Three days passed, and Tristan stood within the training yard, opposite Edmund, holding a long sword. Over the three days, he had joined Edmund once in his lessons, and during that time was invited to his sword training.
Looking at the boy who hid his nervousness with the blade behind a seriousness inherited from his father, he took a deep breath and peeked to the side, at Wells watching over the two, his hands squeezing his cane as he looked at the sword, a longing in his eyes for a time he could never experience again.
Tristan knew the stories. Wells was a man who married Mary after saving the previous king's life in battle. It was a reward for his bravery and loyalty, but also a payment for never being able to walk properly again. Tristan could see that the man desired to wield a sword. Not out of wishing to fight once more, but so he could be the one to teach his child himself instead of having to hand the responsibility to one of his knights.
"Begin." The knight said with a cool tone and took a step back, carefully watching to make sure nothing dangerous happened. Stepping forward, Tristan watched Edmunds, his arms, his legs, his eyes, not letting anything be missed. Edmund turned his body sideways, making himself as small as possible, taking a purely defensive stance without any intention of engaging.
'He is scared of battle, even during sparing.' Putting everything togetehr Tristan came to the conclusion. Swinging his sword down without any intention, he gauged Edmund's reactions and strength. Despite the boy's small frame, he didn't buckle under the heavy strike, able to push away, not falling for the opening Tristan left open as he stepped back. 'Cautious. But out of fear, not battle intelligence.'
Retaking a stance, Tristan groaned and tried again, still not feeling it was right. In that moment, Edmund stepped forward, finally taking the initiative, seeing Tristan struggling. Blocking the heavy strike, the two swords bounce off one another, creating a loud, deafening sound of steel clashing. Not letting up, Edmund pushed his shield forward to block Tristan's vision as best as he could and swung from underneath.
Skillfully, twisting his sword to intercept, the steel bounced off one another, pushing Tristan back. 'No, he's still a person trained by a knight. Nothing like Mabel or Elias, but he is still skilled.' Even with his new thoughts, there was an obvious flaw. Edmund fought like a knight, not a real person. He didn't use tactics that would seem underhanded.
Tristan smirked to himslef blocking another strike and stepping back to create space. Walking forward, Tristan raised his sword up. Edmund held his shield firm and watched. Going forward, he lifted his sword, feinting an attack, before throwing a heavy kick into Edmund's stomach once his shield was lifted.
The black-haired boy groaned, not expecting such a strike, and Tristan didn't let up, bringing his sword down, knowing the kick wasn't enough to break his defences. The shield blocked it at the last moment, but Edmund had no strength to push it away. His sword flew out from behind instead.
Tristan narrowly dodged to the side and let go of the hilt with one hand, holding Edmund's arm in place. He desperately tried to break free but failed. Retrieving his sword, he pulled Edmund's arm as hard as he could. Tristan turned and lowered his shoulder, making Edmund fall into it, the air escaping his lungs as his shoulder dug into him.
His grip on the sword loosened, and not letting the chance go to waste, he pushed him to the ground, placing a foot behind his leg, before resting the sword over Edmund's neck. Edmund watched for a moment, unsure how he ended up in the situation, before laughing and falling backwards, giving up.
From the side, he heard Wells clap and turned to see him slowly walking over. "Do you know why you last Edmund?" Wells ignored Tristan for a moment, watching his son.
"He fights dirty." Edmund bitterly said.
"Exactly." Wells didn't deny it. "But that is how real battles are fought. In a tournament, your cousin would be booed by the crowd, but in the field of battle, he would excel, knowing that the only weapons are not the ones in your hand." Wells smoothly said, talking from experience, getting a nod from the knight by the side, "You were smart to press when he struggled to find his footing after the first clash, but you didn't capitalise on it properly."
Edmund looked to the ground in deep thought. Letting his son process his words, he turned to Tristan, "Why are you using that weapon. It is unsuited to your body. It's too big for you." Wells said easily, pointing out the flaw Tristan always felt.
"I don't have another weapon," Tristan said before explaining his reasoning for choosing the sword, giving the same excuses he gave Mabel. Wells frowned and took a deep breath.
"Ser." Looking to the knight, he stepped forward, "I'm of the opinion of a short sword, what says you?" The knight thought for a moment.
