Duel of acceptance
Arrogant jerk. Carrying his carefree let's-get-this-over-with attitude as he led on. He hadn't even so much as looked at me. as we walked.
The courtyard behind Jorrvaskr held a training area, dummies, archery targets, and an open area for sparring. It was right next to the city wall and hadn't the wall been in the way, I imagine it would have been quite a view; Since the city of Whiterun rested atop a large hill.
"Show me what you got. I can take it," Vilkas said as we entered the sparring area.
Like I noted inside, he didn't look much older than me, two maybe three years older. His eyes were clear now that we were outside in the sunlight. I hadn't noticed it inside, but his silver-blue eyes had dark rings under them as if he was sleep-deprived. But they still seemed more than alert. He was a bit shorter than me and not as broad as some Nords tended to be. His physic was fit, more fit than anyone I knew. He too was wearing the gray Wolf-armor, which I had noted not all the Companions wore.
He had a certain way of looking at me. On one hand he looked tired, but on the other hand, there seemed to be plenty of thought behind his eyes. He seemed to be sharp. The calculating sort. I suppose he must be popular with the ladies.
Vilkas picked up a shield from a rack nearby and walked to the center of the sparring area. He took up a stance and gave me a look.
Shield only? wasn't he going to draw his sword? Did he really think me that weak? I'll show him. I'll show how strong I am.
I felt pissed as I drew my father's sword. I hadn't even noticed some of the other Companions had come out into the courtyard and were taking their seats by the tables on the porch.
If I hurt him, I win, I thought as I took up the stance my father had taught me.
Other than training with my father, this was the first time I faced another man. A Companion none the less. I had to make a good impression.
The fact that he hadn't drawn his sword pissed me off. But I felt confident on my feet. From my childhood hunting with my brother, Erik and my father, I knew to move in accordance with my prey. And at this moment… Vilkas was my prey. I needed him to be.
The neck is a weakness in all creations… That is where I will aim.
I started to move. Slowly I circularly stepped right, in the opposite direction of his shield. I'd create an opening. Vilkas followed in sync to the left. Footwork in progress. He looked calm, almost bored. I couldn't help but feel underestimated. It was annoying. I'd use that to his weakness. I had seen this pattern many times before. Deer confidently knowing they would outrun a wolf, only to be cornered by the pack. Sabercats circling hunters searching for a weak spot only to fall for traps laid in advance.
I can use his arrogance against him.
Man is but an animal, and animals can be outwitted. And so can Vilkas.
"Offence is the best defense," My father had taught me. And so I decided to move.
I took a quick step left and swung my sword down towards his right leg, forcing him to move his shield down. That left his head open for an attack. Since my attack was nothing more than a feint there was no power behind my strike and I could quickly lift my sword upward toward my left shoulder, above my head and swing down. Striking from above toward his head with a grin on my face.
I had him!
Suddenly he disappeared from my vision and my sword hit the dirt where he had stood. I instantly felt a knee to my stomach, causing me to lose my breath and bend over forward, grasping for air.
There was a cracking sound as the edge of his shield hit the back of my head and my vision flashed white. Then it all got blurry and I saw nothing but bright lights dance before me. Then, then all went dark.
The first thing I heard as I came to was people laughing. A blurred shadow above me lifted me up and put me down on a chair.
Vilkas?
My head pounded and the back of my neck ached as I touched it with my hand. I took a while for my eyes to readjust, but as I came to I saw Vilkas sitting on a chair before me. His chair was turned over backward and he sat, wide-legged, with his arms crossed on top of the backrest. Resting his chin on his arms as he looked at me with his carefree indifferent look.
"First rule in a fight; never let your opponent out of sight."