[table][row][/row][row][cell][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/S98vWKh.png[/img][/center][/cell][cell]
[color=#50b0f1][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220311/27efd277073263c7d99ebe605d1cfab8.png[/img][/center][/color]
[indent][hr][/indent][hr]
[indent][sup][color=ab274f]Attire:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/IIomrbO.jpg]No cloak[/url]
[color=ab274f]Time:[/color] 12:00 pm - 1:00 pm
[color=ab274f]Location:[/color] Office -> The Knight Barracks -> Castle
[color=ab274f]Mention(s):[/color]
[color=ab274f]Interaction(s):[/color]
[/sup][/indent][/cell][/row][/table]Wulfric barely heard Auguste’s steps as he departed, nor did he much notice the soft click of the doors as his brother closed them behind him. His mind was stuck on the conversation he had had with Callum. He ran through what had been said, what had been implied…how it might have gone instead.

Unwittingly, his brother’s words had provoked a reaction. Then he’d gone on and said how ‘nothing could change’, essentially, something he by no means believed at all. [i]Of course,[/i] that’s not what Callum had wanted to hear. [color=ab274f][i]Is alienating him all you can do?[/i][/color]

[color=ab274f]“Fucking hell,”[/color] he muttered, and put a hand to his face. It was a rare emotion of dismay – one directed at himself.

The prince carded both hands through his hair, then stood up to pace. It was as if the more he thought, the more confused he became. He stopped mid-step to glare out the windowed balcony door. It was a clear, clear day, but it granted no clarity whatsoever.

Just what did his brother want, really? Before he’d said [i]those[/i] unfortunate words, he had offered cooperation. He had practically [i]said[/i] to him that Callum [i]could[/i] do more to help in the ways he liked, if that’s what he really wanted so much. If only-

[color=ab274f][i]If only what, Wulfric? If only he was more like you?[/i][/color] He exhaled a short, sharp breath, and dismissed that line of thought. 

[color=ab274f][i]This is getting nowhere.[/i][/color] He was too agitated, his thoughts and feelings all tangled up in one confounding ball of turmoil.

Sighing, he decided he needed to work off this stress, and headed to the knight barracks. 
[center][h3]***[/h3][/center]
The barracks were a large construction of stone, and though designed for function, the building’s architecture was impressive. Besides dormitories, there were a dining room, break room, locker rooms, shower rooms, storage area, and others. Most importantly, there was a sizeable training courtyard, walled off frum public eye.

Entering its premises, those in vicinity stopped to stand at attention at his approach. Wulfric simply motioned for them to go back to what they’d been doing. Nonetheless, Sir Noel Favre came to greet him. The knight, while not particularly tall at 5’7, was heavyset and strong, had his black hair close cropped, and was sporting a stubble beard. [color=c46210]“Good afternoon, Your Highness. Everything alright?”[/color] The man’s cadence had the slightest accented drawl to it, apparent in the way he dragged out his last word.

Wulfric gave a sharp, curt nod. Perhaps his tension had been seen through despite his public mask of nonchalance. Perhaps it was an assumption based on the unusual time of his arrival. Because while he visited several times a week, it was generally in the mornings and/or evenings.

[color=ab274f]“Yes,”[/color] he retorted, but there was a slight nagging at the back of his mind. [color=ab274f]“Well…”[/color] he changed his response. [color=ab274f]“Did…something happen outside, by any chance?”[/color] Despite being so introspectively absorbed, he had still noticed something [i]off[/i] on his way here. Alongside Edin Avenue and further beyond, apprehension had been dotted here and there among the populace.

[color=c46210]“Hrm,”[/color] the other man coughed awkwardly. [color=c46210]“I don’t know.”[/color] Noticing his sharpened gaze, the knight continued swiftly. [color=c46210]“A few o’ ours just went out to check. But if you’d like news immediately-”[/color] Wulfric held up a hand, and shook his head.

[color=ab274f]“No, that is fine. Handle it first, report later…I trust that if there [i]is[/i] something, our security forces have it under control,”[/color] he decided. By his expression, Favre took the expectation of competency as a personal compliment. [color=ab274f]“I am here for a spar,”[/color] Wulfric announced, intending to conclude the conversation.

Favre made a sound of pleasantly surprised acknowledgment. [color=c46210]“Oh…‘Course. You’re welcome any time, Prince Wulfric.”[/color]

Wulfric, who rather thought it’d be a problem if he weren’t, gave a somewhat unimpressed look. Yet without further ado, he went to get dressed into more appropriate attire. After a warm-up, he was ready for a bout. His first opponent was Favre, who seemed just as eager to face off against him as he had been to chat to him.

They both took their stances. Favre was the first to take initiative, going for a downwards cut from above a shoulder. Though he was shorter, his two-handed longsword gave him the reach advantage against Wulfric’s one-handed sabre. Still, it was a predictable attack. He deflected it by raising his blade, so the heavy hit slid off the curved edge of his angled sabre.

