The griffon was fast, the griffon was skilled, but with every movement Favian could better judge the limits of that speed and technique. He'd been playing it cautious so far, letting his opponent take the initiative, but all the while his cold eyes had been watching with the intensity of a hunting lynx, taking the measure of all they saw. So when Sir Aslain moved again to knock away his blade, Favian responded for more audaciously than before.

[i]I know the timing of your swing, lion knight. It did not fool me the first time, and shame on you for trying it again.[/i] As the axehead came back around to slam against his sword, Favian lunged forward of his own accord, pushing off his left foot and stepping swiftly ahead with his right. At the same time, he let the grip of his right hand go momentarily slack, only to seize the sword again at a different point, partway along the blade this time.

The axe crashed home, and a loud [i]crack[/i] rang out—hard wood against solid steel. The longsword was not pushed aside as intended, for Favian had switched to a half-sword grip and intercepted the beating strike along the length of blade between his hands. Now holding his sword like a metal staff, he capitalized upon his momentum and pushed further, throwing all his weight forwards against Sir Aslain and his axe. If he was quick enough, he could push the other knight backwards or even knock him down onto the grass, though that would depend more upon the element of surprise than any natural difference in strength.