Chris Lionheart
Smash Champion
So, this is my first real attempt at the art of writing. It is a tale I had imagined about three years ago and have planned out over time. Though far from finished, I wish to develop it into a full story, piece by piece if need be. Though it is not related to Fire Emblem (my favorite game series), it is atleast vaguely inspired by the series. I will, of course, be glad to hear your comments- regardless of whether they are of praise or criticism.
Those of you who are involved in Make Your Move may remember the characters, or the universe as a whole. Well, I figured it was finally time to "canonize" my OC universe, though you will notice significant changes in character roles and the plot as a whole.
"It is said that mankind is bound to commit evil. Indeed, an inner demon dwells within us all, but where there is darkness, there can also be light- an inner angel that implores its host to stand fast and resist the control of their viler side. That is what I believe."
The axe came down quickly. It aimed directly for Sam's head. The young man's response was swift. In one motion, he brought his own halberd above his head and caught the oncoming blade. From here, it would be a test of strength, as he soon realized. This was seemingly unfortunate, as his foe was a much larger man than himself, both in height and in build. Sam, however possessed an unexplainable strength that far surpassed his lightly-muscled appearance. Even so, his opponent was advantaged in this struggle. Surely, the best solution to this predicament would be to escape it. Sam knew that if he shifted his axe to the side, he would be able to break free and have a chance at retaliation. "What if my enemy foresaw this?" he thought. He finally decided that deception would be necessary. He shifted his weight to the right, causing his foe to predict a rightwards shift of the weapon. Instead, he swings his axe to the left, causing the two weapons to seperate. This was his chance! Sam swings his axe at the head of his quarrel, the blade stopping just an inch short of contact with the enemy's cheek.
"Nicely done," said the man as Sam moved the blade of his poleaxe away, "you've become quite adept in combat. Perhaps, you'll even surpass me one day."
"Nonsense! There isn't a man alive that is greater than you, master Gawayn."
"Your respect is well-founded," stated Gawayn with a chuckle, "but I am but the third of the Four."
It was true. Gawayn, the Green Knight, was the third ranked member of Valia's Four Marshalls, the greatest generals in the nation of Valia, and perhaps in the entire continent of Bravus. The other three were Garrett, the Red Knight (ranked at number four), Garthos, the Black Knight (ranked at number two), and Christopher Lionheart, the King and Sam's father, who is often referred to as Valia's Gold Knight. All of these men gained their positions through their efforts in The Demon's War, which ended twenty years ago.
"Even so," replied Sam, "none of the Four can match you with an axe."
"One day, I believe that you will. You will be a great warrior some day."
"But, for now, you are but a spoiled excuse for a prince who would skip his own celebration in favor of swinging around a chunk of sharpened steel," scolded a voice from the shadows.
"My apologies, father," replied the prince, in truth much less apologetic than his tone implied. "It was my belief that my presence would go unmissed, disgrace to the throne that I am."
"Your half-hearted musings do not amuse me. Now, make yourself presentable and get your royal *** to that party before my sword makes that face of yours match your deplorable attitude."
The wrath of his father was not something that Sam wished to invoke. He rushed toward his room, atleast until he was out of sight. Once he was out-of-view, he slowed into a lax pace. He had no intention of hurrying without being forced to do so. he enters the bath chamber of his room. After washing his face, which had heavily perspired during his training with Gawayn, Sam peers into the water left in the sink. Judging by his reflection, he would not need to shave. His beard was short and rugged, just the way he liked to wear it, and his mustache had still not grown back. His curly brown hair was an absolute mess, as it often was after an axe lesson. "Why bother brushing it?" he asked himself. "It will just mess up again within an hour." He soaks his hair and dries it, it looking much tamer than it had before.
Upon returning to his chamber, Sam pulls out some rather fancy clothes from the closet. The set of garments included long pants, a long-sleeve shirt, boots, and a vest jacket, all of which were white and trimmed with gold thread. After deciding that his look needed a personal touch, he pulls out a long green cape that is insigned with the symbol of the royal family, a golden male lion head roaring on the background of a white cross. Dressed in these royal clothes, Sam, whose rather average build and lazy appearance made him somewhat unattractive, looked quite lordly. In order to protect himself against any possible attempt at assassination, he equipped a short sword, strapping it to his waist. This served to give him an even more regal appearance.
