(123-02-13) Training Begins
Training Begins
Summary: Nock starts weapons training.
Date: Date of play (13/02/123)
Related: None

It is not long after dawn. Malcolm has sent word to Daevon to meet him on the Weirwood roof, and left orders for Nock to arrive as well. It is cool after all that rain, but Ser Malcolm is in a simple linen shirt, loose hose, and barefoot.

Daevon's usually up at dawn, and he shows up, wearing full plate mail, carrying his shield, and also a selection of swords. This would of course be easier if he'd a squire, but no such luck.

Nock hustles in a little after dawn, wearing his usual tunic although it looks a little cleaner from his time in the Weirwood. He also holds a training blade in one hand. Other than that he appears to have nothing with him.

Malcolm is stretching methodically, expression calm and contemplative. There are a variety of practice weapons propped neatly in a corner. "Ah, glad you could make it, Dae. It seemed no time like the present to start training properly since Nock here has settled in. Best to stretch while we talk, Nock. It'll cut down on injuries." He looks at Daevon and gives him a little half smile.

Daevon nods at Malcolm. "It's good to have someone to train with again. So how do you plan to start?" He offers Nock a nod of greeting. "How have you been?"

Nock wastes no time in settling in to stretching, already appearing to be more familiar with the practice. "Of course Ser Malcolm." As soon as Daevon gives his nod, he gives a verbal reply. "I have been well, Ser Prince. I appreciate all your advice earler." He says quietly.

Malcolm shrugs, "I thought we might teach him together, as we don't know where his strengths lie yet. Keli was different as I've been teaching her to dance, not to be a knight. I thought we might test balance and strength, show him some stances and a basic swing and maybe drill him? What do you think? If he's not up to the boring stuff, he'll not suit anyway."

Daevon nods at Nock. "Ah. As you say." He then nods at Malcolm. "Keli never wanted any of my training," he admits. "She'd her heart set on dancing. She's a natural though, with what she does." He nods. "If you want."

Nock looks up as Malcolm finishes his comment about not suiting. His eye flash momentarily, but he drops his gaze quickly and begins focusing on his stretching. He looks to the prince, barely cocking his head in curiosity at the mention of a past student, however he does not enter any comments between the two knights.

Malcolm nods, "Keli never wanted to be a knight. She's not picked her path yet, but the discipline of Water dancing is good for her, and the practice will be useful whatever she ends up doing. Keli is my student, Nock, the daughter of Eonn of the Rills, sword to Ser Daevon here. You'll not see her often, most like, and she's not a squire, but a Dancing student." He looks amused at the flash of eye, "Good. I'm glad you are eager. Tell me what you think the most important virtue in a knight is." He jumps up onto the ledge and stands on one foot, the other flat against his leg, hands pressed together in front of him. "How long can you stand on one foot on the flat there, Nock?" The gesture of his head suggests the center of the open, flat area where he likes to spar, not the ledge where he is standing.

Daevon stands watching them.

Nock listens to Ser Malcolm, recognition moving across his face at the title Eonn of the Rills. Nock appears to ponder the question as he moves to the center of the open area and, picking his practice sword up, stands on one foot. "I would think the most important virtue of a knight is service, Ser Malcolm." Nock says after moment, spreading his arms a bit as he stands there.

Malcolm watches him, "Service to whom or what, Nock?"

Daevon's still remaining quiet, but he looks interested in that answer Nock's given.

Nock remains standing on one foot. "Service to the kingdom. Service to the people. Service to the king. I still am not sure there is one virtue better than any other virtue. I think there are about four that are important above other things."

"What of the Seven?" Daevon asks.

Malcolm hops off the ledge and starts circling, pushing him suddenly without warning from behind and to the side without change of tone or expression. It's not a hard push, more a test of balance than an attempt to harm.

Nock throws one arm out against the push, bending his knee to stay on one foot. He turns his head to look at the prince. "Prince, that is why I think picking a single virtue is impossible. I think service to the kingdom is important, but faith, honour, and mercy are the other virtues I feel every knight should have. I'm not sure if there is a word to encompass all of them, other than the term 'Knight'." he says, tone borderline monotone.

Daevon nods at this, and looks to Malcolm.

Malcolm circles, circles, with the graceful efficiency that characterizes everything he does, "Why do you want to do this?" Push.

