Since his lesson with Aisha, Sam had continued to practice his stances; in the privacy of his own home, where he could stumble and look as ridiculous as he liked (and he did fall over, several times. Luckily Mia didn't seem to judge that much). He'd even bought a sword from the market, just something cheap and small, but better than a stick; the shopkeep had raised his eyebrows but said nothing, for which Sam was eternally grateful.
He knew though that nothing could really match practicing against an opponent, but there were very few people he trusted to not mock him and play fair; most friends he had were far more accomplished fighters than he was, and he'd had too many knives thrown at him lately to be casual with who he chose.
Eventually, he had decided to ask Amun. While he had no idea what level of skill he had at physical fighting (or sword fighting, more specifically), he knew he could trust him, and it would be nice to see him again anyway. Arranging to meet in the Ruins, where they could find a large, deserted empty space, he headed there on a cloudy evening, sword in his hands (it felt oddly heavy on his belt) and excitement, as well as a little anxiety, in his heart.
He knew though that nothing could really match practicing against an opponent, but there were very few people he trusted to not mock him and play fair; most friends he had were far more accomplished fighters than he was, and he'd had too many knives thrown at him lately to be casual with who he chose.
Eventually, he had decided to ask Amun. While he had no idea what level of skill he had at physical fighting (or sword fighting, more specifically), he knew he could trust him, and it would be nice to see him again anyway. Arranging to meet in the Ruins, where they could find a large, deserted empty space, he headed there on a cloudy evening, sword in his hands (it felt oddly heavy on his belt) and excitement, as well as a little anxiety, in his heart.
SAMUEL
I somehow still lost
I somehow always do
I somehow always do
