Just so we're clear, it has been a few weeks since the last chapter and now the boys are being taught sword-work.

Tristan admired his foe's attacks as he blocked another swing from the opposition's sword. His attacks were swift and nimble yet each was unlike. They were similar yet different.

Tristan lunged at his attacker and then slashed it in front of them. This frightened the foe and they stumbled backwards on to their back. When they looked up Tristan had his sword pointed at their throat.

"That's enough".

Tristan withdrew his sword at Hangis's order and held out a hand to Lancelot. Lancelot brushed himself off and stood up straight as Tristan sheathed his sword. Tristan and Lancelot had strived over the past few weeks and Hangis always made it known that they were the best fighters with swords. He would put the other boys down for their lack of ability or strength when ever the chance came. Tristan knew that Hangis didn't even like him or Lancelot; it was just any chance to pick at people.

Tristan removed himself from the ring and Lancelot followed. They were replaced by Percival and Kay. Tristan leant on the ring fence and watched as his cousin lunged ridiculously at the smaller boy. Percival was not meant for fighting, that was for sure.

Over the past weeks Percival had been relying on Tristan a lot to make everything easier. But Tristan had made no attempt to do so.

He didn't feel hatred or anything really for the boy; he was really just another Sarmatian kid that was taken by the Romans.

Lancelot leant on the fence beside Tristan and he could feel the curly-haired by looking at him. It was just some sort of instinct all though he couldn't see any of Lancelot.

"Yes?"

Lancelot took awhile to answer. But finally he did.

"Why do you never feel anything Tristan? We have been here for weeks now and I have not seen you feel one emotion ever, not one. Were you hurt in some way back home?"

Tristan gave a small, dry laugh of amusement which almost sent Lancelot into shock as he continued to watch the fight without turning towards his questioner. He obviously found this funny.

"I'm honoured that you have come to realise my ways".

Tristan didn't mind this boy, Lancelot. He and Tristan were alike but also quite altered in a lot of ways. Both were merely just going along with the flow and taking the ride but Lancelot seemed more to need someone by his side, a friend. Whereas Tristan didn't need anyone, he never had.

Similar yet Different.

Lancelot watched with puzzlement as Tristan walked away and around the building.

They were at the training camp with all the other groups of boys as well, although each group kept to themselves. Tristan walked on and came to a water pump where he quickly grabbed a drink and washed his face.

Then all of a sudden he spun around with his fists ready at the slight sound of someone moving. He stood there looking at the alarmed girl that stood behind him carrying a water bucket. He could see that he had frightened her and politely moved away from the pump.

"Sorry, I was just being- alert," he said to her as she began to fill the bucket.

"It's alright. I shouldn't have snuck up on you".

There was something about the girl that was familiar but Tristan just couldn't put his finger on it. Then all of a sudden it came to him.

"You're Bedivere's sister".

The girl nodded in reply but didn't speak.

"Your brother speaks fondly of you and very often". With these words the girl looked up with a sort of surprised look. She finished gathering her water and stood up straight looking at Tristan. Tristan couldn't understand why his words had come as a shock.

"Really?"

"Yes, why is that so strange? After all he is your brother," queried Tristan curiously.

The girl heaved her bucket from the ground and pulled it up to her stomach, placing both arms around it.

"Well you see Bedivere and I had a fight not four weeks ago and well-we- haven't talked since, partly my fault. I would have thought he would be sore at me".

And with a shrug, she walked off carrying her load with amazing ease. Tristan watched her go with curiosity creeping into his mind. She was so strange a girl, thinking her brother would hate her after one small argument. Truth be told, Tristan had heard the argument and didn't understand what was so big about it. He had been in the stables close by and heard it all.

Bedivere and his sister were so much alike at first look but when you studied them more, Tristan could see the differences. Both were strong and eager to succeed. But Keighley was more of the rebel than anything by what Tristan had seen so far. The night she and her brother had fought, she had been on the roof and often Tristan had seen her hiding from a chubby lady that he would suppose to be her tutor. But Bedivere wasn't strict thought he did seem to like keeping to the rules.

Similar yet Different.

Tristan wondered what it was like to have a sibling, someone to fight with. Tristan had never really fought with anyone before. Sure he had been yelled at and abused by the men in his camp back home but he had never really had an argument with someone. He and Percival had never argued because they had rarely spoken to eachother.

I suppose the other boys will be like brothers soon and I'll be able to argue with them, he thought to himself and walked back to the training ring.

He stopped at the door and surveyed his companions. Each one was different and unique in their own way yet Tristan could still spot so many likenesses already. The brothers Gawain and Gareth cared for eachother as did Bedivere and his sister. Galahad and Kay were both small yet trying to strive harder to prove themselves good fighters. Bors and Dagonet were both strong, hardy fighters but one was quiet and solid but the other was loud and solid.

All were similar yet different.