For a few minutes, they only stood there, the knight's lips partially separated. It wasn't enough for the squire, who waited only a few feet away, to notice. The man did not nod, nor did he shake his head. He, instead, unsheathed his greatsword and drove the blade deep into the earth below. A heavy sigh followed this movement, though not from exertion. It was the mission of those under Zas, yes, to complete Retrievals, but it was Sir Van Amstel's mission specifically to deal with the boy however his god saw fit. Sorrows aplenty chased after him due to the path he had chosen in life. This would merely be one more.
Yorick felt as if he had been forced to eat a pile of rocks, that they had sunk to the bottom of his stomach, and stuck to its lining. He had been challenged only once before, and it was not a memory he looked back on at all, let alone fondly. Despite this, he laced his fingers together, holding them out to his mentor as he gave a small bow. Moving into a basic stance, he unsheathed the shortsword at his hip and, with a bit of a bend in the knees and his right foot slightly forward, he held the blade out to his side. He took a deep breath. Without proper breathing, he would not last far past the first hard blow delivered.
Sir Van Amstel, who had readied himself with more of a lunge, raised his blade above his head, the tip pointed at the boy. One hand seemed to reach forward, but drew back with the bend of the elbow, hovering over the man's knee. After a few moments of breathing, the boy twisted his blade so the flat side was perpendicular to the ground. This was how their fight began. At first, they only circled each other. Yorick was only buying himself time to think. Something in my question must have started this, right? But what? If this were to end in his favor, he would certainly have to ask. His opponent changed stance, however, closing the gap between his feet and gripping the hilt of his weapon with both hands. Resting the butt of the hilt against the nook where his hip and leg came together, the man gave a hefty swing.
The knight had not been in close enough range, letting the boy dodge with mild effort. He backed away from the fight, prepared to use the sword for defense, but not much more than that. As Sir Van Amstel grew closer, the boy knew he needed more time. The gap was closing, and it was only a matter of time before his swinging became serious. And so the boy charged forward, aiming to rush past the man. With a single hand, the boy was caught and pinned to the ground. An aching pain ran through him as every bit of air within his lungs escaped. The knight had followed the movement into a kneel, but swiftly returned to stand. A foot rested on Yorick's chest. The man had faith he would not fight, and so he applied only minimal pressure to keep him down.
The squire attempted, while regaining some semblance of strength, to recall all that he could about their trip. He had grown as a man, and, he thought, as a knight. Had I been wrong to think such things? There was nothing in their time together that suggested such actions from his mentor. The man had been quite kindhearted from the beginning, the most loyal to the knight's code a knight had ever seemed to Yorick. What could possess him to act in such a way? There was a spark of green that danced within his eyes. They were that of death itself staring down at him. The boy could only hope his fate did not end here.
"Wh… Why me?" the boy managed to get out.
The breeze of salt returned to cradle them. Gazing into the forest, the knight's focus was taken away from the boy. This is an opportunity, and he took it. As promptly as he could, he tightened his grip on the shortsword's hilt and slammed the butt of it into the back of the man's knee. The leg caved, drawing the mentor's attention back to see Yorick roll out from under him and run. His legs carried him well, but no matter how far he seemed to run, his mentor was always right there behind him. Soon enough, while looking back, he tripped, stumbling down a small hill into the brush. A hand grabbed him, pulling the boy into a small cave hidden by a thick community of vines.
The touch was soft, yet firm. Another hand slid over his mouth. They sat and watched as Sir Van Amstel stopped in front of the small opening. After his first step towards it, the stranger dragged Yorick back further into the cave, taking a kneel closer to the mouth. One strike from the mentor left the vines on the entrance floor. He stepped over them, stopping in front of the hooded figure to place his blade to her slender neck. She did not falter. "You will not take him," came from her in a much more resolute tone than Yorick anticipated.
The knight waited in silence for something more. The boy, watching from the corner, inched forward. "Will I not belong to anyone, then?" His question was aimed at both of them, but neither answered. They only turned towards him. The woman's hood covered everything but her mouth, which lifted into a small smile. The attention of the two adults returned to each other.
"Zas has been informed of his fate. You will face no punishment for the incompleteness of this mission."
After a moment of hesitation, the knight's greatsword was sheathed, and the focus returned to the one in the shadows. The girl turned her back on Sir Van Amstel to face the boy.
"Come closer, so that I might see you."
He listened, sliding forward until their knees touched. The soft hands that had pulled him from death cupped his cheeks. Her smile faded.
"You are… still a child."
He gave a small nod, though he could tell in her tone that it was not a question for him to answer. She did not say anything for a few minutes, then, with a sigh, she turned back to Sir Van Amstel.
"You have a new mission. You will learn of the details when you next pray, but for now, know that you must escort me."
She stood, pulling Yorick up by the wrist as she did so, and left the cave. Sir Van Amstel trailed behind her, hopeful that an explanation would soon find him.