As practice ended, Edmund whipped the sweaty helmet off his head, and shook his dark hair out. There were eleven other boys on the fencing team, and he was one of the best, if he may say so himself. Heading back to the locker rooms, he quickly changed, figuring he'd shower back at his dorm. After storing his equipment, Edmund made his way back out through the gym, waving at his teammates and coach. He also sent a cheeky wink at the group of girls sitting in the stands. They were from St. Finbar's, and came to a couple of the practices each week. Someone caught his eye though, and Edmund turned around.

Peter was waiting in the stands today, and he never did that, so Edmund headed towards his almost-sixteen year old brother.

"What are you doing here?" Edmund asked. At Peter's raised eyebrow, he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, you just never come to practice."

"Brought a surprise for you." Peter drew a parcel from underneath his seat; it was long and relatively thick. "Open it."

Edmund drew back the crinkly brown paper, and a gasp of surprise was audible. "Peter, how did you…"

"Last weekend I was wandering around the village and I came across this little junk shop. The owner was trying to get rid of them; they were at a ridiculously low price. I figured we could get in some use. I checked with Poplar just before coming over here and he cleared them. Says we can practice as long as we don't use them against another student. I made sure he gave the both of us notes and wrote it in our files." Peter shrugged his shoulders modestly.

"This is amazing." Edmund stood up, and picked up the first item in the parcel, tossing the other to Peter. The two boys strapped the medieval items on as they had done once so long ago.

The items were leather scabbards, about five feet in length. Edmund drew his first, the sword making a hiss as it was revealed. The blade was about fifty-five inches in length, and made of tempered steel. The sword was not ornate by any means; that caliber would not be found in just any junk shop. But it was a sword, and just the familiarity of the steel and leather was enough to tear at the young Kings' heartstrings.

"It is beautiful." Edmund examined it in the light, checking the weapon for cracks or dents, and finding none.

"They're both Claymores, just a bit shorter and heavier than Rhindon." Peter commented. "It'll be a bit different than our Narnian variety, but the balance should be relatively similar."

"At this point, I could care less. Let's go practice."

Edmund sheathed his weapon with skill, his hand finding the familiar place on his belt with ease. He led the way outside, looking every bit the young king he was. Peter was close behind him. The two brothers made their way to a small clearing on the edge of the Hendon House property; a place that they had often commented would be ideal for swordplay. The brothers drew their swords in sync, their stances mirroring each other. They were like opposite ends of the spectrum; one fair, one dark.

Edmund made the first move, making a thrust towards Peter. The latter parried it easily; the move was beginner, juvenile at best for the two boys. This was just a warm-up. Soon, blows became more frequent, and the young kings slipped back into their roles. Muscle Memory returned to the again-growing bodies, and what had once been a necessity became an art form. Spinning, ducking, and dodging, the two boys became Kings once more.

As the heat of the duel grew, so did the clang of steel, and it reverberated across the Hendon House grounds. Only Headmaster Nicholas Poplar was unaffected by the noise; he had given permission for those unusual Pevensie boys to practice after all. A crowd quickly gravitated towards the noise, drawing students from both St. Finbar's and Hendon House alike.

Susan and Lucy were in their school's garden when the noise of the duel reached their ears, and hearing it they immediately made their way in that direction. The noise was so familiar and heart-warming. It brought back memories of worn leather, warm days in the sun, and the smell of horses. It was a comforting sound.

The girls reached the site of the noise, and were surprised to see a large crowd had gathered. It was like they were back in the old days again.

Peter and Edmund were in the center of the circle, completely oblivious to the horde that had amassed. The young kings were dodging and jumping; they parried blows flawlessly like they hadn't missed a day of Orieus's practice, much less six months. In short, they looked like the kings that they were.

Edmund was like the night, a swift shadow moving in and out, dodging and rolling whilst bantering the whole way. Peter was the day, bright and Magnificent. The sun reflected off his blade, and it looked like God himself had invested power into the young King. He shone radiance as he made to conquer, and his brother was like a thief in the night, coming to destroy. They were the opposite ends of the spectrum, but at the same time a force that was not to be reckoned. It was a beautiful and horrifying sight.

The students that knew Peter and Edmund, that sat in class with them every day, felt like their eyes had been opened. No one had known that those odd Pevensie boys were hiding this. This was not just a match between boys. This was not childish play between a member of the fencing team and his older brother. No. This was a display of masculinity, an exhibition of men. This was a reminder of what used to happen in days gone by when chivalry was alive and fair ladies and knights reigned. This was what royalty looked like.

Edmund strengthened his attacks, pressing forward, but Peter pushed right back. Neither boy seemed to be overly tired, much to the disbelief of the surrounding students. Edmund started on series of complicated moves, pivoting and swirling. He oozed strength, as every true swordsman does, but he had an air of grace that betrayed his intellectual side. Peter was simply majestic. The way he moved, responded, and carried himself as he dueled gave off an air of regality that just could not be matched. He was the warrior, his brother the judge.

In retaliation to Edmund's forward attacks, Peter returned with his own, and his talent and prowess soon overpowered his brother. In a last ditch effort, Edmund saw an opening, and took it. He thrust the blade of his sword down to the hilt of Peter's, and twisted his wrist sharply. To save his wrist from breaking, Peter let go of the hilt of his sword, and the five-foot steel and leather weapon flung wide. Thankfully, it went in the opposite direction from the gathered crowd, which was stunned into silence.

Peter laughed. "I taught you that move!"

"And so the student overtakes the master." Edmund gave his brother a mock bow. "Would you like me to grovel at your feet O' Magnificent One?"

"Sounds perfect." Peter gave a regal nod.

"Well it's not going to happen." Edmund quipped. "Too bad."

"You two were wonderful!" Lucy broke in, running to her brother's arms as applause started from the gathered crowd.

Peter and Edmund looked out confusedly at the crowd, their eyes getting wide. Susan came up behind the boys, and whispered to where only the four of them could hear.

"You two should be used to it by now."

"It's been a while." Edmund muttered back.

"Get over it." Lucy muttered. "You're a King." Louder, she said "I need help with my homework boys, let's go." She started dragging them off towards the St. Finbar's gardens, where they would then lose any potential schoolmates that were following them.

Such was the life of the Pevensie siblings, and after that, Peter and Edmund found more secluded spots for their weekly practices.