"Even if said company is…much more complicated than he lets on?" Hylas prompted, hearing the hopeful undertone of his sarcastic reply. As much as he dreaded the thought of being known, he wanted Cas to like him, and knowing that the prince had compared him to others— hopefully in the sense of personality, rather than moral character —inspired an uprising of bashful considerations. Did he enjoy Hylas' company? Or was his professional life so dull and unentertaining that small talk with an illiterate assassin, the enemy, was less draining? Either way, Hylas' strangeness seemed to agree with the prince, and for him, anything to buy a little forgiveness was worth sticking with. The strategic part of him had been silently advising to appeal to the prince's humanistic side with the hope that if he knew, well and thoroughly, that Hylas simply had to to commit unspeakable acts, perhaps Cas could overlook his weathered being and ease Hylas' constant fear. However, the sensitive part of him— the part that shied away from kindness and well-meaning quips —was increasingly curious with every new statement from the prince. Even the passing remark about being refreshingly different was too much for him to accept, and his mind worked to resolve the inner conflict between what he wanted to feel and what he wanted to prove: I'm not someone you should…like. But please like me. Hylas swallowed, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of a long sleeve. "But no I…know what you mean. It…is…nice to have company," He said with a weak laugh, his smile twitching from the attempt to seem casual, "For once."
Cas smiled softly. He hadn't thought Hylas would have enjoyed company after all these years away from it. That speaking and spending time with someone, actively engaging with them would have been too much but he was pleasantly surprised and even glad, that he found company nice. He wanted him to find his company nice, just as Cas found his, "Even if he's more complicated than what I've seen, yes." Cas knew their time together would be coming to a close quicker than he wanted. With the letter written and being able to be sent off at any moment, there wouldn't be as many days like this, simply talking other a meal, just the two of them. A part of Cas told him that by the time he was able to go home, Hylas might just give him a map of the area and let him go on his own. After all, Hylas had no reason to stay with him after this. He could leave if he wished, go to the nearest port and avoid all conflict and live to see another day. Cas didn't have that chance, and, the part of him that wanted to see everyone live, urged him to encourage Hylas to do so. But, he hoped he wouldn't if only to give him more of a chance to get to know Hylas more. Strange to be so intrigued by someone he had barely known for a week. Cas couldn't remember that last time he truly wanted to get to know someone as he did Hylas. Was it because of his past and who he was? Or was it because he genuinely enjoyed the moments where they could forget who they actually were? The implications of what that might mean had Cas pushing those thoughts away, for now, focusing back on the present, "Well… I'm glad my company and conversation hasn't been awful for you."
How could it be awful? The prince's easy presence and flowing literacy had been a wonder to the assassin. After a lifetime of thinking grace was a rare, divine quality bestowed upon the virtuous subjects of song and poem, the man before him was a thrilling specimen. Boyishly rugged and comfortably unkempt, the sharp symmetry of his features was all softened by the playful curve of a frequent smile. The careful weight of his green gaze seemed to all at once study and enjoy the sights before them— in this case, Hylas, while his posture and table manners showed the relaxed discipline of his routines. That was the natural grace poets worshipped. Hylas honestly didn't think a person could be so visually, let alone intellectually fascinating up close. Was everyone this quietly beautiful? His reply began with a shy smile and as he pondered his soft feelings of gratitude and relief, the sinister motives of a tolerant prince were scarcely considered. "Hmm," A pause and a slow look around the room, "I don't suppose my cooking just now wasn't awful for you, either?" Their bowls were empty, but Hylas was caught up in the strong currents of validation, and he had never been in that river before. "I mean, it's nothing special really. A peasant dish for Northern Valtheans. Though…I probably shouldn't have told a prince that. Aha." He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, wishing he could sound consistently educated and literate in between the bouts of mental exhaustion, as he found it hard to avoid those details of his past when all his knowledge came from a time of hunger and blood. "But— Dinner will be much better. I think the cauldron's water is near-boiled…so I can start the first step and leave it to rest before it's time."
