"My family has served House Arkwright for six generations," the old knight explained as they took their positions.
"My grandsire served the lady's great-grandsire, and my own father, her grandsire. And I had the honor of serving now…"
His expression darkened momentarily.
They began with simple exchanges, testing each other's reactions and capabilities.
Sir Reginauld's style was classical—rooted in the treatises of masters but refined through generations of practical application.
Jaenor found himself hard-pressed to match the old man's technique, his own more instinctive approach struggling against such technical perfection. It had been more than six months since he held a proper sword; back then, in the village, he used to practice every day with his sword, and he even tried his bow skills.
"Your fundamentals are sound," Sir Reginauld observed as they paused to catch their breath, "but you fight like a man who learned in war rather than in the salle. Effective, but incomplete."
