Tristan de Braose's training

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan gazed up at the scorching hot sun radiating his heat down onto Tristan's exposed skin. He hadn't realized the time and when he did, immediatly sprung into action. He had been lazying about in the Soliders quarters all morning, preparing himself for his first days training. After familiarising himself with moves and brushing up on his technique he had lost complete track of time and was now running late. He gasped in shock and horror as he flew out of the door picking up his armour and sword on the way. He was always one that liked to make good first impressions and turning up late with his armour half hanging off his shoulders and his sword messily strewn in his hand, wasn't exactly a good first impression.

Tristan pulled his chain-mail over his clothes, strapped his armour over his most vulnerable areas of his body and slotted his sword into it's sheath. Today he was going to be training with a sword, his most comfortable and confident area of weaponry. His sword was his main weapon and he preferred this over anything else. Surely his skill with his sword was going to be enough to impress Prince Arthur and he would have time to practice with a bow, mace and anything else he wasn't too sure off later on.

Tristan was feeling overly big-headed this morning and it was often that his arrogance got in the way of his performance so keeping a lid on that was something he would have to focus on. Tristan ran full pelt to the training grounds, stopping just before he came into the view of the prince. He took a few deep breathes to compose himself, sheets of sweat already beginning to form on his forehead. A mixture of running and heat had resulted in the sweat build up and he was already beginning to tire. He put his hands on his knees and took a series of deep breaths before walking up to Prince Arthur and making his presence known.

"Morning my lord" He said with a smile, dipping his head into a respectful bow. As he raised it he saw the unsatsified look on the mans face. It seemed he wasn't in such as good mood as he was. "Your late." The prince merely stated, an emotionless stone cold look etched on his face. Wow he's hard to please this morning... Tristan contained his thoughts and continued with his apology. "I'm sorry. I got...held up" He said with an apologetic smile and un-sheathed his sword in preperation. "Well, let's hope your sword skills are better than your time-keeping"

Tristan sarcastically smirked at his comment as he followed Arthur to a clearing in the middle of the grounds. Arthur uncovered a sack of rice tied onto a large stick and guessed this would be his target. He had never trained like this before back in Cornwall and welcomed the new experience with open arms. This would surely be something he wouldn't forget in a while and gave him the opportunity to learn; the main aim for training in Camelot. The smile re-appeared on his face as he surveyed the scene infront of him. This was going to be fun.

"That's my target?" He said in slight disbelief, a small laugh raising to the surface. His task had been made slightly easier as the target didn't move, couldn't defend itself. Tristan figured this practice was only for offence instead of defence. "Yes. Problem?" Tristan shook his head in response and got his sword ready for Arthurs instructions. "Now, today we will be learning techniques in offence. This is of vital importance as in any fight will need to be used. The techniques you establish now will stick with you throughout your training so any problems that I see I can detect and we can improve." Tristan zoned out of Arthur's speech every now and again and tuned back in when he sounded as though he had ended. Tristan already knew this and had built on his techniques already. It seemed as though Arthur latched onto the fact Tristan wasn't listening. "Oi." Arthur snapped his fingers infront of Tristan's face causing his eyes to immediatly focus on Arthur.

"Am I boring you?" Arthur quizzed, folding his arms in irratation. Tristan back-peddled slightly realizing this wasn't the way to lighten Arthur's mood. "No, my lord. It's just I've done this stuff already. Sword techniques, offence, defence, I'm familiar with it. The sword is my strongest forte" He said confidently, flashing him a quick smile. Tristan was a strong character and not the sort to put up with something he didn't like. Unlike the other soldiers in the army following orders was something he didn't always take too so easily. He was more of a leader than a follower, much like Arthur himself.

"Show me" Arthur mused, watching Tristan with eager eyes, following his movement as Tristan navigated himself around the target. Tristan switched the sword from different hands and showed off with playful tricks and antics. "Get on with it" Arthurs voice followed him around the ring and tristan blew a puff of air as if Arthur had just burst his bubble. "Okay, okay" He muttered to himself quickly advancing on his target. "Head" Arthur shouted. Tristan threw his sword down onto the sack's top and sliced it with ease, watching as the contents of rice spilled out across the floor.

