"Tristan!" Annabell screamed, diving into Tristan's chest, spreading her wings to break speed at the final moment. Dropping the sword, he quickly caught her and flicked her head, wondering why she jumped at him in such a stupid way. With a betrayed look, Annabell rubbed her head with her wing, shooting Tristan an annoyed look before shaking her head. "Your cousin came."
"Which one?" Tristan looked to the door and saw a King's Guard following a woman with golden hair cut just above her shoulders, her outfit tight-fitting, with pieces of thick leather over it. "Mabel." Stroking Annabell's head, he looked down at the dove, "Did you hear anything interesting?"
"No. Those dirty men just spoke about going to a place called a brothel later and laughing before being told off." Tristan rolled his eyes and lovingly rubbed the dove's head before losing his hold on her. Annabell stretched her wings and flew up, perching herself on his shoulder.
Watching the knights who trained, he noticed a few shot Mabel with looks of desire before quickly checking themselves and lowering their heads, taking their minds away from the treasonous thoughts, hoping they weren't caught. Despite it, the one leading the training noticed and ordered his men to run ten laps of the courtyard, getting a collective suppressed groan.
"Are you not going to talk to her? Isn't that why we came?" Tristan looked at Annabell before picking up his sword and swinging it into the air. His head was covered in sweat, but he didn't mind, continuing to perfect the single swing, repositioning himself each time he felt the swing was lacking something.
"If I approach myself, it is obvious I am trying to curry favour. She must come to me." Tristan said, throwing peeks Mabel's way as she picked up a blunted blade and a small shield. Before her, the King's Guard took a defensive stance with a wooden blade and waited.
To anyone stupid, it would have been insulting that the King's Guard used wood against steel, but Tristan knew differently. Each member of the King's Guard was the best of the best in the realm, the final goal of all Knights. Sure, one or two of its members may have been placed in it for political reasons, but even then, that person would still have to be one of the best warriors within the realm. If anything, Tristan felt the guard could still easily kill Mabel, even if his sword was made of wood.
Tristan slowed down his swings and watched the two begin to spar. Mabel charged forward, her shield kept high to her side, ready to intercept anything thrown her way. Stabbing forward, the Kings Gaurd didn't even raise his sword to block, instead stepping to the side.
Mabel saw the man's sworded hand move and went to intercept it, but was thrown off balance as he swung his armoured gauntlet at her sword, making her stumble forward. In a quick motion, he placed the tip of the wooden blade to her throat. Everything happened in one skilful but graceful movement that left no openings as if the guard had predicted everything the moment Mabel made her first movement.
Tristan could see Mabel grit her teeth and back up as the guard explained her errors and made her attack again. Looking down at the sword in his hand, Tristan bitterly chuckled. He enjoyed learning the sword, but had given it up two years ago. Everything he knew was self-taught; no one in his family ever provided him with a tutor. With the small allowance he was privy to, he had paid a few of the knights to train him, but their ways of using the blade never felt right for his body.
Even now, the long sword he used felt wrong in his hands. He couldn't explain it, but it was as if his body was too quick for it, never able to keep up with what he really wanted to do. Looking at the King's Guard, he desperately wanted to ask him just once if he could help, knowing that even a single sentence would be more valuable than anything he had ever done for the last decade.
Yet he held back, instead choosing to watch. Between the first defeat and now, Mabel had already been 'killed' twice by the guard. Changing her strategy, she took a more defensive posture, slowly trying to bait the guard into an attack that was never going to come. Eventually, she lost her patience and struck out, the king's guard guiding her attack through his arm and disarming her.
Mabel reacted quickly. Lifting her shield, she swung down atop the man's head. The king's guard lifted an arm, able to see the strike in his peripheral vision, and although the strike would have hurt, he showed no reaction. Putting a leg behind her own, he swept her off the ground and threw her to the side, placing his wooden sword on her throat once more.
On the ground, she looked up at the knight for a moment, then, before sighing and letting her head fall backwards, finally saw Tristan in the distance as he watched whilst training. 'Finally.' Saying in his head, he carried on as if not noticing, talking to Annabell about random topics, practising sword swings.
Mabel watched her relative with interest, trying to remember which one he was. It clicked as she remembered the day in the throne room when she stood before her family. Much like the rest of them and herself, who meekly tensed up when Anton summoned his creature, she had noticed him be one of the few brave ones to look up and see what was happening, remembering the gaze that showed a man who watched everything, one that eerily reminded her of Brandon.
"Ser Titus." Mabel said after catching her breath, accepting the hand Titus gave her to stand up, "Behind me, who is that?" Titus looked to Tristan and saw every inconsistency in how he wielded the sword in an instant. Narrowing his gaze, he nodded.
"Tristan Cosmaton. Son of Prince Walter and Lady Audrey Greenfield." Titus said with slight pity, "Both died when he was two." Mabel turned to look at her cousin and tilted her head.
"Who was he a ward under after the incident?" Mabel asked, unable to shake the feeling of how similar Tristan felt to Brandon, only lacking the confidence and snake-like look in his gaze, but still holding the look that he could see through everything.
"No one, Princess." Titus easily answered. It was his job to understand all the affairs of the Royal Family, even the most irrelevant members of it. His words shocked Mabel as she turned to Titus.
"He was tutored by no one? Someone in my family?"
"At the age of seven, he chose to end it of his own volition. The Birdkeeper helped him with it. The late king trusted the Birdkeeper's judgment, and the prince was too minor to be a serious consideration for his Grace to deal with." Titus easily said, making Mabel nod.
"So he never spoke with the Chancellor. Never tutored under him, or anything of the sort?" Mabel asked, peering deep into Titus's eyes to try to read him to see if he would lie.
"The Princeling has rarely interacted with any of the Cosmaton family, from my observation. I cannot be sure about anything private, and this is a question best asked for the head of the Silent Chamber." Mabel nodded and thought on Titus reccomondation. The Head of the Silent Chamber oversaw the realm's information network, employing many, including the Birdkeeper.
"I wish to spar him." Titus looked at Mabel before turning to Tristan.
"You will win any spar, Princess. He has no formal training and is wielding a weapon unsuited for him." Mabel rolled her eyes at Titus words.
"It is a friendly spar bewteen family. We must stay united, and maybe I can offer him some support." Titus looked at Mabel before placing his hand on his chest and bowing.
"If that is what you will, Princess."