"I thought lunch was delicious as always, thank you." Even if it was a 'peasant dish' as Hylas had so gracefully put it, Cas couldn't bring himself to care. It tasted great, as had all of Hylas' cooking thus far and the prince enjoyed the simplicity of it all, mixed with the array of interesting and amazing herbs thrown in to give the dish the heart-warming and homestyle feel it had. It might not have been the complicated five-course meals at the palace but the idea that Cas had had even a small hand at creating it made the dish better than anything else, "And well.. while dinner is resting… I was thinking perhaps we could give those swords a bit of a swing?" Cas wanted to see how well Hylas could wield the weapon. Daggers and poison only got one so far when it came to war. The use of the sword would be far greater than anything else when it came to combat, and up against gods knew how many, a couple of daggers weren't the wisest of choice in the prince's mind. The swords weren't the white steel of the one Cas owned back home, but they'd do for now until they were back in Eirus. He couldn't remember that last time he'd used a sword that wasn't forged from the precious metal. Training with the king's guard every so often to keep his skills, and himself, in shape meant using the white steel, understanding the balance they held so if the time came, Cas hadn't lost all the skill he had when it came to a weapon such as that. But, Cas was more focused on wondering how Hylas would serve with one. He gathered being an assassin meant for little to no use of a weapon like that, too big and heavy and would easily get in the way, not like the daggers he'd seen Hylas use so far. He was curious as to how well he would do, but taking in Hylas and his skill set, Cas knew that he wouldn't have too much trouble.
Hylas' smile was slow and shy, first thinking of how the prince had enjoyed his small effort towards their meal before his gaze fluttered nervously to the side at Cas' suggestion. He hadn't actually planned on using his new sword until after the trip back to Eirus. Then, he'd stay at the safehouse for a while before deciding his next steps. He'd failed to complete Zaros' commission, so what was he going to do for money? A new, local client was his only option if he calculated that what he'd saved and hidden over the land wouldn't be enough to sustain him in Volytra. That is, if he decided to flee Mavadora. In any case, his return to the safehouse after delivering the prince would have given him time to develop the skill. Though he'd have no sparring partner, he could make do. Of course, there's always the blacksmith in town. Being with Cas was easy enough, and Hylas wondered if putting his trust and time into befriending a man who couldn't hear and rarely spoke would be hard at all. Time with Cas had done that to him. The way the prince laughed and drew jokes out of Hylas had stirred up a whimsical thought that crystallized into one word: hope. If he could feel this way with one person, could he feel it with another? "Later on? Before evening?" He asked, noting the light rise in his voice. The question was a distraction; something for him to say while an image of Cas ran wild in his mind. Panting and out of breath, chestnut hair in his eyes, hand wound tight around the grip, merciless with swings and his strong ar— Hylas swallowed and his smile twitched as he shifted in his seat. "Oh. Well. That sounds…good. But you…you remember I haven't ever used a sword, of course?"
Cas leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest with a soft nod, "I do, which is why it'll be good to try them out. You'll need to learn at some point, why not start now?" To know your way around a weapon such as the ones they possessed took time and training. For Cas, understanding the sword he now had wouldn't take long, not after learning his way around them from such a young age and with weapons of far greater quality. For Hylas, it would take time, as it did for anyone who was new to the practice, just as Cas had learned. There was no use carrying the sword around only to not know how to wield it when the time came. Their trip back to Eirus would prove far more dangerous after his father was aware he was alive and coming home, the chances of being found or intercepted grew the longer they took and, to not be able to use the blade of striking silver if the time arose… it had the prince more anxious than he was letting on. Hylas was talented, undeniably so, but the weight of a sword held you down, literally. Strapped to ones side or back while they chose to use another weapon held great cost and Cas was not about to see Hylas make that mistake. If he had no intention of using it at all, it should be left behind, but the prince knew Hylas wouldn't take that chance. As much as they were getting on Cas could see the doubt, they'd talked about his struggle to trust and it was harder under the circumstances they'd been thrust into. And maybe, if Cas could teach Hylas something knew, it might build that trust just a little further. He had no plans of killing Hylas, not anymore, not after the last day or so. Cas wasn't about to risk compromising his chances of getting home, and he liked Hylas' company more than he admitted.