"Shoulder" Arthur shouted again, Tristan was quick to follow his orders. His slammed his sword down on the sack where ordinarily a shoulder would have been. Again rice scattered across the floor accompanied with a 'popping' sound as it connected with the floor. "Arm, stomach, legs" Tristan swiped his sword into the side of the sack, withdrawing it with speed and directing it into the stomach and then the leg. The sack was now completely empty of any grains of rice which now littered the floor. Arthur smiled, in what looked like to Tristan, satisfaction. "Good, although a little less aggression and more technique wouldn't go a miss, but we can work on that later. But other than that, okay" Tristan smiled proudly and raised his sword to put it back in its sheath.

"Now clean it up" Arthur said to Tristan pointing to the rice on the floor before walking away. Tristan watched as Arthur strolled out of view with a small smug look on his face leaving Tristan to sort out the mess he had made. He glanced over to his left where Agron stood laughing before he followed in the footsteps of Arthur. Tristan puffed in irratation and disbelief beliving that this was Arthur's payback for him not paying attention early on in the session. He sighed and began cleaning up, satisfied that his training session had gone as it did. Although next week was Archery, something he wasn't too good at, which left him not as confident about training as he had been.

(( Wordcount: 1,164 - Oops a lot longer than I had intended. I also had permission from Agron to include him in my post! ;D))

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

Accepted! You may update your signature accordingly and continue training when you wish.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Archery. The dreaded training session had finally arrived. To be quite honest, Tristan was no archer but he had been practicing mercilessly training day after day, night after night so that he could match or at least top most of the other soldiers in the ring today. Unlike last session he was not going to be alone, instead he was going to be accompanied by the other soldiers in training so this was his chance to shine. No way was he going to allow himself to look stupid, not when the chance of gaining in on the ranks was going to be offered. He needed this promotion badly, as his family were still waiting for news of his knighthood, which of course was no way near to becoming a reality. The pressure overloaded on his shoulders was heavy and he wanted nothing more than to relief himself of the burden being the only son in the family had left him. So what if Archery wasn’t his strongest area of weaponry he was still willing to try and at most improve, and maybe just maybe he would be able to bluff himself through this one.

All the way from Cornwall, his uncle had sent him a brand new bow, made from the best Bowyer in all the land and his arrows had been carved and forged by one of the best fletchers known to man. Tristan had never encountered such a special bow before, it made him think he didn’t exactly deserve it. The wood was made from a high quality Heartwood tree which gave perfect balance and fantastic control. He had been training with it and breaking himself into the intricate design so that he was used to it for when training day arrived, but know it had he was beginning to have second thoughts. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if all his practice and hard work was all going to go to waste if everyone else was better than him? No, that wasn’t going to happen. Tristan quickly busied himself up to the training rink, trying to busy his mind away from such distracting thoughts.

Tristan had made the special effort to get to this session on time, as he didn’t want to have the reputation of being the one that always arrives late. Last time had been unfortunate, and plus he needed all the advantage he could get on this one. Arriving early meant he could sike out the other opponents, eyeing up their skill level and seeing who he needed to be aware of. With a quiet and gentle grace, Tristan advanced on the training grounds placing himself just outside of the marker and silently watching his fellow soldiers. They were all practicing and giving each other last minute advice and in an attempt to get on Arthur’s good side, most of them were sweet-talking him trying their best lines in order to compliment his abilities, hoping that the results would swing in their favour.

Tristan couldn’t help but roll his eyes; even he knew such futile attempts would not work. Even though Arthur did like being told how good he was, Tristan liked to think he was fair and just in his decisions so ass-kissing was not going to work. His eyes surveyed the scene, watching arrows fly in all different directions missing their targets completely. But a few people did stand out. Tristan subtly walked over to a guy positioned in the corner, sending out arrow after arrow and hitting its target square in the centre. Oh dear. Tristan knew what he did next could be seen as cheating, but everyone here was looking out for number one. They all had to take care of themselves and think about their own dreams and goals and that was exactly what he was doing. Plus what Arthur didn’t know would not hurt him and he certainly was not going to find out.

