LOREN
Thankfully, Melita agreed to the training, or sparring, or whatever this was going to be. For a moment, the Launceleyn hadn’t been sure that the red-headed woman would say yes; although he couldn’t exactly blame her for being uncertain, both because of the blight and because he was a stranger, he liked to think that his gentle encouragement and promise not to let her get out of control did the trick.Then she settled in, and he noted that her posture and the way she held her weapon was much more sure than his way. That notion, that she was far more skilled at this than he was, was simply reinforced when she swung her weapon in a rush. He barely got his own staff up in time, blocking her strike, and the wood of their weapons clacked together. Immediately he felt the painful vibration travel up his arms and his eyes widened. She was much, much stronger than he was.
That just meant he needed to evade and deflect rather than parry. He stepped back rather than trying to push her away, instincts taking over, and swept his staff in a horizontal slash towards her chest. While he was pretty sure the blow wouldn’t land, he was trying to force her away or off balance, so he could use his superior reach to fend her off.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