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The party was what one might expect of a royal ball. It was a lively function, filled with not only the prominent nobles of Valland, the capital city, but from every corner of the country. Sam hoped that he would be able to sneak into the multitude of people unnoticed, but such was not the case, for he was quickly spotted by a lady and asked (more like forced) to dance. "What a nuisance," he thought. He had hoped to avoid the company of the noblewomen for once.
The "lady" hung onto Sam as if to seduce him despite the fact that they had only just met. He didn't even know her name- not that he cared enough to find out. To him, this woman's motive was already obvious, for it was the motive of all so-called ladies. She sought to marry into the wealth and power of the throne. This is why he hated noblewomen... they were not but glorified harlots!
Fortunately, Sam's torture at the hands of the ladies was short-lived this time. The king summoned him to the balcony. The prince may not have known the reasons for his summoning, but he cared not. Any chance to escape this w***e was fine with him. He gave her an outwardly sorrowful farewell, while in his heart he praised his maker for their parting.
Sam entered the balcony to an unusual sight. His father and his twin brother Gareth (who was younger by a mere few minutes) awaited him, surrounded by knights. Normally, only the Four were allowed audience with the king. The leader of this troop was not of the Four. In fact, Sam had never before met this young commander who was tall, slender, and had long, prematurely-white hair.
King Lionheart stood up from his seat, bearing an even more royal visage than the prince, and beckoned his son to approach.
"Finally, the heir to the throne arrives," the king said, almost scoffing as he says the word heir, as if to show his disappointment. "We have business to attend to."
"Oh?" Sam asked, raising his left brow, "and what business warrants the presence of so many armed men, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Your appointment," the king replied." "You are to lead these men to victory in Volf."
"Lead them? Is it really appropriate to place their lives in the hands of an inexperienced tactician such as I?"
"Aye. These men, the soldiers of Valia's 37th Battalion, are some of the nation's finest knights. Should you fail to conquer Volf, or if your deeds in this war cannot match those of your brother, who has thus far shown himself to be more competent, he shall ascend to the throne instead of you."
"Am I right to assume that I will be Durandal's wielder in this conflict?"
"You are not worthy of our holy sword. As such, your brother shall wield it."
"And I? Surely you don't intend to leave your eldest without a weapon befitting of a lord."
"You need not worry," said Gawayn as he entered the room. "This halberd has been forged by the best blacksmith in Valland."
Gawayn hands Sam a large poleaxe. It was very heavy due to having a tremendously large blade, but to one of Sam's strength, holding it felt natural. The entire weapon, shaft included, was made of steel, adorned with spiraling and entwining vines of pure gold. A white flag was attached to the pole, it bearing the Lionheart family symbol which also adorned Sam's cape. Sam planted the base of the pole on the ground and was surprised to find that the weapon stood taller than himself.
"Does it have a name?" asked Sam.
"It is the duty of a weapon's bearer to name it," Gawayn answered.
King Lionheart approaches the edge of the balcony and addresses the crowd.
"Good evening, citizens of Valia. Tonight, we have come to celbrate the seventeenth year of the lives of my sons. There is more to this night than that, however, for tonight, we witness the knighting of our princes. This is a momentous day for our nation. This day shall begin our march to victory against the vile Volfens. They started this conflict by murdering our queen. It is only fitting that her sons will be the ones to avenge her and bring glory to Valia!"
Chris pulls out a ceremonial rapier and orders both of his sons to kneel, as is custom for a knighting. After both recite the oath of allegiance, the king taps the rapier on each of their shoulders and then declares them royal knights of Valia. Sir Samson was given control of Valia's 37th Battalion, while his brother became the commander of the 63rd.
The audience cheered as the new knights rose to their feet and prepared to speak to the crowd. Prepared may not have been the correct word. It was more like they had to decide which of them would speak first.
"You shall go first. You are the older one," stated Gareth.
"Nay. You are the favored heir. My few minutes of being your elder can't compare to that advantage. Now, go ahead."
"I swear... I will never understand your motives brother. Very well, I will go first."