Tristan purposely wobbled on his feet, connecting full on with the guy about to send off another arrow. Tristan fell, putting all of his weight and effort onto the floor and managing to drag the guy down with him. A loud, uncomfortable ‘crunch’ sounded from under his leg, feeling the crack of wood snapping under his strong, muscley figure. “Ohh, Oh I’m sorry. Clumsy me I wasn’t watching where I was going” He expressed in a rather high-pitched tone, standing up and holding his hands up in apology. “I’ve ruined your bow. I’m such as klutz” He rolled his eyes, offering a hand to help the archer up. “But don’t worry, there’s another training session next week; I’m sure you’ll be able to get it fixed by then” Sucker...

A rather large, smug smile spread itself across Tristan’s face that was his competition out of the way. All that was left now in the ring was a bunch of snotty nose recruits who didn’t even know which way up the arrows went. This was going to be a doddle. “Come on Tristan, stop fooling around” He heard Arthur shout from the other end of the ring. His heart immediately began to quicken, but steadily soothed it as he began to reassure himself; there was no way he could fail now. Although he did feel a bit mean for being sly, but that was what had to be done. No soldier was worth his living salt if they weren’t ambitious, quick-witted and willing to do things that weren’t often seen as moral or rational.

“Coming” Tristan mused, half-running over to an empty target and setting himself up near one. He knelt on the ground, keeping one knee propped firmly on the ground and the other resting comfortably under his frame. The other soldiers followed his lead and all began to get out their Bows and arrows, whipping them out from their Quivers and pulling them tightly against the Bow’s string. Tristan did this also, keeping his eye firmly trained on the small red dot that signalled the centre of the target. That was what he was aiming for. And nothing less. “On your marks!” Arthur boomed from beside him, almost shattering his ear drums. On this sound, Tristan raised his bow from the ground and kept his arrow eye-level. “GO!”

Tristan flicked back his wrist, withdrawing his fingers from the tightly wound string and sending the arrow flying towards the target. Fluke. It hit the centre and Tristan didn’t quite know how that happened. One at a time, the soldiers began letting go of their arrows, a few hit the target boards and another one even managed to hit his. He watched as the servants swept past all of their boards, taking off the arrows to re-set a clear round.

“Set” Arthur shouted again from his side. Again, Tristan pulled out another arrow from the Quiver tied tightly to his back and resumed the trained position he had been rehearsing all week. “GO!” Tristan let go of the string, aiming his arrow at the board once again, but this time he didn’t mind if it hit the centre or not. It didn’t. It balanced precariously on the edge of the board, just hitting it on its edge but reassuringly it stayed put. Few, that was 2 out of 2 that had hit the board at least. He waited patiently for everyone else to finish before setting up the final round and watching as the servants went past the take off all the arrows. This was the final shot before the training session was over so it needed to be good. Another centre hit would show how good he was yet he knew this was a game of chance and look rather than skill. Well, it was for him anyway.

“Last, Set” Tristan set himself up again and waited for the signal to let his arrow off. “GO!” Tristan aimed carefully, blinking and closing one eye so that he could line the target up perfectly. He pulled his hand back, letting go of the string and trying to steer the arrow towards the board. He stood up, closing his eyes not wanting to see where it had ended up. He heard everyone else on the row let go of their arrows and when he looked up at his own board he saw it came incredibly close to hitting the red spot. It boarded the blue circle, but at least he had cleared the round with a success rate of 3 out of 3. Great!

