The mage watched the dozens of pages and squires train with a lazy eye. In his hand was a goblet of wine; he swirled it, then took a careful sip of the crimson liquid, delighting in the taste. So smooth and warm to the tongue.
From beside him, but with a more alert gaze, Duke Gareth the Elder of Naxen also watched the youths, his attention focused mainly on those who had recently entered squirehood.
This is surprising, he commented in his nasal voice. You've never had a squire before. Why now?
Gazing at the wine with a thoughtful expression, the mage replied, There is a certain squire who shows potential. Besides, I've taken a liking to him.
Gareth turned his gaze to the mage. Alan of Trebond?
The mage hardly managed to suppress his snort. Shaking his head, he replied, No. He's a page. The boy I have in mind is - He waved his wizard's rod languidly at the pages, Alexander of Tirragen.
The Duke's gaze returned to the pages and rested on the youth in question. He's an excellent swordsman - not unlike yourself, Your Grace.
The mage accepted the subtle compliment with a nod. I want him, he commented, turning around and starting for the doors which lead back inside the palace. He's mine.


Why is it that all of the practice blades are so blunt? grumbled Alex, carefully going through the sword rack. It's no fun fencing with dull blades.
Prince Jonathan shot his friend an amused grin as he pulled a random sword out and hoisted it, testing its balance. The idea is to minimize injury, he pointed out, moving to the middle of the court and beginning to stretch.
Dull blades cause more injury, Alex announced, finally grabbing a blade. A hand thrust into his pocket, the other loosely around the sword's hilt, he approached Jonathan, who was finishing his warm ups. Can you imagine how messy it'd be if you were stabbed with a flat point? He shuddered for effect.
Laughing, the Prince stepped away from Alex, readying his weapon at the same time. Maybe we should give Alan extra tutorage. Sklaw's bound to pair them off sometime soon. Guard!
Immediately, Alex blocked Jonathan's attack, then smoothly reversed his blade and started the offense. Doesn't Alan have that new sword? he asked between strikes, never missing a beat. The one that gave your cousin a scare?
I don't see how you could forget it, Jonathan replied dryly. He whipped his blade down, aiming for Alex's feet, but his friend blocked the assault smoothly. Roger had most of us in shock that class. Alan didn't seem too happy.
Frowning, Alex shoved his sword down and forward. He caught Jonathan's blade with his; without a change in his serene expression, he brought the sword back to him in one quick jerk. Jonathan's weapon fell to the floor.
Chuckling, Jonathan held his hands up in a submissive gesture. I'll never beat you, he said. Shooting his friend a grin, he picked up his sword and went to put it away.
It takes a man to acknowledge that he cannot be beaten, started a new voice. A smiling Duke Roger stepped out from the shadows, hand on the hilt of his own sword, which was sheathed and swinging from his belt. I'm glad you don't consider yourself too high to do such a thing, Jonathan.
Accepting the compliment with a nod, Jonathan replied, I learned long ago that I can't beat Alex. He's just too good.
The Duke's eyes lingered over Alex for a brief second before flicking back to his cousin. Is he? he asked with a cheerful grin.
The youth approached the Duke. Your Grace?
Would you care to duel? The Duke gestured at his sword. With sharp blades?
Alex blinked, not sure if he was hearing correctly. With real blades? he asked. When Roger nodded, a slow grin spread on his face. Of course, Your Grace. Quickly, he shoved his practice sword away and picked up his own weapon, a beautiful thing with a slender, deadly blade.
Jonathan backed away from his cousin and his yearmate. I'll leave you two to it, he said, smiling teasingly. I don't want to be here when the mighty clash. With a nod, he left.
Roger watched Alex peel his tunic off with unreadable blue eyes. The youth made sure his shirt was safely tucked in, then walked back onto the the court.
I have a question for you, Roger commented, drawing his sword.
Instantly, Alex fended off the attack. Yes, Your Grace?
Never missing a strike, the Duke asked, Has anyone asked for you yet? His voice was audible over the crash of metal meeting metal, but only just. Any offers from knights?
Frowning as he was driven back, Alex shook his head. No offers. He swirled his sword in a half-circle, aiming for his opponent's side; Roger blocked it in one fluid movement, then reversed his blade and aimed for Alex's chest. Alex sprang back, landing deftly on both feet and panting slightly.
Roger smiled to himself. The boy was good. Very good. Under his wing, he could be made into a ruthless fighter. Any knights in mind?
Alex shook his head. Not really. His frown deepened when he was forced back another three steps. Suddenly, his eyes met the Duke's; without a moment's hesitation, Alex sprang forward, sword swinging down. If Roger hadn't blocked successfully, he would've been split in two; Alex knew this well.
After several more minutes of dueling, Roger caught Alex unawares and rested his sword's point under the youth's chin. Would you like to be my squire?
Alex raised an eyebrow. He pushed the blade away from him and took a step back, sheathing his sword. It would be an honor, Your Grace, he replied with a small bow.
Again, Roger smiled to himself. Perfect.