Hylas stared at the prince after he put forth his casual remark, expecting a string of fluttery apologies or softened reassurances. "Why not?" He says. Just like that. Remembering to breathe, he pushed out a single nervous laugh. "Oh. Yes. Well… you make it sound fairly simple, like that. I feel like I should say again that I've never picked up a sword. I'll probably— I will make a fool of myself." The small worry would come to grow into a stirring warmth in his stomach. He imagined the tangles of nerves that would grip him in that future moment, where the prince would wind a tight hand around his to test his grip or kick aside a foot to fix his stance before taunting him with a weapon. Fear and excitement ran wild in his blood. "It's not that I'm worried about doing poorly. Hm. I know I'll do poorly," He said with a confused half smile, running his finger along the edge of the weathered table, "Just don't know why you'd want to do such a thing." With me. "It'd be a waste of time. Your time, I mean. Wouldn't you rather rest or write the letter? Is it even finished, that thing?" The prince's thoughtless insistence brought on the bashful curl of an embarrassed smile as he made pandering excuses. Caspian pushed me to buy the sword. Nothing could change the fact that the prince had observed a silent yearning and encouraged action towards it. It was almost like a gift. What happened to the sharp-minded politician who saw only opportunities for efficiency and logic? Hylas wanted to search for ill-will in the whispered encouragement at the blacksmiths, but the idea of a gesture such as this lesson distracted him.
"The letter is finished," Cas said, waving a hand in the general direction of the desk and the folded paper set aside on top, "Learning is not a waste of time, neither is teaching." And Cas wanted to teach Hylas something different, something he'd never even learnt just a fraction of, "So, unless you have something better to do with your time, I say I clean and you start on dinner before we head out. Besides, you can't do any worse than I did when I was young." We both know you want to learn. Why hesitate? Holding a sword far too heavy and big, dragging it across the courtyard and trying to hurl it over his shoulder before Cas even realised, by the time he had it in the air, most of the weight was being carried by his father behind him. The number of bruises and cuts and little scars gained from days of training, falling over and over into the dirt, twisted ankles and dust-covered clothes as he struggled to understand the weapon, rather than simply wielding it. Hylas was a quick learner, Cas had observed that much and came to the realisation when he'd thought more into who he was. It might take some time, but he had no doubt Hylas could come to use the weapon as well he could. The way he'd been drawn to the sword at the blacksmiths made it clear he wished to learn, and the eagerness to do so would help in the long run. Being opposed would make the journey all the harder, Cas had learnt that the hard way. It might even be fun, give them some time to get to know each other a little more.
Hylas considered the prince's offer with a hesitation that was gilded with shy curiosity. Cas was so willing and Hylas was struggling to come up with ulterior motives to assign. 'Why not?' That's it? But what about efficiency? Priorities? What did the prince have to gain from teaching a man to fight? Why would anyone do something— or offer something they didn't need to? It's that kindness again. The effortless habit of wanting more for others was fascinating to Hylas. Beyond any material or monetary offerings, there were real people who were inclined to give. What was it like to have hands that healed instead of harmed? To have a name that could soothe, rather than unsettle? Prince Caspian of Eirus surely knew. Hylas' gaze flickered from where it had settled on the table up to the soft, terrible green looking back at him. "…If you're sure you wouldn't rather be…" A shrug, "Doing literally…anything else…" Hylas hesitantly continued, his mind a flurry of leaping observations. Strange and almost happy thoughts filled him with a rare type of excitement; a softened adrenaline rush of hope and admiration. He'll really teach me. We'll be together, armed and alone, with only empty space to separate us "Then…alright. Yes, Your Highness. Teach me the ways of the sword."