Tristan beamed, he had done it. The session hadn’t gone fantastically, but still it could have gone a lot worse. Thankfully his persistence and willpower to succeed had pulled him through this time which showed him, a little effort and preparation worked wonders. His eyes studied the face of Arthur who’s face showed nothing; no emotion what so ever. Tristan being too curious for his own good, he just had to find out what Arthur was thinking. “So, what is your verdict sire?” He inquired, resting his bow on the tips of his fingers. “Not bad. You take too long though. In a fight, god forbid you ever had to use it you’d be killed before you even set aim. But your precision is good, you have a good eye for accuracy which is all a good and competent archer needs to be” He knew he had room for improvement but at least he held the potential. Those words were exactly what he needed to hear and he actually felt proud of himself. “Thanks” He muttered, bowing his head in respect before setting off for the Soldiers quarters to wind down after another nerve-racking training session.

[Word Count: 1,615]

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

Another excellent post Tristan. I like the use of other soldiers in your post and the fact the you show improvement.

You may continue training when your are ready and of course update your signature accordingly.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Another day and another training session. He actually had no idea what was going on today all that he had been told was to bring his horse along. He was equally nervous about this session as he had had no time to prepare; he didn’t want all of his weaknesses and downfalls to be exposed. He had tried to purse the information from Prince Arthur earlier that morning yet it was clear he was not going to let it off his chest that easily. It wasn’t only him though, none of the other soldiers knew what was going on and they had all been told to also bring their horses. What were they going to be doing, jousting? No, that didn’t seem right. What good was a horse whilst in training? He supposed it would be useful to hide behind at least.

“Walk on” He signalled to his horse, pulling on its reigns with strength whilst he walked beside it. Tristan’s eyes dropped to the piece of parchment he was holding which revealed the location all of the soldiers were set to meet. This time they weren’t going to be in the training ring; a first he thought as it wasn’t often they got to venture outside of their familiar grounds. They had been told to gather around the outskirts of the forest where Arthur would then brief them of their tasks and set them to work. The excitement and possibilities of what this ‘task’ might be were buzzing round his head; adrenaline began pumping throughout his body. For the first time in a while, he relished the chance to shine and put his creative mind to good use and he couldn’t wait.

He had made the special effort to make his horse look in top shape. She had been bathed, brushed, groomed and hoof-picked that very morning which seemed to enhance her beauty and pure quality breed. The sun shone off her chestnut brown coat giving her a sparkle and a tinted glow as she walked, breaking herself into a slow trot. Her auburn hair fluttered and danced in the wind as it blew her formerly brushed mane in all different directions yet still managing to uphold the neat and kempt look with ease. As she walked, her tail swished in excitement and eagerness to get on with the challenge; it seemed she could sense the overwhelming anticipation and thrill that her owner was feeling.

The gentle clatter of her hooves echoed throughout their surroundings as Tristan slowly approached the congregation of soldiers and their horses. He weaved himself through the group and made room for himself and his horse to pass through. Everyone was positioned in a circle around Arthur, who was holding parchments of instructions on elegantly decorated paper. Tristan smiled, evermore eager to get on with the task. He felt the sensation of warm breath tickling his neck and as he looked up he saw the sight of a dull grey horse which stood almost level with him. As he drew a look towards its master, he saw it was his rival from the archery training ground. It seemed the man was still not happy about his little ‘accident’ and the fact he had crushed his prized bow in the process.

“Prince Arthur said horses not mules” Tristan laughed, quite proud of his little insult. The soldier next to him contorted his face in disgust and huffed slightly. “You won’t be so smug Tristan when I beat you. Then you’ll be forced to swallow your ego and run back to daddy with your tail between your legs” Tristan raised an eyebrow, not expecting a response from the guy. “Oh, ouch. Careful or you’ll hurt my feelings” He said, his words coated with sarcasm and a rounded smiling appearing on his face.

Arthur began to speak which drew Tristan’s attention immediately. “Now, as you all now I’ve gathered you all here at the edges of the forest to complete your next training session. I’ve made a special effort to make sure none of you know what’s going on so you’ll have to play it by ear and follow your instincts.” Prince Arthur paused and began walking around almost inspecting the soldiers who had turned up. “Fail and you’ll not only look stupid but you’ll also be spending a night in the stocks to revel over your failures as a soldier and you’ll be unfortunate enough to have cleaning duty of the soldiers quarters for the entire week” Ouch, failure was no option then. No way was he going to stand there whilst people threw rotten tomatoes at him and no way was he going to willingly clean the soldier’s quarters and have everyone laugh at him. That would be humiliating...

