Either Way, It Ends Here

[Vaughn Adeney]

::vaughn::

Vaughn had nothing to do with any of the business that was taking place here. He was merely here out of boredom. Out of a lack of anything better to do. And of course, more importantly, to see what sort of trouble he could stir up. It was not difficult really. Alistair was here. Princess Isadora was here. That was all he needed really to cause some problems. Posing as a knight from Gwent, he had access to most resources that he needed. He was able to be in the company of those higher up. And, he would have access to the castle. Which is why he was here, only to create a diversion. any of the knights were in the training field, sparring. Practicing. As some of them seemed to want to create a bit of an informal tournament. Hmm. This could prove to be the best distraction; one that would allow him to slip into the castle while everyone was busy paying attention to the 'fight'.

Now, he needed it to be a worthy one. He casually glanced around at the potential participants. It did not take long to find the perfect two. Alistair. And Prince Arthur. Yes. Perfect. The tension between them was already great, and this would give them an opportunity to have an intense fight, one that was a bit more serious than just friendly sparing. As the men discussed how they were going to go about doing this, Vaughn decided to interject. Their nonesense was wasting precious time. Time that could be better spent sneaking into the castle and taking what he could. "I have a suggestion, if I may." Politeness. He had to be though, just for now so that he would be heard.

"What about Sir Alistair of Gwent," -- Vaughn had to pause for a moment, holding back laughter at how ridiculous that title sounded in front of the Druid's name. "And Prince Arthur of Camelot." The two appeared to be a good match. One had a reputation as a strong combatant, the other had the size and apparent strength to be a suitable match. Of course, Vaughn did not use this logic to suggest the pair. He knew that the fight would turn into something more personal. Others however were not aware of this. That much was clear when they all began to nod their heads, seemingly impressed with this match.

[ Tag Alistair and Arthur ]

[Alistair]

Alistair was standing in the back of the crowd watching everything unfold. He rarely ever got mixed up into these games; not seeing the point of fighting for fun when he spent all his life fighting for his life. That was thanks to the current king of Camelot; of course, and when Isadora became queen he could offer some peace for his people. That was what he worked for; that was his solace for giving up the fight. He could be with her; and she could do more for his people then he ever could. She'd be stronger then he could for them.

When the knights of Camelot came down with their prince; Alistair showed no reaction but he was strongly aware of every move them made. He knew if even one of them recognized him then the game was over. His hair was longer; and he had not cut his bread down since they were traveling. It did a good deal to hide his features; and he was counting on the fact that nobles rarely looked beyond the title they were give to a man. "I have a suggestion, if I may." Alistair had been ignoring the conversation but Vaughn was near him and his voice brought him back to the present.

Vaughn's ideas were never good nor safe for anyone; so if he was giving ideas then Alistair was leaving. he could see if he could drag the princess off to some empty bed room and leave Vaughn to his games. "What about Sir Alistair of Gwent-----and Prince Arthur of Camelot." Alistair froze and stared at Vaughn trying not to look as if he was going to murder him. What had Vaughn just volunteered them for? "Or I and you." he challenged back, not about to do anything with the prince.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Things were progressing nicely during these talks. There was a lot more that needed to be discussed, but Arthur was taking advantage of a much needed break. He was out on the field, conversing with other knights from the kingdoms present at these talks . . . some of which that Arthur knew all too well. After his conversation with the Princess Isadora last night, they had reached some level of civility. While they still disagreed on a few things, they had at least reached some sort of understanding with one another. Arthur did not approve of Alistair, but he had manged to begin to repair his friendship with the future queen of Gwent. That was something. That was a start. But with that said, he paid very little attention to Alistair whilst on the field. It was not too difficult either, as there were many other men to talk and joke with. Ones that Arthur did not have bitter resentment against. Ones who did not kidnap his father, his love, or his friend. Ones who he just did not strongly approve of.

They were all trying to organize some sort of tournament. A very informal one . . . just some friendly sparring. Which was not at all rare during training sessions. Though in this case, as they were all knights, there was no set leader or single person to train them all. Suddenly, a voice spoke up that suggested Arthur fight . . . no. Surely he did not hear that right. Alistair? That was far too convenient to be a mere coincidence. Arthur did not want to fight him. Not even in such a casual way. It would be impossible for the two of them to engage in friendly swordplay. There was too much between them . . . or at least, in Arthur's case. Though, the anger that the druid had for Uther would also personalize the fight a bit too much.

No. It was a horrible idea. But unfortunately, no one else seemed to think so. They were all cheering it on, finding it to be a great match. Especially since many of them had not seen Alistair fight; some had not even seen Arthur fight. Surely there had to be a way out of this. The druid stayed quiet, and Arthur followed his line of gaze which rested on a man. A, strangely familiar looking man. He was dressed with the seal of Gwent. So, Alistair knew him. Wonderful. Was the druid the one to arrange this? Had he told him to suggest the two of them to fight? Arthur would not be surprised. And yet, the way he looked at the instigator dismissed these suspicions. For he did not look particularly thrilled with the notion of them fighting either. His words also supported this assumption. Whatever vendetta the two of them had would be better resolved than the tension between Arthur and Alistair. So the Prince just gave a short nod, trying to shift the focus from him. But most other knights were already excited over the idea.