Gareth clears his throat and directs the crowd to be silent. "People of Valia," said he, "it is time that we ended this war. Through a coordinated effort, I believe, my brother and I can strike down the defenses that they have maintained for so many years. The holy Durandal now enters the conflict, with myself as its wielder. It shall spell our victory now as it did twenty years ago when my father used it to smite the demon that enslaved our people. To victory!"
That was just like him, Sam thought. Gareth was always focused on business. This is what made him the better heir. Sam had no problem with being overshadowed, for he possessed no desire to take the throne.
It was Sam's turn to speak. "My people," he said without half of his brother's grace, "I care not for the strategy we use, but I am sure that the tactics that my brother has in mind will bring us victory. I know not his reasons for fighting, but I care only for the welfare of those people I rule, be they prince or pauper. We have warred for to long, Valia, and I will see to it that our warring ends by any means necessary. With my axe... with Galland, I shall end this war!" announced Sam, raising his axe at the end.
With the knighting ceremony complete, Sam knew he had but two options: he could return to that deplorable party or he might be able to escape. He decided to opt for the latter, though if this backfired on him, it could cause him more shame.
Sam snuck back into the party room only for a hand to immediately grab his shoulder. He nearly jumped in surprise and quickly turned around. The culprit was thankfully not a lady, but rather it was Sam's cousin, Ardan Cress.
"Hey cousin! Great party, right?!" exclaimed Ardan, in his usual ecstatic mood.
'Horrid as always. I'ld really like to escape this torment."
"That's a shame, but this could work in both our favors."
"Hmm?"
"I wish to charm every lady in this room and you desire to avoid them. Shall we switch places?"
"What are we waiting for?" replied Sam with a smirk.
The swap was rather simple to perform. Sam and Ardan, though not identical, were similar enough in appearance that one could pass as the other except when dealing with immediate family members. The two were close in build, both being rather short, and sported the same beard. Their hair was different however, Ardan's being much straighter and more well-managed, but this was easily fixed by simply messing up the hair. Though far from perfect, their finished disguises were sure to fool the ladies, who were as easy to trick as they were to attract.
"Well, you definitely aren't handsome enough to fill the part," mocked Ardan.
"I'ld say it's an improvement, actually."
Ignoring the remark, Ardan declared "It will get you out the door atleast."
"Alright, I'll be off then. I'm in your debt."
"Don't worry about that. I'm pretty sure that some lucky lady will be glad to pay that," Ardan said with a suggestive tone.
Ardan may be the biggest womanizer in Valia, but the young prince could not have wished for a better- or more useful- cousin. Ardan was an asset at every party. If a particularly assertive lady threatened Sam's status as a bachelor, Ardan would always appear to "steal" her from him. As the son of General Garthos, he was also one of the most competent sparring partners available to the prince.
Sam's disguise worked like a charm, and looking back, he could see that Ardan already had a beautiful blonde clinging to him. It suddenly occured to the prince that he might develop a reputation as a womanizer himself due to this.
As Sam left through the door, he found that his master waited just outside. Gawayn instantly spotted his pupil, despite the disguise, and called him over. Sam feared punishment, but reluctantly obliged.
"How did you know?" Sam asked Gawayn.
"Do you really think I would not recognize my own student? Besides, it is not like Ardan to leave a party without a woman on each arm!"
"I am such a fool," replied Sam as he shamefully brought his palm to his face- a "facepalm" as most called it. "I suppose you intend to send me back into that Hell."
"Why would I do that? I'ld much rather have one last duel with my pupil. This also gives me an opportunity to test the strength of your Galland."
"Do you honestly think I could sneak out with Galland?" It is still under guard in there."
"Are you sure this isn't it?" Gawayn asked as he tossed the weapon hidden behind his back to Sam.
"How did you get that?"
"I snuck it away from your soldiers. I jest. Actually, I just asked for it. Being their superior officer has its advantages, does it not?"
"You never cease to amaze!" Sam exclaimed jokingly.
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Their training grounds were situationed on Gawayn's property. As such, it was no surprise that Travan, Gawayn's son and Sam's best friend, also participated in the sparring. His weapon of choice was the glaive. Due to its similarities to other pole weapons such as the halberd, Gawayn taught them both.
The first duel would be between Travan and Sam. The former made the first move, feigning a high attack with the armed end of the glaive while instead attempting to trip his foe with the opposite end of the pole. This would be a brilliant assault, were it not for the fact that it had previously been overused in their fights. Sam countered the attack by ducking down and blocking the pole with the blade of his halberd and retaliating with a strong upwards thrust of his weapon's unarmed end, which struck Travan in the chin, ending the match.
