[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/z72GkNW.jpg[/img][/center] [sup][h2][center] [color=black][sub]W U L F R I C A D E L A R D D A N R O S E[/sub][/color] [color=ab274f][sub]W U L F R I C A D E L A R D D A N R O S E[/sub][/color] [/center] [/h2][/sup] [sup][h2][center] [color=GRAY][sub]VS[/sub][/color] [color=BLACK][sub]VS[/sub][/color] [/center] [/h2][/sup] [sup][h2][center] [color=black][sub]M A T H I A S L A R S E N[/sub][/color] [color=5B89A6][sub]M A T H I A S L A R S E N[/sub][/color] [/center] [/h2][/sup] [center] [color=gray][sub][sub]collab between [@SilverPaw] and [@Rodiak][/sub][/sub][/color] [/center] [indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][img]https://i.imgur.com/0hgKymt.png[/img][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent] [indent][color=silver] [color=7fffd4]“Laaaadies and gentlemen, it is TIME! On one side, we have!! Our world-known and well-beloved -- Priiincee WUFLRIIIC!!!”[/color] Wulfric stood up from the bench on the sidelines where he’d been waiting, and made his way onto the stage. He was outfitted in athletic apparel; simple, yet quality made tunic and breeches. However, he did have a few pieces of armour over it, mainly leather. It offered some protection, yet still permitted him great maneuverability. Of course, he had his own sabre. His steps were sure as he made his way onto the battling arena. The crowd’s cheers drowned out the stadium; their fervour grew as the prince raised his hand in acknowledgment. It took a bit to calm them down. Wulfric hoped they’d get it over with soon, because all he wanted was to face his opponent. [color=7fffd4]“On the other side --- ON THE OTHER – People, PEOPLE! We can’t get to the good part if we don’t let the other man on!”[/color] the announcer joked with a hearty laugh. Thankfully, the Caesonian segment of the audience (who were the greatest culprits of the noise) calmed down. [color=7fffd4]“On the other side! We have a renowned knight from Varian, and the CAPTAIN of their Royal guard!! SIR MATHIAS LARSEN!”[/color] Finally, Sir Larsen was introduced, and cued onto the fighting arena. There was significant cheering for him as well, especially from the Varians. The rules of engagement were reiterated. Then, two combatants were given leave to start. [color=ab274f]“To a good match,”[/color] was all Wulfric stated before withdrawing his sabre. [color=5B89A6]”Your Highness.”[/color] Mathias nodded once, unsheathing his own falchion. Its heaviness felt familiar in the knight’s hand. The prince took his stance, his eyes meeting the knight’s own; he was intensely focused on his opponent and their upcoming match. He kept the red line in mind, but it was obvious enough not to require his active attention. Though, it did mean that the space he had available to move was essentially limited to ‘his’ half of the stage. Wulfric did what he usually did against an unknown opponent. He went for a measuring swing, one whose aim was not so much to hit but more so to observe Larsen’s response. It was an easy dodge from the knight as he stepped to the side, eyebrow arched as he returned to his stance quickly. Wulfric didn’t attack blindly. Mathias smiled as he brought his sword up and swung down towards the prince with force. Wulfric’s gaze tracked the knight as the taller men sidestepped. As expected, his form, reaction, and economy of movement were excellent. As the other man lifted his arm, raising his weapon, the prince was already responding. He brought his sabre closer, then up into a guard. The downwards swing met his weapon. Steel clashed against steel. The powerful hit sent reverberations into his very bones, but Wulfric held steady. The falchion began sliding off against the angled edge of his sabre. The heaviness of the knight’s attack was forcing his weapon off-course; down and away from the prince. Swift as a striking serpent, Wulfric brought his sabre from its guard into a quick slashing counter against his opponent. As expected from the heir to the Sorian throne, Wulfric was quick and precise with his reaction. The strength to guard against the heavier blade and maintain said guard impressed the knight. Mathias pulled back quickly, falchion swiftly parried the slashing swing. The clash of their steel rang throughout the arena, muffled only by the excited roars of the crowd. Mathias could feel the audience’s excitement surge through him as he stepped forward, his foot over to the red line, and arced a swing down on the prince again. Once, twice, three times their swords clashed with each powerful strike from the knight. He was trying to push the prince back to the borders of his own half, seeing as Mathias had the advantage of height and reach. Their blades met several times as each of them tried to hit the other, but was then parried, deflected or blocked. It was an intense exchange; they matched skills and wits in equal measure. Sweat beaded upon Wulfric’s brow, and he was feeling the warmth of exertion with each breath. He was thoroughly beginning to enjoy this, now. Unknowingly, a small vicious smile emerged. [color=ab274f][i]Oh, but he’s good.[/i][/color] It was no surprise. This was a military man he was facing, after all. Like any sensible combatant, the knight was using his advantages to their utmost. Larsen wanted to crowd him in, limit his options for spacing even more. However, Wulfric didn’t simply let himself be pushed around. He did briefly consider the strategy of baiting the knight over the red line. It was a valid method of attaining victory, one he might employ in different circumstances. But he was in the mood for something…simpler, more honest. Instead of retreating to the back, Wulfric led them in a little half circle, until they were both lateral to the red line running through the middle of the stage. One move to the wrong side too many – it would be a quick way to be disqualified if either of them was too careless. For a moment, they were both fighting right on the edge. A thrilling sensation - almost like no other. His chest moved fast and heavy as Mathias swung again. His fingers felt numb with every clash of steel, but he only gripped the hilt tighter as he swung again. For the past few seconds the knight had gained a momentum, his movements quick and heavy as he swung, slashed, and jabbed. The line just a breath away. Adrenaline rushed through him as his heart hammered so hard in his chest he could hear it. It had been years since