Nock tries to keep an eye on Malcolm as he circles, but looses track of him for a few moments, and is rewarded for it with a push onto his knee, a sharp crack on the stone. "Because I feel I have the moral integrity to be a knight, and people deserve to be protected." he grunts out. Nock attempts to hop back onto one foot again after this statement.

Daevon's quiet again.

Malcolm nods, "That is a good reason. Other foot. It's best to train both sides of the body. Tell me about the Maiden and how she relates to your duty."

Nock stands on the opposite foot. "The Maiden, she relates to a knight because she protects the innocent, as we should strive to." He says simply, watching Malcolm more closely now.

The improvement in Nock's attention, earns an amused quirk of the lips. "What is the person under threat is not an innocent, but is still unarmed and not harming anyone?" Circle, circle. Direction change behind Nock, Circle, push.

"In a circumstance like that, I feel it would depend. Justice is not always transparent." Nock tries jumping forward out of the way this time, instead of resisting the push without moving.

Malcolm laughs, rolls, comes up to stand on his hands in front of Nock, "I'll not punish thinking for yourself, as long as you do your drills, turn up for practice on time, and obey direct orders when it's serious." The upside down knight walks several steps backwards on his hands, then flips upright. "Judgement matters. that was the weak spot of my last squire. Sweet lad, but not the brains to get out of the rain. What else can you do?" He looks to Daevon, eyebrows raised.

Daevon glances back at Malcolm, he's being thoughtful though, considering everything said.

"Judgement comes from wisdom, and you become wise from experience though." Nock counters. He studies Malcolm as the man walks backwards on his hands. "What can I do?" Nock murmurs to himself, and then attempts to do a handstand. Nock only manages to hold a handstand for a few moments, before toppling over rightside-up once again.

Malcolm nods, "Not bad. The way knights fight in battle or tourney, things like rolls and flips aren't useful, but if you are in a fight when you don't expect, like the time my lord was attacked on the docks, all sorts of odd things can become useful… you are right. He knew little of the world. I take it that's not the case with you. Show me a fighting stance with tha sword." He takes up a weighted wooden sword and starts circling, further out this time.

Nock picks up the fallen practice blade after coming down from his handstand. "I don't think I could do that in full plate, Ser." Nock settles back and lifts his sword up, mirroring Malcolm as best he can.

Malcolm nods, "I doubt any one can. especially not in jousting plate. A man can't do anything much in jousting plate except bleed or joust." Seeing Nock modeling his stance based on his own, he stops and shows him a simple stance in front, letting him get a good look. "Sometimes you must decide in a split second with very little knowledge what to do. Lives can be at stake. There is a knight in full armour except for his helm, known to have killed woman for sport. There is a woman, known to be wicked and definitely foreign. He advances on her in anger. Strike or don't strike?" He strikes out with the wooden sword.

Nock nods to Malcolm, matching his stance. "If the knight is advancing in anger, then he is not thinking of justice, regardless of the wicked deed of the woman. Strike."

Daevon shakes his head at Malcolm's question. Nock's response has him disagreeing too. "The other option," he states. He then looks to Nock. "Would you strike him, unawares? Take advantage of his distraction?"

Malcolm comes closer to stand behind nock. He taps his back leg with a foot until it is where he wants it. gently taps the back of the knee to suggest a deeper bend, then puts his hands on Nock's hips, shifting the other man's balance subtly. He stands back to examine things, then stands next to him to model the stance and degree of bend at the elbow.

Nock relaxes and does not resist at Malcolm makes corrections, but still tosses a shrug in the direction of the prince. "Ser, would you not intervene you saw your knight acting out of anger, rather than reason?"

"I would," Daevon says. "But I wouldn't strike first, unless it seemed as if that were the only option to stop him. I'd call out, distract him, move to stand between the two. If I'm in plate I can likely take a blow from him, and even if I'm not, the very act of intervention starts with speaking. I use my words first, I use my blade second. Once I've struck the first blow I've got to be prepared to kill him after all. But we're speaking of you, not me. Would you strike him unawares?"

You say, "It's counter intuitive, but the bend at the elbow is stronger than a straight line and it also gives you more options when attacked. Come at me straight on, dae. I want to show him a simple parry…. I did. We were in the woods, he'd raped and killed a woman already and her body was rotting there. I was in simple leathers with a light blade, he in full plate. I did not see any way of stopping him short of killing him quick. Normally, yes, words first." He glances at Nock, "Reasonable men can disagree. It gets messy out in the world.""