"Ouch! Did you have to be so forceful with that attack!?"
"Would you have preffered me to have used the other end?" remarked Sam.
"A brilliant counter!" praised Gawayn. "That duel was expertly fought."
"That was nothing more than a warm-up," said Sam. "What does that make our record now, friend, seventy to fifty-three, my favor."
"You're jeering pains me more than your weapon did," replied Travan."
"Not my fault that you don't take these brawls seriously."
"Oh?" replied Travan who quickly dealt Sam a punch to the face. "Is that serious enough?"
The fist only managed to land a grazing blow, which was likely intentional on Travan's part. The two often competeted with and mocked each other, but the mood was always a joking one. In truth, Travan Aeander proved himself to be reliable time and time again. He often helped the young Lionheart to escape the castle for a duel.
"Ready to challenge the master?" asked Gawayn.
"Aye, but the real question is: are you prepared to face my axe?" the prince replied with a grin.
"You strike first then."
This was not what Sam hoped for. The first offender can often be brought into a point of vunerability when against a skilled opponent. The previous match against Travan was a good example of that. If the Lionheart wanted to win this fight, he would have to make his first strike unpunishable.
Sam charged towards Gawayn and unleashed a quick and basic horizontal swing. The attack was effortlessly blocked, but it allowed him to parry the retaliatory blow with equal ease. He let loose an upwards swing, followed by a fast downwards slash, but both attacks were repelled just as easily as his first. In fact, every attack thrown at Gawayn was blocked as though Sam were a novice. The general was simply to defensively competent to falter to his student's current strategy.
Sam pondered any advantages he could have over Gawayn. The middle-aged man had at least twenty more years of experience than he did. Surely the young knight did not possess superior speed, otherwise Gawayn's defense would not be so difficult to overcome. Sam's younger age could provide him with more stamina. If he could force Gawayn to go on the offensive, perhaps the master axeman would wear himself out.
Sam feigned an opening which Gawayn quickly attempted to exploit. From this point, the combatants exchanged roles. Gawayn would attack and Sam would defend. The teacher soon figured out his student's plan, however, and decided to make this battle a contest of strength. He performed a downwards swing, which Sam blocked. They were now in the exact situation that their last battle ended with.
Sam cursed his lack of foresight. He would not be able to escape the challenge this time. If he were to attempt the trick that brought him victory last time, his opponent would thwart him immediately. His only choice was to exceed his foe's strength or endurance. He put his full might into his weapon. Suddenly, Gawayn's axe shattered. Whether by superior strength, a superior weapon, or sheer luck, Sam won!
Though it was Gawayn's axe that broke, Sam was the one who was more shocked by the outcome. It was not rare for strong warriors to leave sizeable chips and cracks in each other's weapons, but for a steel axe to be split into no less than five shards... that was almost completely unheard of!
After a few moments, Gawayn broke the silence. "Well, it seems as though I've lost. That is an amazing weapon you wield."
"Does a victory by weapon destruction even count?"
"Aye. You proved your own worth by keeping up with a general in armed combat. Galland must have desired to match its master."
Sam looked down at his weapon. It was completely unscathed- not so much as a scratch to prove that it had ever been used. Its blade brightly shone in the moonlight. This weapon's crafter must have put his very soul into its construction.
"Does this mean that I have mastered the Gawayn style?"
"Aye, that it does."
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Sir Samson Lionheart and his army began their march on noon the next day- several hours after Gareth's troops moved out. Upon reaching the gates of Valland, they found that Travan and Ardan awaited them, each bearing armaments befitting of a captain.
"You are dressed reather oddly for just seeing me off," said Sam.
"We'll be joining your troop," replied Travan. "Do you really think I'ld allow you to have all the glory?"
"You decision doesn't surprise me much, but what of Ardan. Wouldn't he prefer to be charming every lady in fair Valia?"
"Already done," replied Ardan with a smirk. "I figure that there may be many a lovely woman in Volf as well."
"Well, then... shall we be going or will those women be kept waiting?"
"We're off!" exclaimed Ardan.