Cas grinned, excitement flooding his veins that Hylas had actually agreed to let him teach him. The hesitance that Hylas had shown had Cas nearly believing he was going to say no and was quietly surprised when it was the exact opposite, "Wonderful! It'll be fun, I promise." He grabbed their empty plates, moving from the table and towards the basin to clean up. Your Highness. The words sounded strange hearing them come from Hylas. Being addressed by his title had always made Cas feel odd when it wasn't in a formal setting, he'd never known why, but it was something he'd never been able to shake, and hearing them from Hylas was… he couldn't place the feeling, but he brushed it off as he got to work cleaning, thoughts turning towards their anticipated sword session. Cas wondered if Hylas had ever thought about learning before today. The way he'd been drawn to the sword, the glint in his eye when it was offered to him.. surely he'd at least put some thought into learning, it wouldn't make sense if he hadn't. Hylas was so good with other weapons, daggers especially it seemed, if he was confident with a blade he'd have no trouble with a long sword. Cas remembered their conversation about the sword of river glass, quietly wondering if maybe that was where the assassin found the simmering curiosity about weapons such as that.
Hylas blinked in surprise as the prince whisked away the dishes without being asked, and a smile grew at the reminder of how much he wanted to help. Making his way from the table to the hanging pot of simmering water, he pondered what soup he could ready a broth for with his Thyrr bark. Something rich to satisfy a prince with a love of new flavours. After rummaging around a small box of small pouches, Hylas returned with a look of determination and two handfuls of spices from Croucan. The creamy stew he would prepare was a traditional comfort dish for the long awaited returns of homesick traders; with its choices of spice varying from each region of the republic. Of all the kingdoms of Mavadora, the food of Croucan was Hylas' favourite. In the coastal towns of the Eastern Break, long tables lined the ports to feed sailors free of charge, and as a frequent stowaway, Hylas was always comforted by the promise of abandoned bowls of thick, spiced stew and delicate meats curled lazily over loaves of buttered flatbread. So long as the latest round of sailors had left before him, Hylas could drink his fill of liquid heaven and tear off as much stale bread as he pleased before an attendant made his rounds to stamp papers. With a smile to himself, he left his warm reverie and inspected the prized little sacks of seasoning. Teal cloth: Yerrit. Yellow cloth: Deriou or…no, Reikon. Red cloth: Voser leaves, of course. After crumbling his Thyrr bark and watching it dissolve into a salty golden swirl, Hylas remembered the needed Feryoir stalks that were too brittle to be shipped in bundles. Thankfully the herb grew in Valthea, and Hylas had some drying in a hung bundle in the corner of the kitchen. Thoughtlessly, he moved to skip over and reach for the leafy stalks up above while forgetting the other figure washing up nearby. A rough brush of his shoulder had Hylas eyes a little wide and his pulse a little thunderous. "Pardon me," He almost whispered, forcing a breathy laugh to cover the shock of contact. The walk back to the pot of boiling water was short but torturous, and the shy assasin forced his dark gaze to resist the urge to look back and see if the prince was looking at him.