Favre, who had excellent stability, was quick to recover, and by the subtle shifts of his body, Wulfric saw him preparing for a follow-up. With a slight adjustment of his position, he preemptively avoided the threat of a retaliatory strike. Conjunctively, he moved in for a slash against the shorter man’s belly. The knight stepped just out of range. Then, he skillfully brought his longsword under and over Wulfric’s. In one maneuver, the other man was protecting against the prince’s attack, and readying a counter. 

It was mostly instinct which guided Wulfric just then; quickly and decisively, he was able to score a thrust against his opponent’s arm. This jostled Favre’s attack just enough out of the way. Sensing opportunity, the prince advanced for a more decisive blow. They were now too close to each other for the knight to try a slash. Instead, he pushed up heftily into a guard. Wulfric’s blade was deterred from its path. Because of the knight’s position, he had to disengage to avoid being smacked by his opponent’s pommel.

The two then circled each other, observing. A few close exchanges followed. In the end, Wulfric won that first match when, at one point, he managed to grab the other man’s arms with his offhand. With the other, he delivered a would-be fatal hit, and thus concluded the match.

[color=c46210]“Good one, sir,”[/color] the knight complimented. Wulfric inclined his head. By mutual agreement, they went for best out of three.

In the second round, Wulfric worked in more quick slashes, his footwork quite impressive. Yet, Favre was good at playing on the defensive. They traded several glancing hits, with the prince in the lead. However, the knight turned things around when he attempted a high-risk high-reward maneuver, and was successfully countered.

[color=ab274f]“Nice work,”[/color] Wulfric said this time.

The third round was their longest, as they were both at their most focused. Though still aggressively oriented, he wasn’t so forceful as to present an easily exploitable opening. After one of the many times they crossed swords, Wulfric was quicker to press his advantage, and won.

[color=c46210]“Excellent form, Your Highness,”[/color] Favre offered after a short breather.

[color=ab274f]“Good matches,”[/color] the prince acknowledged. [color=ab274f]“Let’s switch it up,”[/color] he remarked. Wulfric found himself some other sparring partners. Though mock combat was his favourite way to practice, he did go through some drills as well, and also did exercises to improve general physical conditioning.

It was no time at all before a bell from the nearby church resounded, announcing that it was one. [color=ab274f][i]Already?[/i][/color] Wulfric removed his helmet, and shook off his sweat dampened hair. It was a shame, but…It would have to be enough, as short as he felt the training had been. Though, due to its intensity, he did feel pleasantly exercised. He took the next few minutes to cool down and stretch.

Seeing as he was readying to depart, most people left him to it.

Most.

[color=98fb98]“Prince Wulfric!”[/color] Antea ‘Andy’ Lanza greeted cheerfully as she arrived to the practice area. She was an unfortunate rarity in Caesonia; a woman knight. She was tall for a woman at 5’8 and was athletically slim, her tanned, wired frame possessing the kind of hidden strength which surprised many. Her sandy hair was tied back in a very short ponytail, and had an undercut. Her face was thin and sharp, nicked with small scars here and there.

Turning to look at her with a raised eyebrow, he saw that she’d come with someone else. Her arm was slung over the shoulders of a discomfited youth, whose shock of dark brown hair had been ruffled into disorder. [color=98fb98]“Leavin’, sir? Yer Highness’ll miss sum newbie bustin’ then.”[/color] Though [i]technically[/i] a noble, her speech was entirely common. The newcomer in question scowled at her words, and struggled to free himself from her grip.

Antea let him go. As the adolescent straightened up, Wulfric saw he already matched him in height, even though the young man was at an age where he was likely to grow some more. [color=08e8de]“Your Highness,”[/color] he took care with how he spoke. An embarrassed flush had spread across his cheeks, further warming his bronze complexion. Despite oozing mortification and surliness, he managed a respectful greeting. Gaze averted, he bowed, and the motion was proper if stiff. [color=08e8de]“Izan Verdugo, sir.”[/color] The prince gave a clearly dismissive wave, and the newcomer gladly took the chance to slink away.

[color=ab274f]“Don’t scare him too much,”[/color] Wulfric drawled dryly at Lanza, having noticed a glint of vicious mischief in her gaze.

Sensing his good mood, the woman grinned slyly, and jokingly returned, [color=98fb98]“Only what ‘e needs, sir.”[/color] Wulfric huffed sharply. But as he turned to leave, a secretive smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
[center][h3]***[/h3][/center]
After his practice, and before returning to the castle, he had a shower to take.

He stood under the spray of the cold water longer than usual. It was physically reinvigorating, and somewhat meditative. Even as his fatigue receded, so too did the enjoyment. Part of it was that he was concluding a fun activity, and thoughts of the work and obligations he had to attend to returned to his active awareness.

A part of it – perhaps the larger one – was that he recalled his reason for having come here.

He still didn’t know what the fuck to do about Callum.

Wulfric took a long, long breath, and exhaled slowly.

At least he’d regained enough of an equilibrium to function normally.