The Golden Effect

Valiant

BEING EDITED.

CHAPTER 4 - VALIENT.

The first week was absolute torture. Merlynn hadn't been taught to follow orders as much as she was forced to handle when around the Prat, and, while she easily adjusted to having to answer every whim he requested, it took time for her to not bite back at him and tell him to do it himself. He had hands, didn't he? Might as well put them to good use instead of torturing poor boys... There were lists and lists of things for her to do, ranging from scrubbing to mucking to deliveries to changing to sewing - it was ridiculous!

She trudged behind Arthur toward the training grounds with heavy shoulders and a sore head. Merlynn had to stay up in the wee hours of the morning in order to sow his shirts together (a training mishap), and she was absolutely exhausted. And then, she was forced to practice sword fighting, of all things, with him. As if she actually knew how to use one - of course, she had whacked sticks against each other for play-fights in Ealdor with Will, but otherwise... she was useless. The sword was blunt, but made of steel (the finest, no doubt), which would severly hurt once it slammed against her.

He must have been expecting it, and probably wanted to watch as she stumbled about like a pig with three legs. Merlynn pursed her lips in annoyance as she crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "Is there a reason why you picked me to do this - uh, sire?" she forgot to add the formality more often than not. "I mean, sire, that I have no skill with a proper sword and you have knights who would be more than happy to train with you."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That's not the point. Besides, if you are to be my servant, you might as well learn to sword-fight in case of anything. There's also a tournament coming up, if you haven't already realised; you need to help me train."

"Fine," she surrendered and slid on the armor he basically shoved in her hands. It was just a basic helmet, sword and shield, instead of the full chain mail that Arthur wore. "If I happen to get seriously injured, I'm gonna..." he glared in her direction, and she sighed. "Nevermind." Merlynn was relieved that she preferred men's clothing over the dress that most women wore; it let her move freely without strain, or falling (not like she couldn't manage to trip herself over) due to the length of dresses.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I will," he reminded. "Come on. We're heading outside the castle."

Merlynn followed after the arrogant prince until they stood just outside the ramparts on soft, lush grass. She slid the sword from the sheath and surveyed it for a second. It was smaller than Arthur's, but sturdy and no doubt sharp. Putting on the helmet, she glared at the blonde.

"Ready?"

"No," she muttered and glanced up. "But you really don't care, do you?"

Arthur grinned and spun his sword expertly. "Not really. You know me very well." Suddenly, he attacked. "Body." She deflected it with her sword. "Shield." Merlynn pushed her shield toward him to block the strike. "Body. Shield."

"Body," Merlynn called and swiped her sword.

With a final strike, he hit her sword from her hands. "Head." His own sword slammed against her helmet.

She felt sudden painful flash at the top of her head. "Ow! That hurt, you nutter."

"Come on, Merlynn. You aren't even trying," he whined.

"Yes. I know," she said and hissed as he tapped her back with the side of the sword. "Bugger."

Arthur sighed. "Once more."

"Oh, please, no."

He rolled his eyes and came at her. "To the left," he instructed, informing her of which way he was going to go to prevent injury. "To the left. And left. Head." He struck her head again.