sword goes into the lock eagerly -- too eagerly.  The white blade goes clear, in a fast, low arc.

And then it's cutting through your armor, and you, and comes out the other side, and Breke drops his hands to his side like he's dissapointed.

When you regain the presence of mind to check, there's no mar on your armor, no cut on your skin.

"In a real battle," Breke says softly, "you'd have to mean it."  Then he sheathes his blades.

[Bjorn]

"In a real battle, I would have," Bjorn says, in a flat voice.  "But this wasn't a real battle.  This was a test -- for both of us."  He grins, coldly.  "Did you get what you wanted?"

[Brian]

"I think so," he says, somewhat mollified.  "I need to return to my room, now," he says, dangling a chain in your general direction, his eyes still wandering.