The Prince of Warwood and The Sword of the Chosen (Book 3) by Clinton J. Noel

Author:Clinton, J. Noel [Clinton, J. Noel]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: C Squared Publishing
Published: 2013-07-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Farewell

As Xavier entered the advanced fencing classroom, Drew wasn’t anywhere in sight. Assuming his meeting in the Royal Chambers must have run over, Xavier timidly drifted through the crowd of older students pulling on protective tunics, gloves, and helmets. Skimming the room, he saw a table in the back stacked with gear, and he weaved his way to it. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the equipment was three sizes too big.

“What’s the matter, Pipsqueak? Can’t find anything in midget size?” Jonas remarked loudly and laughed at his own joke.

Red-faced, Xavier ducked away and stood off by himself, trying not to feel too out of place.

“Prince Wells?” a tall gangly girl whispered. “Sir Hardcastle wanted me to give you this.” She held out a tunic, gloves, and helmet.

“Uh, thanks,” he muttered, and the girl blushed.

“All right, you lot! Enough talking and let’s get to work!” Ephraim announced as he walked into the room dressed in his own protective tunic and gear. “Partner up!”

As the class scrambled to form pairs, Jonas approached him with a smug smile.

“I’ll be your partner, pipsqueak.”

“Ah, no thanks,” he muttered before turning away from the older boy, but Jonas grabbed his arm.

“I don’t think you have a choice. With Drew absent, I don’t have a partner, and everyone else has someone already.”

One quick glance around the room confirmed that Jonas was right, and Xavier grimaced.

“Alright, everyone, listen up! Today you and your partner will bout and practice the techniques you’ve learn so far. I will be making my rounds from group to group to make adjustments and offer advice as needed. Tomorrow, I will introduce a couple of complex moves that you can add to your repertoire. If there aren’t any questions you can begin.”

Xavier quickly pulled on the tunic and helmet, but he didn’t have time to properly strap his equipment in place for Jonas was at the ready.

“En guarde!” he bellowed as he lunged forward, thrusting his sword.

Xavier staggered backwards and was barely able to lift his arm to parry to defend himself from the attack. Forgetting every basic skill of stance, balance, and control that Henrick had taught him, he lost his footing and fell hard on his butt, and his helmet flew off and clattered across the floor. Jonas burst into laughter.

“Prince Wells! I know Sir Davies taught you better than that. Concentrate on your fundamentals, young sire,” Ephraim called.

“Yes, sir,” he responded meekly as he slowly got to his feet. He scrambled to pick up his helmet, slid it back onto his head, and took his stance across from his smirking opponent.

Then, without warning, Jonas attacked again. He managed to parry the first two strikes, but beyond that, the bigger boy’s brute force pulverized his defense maneuvers, and he served more as a piñata than an opponent. Although protective gear would usually prevent lacerations and pad the body from most blows, Xavier’s unfastened tunic was less effective, and by the end of the class period, his body felt like one big bruise.

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