Calvin handed Kieran a wooden sword.
"We're using wooden swords?" Kieran asked, examining the weapon.
"Yes," Calvin replied with a smirk. "So we don't actually damage one another."
Kieran nodded, gripping the sword tightly. "Alright then, give me one."
Calvin tossed another wooden sword to him, and Kieran caught it mid-air without hesitation.
"That's the spirit," Calvin said.
They both squared off, wooden swords at the ready. Calvin and Kieran stood a dozen paces apart, wooden swords gripped tightly in their hands. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, each man assessing the other with sharp, calculating eyes. This was not a duel of words or intentions; it was a clash of skill and resolve.
Calvin moved first, a blur of speed as he lunged forward with a quick thrust aimed at Kieran's chest. Kieran reacted instinctively, his wooden sword sweeping up in a broad arc to deflect the blow. The two swords collided with a hollow thwack, the force sending vibrations up both their arms.
Kieran immediately followed up with a powerful downward strike, aiming to overpower Calvin's defenses. Calvin sidestepped at the last second, his movements precise and economical, and retaliated with a sweeping horizontal slash aimed at Kieran's ribs.
Kieran pivoted, using the momentum of his missed strike to swing his sword around in a counterattack. Calvin ducked under the blow, his speed allowing him to close the gap between them. He feinted a low strike, forcing Kieran to drop his guard, and then spun to deliver a sharp blow toward Kieran's shoulder.
Kieran raised his sword just in time, blocking the strike with a grunt of effort. His raw strength forced Calvin back a few steps, creating distance between them once more.
Calvin's eyes narrowed. He adjusted his grip, holding the sword lightly but firmly, his stance shifting to one of readiness. Kieran's approach was brute strength—overwhelming and relentless. Calvin knew he would have to rely on finesse and strategy to gain the upper hand.
Kieran advanced, his swings wide and heavy, each one demanding Calvin's full focus to evade or parry. Calvin moved with fluid grace, his steps light and calculated as he weaved through Kieran's onslaught. He blocked a strike aimed at his midsection, then spun away from a follow-up slash that would have cracked across his shoulder.
As the fight continued, their movements became a seamless dance of attack and defense. Calvin aimed to tire Kieran out, baiting him with feints and quick strikes that forced the larger man to expend energy. But Kieran was no fool; his strikes grew more measured, each one a calculated attempt to corner Calvin.
Kieran swung low, aiming for Calvin's legs. Calvin leaped over the blade and twisted in midair, bringing his sword down in a sharp vertical strike. Kieran raised his sword above his head, catching the blow with a resounding crack that echoed through the courtyard. The impact sent a jolt through both men's arms, but neither relented.
Calvin shifted his weight and slid to the side, attempting to circle around Kieran's flank. Kieran anticipated the move and turned with him, keeping his guard high. Calvin lunged forward with a rapid thrust, and Kieran angled his blade to deflect it. The two swords locked for a moment, their wielders pressing against each other with equal determination.
With a sudden burst of strength, Kieran shoved Calvin back, forcing him to retreat a few paces. Calvin recovered quickly, his breathing steady despite the intensity of the exchange.
Kieran charged again, this time with a combination of feints and powerful strikes that forced Calvin to defend at an increasingly frantic pace. Calvin parried a high slash, ducked under a horizontal strike, and stepped back from a quick thrust aimed at his ribs.
Seeing an opening, Calvin darted forward and delivered a swift strike to Kieran's wrist. The blow wasn't hard enough to disarm him, but it forced Kieran to adjust his grip. Calvin seized the moment, following up with a sharp jab toward Kieran's side.
Kieran twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the strike, and countered with an upward slash that grazed Calvin's shoulder. Calvin hissed at the impact but didn't falter. Instead, he stepped inside Kieran's guard, his wooden sword aimed for a decisive strike at Kieran's chest.
Kieran reacted with startling speed, dropping low and sweeping his leg out in an attempt to trip Calvin. Calvin jumped back just in time, his footing steady as he prepared for Kieran's next move.
Kieran rose to his full height, his gaze sharp and unyielding. He adjusted his stance, shifting his weight onto his back foot, and raised his sword in a defensive posture. Calvin mirrored the change, his stance low and balanced, his sword held at the ready.
The two men circled each other, their movements slow and deliberate. Each was searching for an opening, a moment of weakness to exploit.
Calvin feinted to the left and then darted to the right, his sword aimed for Kieran's shoulder. Kieran twisted at the last second, raising his sword to block the strike. The force of the blow reverberated through both their weapons, but neither man flinched.
Kieran stepped forward, using his momentum to deliver a powerful diagonal slash. Calvin parried the strike, their swords locking once again. They pushed against each other, their gazes locked in a battle of wills.
With a sudden burst of speed, Calvin disengaged and spun to the side, his sword arcing toward Kieran's ribs. Kieran twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the strike, and countered with a horizontal slash aimed at Calvin's midsection. Calvin jumped back, the blade missing him by inches.
