Here you go. I wasn't sure if you were going for "snooty noble" or "eater of humble pie" for this character, so I opted for the second one.

[hider=Soldier Post]The midday sun warmed his back, calming his nerves as he squared off with his opponent, and it lent an almost otherworldly glow to the training grounds. The grass transitioned abruptly from a vibrant, healthy green into a dry, flattened yellow ring, before giving way entirely to a worn dirt circle. The clear blue sky gave a view of a castle in the distance, and a bit of smoke coming from the fires of that castle's hold. There were a few trees growing near the clearing, providing shade in the evenings.

Countless multitudes of Balenian soldiers had spent time in this dirt circle. Circling each other, darting forward and back, repeating the steps of combat in its many forms until routine became reflex, and instruction became instinct. He was no different, although he had been blessed with a dexterity that had quickly attracted the attention of his instructors and peers.

"Old Dorje's son, Tashi," they could sometimes be heard whispering, "flows like the breeze around the strikes of his opponents. Surely, he will follow in his father's footsteps, and make a great soldier."

As warm as those statements made him feel, the boy knew better than to let that pride get the better of him. His early life, spent serving as a squire, had taught him humility, and the benefit of silence in lieu of arrogance.

Now, Tashi's breath came evenly, controlled in such a way as to create a rhythm. Specifically, he was panting lightly in time with one of his favorite marching cadences. He had found that it helped him to focus, and maintain his breath long after he would otherwise fall victim to exhaustion.

His sparring partner, an older soldier by the name of Jeroen, had not taken so much as a scratch for all of the blows they had exchanged. Tashi, on the other hand, seemed to be on a record losing streak. No fewer than twelve points of contact had been made. Were it not for the fact that they wielded wooden swords, Tashi would have been killed by most of them. As it was, he was certain to be sporting numerous welts and bruises the following day.

[i]I certainly wouldn't refuse my armor right about now...[/i] He thought, frowning and doing his best to ignore the pain. The padded cotton tunic and leggings he was wearing hardly helped to lessen the deep sting of each strike.

"Again, Tashi." Jeroen called, flourishing his weapon casually.

This elicited a grimace from the young soldier, who usually tried to keep his opponent in the dark as to when he might attack. Honor and chivalry in combat were all well and good, but there was no honor in broadcasting an attack, so that an enemy of the crown might put a blade through one's heart.

But, since it seemed that Jeroen would be prepared regardless of when he struck...

Tashi wouldn't strike. At least not in the way the old soldier expected.

Feinting to the left, Tashi was able to successfully bluff his way into Jeroen's blind spot by suddenly pivoting on his heel and rushing to his off-hand side.

If Jeroen was surprised, he didn't show it. Tashi was able to score a glancing blow across the older man's lower back, but it was avenged by a swift chop to the back of the head from Jeroen's gauntlet-clad hand.

His vision exploded into darkness, punctuated by stars that popped in and out of his sight, and he was sent sprawling forward, where he was more intimately acquainted with the ancient dirt training circle. His mouth filled with the taste of blood, and he gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold back tears of pain.

"Speed is a great asset, to be sure." Jeroen said, looking down at Tashi with just a bit of compassion. "But the day might come when you meet an enemy who is faster, or better armored. And that is why I am beating you today. I want you to learn to not only strike with speed and precision, but also with power enough to drive a man to the ground."

Tashi growled from the back of his throat, rising on shaking knees to face Jeroen again. He spat blood into the dirt, glared at the older soldier, and brought his sword above his head, pointing it to the sky and holding the hilt with both hands.

"Come then," He said, his eyes focusing less on detail, but remaining alert for movement, "let us see if I possess that power."

And for just a moment, with the sun at his back, Tashi seemed to glow, from his lightly sun-browned skin and his short golden hair, to his soft leather boots and the battered wooden sword he held aloft. Jeroen smiled at this, then charged Tashi, continuing the lesson with a bark of a battle-cry.[/hider]

Okay, so maybe a little of both. ;)