The conversation had left Sam in a cheerful mood. The prince truly expected this to be fun. Thoughts of freedom and adventure filled his mind. He couldn't be more eager to march on if he tried.
Those of you who are involved in Make Your Move may remember the characters, or the universe as a whole. Well, I figured it was finally time to "canonize" my OC universe, though you will notice significant changes in character roles and the plot as a whole.
"It is said that mankind is bound to commit evil. Indeed, an inner demon dwells within us all, but where there is darkness, there can also be light- an inner angel that implores its host to stand fast and resist the control of their viler side. That is what I believe."
~Samson Lee Lionheart
Prologue
~ The Lionhearted Prince ~
~ The Lionhearted Prince ~
The axe came down quickly. It aimed directly for Sam's head. The young man's response was swift. In one motion, he brought his own halberd above his head and caught the oncoming blade. From here, it would be a test of strength, as he soon realized. This was seemingly unfortunate, as his foe was a much larger man than himself, both in height and in build. Sam, however possessed an unexplainable strength that far surpassed his lightly-muscled appearance. Even so, his opponent was advantaged in this struggle. Surely, the best solution to this predicament would be to escape it. Sam knew that if he shifted his axe to the side, he would be able to break free and have a chance at retaliation. "What if my enemy foresaw this?" he thought. He finally decided that deception would be necessary. He shifted his weight to the right, causing his foe to predict a rightwards shift of the weapon. Instead, he swings his axe to the left, causing the two weapons to seperate. This was his chance! Sam swings his axe at the head of his quarrel, the blade stopping just an inch short of contact with the enemy's cheek.
"Nicely done," said the man as Sam moved the blade of his poleaxe away, "you've become quite adept in combat. Perhaps, you'll even surpass me one day."
"Nonsense! There isn't a man alive that is greater than you, master Gawayn."
"Your respect is well-founded," stated Gawayn with a chuckle, "but I am but the third of the Four."
It was true. Gawayn, the Green Knight, was the third ranked member of Valia's Four Marshalls, the greatest generals in the nation of Valia, and perhaps in the entire continent of Bravus. The other three were Garrett, the Red Knight (ranked at number four), Garthos, the Black Knight (ranked at number two), and Christopher Lionheart, the King and Sam's father, who is often referred to as Valia's Gold Knight. All of these men gained their positions through their efforts in The Demon's War, which ended twenty years ago.
"Even so," replied Sam, "none of the Four can match you with an axe."
"One day, I believe that you will. You will be a great warrior some day."
"But, for now, you are but a spoiled excuse for a prince who would skip his own celebration in favor of swinging around a chunk of sharpened steel," scolded a voice from the shadows.
"My apologies, father," replied the prince, in truth much less apologetic than his tone implied. "It was my belief that my presence would go unmissed, disgrace to the throne that I am."
"Your half-hearted musings do not amuse me. Now, make yourself presentable and get your royal *** to that party before my sword makes that face of yours match your deplorable attitude."
The wrath of his father was not something that Sam wished to invoke. He rushed toward his room, atleast until he was out of sight. Once he was out-of-view, he slowed into a lax pace. He had no intention of hurrying without being forced to do so. he enters the bath chamber of his room. After washing his face, which had heavily perspired during his training with Gawayn, Sam peers into the water left in the sink. Judging by his reflection, he would not need to shave. His beard was short and rugged, just the way he liked to wear it, and his mustache had still not grown back. His curly brown hair was an absolute mess, as it often was after an axe lesson. "Why bother brushing it?" he asked himself. "It will just mess up again within an hour." He soaks his hair and dries it, it looking much tamer than it had before.
Upon returning to his chamber, Sam pulls out some rather fancy clothes from the closet. The set of garments included long pants, a long-sleeve shirt, boots, and a vest jacket, all of which were white and trimmed with gold thread. After deciding that his look needed a personal touch, he pulls out a long green cape that is insigned with the symbol of the royal family, a golden male lion head roaring on the background of a white cross. Dressed in these royal clothes, Sam, whose rather average build and lazy appearance made him somewhat unattractive, looked quite lordly. In order to protect himself against any possible attempt at assassination, he equipped a short sword, strapping it to his waist. This served to give him an even more regal appearance.
