Alpheo stood by one of the tall, narrow windows of the keep in Bracum, his gaze settled on the training yard below, where Ratto moved with relentless focus. The boy's stance was low, steady, his muscles coiled with anticipation as he sized up his opponent, another youth of his age and height, yet lacking his intensity.
He lunged forward, his wooden sword arcing swiftly through the air, testing the other boy's while not fully commiting . His opponent raised his blade just in time, their weapons clashing with a satisfying crack that echoed off the keep's stone walls. But Ratto pressed on, feinting left only to dart right, swinging his sword in a sharp arc that his partner barely managed to deflect.