“Now, you’re going to go out in groups of four, here are your instructions” Prince Arthur began handing out the pieces of parchment which told them what they were in for. Tristan began reading the information quickly, skimming over the neat words and stealing a quick glance towards the map:



After mentally noting the directions, Prince Arthur then gave them the groups they were to ride out in. He was with Smith, Mannings, Anderson and De Marko; it just so happened his ‘rival’ happened to be included in that group. The game just got even better, there was no doubt now that he had to win. He looked towards the men who were due to accompany him as they began to mount their horses and he did the same. He gracefully slipped his booted foot into the stirrup, hauling himself up and swinging his leg over the other side and gently placing his other foot into the stirrup. Prince Arthur then gave them the signal to go and they were off...

The gentle sound of hooves connecting against the concrete floor began to grow louder, until the sound was far from gentle. Grass and bits of mud and bark became upturned and the 4 competitors fought to obtain their rightful place as head of the ‘pack’. Tristan kicked his horse in encouragement, spurring her on to go faster and it wasn’t long until she was running flat out, full pelt. The first undertaking was a 300metre dash to the next station point, where they would next be told what was going to happen. Tristan ducked and swerved through the trees and low-hanging branches and it wasn’t long until he saw the next piece of parchment attached to a large oak tree.

He tore the instruction of the tree and began reading it rapidly, taking the 10 second lead he had built up to his own advantage. They were to take a detour into the stream, following the fast torrent of water until they reached the next clue. This was a test of the horse’s strength and the owner’s ability to control a scared and frightened animal; no problem. Tristan threw the paper onto the floor and sped off before the other men had a chance to catch up with him. He began riding, scouting the atmosphere for the sound and signs of a stream. The steady, smoothing sound of trickling water lead him north, until he saw the glistening waters ahead of him.

Tristan had built up quite a repour with his horse and he believed it vital to have a good relationship between owner and animal. A happy horse meant a better horse, a more powerful horse. With hope, he banked on the fact that he horse trusted him even if he did lead her into treacherous, icy water. He gingerly navigated her down the bank, wobbling from side to side in order to regain balance. He felt his horse stop in reluctance but with a kind word and a gentle pat on the neck she keeled to his command and put one hoof in front of the other until she was submerged waist-high in the water.

“Good girl!” He smiled, almost tasting victory. He was in the lead at least, that was a good thing? He influenced her into a trot, trying to gather enough speed so she could combat the water torrent. He kept battling on through the water, until he saw an over-hanging tree nearby that held the next instruction. Tristan realized she would not be able to get back up the banks with his weight hindering her movement, so with little effort he dismounted. Grabbing hold of her reigns and gently pulling her out until they reached ground again, his legs buzzed slightly, not used to walking but he soon shook that feeling off.

“Around the camp and through the cave, can you heel to the temptation” Tristan recited, hating the fact that every clue seemed like a riddle. He allowed his horse a few seconds to recover, shaking herself off to get rid of the extra weight the sodden water was causing as it clung to her underside.

“Off we go again” Before Tristan mounted again, he uncovered a small mound of dirt and buried the clue so his pursuers would not find it or at least, waste precious minutes trying to find it again. So far, Tristan had been lucky and he had not needed to refer to his map. He was using it as a last resort and chose to go off the clues instead; it seemed to be working for him so far. Within seconds he was gone, looking for the camp that was in the clue. But what met him there was confusing, how had he been overtaken?

“What? How did you get here!?” The camp was welcoming bestowing a large crackling fire in its centre. Several sleeping bags littered the floor and the fresh, alluring scent of cooked meat began to distort his thoughts. De Marko was sat loosely on a sleeping bag, tearing off lumps of pork that had been cooking over the fire. “There was more than one way to get here ya’no. Shame you’ve been ignoring your map” The guy said smugly chewing his meat and scanning his eyes over the piece of parchment. “You’ve been missing clues.” Tristan stated, knowing that at the end of the trail Prince Arthur would be waiting to quiz them on each and every clue they had encountered.