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The party was what one might expect of a royal ball. It was a lively function, filled with not only the prominent nobles of Valland, the capital city, but from every corner of the country. Sam hoped that he would be able to sneak into the multitude of people unnoticed, but such was not the case, for he was quickly spotted by a lady and asked (more like forced) to dance. "What a nuisance," he thought. He had hoped to avoid the company of the noblewomen for once.
The "lady" hung onto Sam as if to seduce him despite the fact that they had only just met. He didn't even know her name- not that he cared enough to find out. To him, this woman's motive was already obvious, for it was the motive of all so-called ladies. She sought to marry into the wealth and power of the throne. This is why he hated noblewomen... they were not but glorified harlots!
Fortunately, Sam's torture at the hands of the ladies was short-lived this time. The king summoned him to the balcony. The prince may not have known the reasons for his summoning, but he cared not. Any chance to escape this w***e was fine with him. He gave her an outwardly sorrowful farewell, while in his heart he praised his maker for their parting.
Sam entered the balcony to an unusual sight. His father and his twin brother Gareth (who was younger by a mere few minutes) awaited him, surrounded by knights. Normally, only the Four were allowed audience with the king. The leader of this troop was not of the Four. In fact, Sam had never before met this young commander who was tall, slender, and had long, prematurely-white hair.
King Lionheart stood up from his seat, bearing an even more royal visage than the prince, and beckoned his son to approach.
"Finally, the heir to the throne arrives," the king said, almost scoffing as he says the word heir, as if to show his disappointment. "We have business to attend to."
"Oh?" Sam asked, raising his left brow, "and what business warrants the presence of so many armed men, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Your appointment," the king replied." "You are to lead these men to victory in Volf."
"Lead them? Is it really appropriate to place their lives in the hands of an inexperienced tactician such as I?"
"Aye. These men, the soldiers of Valia's 37th Battalion, are some of the nation's finest knights. Should you fail to conquer Volf, or if your deeds in this war cannot match those of your brother, who has thus far shown himself to be more competent, he shall ascend to the throne instead of you."
"Am I right to assume that I will be Durandal's wielder in this conflict?"
"You are not worthy of our holy sword. As such, your brother shall wield it."
"And I? Surely you don't intend to leave your eldest without a weapon befitting of a lord."
"You need not worry," said Gawayn as he entered the room. "This halberd has been forged by the best blacksmith in Valland."
Gawayn hands Sam a large poleaxe. It was very heavy due to having a tremendously large blade, but to one of Sam's strength, holding it felt natural. The entire weapon, shaft included, was made of steel, adorned with spiraling and entwining vines of pure gold. A white flag was attached to the pole, it bearing the Lionheart family symbol which also adorned Sam's cape. Sam planted the base of the pole on the ground and was surprised to find that the weapon stood taller than himself.
"Does it have a name?" asked Sam.
"It is the duty of a weapon's bearer to name it," Gawayn answered.
King Lionheart approaches the edge of the balcony and addresses the crowd.
"Good evening, citizens of Valia. Tonight, we have come to celbrate the seventeenth year of the lives of my sons. There is more to this night than that, however, for tonight, we witness the knighting of our princes. This is a momentous day for our nation. This day shall begin our march to victory against the vile Volfens. They started this conflict by murdering our queen. It is only fitting that her sons will be the ones to avenge her and bring glory to Valia!"
Chris pulls out a ceremonial rapier and orders both of his sons to kneel, as is custom for a knighting. After both recite the oath of allegiance, the king taps the rapier on each of their shoulders and then declares them royal knights of Valia. Sir Samson was given control of Valia's 37th Battalion, while his brother became the commander of the 63rd.
The audience cheered as the new knights rose to their feet and prepared to speak to the crowd. Prepared may not have been the correct word. It was more like they had to decide which of them would speak first.
"You shall go first. You are the older one," stated Gareth.
"Nay. You are the favored heir. My few minutes of being your elder can't compare to that advantage. Now, go ahead."
"I swear... I will never understand your motives brother. Very well, I will go first."
Gareth clears his throat and directs the crowd to be silent. "People of Valia," said he, "it is time that we ended this war. Through a coordinated effort, I believe, my brother and I can strike down the defenses that they have maintained for so many years. The holy Durandal now enters the conflict, with myself as its wielder. It shall spell our victory now as it did twenty years ago when my father used it to smite the demon that enslaved our people. To victory!"
