had anticipated his coming Tor didn't know.
To his surprise half the people in the room were the royal family. All of them. Even the King had turned out, wearing a set of worn black canvas exercise clothes. Next to him the Queen wore a white outfit of similar material. They both looked good, Tor realized, fit. Already working with Holly was Karina, the middle child and second in line to the throne, both with shining saber and dagger combinations, fighting as if their lives depended on it.
The sword work was nearly as good as Tor had ever seen.
Countess Printer was what he'd always referred to as a “combat giant” back in school. Mainly royal kids that were trained particularly for war. Strong fighters that were groomed for handling their families’ petty squabbles, or on very rare occasions, attacks from other lands on Noram. Holly had been more muscular in school, but then she'd recently been poisoned nearly to death, which he knew from personal experience could cause muscles to waste away and weight to be lost fast. That she came at the exercise with such skill and ferocity only made sense. Indeed, now that he thought about it, he could recall the woman having beaten him around the exercise yard at school a few times before she graduated. It had been a popular sport at school, his small size and tendency to scurry away rapidly being considered a bit of a challenge.
What surprised him was that Karina, who he'd always thought of as a little vain and shallow, a little too concerned with what other people thought of her and a little prissy, was giving at least as good as she was getting, even though Holly was nearly six inches taller than she was. It was impressive to say the least. If Tor had been faced with the woman, he would have run away himself. Either woman, he realized.
“Ger, watch them. Try to pick up what you can until I call you over for exercises all right?” He pointed at the two women broadly, the motion catching the Queen’s attention, though she didn't move, going back to watching the action herself.
That made sense, because when they ended a few minutes later she moved out to work against Holly and Karina herself, taking on both of them at once. If either of the younger women was holding back, it wasn't readily apparent at all. In fact, if anything it looked like they were both trying even harder, hacking and slashing from both sides, their four blades moving to attack and being pushed aside over and again. Eventually the Queen lost, but it took nearly ten minutes and was close. As she “killed” her daughter, Holly moved in and got her in the back, tapping her lightly.
When that was done Tor loosened up, swinging around in the familiar exercises, Ger joining him, trying to copy what he did watching with careful side long glances. The King started working with Tovey as they limbered and stretched. It was a lot more even a match-up than he'd have thought, the King being huge, over eight foot tall, nearly a foot larger than Tovey, but the Count having just a little more actual skill with a blade. The shining silver swords shone and gleamed as they danced, singing out a familiar tune. If the women had been impressive, this display was a little awe inspiring. Intellectually Tor knew he'd seen better fighting. Kolb fairly regularly handed Tovey his behind pretty easily for instance. Then again, Sir Martin Kolbrin, Kolb to his friends and students, had been the weapons instructor at the Lairdgren School for a reason. But in this moment, these giants, feet tapping a staccato rhythm on the gray stone of the floor, looked almost untouchable.
When they finished Rolph pointed at the King and Tovey, both a little out of breath. The King raised his eyebrows.
“Do you think this much activity would be wise just yet? Your wounds…”
“No, not me, that would be silly, I'd end up bleeding all over the floor and it looks freshly cleaned. The boy that washes them would be most put out, and rightly so, probably come and take his own turn thrashing me too. No, you two against my champion. Tor, if you'd be so good as to dispatch these ruffians?” Everyone laughed, including Tor, but he went out onto the floor clutching his borrowed practice blades gamely enough. They were short compared to what everyone else had of course, and he wondered for a second if he'd picked up Varley's old set, since the youngest royal had only started to shoot up in the last six months, having been closer to his own height before that.
Since they were playing the part of ruffians, the King and the Count didn't bother saluting or letting him actually get out onto the floor. Torrance had to suppress the urge to simply run away, that being what he'd really been trained to do at school and dove for the floor instead, rolling with blades held out carefully, directly towards the King. With his right hand blade, the longer saber, only about two and a half feet, he “sliced” the counts leg off at just below the knee and then stabbed him several times in the stomach as fast as he could, then came to his feet running fast before the King could use the giant blade in his hand.
