"Look everyone, He's kneeling! Finally this man knows his place." As saying that he Kicks me in the stomach.
"Enough!" Marton screamed
Drake looked at Marton as if asking what's wrong.
"You seriously want to anger the Silver family?" Marton complained.
Drake Laughed, and with a grin said.
"Are you joking, for one the dragonheart family has no reason to fear the Silver's. For another, it has been bugging me for a bit. What reason do we have to believe that he truly is a member of the honored Silver family. I mean for all we know this buffoon right here has been lying to us this whole time."
"Boy, do you know what you're saying? I admit he doesn't seem to act like a Silver, and he doesn't look much like his ancestor. But I can see it in his eyes, those eyes right there have seen death a thousand times over. Those are the exact same eyes of the hero Sir Westly Silver had sixty years ago." Marton said.
"Him? So you're Seriously telling me that man right there, who has been screaming his lungs out all night drenched in blood. Hell, not just that, a man who forgot his own sword was at his waist. Is one of the legendary knights of the silver family." Drake asked, well glaring at me.
Marton nodded.
Drake grabbed his spear and pointed it at me.
"I challenge you to a duel, on the honor of my family. If you beat me then I will believe you're a member of the Silver family." Drake challenged.
I stood to my feet.
"I accept." I said.
Marton looked towards me and nodded.
I draw my sword from the flesh of the wolf.
Drake glares at me well entering a short stance holding the spear close to the tip, his legs are prepared to Lung at any time. His hands are twitching. I enter a European longsword stance, I point the sword towards the ground. Typically when fighting someone with a spear what you have to fear most is their reach, but for some reason hes not taking advantage of that.
He probably wants to end this with one stab, he's an idiot or perhaps more likely inexperienced. What was it master Brook who said, the worst thing for a warrior is self confidence. I have trained under a thousand masters, so many that they started to call me the wandering student. The spear has been used around the world, same as with the sword; this means many cultures have come up with ways to deal with each other. Of which the Europeans made this one, it's nice and simple, just how I like it. Point the sword towards the ground, and bring it up to push the spear out of the way, stopping it from hitting you and leaving the spearman wide open for a counter attack.
I look towards his feet in this case, looking at the spear is Unnecessary.
Drake takes a step forward.
He's going to go for a faint, at first he's gonna target my leg then go for the chest. Fool.
His spear leapt forward aiming towards my leg, and as if it wasn't targeting my leg in the first place it twisted upwards towards my chest. My sword jumps up to perry the spear sending it off trideactory scratching my shoulder. I take the opportunity and slash diagonally down his chest. Blood gushes out painting his shirt red.
Master Tim, would you be proud if you saw me now?
"You didn't have to kill him. He may have been arrogant but he had Potential." Marton said.
I laughed and said,
"Relax he's not dead, I made sure to make a shallow cut."