That was just like him, Sam thought. Gareth was always focused on business. This is what made him the better heir. Sam had no problem with being overshadowed, for he possessed no desire to take the throne.
It was Sam's turn to speak. "My people," he said without half of his brother's grace, "I care not for the strategy we use, but I am sure that the tactics that my brother has in mind will bring us victory. I know not his reasons for fighting, but I care only for the welfare of those people I rule, be they prince or pauper. We have warred for to long, Valia, and I will see to it that our warring ends by any means necessary. With my axe... with Galland, I shall end this war!" announced Sam, raising his axe at the end.
With the knighting ceremony complete, Sam knew he had but two options: he could return to that deplorable party or he might be able to escape. He decided to opt for the latter, though if this backfired on him, it could cause him more shame.
Sam snuck back into the party room only for a hand to immediately grab his shoulder. He nearly jumped in surprise and quickly turned around. The culprit was thankfully not a lady, but rather it was Sam's cousin, Ardan Cress.
"Hey cousin! Great party, right?!" exclaimed Ardan, in his usual ecstatic mood.
'Horrid as always. I'ld really like to escape this torment."
"That's a shame, but this could work in both our favors."
"Hmm?"
"I wish to charm every lady in this room and you desire to avoid them. Shall we switch places?"
"What are we waiting for?" replied Sam with a smirk.
The swap was rather simple to perform. Sam and Ardan, though not identical, were similar enough in appearance that one could pass as the other except when dealing with immediate family members. The two were close in build, both being rather short, and sported the same beard. Their hair was different however, Ardan's being much straighter and more well-managed, but this was easily fixed by simply messing up the hair. Though far from perfect, their finished disguises were sure to fool the ladies, who were as easy to trick as they were to attract.
"Well, you definitely aren't handsome enough to fill the part," mocked Ardan.
"I'ld say it's an improvement, actually."
Ignoring the remark, Ardan declared "It will get you out the door atleast."
"Alright, I'll be off then. I'm in your debt."
"Don't worry about that. I'm pretty sure that some lucky lady will be glad to pay that," Ardan said with a suggestive tone.
Ardan may be the biggest womanizer in Valia, but the young prince could not have wished for a better- or more useful- cousin. Ardan was an asset at every party. If a particularly assertive lady threatened Sam's status as a bachelor, Ardan would always appear to "steal" her from him. As the son of General Garthos, he was also one of the most competent sparring partners available to the prince.
Sam's disguise worked like a charm, and looking back, he could see that Ardan already had a beautiful blonde clinging to him. It suddenly occured to the prince that he might develop a reputation as a womanizer himself due to this.
As Sam left through the door, he found that his master waited just outside. Gawayn instantly spotted his pupil, despite the disguise, and called him over. Sam feared punishment, but reluctantly obliged.
"How did you know?" Sam asked Gawayn.
"Do you really think I would not recognize my own student? Besides, it is not like Ardan to leave a party without a woman on each arm!"
"I am such a fool," replied Sam as he shamefully brought his palm to his face- a "facepalm" as most called it. "I suppose you intend to send me back into that Hell."
"Why would I do that? I'ld much rather have one last duel with my pupil. This also gives me an opportunity to test the strength of your Galland."
"Do you honestly think I could sneak out with Galland?" It is still under guard in there."
"Are you sure this isn't it?" Gawayn asked as he tossed the weapon hidden behind his back to Sam.
"How did you get that?"
"I snuck it away from your soldiers. I jest. Actually, I just asked for it. Being their superior officer has its advantages, does it not?"
"You never cease to amaze!" Sam exclaimed jokingly.
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Their training grounds were situationed on Gawayn's property. As such, it was no surprise that Travan, Gawayn's son and Sam's best friend, also participated in the sparring. His weapon of choice was the glaive. Due to its similarities to other pole weapons such as the halberd, Gawayn taught them both.
The first duel would be between Travan and Sam. The former made the first move, feigning a high attack with the armed end of the glaive while instead attempting to trip his foe with the opposite end of the pole. This would be a brilliant assault, were it not for the fact that it had previously been overused in their fights. Sam countered the attack by ducking down and blocking the pole with the blade of his halberd and retaliating with a strong upwards thrust of his weapon's unarmed end, which struck Travan in the chin, ending the match.