Nock shakes his head. "Strike and kill are very different terms Ser prince. I didn't view a strike to intervene as killing intent." He turns his attention back to Malcolm, nodding to his comments about attack form.

"See, that's a different situation," Daevon says to Malcolm. With his practice sword he does as suggested, coming at Malcolm, straight, classic move. He shakes his head at Nock. "No. If you attack someone in that situation, one of you is going to end up dead, unless you're good enough with your blade."

Malcolm demonstrates a deflection, slow and simple, the move exaggerated, the better to be seen. He repeats the move by itself, less exaggerated each time, "He is dead, yes, but let us imagine you are both in leathers, lightly armed, in a tavern. The woman in question is of a certain profession. The man is harming her."

Nock ticks his head to the side. "You don't expect other knights to hold to the same values?" He goes back to watching Malcolm, psuedo-blocking the same way as Malcolm demonstrates. "Then if he does not listen to me I will not interfere unless he starts resorting to extreme violence, and gore. I would have to trust part of his judgement as well, if he was a knight."

Daevon keeps going through whatever moves Malcolm expects of him, just repeating the rote moves. "No." He answers.

Malcolm laughs bitterly, "I know they don't, Nock. I for one have never fought a woman who wasn't armed at least as well as I. I accept yeilds and don't keep pounding. I do not use my knighthood as an excuse to bully people, but we were talking here of places where two knights, equally dedicated to the ideals of knighthood might disagree on what is best an honorable to do in a murky situation where one hasn't all the information or much time to think." He gestures for Daevon to switch to thrusting at Nock, stepping back to watch form.

Nock nods to the two knights, studying their back and forth.

"There's a difference between what's honorable, and what's right," Daevon says. "Sometimes you have to choose between those. Take in that situation you have a heavily armoured opponent of greater skill than yourself. The honorable thing to do is step forward, challenge him to a duel. It is not to take advantage of the fact he's forgotten his helmet, charge right at him while he's distracted. Or worse yet fire an arrow at him, or throw a rock. But he's already acting without honour himself. Does that mean you descend to his level? Or do you keep your honour, fight him the proper way, and risk the chance that both you, and the woman he was attacking, will end up dead? What is honorable? What is right?"

Malcolm starts moving his feet, using the spring loaded back leg to make quick steps in a variety of directions, "Foot work counts a lot more than people give credit too, but not all fighting is ahorse…. I think when there are witnesses a dishonorable man can be brought to duel, but I'd not like to risk three lives on it when no one is looking, and the good of getting everyone out alive excuses an act not generally considered honorable. Generally, I'd rather the duel, mind. In the tavern, i'd have tried talking, then challenging. Moving te fight outside with a formal challenge, gives the woman a chance to get away."

Nock nods, attempting to simulate a similar footwork pattern, springing forward in an imaginary lunge. "Seems very situational. A response to such an action is hard to say, even the mood of the tavern could effect your decision." Nock looks at his feet, stepping forward and backward purposefully.

Daevon's quiet again, letting Malcolm reply.

Tellur comes up from below, with a house servant who is assisting him in carrying various things. Meat and scraps for the chickens and ravens - and extra corn for the egg layers. Small seeds for the pigeons. Water for the rooftop plants, at least those that need it. A household takes some running. He is certainly aware of the nobility above, but he work quickly and quietly. Then, that done, he is attending to the mews, a small and relatively new construction that holds nothing more than a goshawk.

You say, "It could, yes. Things wouldgo differently in the Quill or the Fist than they would at the Tooth and nail, I'm betting. honor is important, so is what is right and what is effective. Reasonable men might way one of those things heavier than another man might. When we're done here, you'll spend an hour practicing moving around in the courtyard below with your legs in position. You may rest your arm by switching to the other arm at need." He now switches which leg is back and which front and stars demonstrating the moves again. Never forget to work both halves of your body. You'll want to do balance practice after, as your legs will like to be shaky then." The sun is up properly, though it is not yet breakfast time for guards and nobles. He does a little salute to Tellur with his wooden sword, "I've a thing to show you letter as puzzles me… how is our nock doing with the stable work?""

