Three Fates Entwined | Dream Team

Chapter Fourteen

George shifted his stance and gripped the hilt of his sword even tighter. His opponent, a fully-fledged knight a lot older than himself, stood across from him.

"Ready, men?" Filens called. "Attack!"

George flung himself forward, his sword held out in front of him. His opponent blocked the blow and slashed, forcing him to back away.

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. The knight grinned at him and lowered his sword. "Come on, prince, you can do better than that. I know you can. Don't hold back against me. I'm just a lowly knight, remember?"

Right. And I'm not going to let some "lowly knight" defeat me.

George leapt towards his opponent again. As the man raised his sword to defend against the attack, he darted to the side and pushed him over.

Filens strolled over to them. His eyes fell on the body of the man sprawled on the floor and he chuckled slightly. "That's an interesting way to doing things, my prince."

George blew a strand of his brown hair out of his face and stared down at the fallen knight. "Nobody's going to let me just push them down when we're really fighting, are they?"

"You took me by surprise," his opponent grunted, struggling to his feet. "If you can do that on the battlefield, then I don't see why not."

"I need to learn how to actually fight," George said. "This isn't real swordfighting."

"That's where you're both correct and incorrect," Filens said, patting him on the shoulder. "You didn't have the sword skills to overcome your opponent, but you managed to do so anyway with your intellect."

"Is that a fancy way of saying that I can't use a sword but I'm smart?"

"...Yes, if you want to take the glamour out of it."

George smiled. For the time being, he was content to be smart. But he still had to improve his abilities with a sword, or any weapon at the very least.

He looked around the training field spotted the two men from earlier that day. They were dueling each other, and even though nobody was technically doing better, an inexperienced person like himself could still tell who was better.

"They're pretty good, aren't they?" Filens said, following George's gaze. "You must have some special luck around you. I never bring back soon-to-be knights as skilled as these."

George watched as the dark-haired one, Sapnap, feigned a blow towards the left. The other man, Clay, smacked his sword away easily, clearly not falling for the trick. "Do you think I'll ever be that good?"

"Of course, my prince! They've probably been training for a long time prior to coming here."

"But they're younger than I am."

Filens gave him a push, sending him stumbling in the direction of the two. "Maybe they should be the ones training you, not me."

George rubbed his arm nervously and approached the two. This is a bad idea. I'm probably going to get decapitated. I'm---

"Oh, prince-dude," Sapnap said, glancing at him. "Hi---"

Clay brought his sword in a low sweep, knocking Sapnap's legs out from underneath him. George winced as he hit the ground hard. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Sapnap groaned, massaging his back.

Clay offered him a hand, helping him back onto his feet. "You can't afford distractions," he said with a slight smile. "Especially if that distraction is the mysterious prince named George."

He tilted his head to one side and gave George an odd look. A shiver ran down his spine. He couldn't explain it, but something about the guy didn't sit right with him.

"So how's your swordness coming along?" Sapnap asked George.

George frowned down at his sword. "Not good. Apparently I'm just relying on my smarts at this point."

"That's still good," Clay said, leaning on his sword. "I'd rather be smart than good at playing around with a sword."

"I mean, it's not 'playing,'" Sapnap said. "What if you're defending your life or something and you need your sword to save your life? This is like self-defense, I guess."

"That's why I need to become better," George said in agreement. "I need the self-defense. Especially right no---"

He bit his lip, stopping himself from finishing the sentence.

"Assassins?" Sapnap guessed.

George nodded. "They're such a big problem, aren't they?" he said wryly.

Sapnap sheathed his sword. He wasn't wearing a sympathetic look like George had expected, but instead had a sort of calm acceptance, as if this sort of thing happened on a daily basis. "That's why you and that Filens guy recruited us, isn't it? It's not because you're actually low on knights, it's because you need more to protect you and the king."

"Protect." Why do I need protection? Why am I so weak that I need other people to take care of me for me?

"Clay?" Sapnap asked. "You're being awfully quiet."

George blinked, looking over at the man. He had forgotten about Clay, completely engrossed in his conversation with Sapnap.

Clay was staring down at the ground, his brow furrowed slightly. His grip on the hilt of his sword was so tight that his knuckles had turned white, even though his expression gave almost nothing away.

"Are you okay?" George asked cautiously.

He looked up at him, as if coming out of a daze. "What? Yeah, I'm okay. Just lost in my thoughts for a second."

George frowned at him. There was definitely something strange going on, but he didn't feel like he had the authority or the right to go and prod at him to get information.

But it was bothering him. Greatly.

He glanced over at Sapnap, who seemed to be following the same trail of thoughts as himself. The two had been together when George and Filens found them, but even he didn't seem to know much about Clay.

Something was up. And George was going to get to the bottom of it.