Affairs Of A Knight

The Art Of Masking- 6

"We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be."

— Patrick Rothfuss

In order to perfect the act, you must believe that no other exists except the one who you are when you were the mask.

— Jéan-marié De Bancalis Gau- Lancaster.

Affairs Of A Knight - 6

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He eyed at her for a second before making up his mind and darting for his sword.

She anticipated the action.

Their swords clashed halfway; he— determined to end her, while she pushed him to find the extent of his strength.

He was fierce,  stabbing and slashing everywhere that was vital and open, she was quite determined to stay alive, managing to evade his deadly blows. 

She gave him a kick to the stomach, finally managing to push him off her.

"So you were pretending all this while" she stated cocking her head to the side.

"Lying to stay out of the light while hiding strikes that would give Kimble himself a run for his gold coins"

He gritted his teeth, not speaking as he flew at her again, she beamed as she slid past him, knocking on his left elbow—till smiling—while he was got more enraged.

He came for her again, either to kill or maim, he was not certain yet—although he was open to any option—but, he palnned to put her out of action long enough to make his mind.

Their swords clashed again, in a furious tango, causing sparks to fly, he took advantage of her focus on preventing his blade from biting into her shoulder and elbowed her in the ribs then tried to knock her off her feet and out cold while he decided to risk it all to kill her or not.

She groaned in pain at the act but jumped away from reach.

♤♡◇

He seemed quite determined to kill her.

She hid her smile and most of all, her surprise at his hidden swordsmanship.

It was excellent.

How had he managed to keep such terrific skill hidden and out of notice? How had she not noticed?

Louis prided herself with a mind of great perception, so how did he manage to fool her along with the rest of the others for the past month?

His sword came again, aiming for the liver, she slid to the side, a laugh escaping her.

Perhaps he was not as hopeless as she had earlier presumed. She watched his fluid movement with his sword, almost like the sword was an extension of his arm, and the brutality and sharp accuracy of his strike and frowned in question. 

Before their world had fallen apart, she had accompanied Papa to the castle many times and she, in passing, had often seen the knights of the kingdomm train. She had no interest in swords and fighting then for she had been papa's little princess and he promised to always protect her, however her quick mind had captured the image and movements of the knights.

He moved nothing like them.

He had gotten training alright, because the bumbling awkward child she remembered could even draw a bow properly.

Where ever he had gotten lessons from, it was not from his time as a prince. His strikes were barbed with precision and aimed to kill.  The knights of England aimed to incapacitate then capture.