hand-to-hand (Arthur)

[Sir Alexander]

Alexander stood in the middle of the training ground, the grass firm under his feet. He liked all the different types of training a knight had to do. It kept him sharp and always ready for an attack. His Father had always instilled in him that a knights training never ended. If a knight stopped training, they would not be at their best while in a fight, which could lead to them getting injured, or worse. The only thing he did not like was the heavy chainmail and armor. It got annoying after a while.

He did not have his armor on at the moment. His feet were spread apart for better balance and his arms were up. He was practicing his favorite thing hand-to-hand combat moves. It was what he was best at. One never knew when they might lose there sword and would need to rely on their body to protect themselves. If the other person still had their sword it was not a good situation, but if both were with out weapons, it was the kind of fighting that Alexander loved. Practicing worked better when one actually had a real person to practice with. However, no one else was here at the moment, so he was just running through possible scenarios in his mind and trying to come up with the best way to counter it. Alexander stopped practicing and looked behind him, as he heard someone approaching.

timeline: Valiant- before the tournament.

[Arthur Pendragon]

The tournament was only days away and Arthur knew he had not been practicing as much as he should. Between the duties expected of him as prince, helping visiting nobles get settled in the guest chambers for the duration of their stay, and training his men . . . he had not had much time to practice himself. Which was certainly not a good thing. His idiot manservant Merlin proved to be entirely useless for the man tired easily and he could barley lift a shield. Arthur would have to get him into shape, but now was not the time. He knew his father was expecting him to win; to prove to the people that their future king was able to claim the title of champion in such a grand tournament. Arthur's arrogance was often a farce . . . for he knew that there was a chance he would not win.

Of course he could never display such insecurities to anyone, so he made up for it with over arrogant tendencies and cockiness. Every knight had to have a level of confidence to engage in such a competition, but Arthur knew -- while he would never admit it -- that there was a fine line before confidence and over confidence. He was clad in his armor, stealing what few moments he had to train on the arena. Walking out he already saw a fellow knight, practicing himself no doubt. And from the lack of weaponry in his hand and his method of combat training in the moment, Arthur could easily recognize him from a distance. That and the familiar face . . . he was one of the knights of Camelot.

Each and every one Arthur considered a brother to him, for they all faced extreme danger together and fought alongside in battle. This particular one was no exception. "Sir Alexander," he greeted as he got close enough to speak without having to raise his voice. "Seems rather bold of you to enter the competition without a weapon," he said teasingly. The weapon for this tournament was a sword, so he would obviously have to use one . . . but it was good to see that he was preparing for the even that he lost it. Which would indeed not be a good situation.

[Sir Alexander]

Alexander smiled slightly when he saw it was the Prince coming. “Sire,” he greeted in return as he extended his hand out in greeting. “Call me Alex,” he added. He didn’t let just anyone call him Alex. In fact, it was mostly only the other knights and Arthur he allowed to call him by his nickname. He had to know a person, trust them, before he allowed them to call him Alex. He trusted the knights and Arthur with his life, and Alexander figured that was the most trust a person could give. "Seems rather bold of you to enter the competition without a weapon" Alexander laughed a bit at that statement. “Yes, well, my father Sir James taught me to be ready for anything, besides I like keeping everyone on their toes. Do you doubt my skill, Sire?” he said jokingly as he smiled.

Alexander felt at home on the training ground and with the other knights. He spent most of his time around them as he had served as his Father’s page and then squire, before becoming a knight himself. He had many fond memories of watching his Father practice on this very training ground. He watched him as he had prepared for tournaments and battles. Alexander had learned so much from him over the years in what he had been taught and by observing his Father. His Father never showed fear, no matter what he faced. Alexander hoped he could live up to the legacy his Father had left him in Camelot. Alexander wanted to make sure he did his Father, Prince Arthur, the King, and everyone else in Camelot proud at the tournament.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur smiled when Alexander corrected him as he extended his hand. A gesture that the prince of course reciprocated by shaking it in return. He wasn't good at remembering nicknames, but if the man preferred him to call him Alex, then Arthur would make an effort to remember that. "Alex it is then," he said with a bit of a nod as they parted hands and he went over to look at the different weapons lined up, making sure they had been properly sharpened and clean. He turned back forward to face Alexander when he continued to speak. "Your father's a wise man," he told him. It was quite true that part of knights training was to be able to defend themselves in the event of a missing weapon. And just from a few sessions of training them, Arthur had quickly noticed Alex's strong skill in this area, in hand to hand combat.

Something that had quite impressed the young prince. Every knight had their own strengths and weaknesses and it was Arthur's job to determine them; to encourage their strengths, but work on improving their weaknesses. "Do you doubt my skill, Sire?" Arthur smirked at this. "Not unless you give me a reason to," he said teasingly. He did not. Of course he didn't. He trusted each and every one of his men with his life and was proud to call them his brothers. "Unfortunately, the tournament consists of swords as the weapon of choice. Think you'll stand a chance?" He asked, encouraging some friendly competition.