The sudden rush of contact came as a surprise for Cas, especially from someone who had shown to have a dislike for such things. But from the way Hylas spoke afterwards, Cas knew it was an accident, and he didn't mind nor care in the slightest, "No harm done." He replied, the smile prominent in his voice. Whatever Hylas was making, the mix of spices swirling around the room was delightful. Something new from their previous meals, and it had him excited to try it later. It was honestly embarrassing to Cas that he had tried more new and interesting foods in a day or so than he had for a long time back in the palace. As much as he enjoyed tasting and learning about the different meals that came from other kingdoms, it seemed that his father stuck to what he liked, and so did the kitchens. Maybe that was why he liked visiting markets in the lower end of town if time allowed it. All the different flavours to try. Not that time ever leant in his favour when it came to activities that might bring some relaxation and joy, especially not with the coronation so near. Although Cas supposed now, there would be no coronation, at least not until after the war if he was to survive. There would be no time for a grand event such as that, all the preparations that were already beginning to fall into place would have to be set back for who knows how long. Both a blessing and a curse when war was knocking on the gates of the palace. There were bigger things to worry about than a damned crown being passed on. Even if his father didn't see it that way, Cas certainly did. Scrubbing down the dirty bowls was a good distraction when it came to forgetting about the responsibilities lying on his shoulders and the many soon to come. One mistake and it might be the end of him, for his father, for his kingdom. At least here Cas could pretend nothing else mattered, if only for ten minutes.
The room was silent as Hylas cooked and Cas cleaned. Whispy curls of fragrant steam danced up from the boiling stock by the hearth, and soon Hylas knew it needed rest. Eventually, the fire would break into quieter embers and ease the soup into a thicker cream. He remembered watching the process from the view of an alleyway, slim and unnoticeable somewhere in Southern Croucan. Across the wide street, the open-air seaport kitchens hummed with sound and movement. Cauldrons the size of boulders were filled with great handfuls of dry herbs and coloured powders, and heaps of diced meat screamed in flat furnace pans the length of rowboats. Hylas had watched with ravenous interest as the line of cooks carried out each task, imagining how he would accomplish such a fantastic dish on a smaller scale. Now, in his little corner of Valthea, he had done it for the third time. He hoped he'd done it right, partly because the spices had been hard to steal and partly because he wanted to impress the prince. "I think this is a good point to leave it to thicken," Hylas said, half-turning as he placed a lid on the pot, "When we come back…we'll cook the rabbit and vegetables and use the last of the sweet dough." Slowly making his way to the prince, he spied the sword— his sword leaning by the door. He smiled, suddenly reminded of their plans. "And if we're not too hungry…there'll be some leftover for tomorrow."
Cas set the pots and bowls to dry on the side, wiping the water that was left dripping on his hands on his pants to dry them, turning to Hylas as he spoke. Whatever was cooking smelt good already, and with the rest of the prep to do later, Cas couldn't help but smile at the thought of what was going to happen next, "Sounds good." The prince moved to grab both of their swords, the familiar pinch of leather and wood greeting him as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt. The weight of the sword was nice to have back, like reconnecting with an old friend after time apart. Grinning, Cas handed Hylas his sword, holding it out for him to take, "Shall we get started with your training then?" As much as he was excited to teach, Cas hoped he was at least somewhat of a decent teacher. The only other times he'd ever had to do so was with children, and that had been a few years ago. To be fair, Hylas was starting from scratch, so it shouldn't be too hard, Cas just hoped he wouldn't disappoint. They made their way out into the courtyard where the midday sun was dancing across the broken cobblestone. Not the steadiest of ground but it would do for now until Hylas got a feel for the weapon. The prince took a moment to admire the sword, figure out the balance of the new blade. It was a marvellous piece of craftsmanship, though nothing like the one Hylas was holding. So lightweight and sharp, it could match some of the swords back in Eirus. A fine blade for someone like the assassin.