It seemed they were stuck. If Arthur walked away, or refused to fight him, then it would be the act of a coward. And this was not the kind of reputation Arthur wished to have among all these nobleman. He was going to be the king of Camelot; he could not afford having his allies regard him as a coward. As a wimp. As someone who walks away from a fight. Which really left only one other choice: for them to fight. And all Arthur could hope for, is that he could keep control over his emotions. That he could keep a level head during this fight. At the moment, it just seemed impossible. Arthur could barley even look at him without feeling a surge of anger run through him. "Seems the match is set then," was all Arthur could say. But with his words, came a loud cheer from who would become their audience. Arthur did not look at Alistair just yet. He would wait to see what his reaction would be. He really did hope, that the druid would walk away from this fight. Better him than Arthur to look like a coward . . . at least in Arthur's mind. That would really be the only solution to this; the only way out. So he stood there, silently hoping that Alistair walked away.

[Alistair]

Alistair cared nothing for his appearance and standing around men who he did not know; nor cared to get to know. He would have walked away, or even have pushed the challenge with Vaughan had the roar of the men surrounding them not started to draw attention of the nobles. Alistair turned to look at Vaughn and in a very low voice spoke to him; "Don't go far, when this is over you and I are going to go on a little walk in the woods." And settle this score the only way men like them knew how. Alistair could have walked away; but not after everyone's attention was on them. He did not care about being labeled as a coward but now her men were here and he would not ruin everything he worked for by walking away or by letting Vaughn and some little prince revel who he was.

Turning to look over at the prince; Alistair did not bow his head nor show any formal signs of respect. Arthur wasn't his prince; so Alistair didn't bother to obey customs he only half believed in. He didn't speak first; but waited for Arthur to be the one who set up the details such as weapons and rules. Alistair would only break some of them anyway.

He really wanted to toss out something Vaughn like and smart ass but could not think of the words he wanted to use at the moment to appear the witfull challenger. He often lacked the words to express what he thought; so he remained silent rather then open his mouth and appear like a fool. As a sign that he was ready; he lifted his sword and turned to the men who would one day serve under him and held it up. They gave another mighty roar as did a few from other kingdoms who decided to root for him. This was a game; and thanks to Vaughn's bloody mouth he was forced to play.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Oh this was not good. The audience was getting more and more enthusiastic while Arthur was growing increasingly hesitant. It had nothing to do with being a coward, or anything of the sort . . . it had to do with the fact that he and Alistair were far from friends. And that the only reason Arthur was even here in his presence, was because he had made amends with Isadora. He did not condone the druid's behavior in the slightest for to Arthur, he would forever remain to be the man who kidnapped Guinevère and his father. In the heat of this 'sparring' and mock battle, he knew that it would get intense . . . that there was so much unfinished business between them and getting it all out through combat was not the wisest idea. But what choice did they have? Alistair did not seem to walk away and such a gesture was not in Arthur's nature either.

In fact, the druid raised his sort eliciting a loud cheer from the crowd. So this man would be king . . . or well, as Isadora explained, he would be the man who she married, though she would always be the ultimate authority. Arthur had found some comfort in this fact, but it still not give him full approval of the man. He doubted it ever would, but again, for the sake of the princess of Gwent, Arthur had to try. Though this was not the best way to do it. He saw the way he raised his sword and Arthur pulled out his own sword. "It seems you've selected the weapon of choice then," he said. Could have been a sword, mace, or anything else. But it appeared the druid selected a sword. Without looking at the surrounding crowd, he noticed everyone take a few steps back, forming a circle around the pair of men so that they would have enough space to 'spar'. This was going to be interesting . . . very interesting indeed.

[Alistair]

He selected the weapon of choice? Annoyed that he had been unaware he could pick which ones Alistair gave a shrug as if it matter little to him before turning to step into a ready stance before the little prince. Not so little really, he just liked to annoy him and if he had to refrain from doing it allowed then he would simply do it in his head. While it would have no affect on the prince; it at least would make him feel better.

Alistair had spent his whole life in the woods; up until recently. He was used to fighting with obstacles, and short daggers rather then int he open with heavy blades. He was skilled with a sword; for any one fighting would be; but he knew that the prince would be more so. Somehow in the battle, he needed to find a way to lose the blade and pull the daggers so the game changed. Until then he would wait for the young prince to make his first move. In the larger game of war, it was better to be on the offense rather then defense. However in the closer battle, defending a position gave you more ground then moving off yours to attack. So Alistair would wait the prince out and let the younger man make the first move to start the game.

