Bright blue eyes watched Sir Aslain through a slitted visor, judging distance, anticipating movement. Favian had offered his opponent an opportunity, and the knight had taken it, closing even further now. His aggression was clear; it could only be a matter of time until he struck.

Favian positioned his feet carefully, keeping his sword pointed at his opponent and his profile narrow so as to present a smaller target. When the moment came, he was ready: a swift backstep answered Sir Aslain's lunge, and the axehead glanced the longsword closer to the tip than intended. The point swung to one side, but not so far or so hard that Favian lost control of it, and a quick adjusting of his grip on the hilt brought it back into position in time to parry an oncoming thrust. If Aslain did follow through with his attack, he'd see the flat of Favian's blade smack against the shaft of his axe, pushing the spike to one side as it thrust forward.