"Ouch! Did you have to be so forceful with that attack!?"
"Would you have preffered me to have used the other end?" remarked Sam.
"A brilliant counter!" praised Gawayn. "That duel was expertly fought."
"That was nothing more than a warm-up," said Sam. "What does that make our record now, friend, seventy to fifty-three, my favor."
"You're jeering pains me more than your weapon did," replied Travan."
"Not my fault that you don't take these brawls seriously."
"Oh?" replied Travan who quickly dealt Sam a punch to the face. "Is that serious enough?"
The fist only managed to land a grazing blow, which was likely intentional on Travan's part. The two often competeted with and mocked each other, but the mood was always a joking one. In truth, Travan Aeander proved himself to be reliable time and time again. He often helped the young Lionheart to escape the castle for a duel.
"Ready to challenge the master?" asked Gawayn.
"Aye, but the real question is: are you prepared to face my axe?" the prince replied with a grin.
"You strike first then."
This was not what Sam hoped for. The first offender can often be brought into a point of vunerability when against a skilled opponent. The previous match against Travan was a good example of that. If the Lionheart wanted to win this fight, he would have to make his first strike unpunishable.
Sam charged towards Gawayn and unleashed a quick and basic horizontal swing. The attack was effortlessly blocked, but it allowed him to parry the retaliatory blow with equal ease. He let loose an upwards swing, followed by a fast downwards slash, but both attacks were repelled just as easily as his first. In fact, every attack thrown at Gawayn was blocked as though Sam were a novice. The general was simply to defensively competent to falter to his student's current strategy.
Sam pondered any advantages he could have over Gawayn. The middle-aged man had at least twenty more years of experience than he did. Surely the young knight did not possess superior speed, otherwise Gawayn's defense would not be so difficult to overcome. Sam's younger age could provide him with more stamina. If he could force Gawayn to go on the offensive, perhaps the master axeman would wear himself out.
Sam feigned an opening which Gawayn quickly attempted to exploit. From this point, the combatants exchanged roles. Gawayn would attack and Sam would defend. The teacher soon figured out his student's plan, however, and decided to make this battle a contest of strength. He performed a downwards swing, which Sam blocked. They were now in the exact situation that their last battle ended with.
Sam cursed his lack of foresight. He would not be able to escape the challenge this time. If he were to attempt the trick that brought him victory last time, his opponent would thwart him immediately. His only choice was to exceed his foe's strength or endurance. He put his full might into his weapon. Suddenly, Gawayn's axe shattered. Whether by superior strength, a superior weapon, or sheer luck, Sam won!
Though it was Gawayn's axe that broke, Sam was the one who was more shocked by the outcome. It was not rare for strong warriors to leave sizeable chips and cracks in each other's weapons, but for a steel axe to be split into no less than five shards... that was almost completely unheard of!
After a few moments, Gawayn broke the silence. "Well, it seems as though I've lost. That is an amazing weapon you wield."
"Does a victory by weapon destruction even count?"
"Aye. You proved your own worth by keeping up with a general in armed combat. Galland must have desired to match its master."
Sam looked down at his weapon. It was completely unscathed- not so much as a scratch to prove that it had ever been used. Its blade brightly shone in the moonlight. This weapon's crafter must have put his very soul into its construction.
"Does this mean that I have mastered the Gawayn style?"
"Aye, that it does."
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Sir Samson Lionheart and his army began their march on noon the next day- several hours after Gareth's troops moved out. Upon reaching the gates of Valland, they found that Travan and Ardan awaited them, each bearing armaments befitting of a captain.
"You are dressed reather oddly for just seeing me off," said Sam.
"We'll be joining your troop," replied Travan. "Do you really think I'ld allow you to have all the glory?"
"You decision doesn't surprise me much, but what of Ardan. Wouldn't he prefer to be charming every lady in fair Valia?"
"Already done," replied Ardan with a smirk. "I figure that there may be many a lovely woman in Volf as well."
"Well, then... shall we be going or will those women be kept waiting?"
"We're off!" exclaimed Ardan.
The conversation had left Sam in a cheerful mood. The prince truly expected this to be fun. Thoughts of freedom and adventure filled his mind. He couldn't be more eager to march on if he tried.
