Crow discovered quickly that John was on a different level than the knights he’d fought with in the past.

As the older man had said, the first thing he focused on was teaching the viceroy the basics of sword fighting, which Crow also discovered that he had been lacking in. John walked him patiently through a number of different moves that the former thief had some grasp of, but had never properly learned. Since he had taught himself by watching knights from a distance and sparring against them while drunk, there were quite a few gaps in his knowledge. He was grateful that John didn’t get short with him as he fumbled through the process of breaking down his old habits and replacing them with new ones.

He also found himself impressed with John’s skill with a sword. The knight demonstrated every move with the grace and poise of a much younger man—a stark contrast compared to his own messy performance—and matched him for every stroke when the viceroy practiced sparring against him. His experience was evident, and Crow wondered just how many battles he had seen to have come so far in his work. The scar on the older man’s face certainly told a tale of a long and dangerous past. However, he was still too stiff around him to ask about it.

Once John felt that Crow had progressed enough, they moved on to real sparring. This was where the former thief really learned how formidable the knight could be in a fight. Even though he could tell Penelope’s father was holding back a bit, the older man certainly didn’t restrain himself from striking hard whenever he slipped past his student’s defense. It was “incentive,” he claimed, to persuade the viceroy to try harder at keeping him from landing a blow.

Crow had a feeling it was [i]revenge[/i] for a certain night two weeks ago.

By the end of the last match, he found himself lying on his back in the grass, breathing heavily from the exertion of fending off John’s relentless attacks. Every part of him ached, and he knew he was going to be covered in bruises and welts by suppertime. One spot on his left side was especially sore from a swipe the knight had taken just below his ribcage.

Meanwhile, John stood nearby, unafflicted. As hard as Crow had tried, he’d only managed to cut through the older man’s defense one time. Even then, he had barely nicked his arm before the knight had wrenched his wooden weapon from his hand and delivered a prod to his collar that was going to leave another welt.

John’s stamina was surprising too. He was barely panting by the end of the fight. Crow had an idea why though. As they sparred, he had noticed that the knight conserved energy by minimizing his movements. While he had been swinging his own sword wildly about in the hopes of landing a blow by chance, every motion John made had been carefully calculated. The older man swung his blade half as much, yet inflicted ten times as much damage. His skills inspired the viceroy to get better with the weapon, so he might one day stand on equal footing with him on the battlefield.

“Get up,” John said, looking down at his student with a critical frown and gesturing with his sword. “You’re the king’s viceroy now, Collin. Have some honor.”

“My [i]honor[/i],” Crow grumbled without moving. “Left with my dignity when you poked me with that thing in the ass.”

Off to the side, he heard a couple knights snicker, and he shot them an icy glare. He knew they had seen it happen. Once word had gotten out that the thief-turned-noble, Lockton, was going to be learning to fight under Vermillion’s tutelage, men from the barracks had gathered to watch the spectacle. He was certain they had found it amusing when Penelope’s father had struck him in the rear, or when he had knocked him off his feet, or when he had disarmed him, or any other point in their sparring, really. He’d done a pretty pathetic job of fighting back.

“You can’t just throw a fit every time you feel embarrassed,” John criticized him sternly. “Now get up. You’re acting like a child.”

Crow set his jaw, prepared to argue that he would get up when he felt like it, but then thought better of it. Reminding himself that he wanted this man to like him, he reluctantly climbed to his feet and picked up his wooden sword. “I’m done sparring though,” he announced, deciding to draw his boundaries somewhere while he still could.

John didn’t seem to mind. “Very well,” he agreed.

The two replaced their weapons with the rest of the knights’ supplies, and Penelope’s father eyed over the grass in Crow’s clothes and hair. “You might consider a bath before supper,” he suggested in the usual manner that implied he was giving an order.

Crow glanced down at himself, taking note of the dirt he’d collected from rolling around on the ground. After the recent rainstorm, the dirt had been moist and clung to his skin like sap. “I might,” he shrugged. Though he would never admit it out loud, he really did like the idea of going back to the bathhouse. The warm water would feel heavenly on his bruises, and it would be a pleasant way to wind down after an afternoon of sparring.

Deciding it was a good choice, the viceroy turned to head back to the castle but then wavered. He glanced over his shoulder as John made his way toward to knights’ barracks. An idea crossed his mind that made him shift his weight uncomfortably, and he bit his lip. Even though he didn’t like it, he couldn’t dismiss it either. [i]I’m probably going to regret this…[/i]

“Why don’t you come with me?” Crow called to the knight. As John turned around with a surprised look, he averted his gaze. He wasn’t sure what he thought he was going to gain from inviting Penelope’s father to the bathhouse, but he knew he’d wanted to make the offer. Perhaps it was a bit of a desperate move, but he wanted the older man to see that he was worthy of courting his daughter. Maybe he would find an opportunity to do that with this gesture, or maybe he would just make an even bigger fool of himself somehow, but the only way to find out for sure was to make the venture.

John studied him for a moment before he replied, “The bathhouse in the castle is for higher ranking men than myself.”

“I don’t care,” Crow insisted. “I’m inviting you. And besides,” he smiled at the knight amusedly. “The other men here like you better than they like me, so I doubt anyone would complain.”

John paused again before he finally nodded, “Fine.”

“Great,” Crow waved his hand in a beckoning gesture and waited for the knight to fall in step beside him before he turned and headed back to the palace to get cleaned up before supper.