“That’s it. You stay here and gorge yourself on meat whilst I overtake you and take the lead.” Tristan was about to set off but De Marko stopped him in his tracks. “You might want to look at the clue; I was waiting here for a reason” De Marko handed him the paper and Tristan began to read, not quite liking the fact he had to trust his rival to advance to the next station. “Strength in numbers. In order to pass through the cave alive you must not enter alone...” He rolled his eyes, not happy about this at all. He was determined to do this thing alone yet he couldn’t ignore the advice the prince had set down for them.

“After you” Tristan gallantly said, trailing behind the man he loathed and keeping a careful and trained eye on his movements. He wasn’t about to trust him anytime soon but he needed to win this and if that meant collaborating with De Marko then he was going to do it. The dark abyss that was the cave soon came into the pairs view and he could see why two was better than one. A strong, well-built rock stood in the way of their entrance so they would have to work together in order to get it moved. “I hope your stronger than you look” Tristan remarked, slightly bereaved by the fact that he had been paired with this guy and not Mannings or Smith. This guy hardly had enough muscles to shake a stick at.

“One...Two...Three...Push!” Tristan and De Marko began to push against the rock and combined strength meant the rock moved without complaint. Riding through the cave didn’t take too long and before they knew it they had come out of the other side, greeted by rays of shining sunshine. The Cave had been bugged with all sorts of death traps. Poison darts, fire hazards and the lack of vision was another thing, not to mention the infestation of rats.

Under the watchful gaze of De Marko, Tristan found the other clue; the last and final clue. “Two’s a crowd. Now you have come this far, there can only be one winner. A final dash to the finish is all it takes” A fight to the finish. This was what it had to be. As Tristan read the clue first he tore the piece of parchment up before it could be read again. “Sorry. Only one winner” Tristan recited, unsheathing his sword prepared and ready for the fight. De Marko followed suit, unsheathing his sword and flinging himself towards Tristan. He blocked it with ease, swinging his sword against his rivals and knocking it cleanly out of his hands, that was a lot easier than expected. “You should stick to Archery mate. Your hell of a lot better at it” He remarked, before heading for the finish.

Tristan broke through the trees, seeing the site of Prince Arthur and the other army recruits who cheered upon his arrival. His horse was trailing in his footsteps, bound by his grip on her reigns. He had done it. He had won. The other 3 members of his group slowly emerged from the wooded forest, quite down-winded and shocked that they hadn’t won. “Well Done Tristan. It took wit, intelligence, determination and stamina to get you through so Well done” Tristan was proud of himself, incredibly proud of himself. He sucked up the momentary applaud and centre of attention and couldn’t help but wear a large smile on his face. The clatter of horse-shoes spurred into action once more and he watched on as the next group were dispatched into the forest ready for their challenge.


((Words - 2,330))

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

Accepted! This read really well and i was actually intrigued to find out what was going to happen
Feel free to continue training when you like and keep up the excellent work!

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

“Tristan, get up” The soothing, calm sound of the maids voice started gently ringing in his ear. Tristan turned over in his bed, not wanting to break from his warm, comfortable duvet and instead catch up on all his disrupted sleep. Several long minutes past and he felt a steady trickle of water spatter onto his face. At first they were only droplets but then changed into a steady flow. Just when he was beginning to get used to it, the entire contents of the encrusted pot was poured onto his face, waking him up immediatly. He had told the maid in failure of several attemps at getting him out of his bed, to use water which was sure to pull him out of his deep sleep.

He was adruptly awoken, rising out of his blissful sleep to see... What!? The sun was streaming through the thick, linings of the curtains and that meant he was way late for training. All remains and evidence of sleep were erased from his face and he immediatly sprung up from his bed in midsts of shock and adreniline. How had he slept for this long without waking? He had distinctly told he was to be woken before sun rise so that he could prepare himself for training, have time to stretch and get to training before he had to be. Instead now he had no time for preperation, stretching and was sure to be late; this wasn't doing much for his image.