They clashed again, their movements faster and more fluid than before. Each strike and counterstrike was a testament to their skill, their wooden swords moving with precision and intent.
Calvin aimed a quick thrust at Kieran's chest, but Kieran sidestepped and brought his sword down in a sharp arc. Calvin blocked the strike, their swords locking once more.
This time, Kieran used his strength to force Calvin back, pressing his advantage with a relentless series of strikes. Calvin parried each one, his movements growing increasingly defensive as he searched for an opening.
Finally, Calvin saw his chance. He stepped inside Kieran's guard and delivered a swift strike to his shoulder. The blow wasn't enough to end the fight, but it forced Kieran to take a step back.
Breathing hard, both men retreated a few paces, their swords still raised.
The courtyard fell silent again, the tension between them thick and palpable. Neither man was willing to concede, their determination evident in every movement.
They clashed once more, their swords moving faster and with greater precision than ever. The fight was a perfect blend of speed, strength, and strategy, each man pushing the other to their limits.
As the duel continued, it became clear that this was not just a test of skill but a test of character. Both Calvin and Kieran fought with everything they had, their movements a reflection of their respective strengths and philosophies.
When the fight finally ended, both men stood several feet apart, their breathing heavy and their wooden swords raised in salute. Neither had won or lost, but both had earned a newfound respect for the other.
The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound echoing through the courtyard as Kieran and Calvin lowered their wooden swords. Both men bowed respectfully, their expressions calm despite the intensity of their duel. Calvin stepped forward, offering a hand, his smile easy and disarming.
"I'm impressed," Calvin said, his voice carrying an air of sincerity. "You really are strong."
Kieran accepted the handshake, his grip firm but not overpowering. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."
Calvin chuckled lightly, the corners of his mouth curling into a small, calculated smirk. "Appreciate that. But… can we talk in private for a moment?"
Kieran blinked, slightly puzzled, but nodded. "Sure."
The two men stepped away from the courtyard, leaving the cheers and chatter behind. They wove through the narrow streets of the medieval city, the buildings towering around them with their stone walls and timber frames. The air smelled faintly of bread baking in distant ovens and the tang of iron from the blacksmith's forge. Vendors called out from their stalls, selling everything from cured meats to trinkets carved from bone.
Calvin led the way down a quieter path, his pace measured, his gaze occasionally drifting to the cobblestones beneath his boots as if lost in thought. They stopped at a secluded alcove, where ivy crept along the walls and the distant hum of the city faded into a muted backdrop.
Kieran leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Alright, what is it?"
Calvin turned to face him, his expression unreadable, though his eyes held a strange intensity. He spoke with deliberate slowness, his words carefully chosen. "Would you be fine with… killing people?"
Kieran's brow furrowed, his body tensing slightly. "Huh?"
Calvin stepped closer, his posture relaxed but his presence commanding. "Let me try again. I said… are you willing to kill people?" His tone was even, almost conversational, yet it carried an undertone that hinted at far deeper implications.
Realization dawned on Kieran's face, and he let out a small chuckle, though it was tinged with nervousness. "Oh. Yeah, I'm fine with that."
Calvin's smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained sharp, as though dissecting every word, every movement. "What if I told you I needed you to kill someone… no questions asked. Would you do it?"
Kieran shrugged, his confidence seemingly unaffected. "Yeah. You've given me armor, a sword, and a chance to hit those so-called protectors. So yeah, I'm with you. Who do you need me to kill?"
For a brief moment, Calvin said nothing. His smirk grew faintly, and his eyes glinted with a dangerous charm. "In due time, Kieran. I'll tell you when the moment comes."
Kieran straightened, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. "Alright."
Calvin nodded, his demeanor shifting once more to its casual, charismatic veneer. "For now, go see the others. They'll want to hear about that duel."
As Kieran walked off, Calvin remained still, his gaze fixed on the cobblestone path ahead. He waited until Kieran was out of sight before turning on his heel and stepping into the labyrinth of streets.
The city buzzed with life, the hum of merchants and craftsmen filling the air. A beggar sat near the edge of an alley, his face obscured by a hood, while children darted past, laughing as they chased a rolling hoop. Calvin weaved through the crowd with ease, his presence drawing subtle glances from passersby.
He paused near a bustling square where a group of musicians played a lively tune, their instruments a blend of lutes and flutes. Calvin's gaze lingered on them briefly before moving on, his mind clearly elsewhere. His steps were deliberate, his expression calm yet contemplative, as though each stride was part of some intricate plan.
By the time he reached a quieter section of the city, his smirk returned, faint but undeniably confident. The shadows of the looming buildings seemed to stretch and twist around him, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if the city itself bent to his will.
"Patience," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the streets. "Everything in its time."
And with that, he disappeared into the winding alleys, his mind already calculating the next move.