Swords struck, dust rose, and then, sweat dripped. Two years passed faster than they intended, but the two boys were at each other's throats still. Osmond jumped back, with his eyes darting forward, and his daggers ready. Since he now knew what his weapon of choice was, he had been training to use them.
Chadwick had gotten bigger, and it was not for just his body. He tried to hide it at his level best, but his anger seemed to seep out now and then. The vein over his forehead popped out, blood rushed to his face and eyes, and Osmond could hear Chadwick's teeth grind.
Chadwick muttered to himself. Steam escaped through the corners of his mouth and his hair stood straight. He was donned in plate armor, but Osmond now saw a red cloak shroud him – a fiery red cloak.
"That's enough," a shout came at Chadwick. It was dipped in anger.