Hylas accepted the sword with a hesitant, distracted smile, though his gaze dropped when the surprising weight of the thing fought to slip out of his hands. With a new, steadier grip, he carried it out to the courtyard and skipped onto the plush grass. Wide splashes of warm light broke through the heavy branches of the blood plum tree and slipped over the prince as he walked into some shade. Patches of his hair, face, and clothes were casually illuminated, and Hylas caught the terrifying brilliance of Cas' eyes in a fleeting moment of sharp green. A cool wind crept through the open doors leading outside the monastery, filling the air between them with the sweet, crisp essence of the mountain spring nearby. Within the silence, muffled birdsong mingled with the whispery brush of wind in the fields behind the crumbling walls of the safehouse. "How to…begin?" Hylas quietly asked, carefully looking over the prince’s stance. He was still casual, but now was a time that Hylas could be comfortably on guard: somewhere in between trust in the prince and reflexive defensiveness. The wavy wooden grip under his palms was smooth against lines of calluses, and the longer he held the heavy blade in his hands, the more his body reacted to holding a weapon before someone so close. Though his heart thrummed with anticipation, his mind was still and clear, awaiting something to trigger a lunge or flinch. “Am I holding it right, like this?” With a glance to Cas' grip, Hylas quickly swapped the sword for the opposite hand, feeling a twinge of embarrassment over not knowing there was a 'proper' longsword hand. All the real longsword swordfighting he’d witnessed had been during the war, where a two-handed strike of white silver had been the main form of cavalry attack. But since the prince favoured one leading side of foot and hand, Hylas was determined to follow in his example.
Cas spun his sword effortlessly in his right hand before using it to point to Hylas with a grin, "You want your dominant hand on your sword at all times," He couldn't tell which side Hylas favoured. From the way he had adjusted to his opposite hand, it was hard to figure out. From what he had noticed of Hylas so far, he seemed to use both hands equally. Strange, he'd never seen anyone do so before, however wouldn't point it out. Only Hylas could know what was the most comfortable, "Your lesser hand," He waved with his left before placing it right under his right, moving sideways to show Hylas the grip he had on the hilt, "Goes underneath. Don't take your main hand off, it provides the most stability whether you have two hands on the sword to not." Cas took a few steps closer, ready to adjust Hylas grip if need be. They'd get the basics down first before any real fighting, especially against each other. Being able to hold and actually swing the sword correctly was far more important than anything else. Once he was sure that Hylas was holding the weapon right, he moved to his feet, knocking them gently with the end of his sword, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get them to move, "Lesser foot in front of the dominant," He said, "Fighting in one spot is rare, you want to be able to move quickly and dodge attacks, having your main foot at the ready is necessary." Cas demonstrated with his left foot in front of the other before lifting his sword over his shoulder in the fighting stance.
Hylas nodded as he did as he was told, dropping his gaze to the ground as he shifted his stance, committing Cas' instructions to memory. Dominant hand in front. My dominant hand…My dominant hand? Right hand then. Lesser hand…left. At their sudden closeness, Hylas was quick to meet his eyes, looking up at his effortless grin and remembering that was something he could also wear. "To balance the weight. I understand," He said with a soft suggestion of a half-smile, matching the prince's position with a newfound trust in his steady grip. It was nothing like he was used to. Throwing knives only required a single, perfected motion of the wrist. He could be dangling out of a window or stumbling through the dark, but as soon as he knew where a target was, instinct and muscle memory took over. This new technique was like archery in that it needed the early discipline of established positioning. He rarely used arrows when carrying out his jobs, as most of the fletchers in Mavadora had distinct woods, styles, and markings that might lead to a vengeful associate finding him through a 'business inquiry' with the arrow's maker. To find the best, unremarkable arrows under a veil of discretion, Hylas would journey to Telgalla. Depending on what awaited him in the near future, he might never make that trip again. "And if I wanted to strike you, or at the least, advance," Hylas said, feeling his smile grow as he took a long, methodical step forward, "Would I do well to —raise it and meet your sword with a strike down?" Slowly, Hylas' longsword was lifted in a heavy rise, falling equally as soft onto Cas' waiting sword with a silvery knock. Leave my front vulnerable, but let force carry the attack? "Or…block? Stay low and use my strength— and reflexes to anticipate?" A soft twist of his sword crossed the prince's, and Hylas bit his lip at the shy review of his foolish questions. Protect, but risk a blow hard enough to stun my grip? Problems and imagined scenarios flooded his mind in a delicious rush of fantastic conflict, where the mere knowledge of active nerves sent slow adrenaline to his heart.
