A/N: Meta Knight has a steed and a lance now but now he has to train with Wolfwrath.

Going back to the other chapters, some of the sentences seem a little too modern for their time period. (Excluding Kirby, Fumu, and Bun's talking.) I don't know how to use 'eth' on the ends of words correctly and I would prefer to stay away from them until I actually know.

I have added a link to a great site of medieval dialect on my profile page in the current new section. Check it out.

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone except for Clara. The others belong to their respected owners.

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--Chapter 7: Training--

Kirby, Fumu, Bun, Sword, and Blade watched with amusement as Sir Meta attempted to get on Wolfwrath's back. It was the day before the tournament and Sir Meta needed a lot of training. After a while, Wolfwrath rolled her eyes and snatched Sir Meta's cape with her teeth and lifted him off of the ground. Dangling there, Sir Meta looked at the wolf agitatedly.

"How about if I help thou onto my back? Thou looks like a fool." Wolfwrath said.

The other's eyes widened. This was the first time they had heard Wolfwrath speak. She talked through their minds telepathically. Her voice was more like a deep rumbling purr.

Wolfwrath turned her head and placed Sir Meta on her back. Sword handed Sir Meta his lance. He glanced at it.

"See yonder? We have set up targets," Blade said as he pointed to the wooden boards that were standing on poles out on the grassy field they were on. "The wolf will run towards them and thou will knock them over."

Wolfwrath reared and Sir Meta fell off the wolf and landed on his back. The others face palmed. Groaning, Sir Meta got up.

"Pray tell I when thou shall choose to do that."

Wolfwrath snorted with a hint of frustration.

"I shall not look as a fool in front of the entire kingdom. Either thou gets better or I return to thy cave with thou in thy stomach."

Sir Meta allowed Wolfwrath to help him back on her. Wolfwrath reared and Sir Meta had to grab hold of her fur so he wouldn't fall off again. The wolf charged towards the targets.

"STOP! STOP!" Sir Meta cried as he held on for his life.

Wolfwrath approached the nearest target and ran forward with a surge of speed. Sir Meta slammed into the target and fell off on his back again. Wolfwrath stopped and trotted back. The others ran to Sir Meta.

"Okay?" Kirby asked.

Sir Meta groaned as he turned over on to his chest.

"I n'er will master riding that beast."

Wolfwrath licked her paw daintily.

"Mayhap thou will do better the next try."

Slowly, Sir Meta picked himself off of the ground and allowed Wolfwrath to help him get back up on the saddle. Now that he was ready again, Sir Meta let out his breath. The wolf reared again, this time, Sir Meta did a better job of staying on and Wolfwrath charged again. The target came closer and Sir Meta held out the lance, ready. Just as the target came into range, Sir Meta held on tight to the lance as the lance smashed through the wood, knocking the pole over. The others cheered. Sir Meta glanced behind him in amazement that he had actually managed to hit the first target when the second target knocked him off of Wolfwrath.

Wolfwrath made a deep rumbling sound as she laughed at him. Fumu sighed.

"Better, but you can't get distracted." Fumu said as she shook her head.

"Do you even know how to joust?" Bun asked.

"I know how it is done but I n'er had ridden a horse." Sir Meta replied.

Wolfwrath stood on her hind legs.

"Dost thou need something to encourage you to do better? Methinks having thy life threatened was enow."

Bun smiled.

"I think I have something. Didn't you want to get the chance of showing Clara your love to her? If you don't win, Sir Galacta's going to marry her."

Sir Meta's glove curled into a fist as he got back up again.

"Pray n'er say that name again."

Sir Meta walked straight up to Wolfwrath and mounted her without her assistance, much to the surprise of the others. He looked down to the amazed Wolfwrath.

"Let us continue."

Wolfwrath nodded and reared. Sir Meta held with very little difficulty this time around. The wolf charged to the remaining targets. Sir Meta got his lance ready as the targets got closer. In his mind, he pictured Sir Galacta was the target instead of the wooden board. There was a loud snap as the wood was smashed through and the entire target including its supports cracked. Under his mask, he smiled but he turned his attention to the next target that was approaching fast. Another crack and the second target was destroyed, Sir Meta felt the grip he had on the lance get stronger as he became more confident.

The next targets were different however. They were sheets of metal with rocks behind them and around them. These were the ones that would give him a closer real feel of what was to come. Nodding to Wolfwrath, she ran forward with another surge of speed. The target snapped as the lance hit it. Sir Meta felt his glove slide up the lance slightly. The rest of the targets were struck and Wolfwrath slowed and trotted back to the others.

"S'wounds! Thou art mastering jousting!" Sword exclaimed.

Sir Meta slid off of Wolfwrath and looked at the lance. Iron Joe had brought it back to nearly perfect condition.

"I bet you can take down Sir Galacta!" Bun said.

"Sir Galacta isn't a wood or metal target," Sir Meta said as he gazed back at the castle. "He has n'er been defeated before."

Sir Galacta paced the room. He had been planning out every last part of how the next day would go. If any man dared show up to challenge him, he would have that penguin Dedede to find out more about him. He would want to know every last detail of the knight. Anything could affect the tournament and this was the most important to him. He glanced up at the armor of defeated so called 'knights' that had foolishly challenged him in the past years. The dented metal armor were nailed on the wall of his room in the castle. They looked like dead animals that people would mount on walls.

Sir Galacta chuckled. He would be adding the armor of another knight's to the wall. There was always some idiot that thought they could do it. He walked out on to the balcony and looked to the tower that neighbored the one he was in. He could see the balcony of Princess Clara's from here.

"Thou should be selecting thy wedding dress. We will be together soon."

He turned back to his room. His lance was set on his bed. He picked it up and examined it. It had been the work of a master at the art. Every last part of it was finely crafted from the lance point to the hilt. Setting it back down again, he opened up his knife box. He usually had one of the blades in his belt in case something hadn't gone his way. He remembered back to the days when he had gone and rid himself of any skillful competitors. Some of the blades were still bloodstained.

Sir Galacta looked at his cape. He would be able to hide the knife under his cape in his belt. Nobody would even think of him doing something dishonorable. He smiled under his mask. Nobody would know.

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A/N: Ooh... Sir Galacta is plotting something.

Not really sure that I should have done this chapter but I hate rushing into things. Next chapter will be the actual tournament.

S'wounds! is like saying 'wow!'

'Enow' is 'enough'.

Please review!