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Nathaniel's eyes very quickly scanned over his opponent, the peasant who managed to get by on dirty tricks. Nathaniel held his sword aloft, in front of his face, broad side facing his opponent. He gave a bow in this position, pressing his forehead along the broad-side of the training sword. He had everything to prove, and yet this match had been decided already. Nathaniel waited for his opponent's bow to meet his own, rising as his opponent rose. Nathaniel's motion of readiness was a stark contrast to Julian's: Nate simply lifted his other hand to meet the grip of his sword, and turned the blade outward to face his opponent. Julian's stance was shoddy, jerkily moving about their sword arm as if they were unfamiliar with the weapon's balance. This duel had already been decided.

It was no surprise Nathaniel's eyes drifted to another one of the battles, between two nobles Nathaniel had conversed moments ago. The more empathetic one seemed to go on a quick offensive, but the display was almost difficult to watch. It was like a tide crashing into a cliff, an avalanche of attacks that were expertly parried, blocked, or sidestepped. The opponent was impressive, the kind of person Nathaniel could only have wished to duel, to show off their own talents. But instead, Nathaniel was stuck with someone untrained. His eyes turned back to Julian, and they were filled with the intensity of an individual with a singular purpose: win.

[color=fc2129]"You are a mockery to this training ceremony. Let's be done with this."[/color]

Nathaniel lowered his stance, rolling back onto the balls of his feet for a moment. His body rocked back for a moment, before he leaned himself forward and took off into a quick sprint towards Julian. His sword remained held over his shoulder and behind his back, allowing his upper body to rotate slightly in between steps to keep himself balanced. He closed the gap with Julian quickly, training sword lifted high in the air as Nathaniel was just entering striking distance. Nathaniel's movements were swift, and his grip and aim true.

[color=fc2129][i]Weak grip, stance unbalanced... Two strikes to disarm, and the match is over. This is easy... maybe too easy.[/i][/color]

But the die had been cast. As an unsettling feeling creeped up the back of Nathaniel's spine, he had already made his opening move. He didn't anticipate this had been a trap.