"Take a stance again." The knight didn't answer straight away. Tristan did as told knwoing he may never get the chance again. "The tip of his blade drops too much; it's slightly too heavy. Take a Swing." Tristan did as told. "Again." Over and over, Tristan did as ordered, as the knight continued to order, speeding up, until he nearly spoke over himself.
"A short sword would be fine, but he would suit two weapons, I believe." The knight finally said, "During his spar with Lord Edmund, he was calculating to use every part of his body as a weapon. Maybe two blades, one in each hand. He is smart enough not to forget one, and both would be light enough to keep up with his mind. Or a shield and short sword."
Wells nodded as Edmund stood up. "Edmund, going forward, I want you to learn to fight with more of your body. I have a knight who is a skilled wrestler; he will be of help to you." Edmund nodded, despite his eyes saying he didn't want to. Looking to Tristan, the Lord carried on, "I would advise switching weapons. However, it is your choice."
"Thank you. Lord Wells." Tristan placed a hand on his chest and bowed before turning to the knight, "And to you as well, Ser." The knight waved his hand, not needing the thanks.
"Forgive me, young princeling, but I must take Edmund. It is time to train his summoning." Tristan tilted his head in confusion.
"Why train it?" It was Wells' time to be confused and stare at Tristan; he realised a truth that everyone had neglected.
"Your parents are dead. Correct?" Tristan slowly nodded, narrowing his eyes, wondering what the man was talking about. Rubbing the tip of his cane, Wells tried to find the words, "Summon it." Tristan's eyes remain narrow, staring at the man suspiciously. Although most of his family didn't hide their summons, it was still soemthing some chose to do so they had a trump card.
'It matters not. How many have already seen me with Annabell.' Looking up at the sky, he saw the bird flying beneath the clouds. "ANNABELL!" Shouting out, the bird flew down and landed on his head. "Here she is."
Wells looked up at the sky and chuckled before shaking his head. "This is soemthing your parents should have taught you, but unfortunately, that was taken from you." Wells sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I can't admit to being too well versed, after all, his mother teaches Edmund this lesson, but simply summoning your creature isn't the final step to mastering it. One can merge with them, I believe. Once again, his mother leads the lesson."
'Merge?' Tristan grabbed his chin, subconsciously dropping his act, 'Is that how Elias had wings? If so, it makes sense. Unless it clung to his back out of sight, how else could he only make the wings appear?'
"Father." Edmund walked over and looked at Tristan with pity. "If it's alright. Can my cousin join my lesson today?"
"Edmund." Wells tiredly rubbed his forehead. "You know how your mother is."
"But father. How will cousin ever learn this? If he doesn't have-" Edmund didn't finish the words, "No one can teach him this unless he asks, but he didn't even know he had to." Wells looked at his son for a moment and sighed.
"Please ask my wife about her son's request, Evan." The knight tapped his fist into his chest and ran off.
"Edmund. There is no need." Tristan said with a thin smile, hating the pity in the boy's eyes.
"It's fine. You help me with my studies. It's the least I can do." Looking up at Annabell, Edmund smiled, "She is beautiful." Annabell, head rose slightly.
"Don't strok her ego too much." Tristan grabbed the bird who was bathing in the compliment and flicked her head, "She starts thinking stupid things if you do."
"Idiot Tristan." Annabell said with annoyance, "You should be more like him." Annabell said with her childish, echoing voice, flapping her wings as she did, breaking free and nesting on Tristan's head. Watching the two Edmund chcukled and stepped closer.
"You should be fine reaching the next step. After all, you have a close relationship."
"Lord Wells. The Princess has agreed." Even returned quickly and bowed towards the three. Wells smiled and nodded.
"Come." Turning and leading the way, Tristan grabbed Annabell off his head.
"What are they talking about? Did you know there was more to what we could do?" Quietly asking so no one else could hear, the dove stared into his eyes and tilted her head.
"I'm not sure. I felt like we could do more, but I don't know how." Tristan narrowed his gaze. Sometimes it felt like Annabell had ancient wisdom, but at times it felt like she was a clueless newborn about the world. It was strange, but he pushed it to the side, wondering what he would learn.
The walk was short, and, entering a side room close to the training ground, he saw Mary sitting, calmly drinking tea, carrying a grace that no lady could compare to. Her eyes scanned the three as she sweetly smiled and set the cup aside.