Laughing, Tor ducked and spun in place just past Tovey, hitting first the back of his left leg then making a “X” pattern over his lower back and placing a slightly awkward sword point into his heart from behind. Sabers didn't stab well he knew, so he repeated the motion several times, trying to keep the large Count between the even larger King and him. Then Tor jumped to the side and threw his practice dagger at the King, since he was the only opponent left, Tovey having been “killed” at least twice in that last exchange. The hilt of the dagger hit the King’s leg, of course. If the point had hit Tor would have passed out, most likely. His ability to throw a knife was virtually non-existent after all. That didn't matter. King Richard and his reactions were what counted. He danced back first, a natural reflex to a knife being thrown at you, even a practice one, and then tried to capitalize on it having missed by plunging forward fast. As expected.
Tor threw himself flat to the floor and cut the giant monarchs left foot off as he stepped onto it. At least it would have done that if he had a real sword and a strong enough arm. On the backstroke he rose up and stabbed the King in the groin, indicating it without contact, then the stomach twice before having to roll out of the way of the massive blade that tried to bi-sect him.
Dancing to his feet, Tor ran around the giant monarch, making a point of staying out of range the whole time. At the end of the first one and a quarter circles, just as the large man tried to shift his feet again, Tor moved in and hit him in the legs twice more. If they had armor on it wouldn't have counted most likely, so Tor reset, ran away some more for a while and tried again. Then again. The King was so freaking tall that he had to finally jump through the air to score a solid blow to the side of the neck with the longer blade he had left. Hardly fair really, but nature was what it was.
No one said anything for a few moments.
Finally Rolph cleared his throat, “My champion two, noble ner'do-wells, zero.” His voice was slightly smug, considering the two giants had obviously just let Tor win. It had to be that, didn't it? After all, they were so huge and very good. Well, Tor decided it was kind of them not to humble him overly. They'd have to work harder with him though, so that he didn't get all soft.
That led to him having to work against everyone else in turn, with the Queen and Princess Veronica being the hardest for him. The Queen because she was so good. Wickedly so, and faster than she'd shown working against her daughter and the Countess, apparently not feeling a need to hold back against the likes of him. Tor won, but just barely. Again he wondered if she'd let him win, taking mercy on him? She was always very kind to him, and may have just not wanted to hurt his feelings, not that Tor would be bothered by something like that. A lot of girls had beaten him up in combat practice. He was kind of used to it by now.
Varley was hard because he couldn't bring himself to hit her. She was… Well, bad would have been unkind to say, but certainly the youngest Princess could use some more practice. She did manage to beat him though, by pretending to cry, kissing him when he came to make sure she wasn't hurt. Then stabbing him with a dagger she had hidden in the folds of her green canvas exercise outfit.
“Argh! Taken in by a pretty face and guile, our hero and champion goes down…” Rolph roared with good humor. Tor chuckled too. It was a fair move, so it counted as a clean kill. No one said you had to use only physical skill in a fight. If that were the case he'd have lost almost all of them he'd ever been in, instead of simply… managing them, like he had.
Ger sat, his eyes wide the whole time. Finally the King and Queen came over and, smiling, asked if the boy was his new Squire. The tone was serious even, so Tor shook his head first, then gave them a half nod as if the idea wasn't too farfetched. It wasn’t really, was it?
“Nope. First he needs some training and practice, and then, if no one objects, I think he should go to Lairdgren if possible. The school there's still open right?” The King nodded, his face suddenly pensive. Tor glanced at the boy and nodded.
“He has a sister too, so we need to make arrangements for her as well. I'll cover that and any training they need until then, school and lessons and all that…” Tor winced hard and blushed, looking at Ger, realizing what he'd just done. He'd just let the words pop out without considering them.