Cas nodded, pleased with how well Hylas was taking it so far, "If you're going on the attack, try and keep your distance when readying your advance, without armour leaving yourself exposed for too long will get you impaled." He shuffled back, demonstrating the move slowly. Sword up, a step forward, down onto Hylas' sword and held it there, both weapons pointed steadily towards the ground, "What you did before was good, but force and swiftness are your allies. Use them to your advantage." He dug his feet into the ground, remembering all the times in the palace courtyard where he and his brothers had done the same as they were now. Repeating movements over and over until dust and dirt covered them, hands red with growing blisters from the hours of practice, "Or, instead, you could try for the flank," Swords scraping together, Cas moved his own, "If it's exposed enough. Not necessarily the best move, it leaves you quite exposed but if your opponent is defending, there shouldn't be a problem." He stood side-on, digging his feet into the dirt to ready the stance. His movements were once again slow as he demonstrated, leaning with the weight of the sword into the move as it came to a stop centimetres above Hylas' side, not moving an inch as he held it in place, "Unlike striking down which requires more force, you have to trust your body, your skill, here. Move with the sword, it leads you, like a- like a- a flowing river, yes?" Cas moved backwards, repeating the move on Hylas' other side before giving him a nod to have a try, resting his sword by his side in a relaxed grip.
A smile twitched at the corner of Hylas' mouth as he considered the prince's casual metaphor. A river. Following his advice, he mirrored Cas' movements with slow but surprising accuracy, first moving with a methodical step and then following in with one of confidence; a steady stream. Space for the advance, dominant…right hand leading. His eyes looked to Cas for confirmation, his sword unwavering where it hovered by Cas' side. "I know a bit about weak spots," He said, stepping back and repeating the careful advance as he spoke, "—I mean with armour." He knew more than how to get a knight to show off an unprotected curve to the side of a breastplate or at the base of a helm; more than where the hard edges of oversized pieces could break a limb. After years of learning, he knew of all the places and all the ways a body could break and weaken. The reminder was fleeting, but it prompted a weary self-assurance in him as he learned from the prince. If he decided to turn on me now, I would have no problem. Mastering weapons was not an integral part of being royal, but knowing Eirus' history of past wars, Hylas was sure Caspian was more dangerous than he looked. With his sword up and his shoes grounded into the overgrown grass, Hylas met his opponent and teacher with playful anticipation. He'd imagined wielding a longsword would've been more of a strain with his inexperience, but his grip was easing into effortless stability, and with a rising giddiness, there was a strange energy that wanted more. "Could I try blocking your advance?" Hylas asked, twisting his blade into a lazy horizontal to demonstrate, "I want to feel how a real strike carries."
Cas held back a chuckle, though it showed instead through his smile. He had no doubt Hylas knew more than him when it came to finding a mans weakness, in any scenario, sword or dagger or even hand to hand combat. He didn't doubt his skill for a second. The way he was able to copy and replicate moves, as well as Cas, showed he was more talented than Cas had first thought. It was admirable, considering he had only held a sword for the first time mere moments ago. Though, with Hylas' past history and a clear eagerness to learn, the prince didn't doubt it would take Hylas to master the way of the sword, "All right," Cas moved his sword into position, over his shoulder as he readied for an attack, "I'll go up, okay?" He didn't plan on wounding Hylas today. Both hands at the ready, he gave a soft nod before the attack came down, dust and dirt kicking up as he stepped forward, metal clashing together as Cas' sword was brought down atop Hylas'. It hadn't been a gentle swing, not in the slightest, but in battle, there wasn't time to be delicate and friendly, if anything they would be harder than he had just been, "Again." He moved back, this time not preparing to stop after the first block. Cas missed the rush of adrenaline he was given every time the swords clashed together and rang throughout the small courtyard. How his heart thundered as he anticipated what the next move was going to be, where the next attack would be placed. Here, it was fun, different from in battle but at least right now he could enjoy teaching Hylas.