[Arthur Pendragon]

This was not good. Both men now stood, with their swords raised, prepared to engage in this frivolous sparring session. Arthur recalled a conversation he had with Princess Isadora, saying that he would show Alistair a few combat skills that would help him more easily blend into the role of knight. For the way the druid fought, or would fight, however good, was not a product of years and years of extensive formal training. Maybe this would be Alistair's way to learn a few things, without Arthur directly teaching him. Maybe he could regard it in that manner then? An inadvertent lesson, rather than a fight that could get too heated for anyone's comfort. Arthur moved his wrist in a circular motion, causing the sword to turn . . . an exercise that loosened his wrist and better prepared him.

He kept his eyes entirely focused on Alistair. He did not know the man's patterns and style of fighting, so would have to quickly pick up on them if he was to be victor. After a few moments, Arthur advanced. He raised his sword and swung it towards Alistair's chest area. He knew it was an easy attack to defend, but also knew that judging from the size of Alistair, he would be relying on brute strength, rather than strategy. Then again, maybe the druid would surprise him. Maybe he would prove his mind to be more analytical in the face of combat, rather than only fully functioning when planning a kidnapping.

[Alistair]

He watched the princeling spin his blade and use up his energy in a display of skill rather then save it for the fight to come. He knew that if this got out of hand then he could loose everything. Alistair might have lived in the woods but he had not lived under a rock nor stone. He had heard of the Arthur's skill. So when the first blow came he could tell that it was a testing move. That the knight in the prince was sizing him up. While Alistair could tell that; he knew that he lacked the strong skill to appear weak or try to off set the game.

He knew how to fight against a sword; but only with two daggers rather then a sword. In his fight he would have blocked the blow and drive the other into his attacker ending this quickly. However (1) killing the prince might get him in trouble and (2) there was no other blade in his hand. There was however, his hand. Alistair had learned to fight with both hands; and while not as skilled as Vaughn while fighting with two swords (in fact he was slightly hindered when he tried); he was equally strong with both. There was no a weaker side in his style; while others were 'right handed' or 'left handed' and it left the other side open for attack. Like with the prince. Alistair blocked the blow but felt the weight of the weapon he was still learning and how it cause him to loose speed. Then while the blades were going tot he side used his other hand to push hard on the prince's chest and move him back a few feet.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur did not know Alistair's exact style . . . but he could make assumptions on which skills he possessed that he would use to his advantage and his opponent's disadvantage. When Alistair pushed him, Arthur fell back and his assumption had been right: brute strength. It was not a huge surprise for the man was rather large. In fact, in some ways he reminded him of Percival. Strong, but slow. Whether it was because he just lacked training, or the armor was wearing him down -- unused to wearing it -- or even the weapon he was utilizing . . . Arthur knew that it was a weakness. Where he had offered to help him trail in a style that would better blend him with knights, perhaps this was a chance to offer a few tips. Or cause him great offense. Arthur was sort of hoping for the first, but would not be surprised nor completely heartbroken if the latter took place.

"Strong, but slow," he told him, speaking aloud his thoughts. He spoke in a low voice and with their audience having stepped back enough to give them space to spar, they would not be able to make out the exact words. Or if they could, Arthur could care less. While he sometimes teased his men while training them, his words were not mockingly spoken to Alistair; he was not making fun of him, just trying to offer some advice. "You need to be quicker on your feet," he informed him as he held up his sword defensively, waiting for Alistair to come at him and prove that he was not as slow as Arthur was making him out to be.

[Alistair]

One rule of fighting in the woods; never be the one to advance. It did not matter if you were fighting friend or foe or man or animal. You let them come to you. It was easier to defend then to attack. If you were forced to attack then you did it in their blind side; or from behind. You did not let them see it was coming at them. Kept moving. Aimed for their weak points in their aromor.

None of that would work fighting in the open where there was no were to hide. The little lad called him slow and then thought he would what? Charge at him in anger? Poor little princling. Alistair took in his armor and looked at the weak points and unprotected areas. Toes, neck, head; all open and unprotected. All ready to be used aginst him. Alistair said not a word; just rocked back into the ready stance. He did not bother telling the little boy how fast he could be if not for these blades.

[Arthur Pendragon]

It was clear that Alistair had never sparred before. It was not just about winning . . . but rather, practicing technique, getting to know your opponent, working on footwork and blade placement, strengthening your blows and blocks. Yet all Alistair seemed keen on doing was standing there, staring at him. His mind was working no doubt, but Arthur had no idea what the hell he was waiting for. He definitely needed to be trained better. If he was like this during training sessions in Gwent, then he wasn't sure how Garrett was putting up with it. Arthur lowered his sword but not his guard. The druid could stand there all he wanted, but Arthur was not going to have a staring contest with him.

He took a few steps back. Either Alistair would prove him wrong and show him that he was not just strong but fast . . . or this small fight had come to an end. "Is that it then?" He asked, with a very subtle tone of mocking. So this is how he fought? This is how he supposedly protected the princess of Gwent? Just standing there against a threat? Arthur just looked at him before slightly shaking his head. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.