Mathias felt something this intoxicating. The possibility of real danger– one wrong attack– brought the sensation of thrill to course through his bones, only amplified by his opponent. The knight attacked again, he went for Wulfric’s left but the prince was quick to react with a parry and a slash. Mathias was slower to block as the sabre cut through the blue fabric of his blouse and into his flesh. The knight didn’t react to the cut on his arm as he pushed back the block and swung from above. Wulfric almost didn’t register the minor injury he’d caused his opponent. There was the slightest glint of red on the edge of his blade as he retracted his sabre. But there had barely been any resistance when his weapon had come into contact with Larsen’s body. The prince knew full well just how effective his sword was; it could sever a limb with frightening ease. If it hadn’t been a glancing blow, if he weren’t going at this with the mindset of a friendly match, if the knight wasn’t so proficient– Briefly, a bloodthirsty grin flashed across Wulfric’s features. Yes, even though this was a tournament, and neither was aiming to kill - nor to injure - there was danger aplenty. Naturally, the risk existed for the both of them. The crowd roared its approval, growing even louder. It was but a background noise for Wulfric; a cacophony that reached him as a vague thrumming hum. Yet, his heart beat in rhythm with it, as if it sought to synchronize with the vibrations as they coursed through him. Small rivulets of sweat ran down his back; his hands were damp beneath his protective gloves. His muscles strained with each movement. It was the kind of burn that let you know you were being challenged; the knowledge that you could still push more, go [i]further[/i]. Larsen went for one of his favoured moves; a slash from above. Wulfric avoided the attack by a hair’s breadth. He stepped back, distancing just out of reach. A flash of steel; the very tip of the falchion managed to catch on his leather-clad shoulder. The material was damaged, but that was all. Though, if it’d gone a tad deeper, he’d have a slice to match the knight’s. If he weren’t so intently controlling his breathing, Wulfric might have barked a laugh. Joy and fierceness surged through him in equal measure. [i]This[/i] was expression in its purest form; the song their blades weaved as each sought victory by overcoming the other. Not as base as the simple desire to survive, to be the one to come out alive in real combat; yet a crystalized manner of being that came [i]very[/i] close to that. One moment, the knight was beginning to raise his weapon again, the very next, Wulfric was lunging into a calculated strike. The attack was quick, precise and unexpected. It came from the knight’s blindspot as the sabre made it past his guard and stopped just as the sharp blade met the flesh of his neck. Right on the jugular. His chest rose and fell as Mathias froze, falchion in mid air high above his head ready to deliver another blow down to the prince. He’d been too slow, too greedy, too focused on securing the momentum he had gained only for the prince to slash it right under his nose. Mathias could not help the smile spreading over his features as he lowered the sword to his side. It had felt exhilarating and borderline addicting. So long it had been since he had faced an opponent so evenly matched, to have each attack predicted. Blocked. Parried. To be challenged this close. The crowd around them exploded in cheers, almost drowning the announcement of Wulfric’s victory over the Varian knight. But all Mathias could hear was the beating of his own heart hammering hard against his chest and all he could seem to focus on was the victorious opponent before him. Wulfric panted, pupils dilated from sheer excitement. This was almost like– [color=ab274f][i]It. Isn’t.[/i][/color] And that…was fine. There’d been a flash of a very distant ghost of past, but he’d dismissed it easily. He stared almost transfixed at the blood beading on Larsen’s neck. The ferocity which had painted his features gradually lost its intensity. Slowly, he retracted his sabre. The mark he’d inadvertently left on the knight was– [i]distracting[/i]. However, any strange notions he might have had were dismissed just as swiftly. With one quick yet elegant motion, Wulfric finally sheathed his weapon. So did the knight. He looked up at the known-unknown man, really taking him in as his breathing normalized. Perhaps prompted by the knight’s expression, a faint but genuine smile formed upon the prince’s lips. [color=ab274f]“This [i]was[/i] an excellent match,”[/color] he remarked. [color=ab274f]“I should like to spar with you again.”[/color] Saying so, Wulfric offered his palm for a hand shake. Mathias felt a sudden rush of pride wash through him when he heard those words. [color=5B89A6]“It would be an honor, Your Majesty.”[/color] He shook the other man’s hand and shook it firmly, adding a slight bow when he remembered that it was in fact the prince standing in front of him and not just any man. There was a renewed round of clapping and cheers as the two shook hands. Before the match Mathias had been unable to take a close look at the prince. Now, being so close, he could see the softness of the prince’s face, a stark contrast to the face he’d seen during their duel. He pulled back and waited for Wulfric to step down the stage first before following suit. [color=5B89A6]“I’ll be at your service all summer.”[/color] Mathias said when they were under the tarp that had been set up, providing some shade to the duelists. [color=5B89A6]“If I may, your skill and precision is amazing.”[/color] The knight did not want to sound too excited. [color=5B89A6]“And the speed in which you guard– it truly was an excellent match. I am most gracious to have been your opponent.”[/color] Wulfric inclined his head, courteously accepting the compliment. [color=ab274f]“I appreciated your rhythm; a lesser man would have been overwhelmed from the outset.”[/color] A tiny smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. [color=ab274f]“Your movements were very smooth and clearly well practiced,”[/color] he reciprocated the knight’s assessment with one of his own. [color=ab274f]“Not to mention the force behind your strikes,”[/color] he added. He still felt their echo, but it was a good feeling. [color=ab274f]“Indeed, I shall be looking forward to our next match,”[/color] the prince concluded. [/color][/indent]