Daevon looks curious, but remains quiet. He glances over in Tellur's direction, offering him a nod of greeting, but that's all.

"Of course, Ser Malcolm," says the Hound Master "Anything you need." He is moving _gingerly_, it has to be said, as if most of his body aches. And then he says "The boy is bidable and willing. He doesn't have a great love for horses, but he doesn't let that get in the way - I almost prefer that to one who _does_ love horses and therefore does the work. It means you can trust him with the boring work." Sometimes Tellur sleeps in those stables. They are kept excruciatingly clean, and the dogs there are well trained to both voice and gesture. There is sometimes a fat cat or two, so there are very rarely rats, and Tellur is a bit obsessive when it comes to checking hooves and so forth. He is a rough man, in many ways, but one could never say he allowed harm to come to his sleek and somewhat spoiled beasts.

Malcolm's eyes narrow, "What have you done to yourself, Tellur Snow?"

Daevon's standing around, in his plate armour, just listening.

Nock is standing here quietly. head down.

Tellur says to Malcolm, hands held up to pacify "Not a brawl. A tattoo. But it is on a very sore spot, and it's acting like a -" Daevon and Nock are here. Tellur rethinks his swearing "…thing," he says, hastily. He has even coloured up some.

Daevon's gaze goes down. He's not going to ask. Nope. No asking about where tattoos might be. Not curious at all. Nope. None of his business.

Malcolm raises his eyebrows, but lets the matter drop. "Nock, when you have had breakfast and practiced, you are Tellur's until lunch. After, Blanchet will take you to my room and show you how to care for the weapons and armour. I suggest you meditate on the Maiden's virtues while you work. Have you questions?"

Tellur eyes Daevon, and he _wants_ to say something, possibly, but then his eyes widen. Wait, what? Hmm. Now he says to Malcolm "It's over the scar. I wanted the damned thing covered." And then he says "Well, I had been intending to get some work done with the ravens. Raven chicks are wicked, though quite amusing." His gaze slides to Daevon again, and then he says to the Prince "…if you had a very unsightly -" Wait. Cough. Tellur pinches between his brow "I apologise for implying a Targaryen may ever have anything unsightly." He adds "That is to say -" Tellur flails a bit to himself and then looks entirely flustered.

"Oh," Daevon says. "No wonder it hurt then. I'm a Knight, I should have unsightly scars." He doesn't though. "Scars are a mark of a warrior. They're not something to be ashamed of. And I won't get upset if you call me unsightly."

From Malcolm's expression, Tellur's explanation makes sense, "It'd need to be a large one." He turns to the Prince, "The place the boar nigh disemboweled him, I'm guessing." He turns to Tellur, "You hung over too?"

Tellur gapes, openly, at Daevon. Tellur himself has been around castles his entire life, and has seen Lord and Ladies, but he seems entirely unable to really process this "…I think almost every woman in the city would kill me if I called you so," he says, and because he is - as Malcolm has guessed - hungover? He adds under his breath "And a good proportion of the men." Then he nods to Malcolm "Aye, the outline is done, but not the inner. Uh." There is a pause "Only a little," says Tellur stoutly "I can almost see properly."

Daevon shakes at Tellur. "Hmm, likely not. Not for saying such things about me. You wouldn't be the first, or the last." He shrugs. He does smile at Tellur's words. "Shouldn't you be lazing about in your bed or something instead then?"

Malcolm laughs softly at Tellur's murmur and at the more open comment, "Why don't we go in out of the sun and the Prince and I can have breakfast and you can have some water and bread…. Not Tellur. He's as bad as I am only with better reason. He's beasts to tend to as I have my discipline."

"It's as the Ser Knight says - if I was allowing that to get past the needs of even the hens here for food and water?" Tellur shakes his head, and then he just peers at Daevon, and opens his mouth. He has a question! But he sighs, and directs Nock to cleaning out the raven's yard before he says "If we could go down, yes. Perhaps to Ser Malcolm's room - he has sun tea. Also several items of interest, possibly, to a martial man."

"I iwsh you'd said what sort of practice we were doing," Daevon says. "I'd have dressed a little less." He nods at Malcolm, and then Tellur. "You're a good man." He goes with them.

Malcolm thumps Daevon's pauldron, "We can spare after breakfast, old friend, but we can eat first, I think.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License