The prince's sword met Hylas' with a loud, silvery clash that broke into quiet, shaky scrapes as Cas withdrew. Brilliant. The strength behind his strike was terrific. Even as Hylas held still his block, there was an unmistakable force that inspired a wave of excitement through him. The deadly silver in their hands were no blades of white steel, but the perfect ring of hard impact sent shivers up the assassin's spine. With a wide, fascinated gaze, Hylas watched as Cas advanced for a second time, raising his sword in a paramount of quiet power. Again, his block stopped the attack with an unyielding front, and before he could think twice, he was pushing against Cas' sword with an unexpected might, lunging in a single jump to meet him. The sudden drive send their swords screeching as Hylas' confident push locked the lower ends in a close hold and drove the point of their swords heavenward. With only their blades half-tangled between them, Hylas and Cas were inches apart, inhales heavy and eyes alight. "Am I…getting overconfident?" He said with a breathy laugh, holding the prince's gaze with a look of equal surprise and amusement.
Cas shook his head with a grin, "No, no you're doing great!" Up this close, it was easy to share the air between them, and Cas could feel Hylas' breath between the two, shining metal weapons keeping them apart. He could see that fire to learn in Hylas' eyes, that excitement that shone through. Strange to think that only a few days ago, they never would have trusted each other with something like this, and even though that trust might still be wavy, Cas found himself enjoying the time they spent like this, without fear of being attacked. The swords scraped against each other as Cas drove them towards the ground, swiftly, manoeuvring his own weapon around Hylas' until they were unlocked and he was taking a few steps back, "You go, I'll block you this time." He didn't want Hylas to hold back, the only way he would learn to fight like this was to go all in. It might not have been as hard as a proper battle, but from how Hylas was so quick to pick up and learn, Cas was anticipating a hard attack. Swords required more labour than a dagger. it wasn't the precision that made a good swordsman, it was the ability to anticipate and strike hard when the time required.
(i'll reply tomorrow; but is this the moment cas is distracted? if not then they'll carry on to whenn cas teaches him to deflect & then when cas tell him to go at him its whoops)
(All good, I'd say now would be a good time to have the whoopsy moment)
With a fiery look in his eyes, Hylas's smiled as he lunged at the prince in a hasty advance. The air seemed to split, making way for the powerful stride towards him. A current of energy pulled Hylas along by the tip of his sword, and it was as if the Gods had curled back the longsword in that long, overhead blow. Before Cas had even raised his sword high enough to anticipate a strike, a flash of silver had knocked away his defense in a yielding scrape of metal against metal. The prince's sword—and then the prince —fell at an impossible proceeding of speed and slowness. The murky echo of a heartbeat was hard and throbbing somewhere in Hylas' head. Loud. Cavernous. Almost a ringing. He could hear the strain of his muscles easing in his slowing pants, and he could feel it in the reflexive loosening of his grip. Blood. His sword fell, and his hands twitched into a soft tremble. He's on the ground. What have I done? "Caspian?" Hylas said, speaking to himself before his frown dissolved in to wide-eyed shock, "Fæn. Oh Gods— Caspian! What did I— I hurt you. Gods—" Impossibly fast, he was on his knees, desperately needing to see. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Please let me see. I'm sorry, Cas." Everything came to him in long screams of observation. All he could hear were his thoughts, and all he could see was Cas, clutching the side of his face. His hands jumped to touch him, but retreated out of newfound fear. Did Cas think Hylas was trying to attack? Was he angry? What if this was a moment he chose to attack Hylas? Heart pounding, Hylas almost flinched away as he looked for a weapon, gasping out a sharp, relieved exhale when he saw Cas' new sword away in the grass.
