A Million Roads to Nowhere

Quality Time

Note: Get ready, we're in the fourth part! I hope you all enjoy. Things are coming, folks. :)

Left to his own devices, Patrick wanders Chourmondeley Keep and does mindless tasks to keep himself occupied until it's time to depart for the Zara and Zephyrin Towers. Lena's refusal to speak at all with him has kept him in a perpetual foul mood, but that softens after helping out William and Aodhan with their work. Clementine is busy with whatever her secretive business is and doesn't need his help with anything, and by noon, he's bored out of his mind.

He makes his way out to the camps, where he knows Brynjar is out training Rozenn's men. Patrick figures that must be part of the deal Rozenn made with Clementine. At this point, Patrick doesn't even care what it is. Everyone he's met has rank business about them and he's steadily losing his ability to be worried about it.

"Ay, Patrick," Brynjar greets.

He's sat on a barrel, watching two boys, maybe about Patrick's age, whack at each other with steel swords. The expression on his face is severely unimpressed. Beside him, a few other men that Patrick doesn't recognize watch on. One of them shouts out for them to stop being so hasty.

"They aren't very good at that," Patrick notes.

Brynjar arches a bushy eyebrow. "And you could do better? When's the last time you practiced?"

"I suppose it could be now."

Brynjar laughs. "Go on then," he says and nods out to the patch of dirt in the circle of tents where the boys are sparring. "By the Bells, Damien, get up off the damn floor!"

The one with the ginger hair, which Patrick assumes is Damien, does indeed get up off the floor while the other one who lost goes to sit on the outskirts of the ring. One of the other men tosses him a canteen and Patrick steps out to face Damien and unsheaths Clarity. He squares his feet the way Brynjar taught him and positions his hands on the hilt of the sword.

"Ready, lads?"

Once they both respond in the affirmative, Brynjar gives them the go ahead nod and they don't so much as run toward each other as they stroll forward, swords raised. Patrick's hands sweat and he grips tighter to the leather handle. Their swords hit in the middle with an eerie metallic clang.

Patrick pushes against him using as much force as he can without getting off balance and Damien goes stumbling backwards. Damien's sword comes close to Patrick's stomach, but he blocks it easily enough. He has to admit he's a bit out of practice and takes a bit too long to move, but after a few more blocks and swings, he hits Damien's arm with the flat of Clarity's blade and unarms him.

"Great," Brynjar says. "Go again."

Patrick spars with Damien once more and wins and then spars with the other boy, Lou, who has a thin body, but turns out can pack a lot of force in his swing. Still, he's uncoordinated and it takes little effort for Patrick to get him off his feet.

"Glad to see you haven't forgotten everything," Brynjar comments. He doesn't look quite impressed, but he certainly doesn't look as disappointed as the other men seem to be with Lou and Damien. "Let's see how you'll hold up."

Brynjar steps out into the ring and Patrick only has a small span of time to catch his breath before he's blocking a litany of blows and attempting to dish out some of his own. He fumbles a few times, yet manages to avoid getting too cut up. The two of them go a few rounds and Patrick only wins one of them, but he doesn't lose too badly, considering.