"I told you to get me up hours ago!" The anger in his voice was enough to shake the poor maid and he could quickly see he wasn't acting the most noble like a Knight was meant to be. "Sorry. Thank you for the toast. And for the... early shower. But if you please I will need to get changed; couldn't get me my armour could you?" He asked politely before watching the made flit out of the soldiers quarters and soon returning with the things he had asked for. Tristan began pullong on his under-garments. A simple plain white top in which to make the bases for his chain mail so that they wouldn't run against his skin and cause him irratation. The heat of the extra clothing was a small price to pay and such a tactic he had learnt over time.

After having his soup in a few swift gulps and polishing off his plate of toast he casualy walked down to the training grounds strutting with an air of confidence in his step. Prince Arthur was still lecturing them on the training session ahead and informing there what was going to be in store for them this time. The usual rules, wrongdoings and tips were first to be issued so Tristan didn't think he had missed much. With ease and a great amount of skill combined with his nimble feet, he managed to slip his way into the crowd undetected. Hoepfully Prince Arthur would think he had been there all along.

"Okay, so on with today's training session." Tristan's eyes opened wide, he had no idea what was going on. He tried to gather the information from around him yet there were no such clues. He knew he couldn't ask Arthur as then it would be clear he hadn't been there for the preperations. Instead, Tristan snuck up to one of the other Army recruits and weedled some of the information out of him.

"Were doing target practice today, Prince Arthur thinks our aims are a little off." The man looked a little aggreived that his skills had been critised but what was there to do? "Were going down to the old miner's sheds and apparantly were not using swords, were not using bows or darts or daggers. Instead were using carvery forks. It's ridiculous!" It was clear this recruit was not happy at all with what they were doing but Tristan could see exactly why they were doing it. They had already been trained in dealing with the usual weapons such as maces and quarter staffs and being a little inventive and using innotive was all apart of being a knight.

Prince Arthur lead the small band of recruits down to the old mining sheds, directing them all in one by one. Tristan had to admit, it was a little bit of a squeeze; these sheds were barely as big as the stables they had back at Pendragon Court. Tristan had been pushed to the front, in all confusion and loss of direction he tried to navigate himself to the back of the queue so that he would be the one elected to go first. "Right, Tristan. So nice of you to put yourself forward. You'll go first" Great... Tristan shook his head. "Ohhh, really? Do I have to? Because I swear Burgins was standing right in front of me" Tristan was giving a bit of back chat to the Prince, showing his astounding ends of Confidence as other recruits gasped at his ability to defy his orders.

4 or 5 Training sessions ago, Tristan would not even have thought about doing such a thing. But now, he liked to think he had earnt his recpect the hard way and now had a lot of confidence compared to what he had when he first started. Prince Arthur just simply stood, his arms folded and a look of unending amusement yet disgrace on his face. "Okay, that's a no then. Fine, I'll go first." Tristan took the 3 carving forks off Prince Arthur and stood exactly 7 steps away from the makeshift target board the prince had obviously brought from the Archery arena. 7 steps were all he could managed as he had already reached the wooden back wall which prevented him from going any further.

"Watch and learn guys" Tristan said back to many of the brand new recruits, who were looking incredibly nervous and debilitated. He closed one eye in order to get his bearings right, lining up the fork perfectly with the middle of the target. With a quick flick of his wrist and a small manouver from his left side to right, the pitch fork landed square in the middle. He did this with the second and again with the third as they all landed together in the middle circle. "Woo, a point for me. Who's next?" He said as if the whole event hadn't even phased him. He walked over to the archery board and pulled out all of his forks with ease before passing them over to the next recruit.

[Words - 1,101]

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

A fantastic idea Tristan!

Defnitely accepted...by my calculations this now makes you a Master in the cavalry, so make your final post a good one!

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

This was it; the dreaded day. Today was the day that Tristan was either to become a Knight or make a complete idiot of himself. So far he had been fairly lucky in the respect that everything he had been trailed up against had matched him in ability but being up against Prince Arthur was something he wasn’t too sure about. He was keen to keep his dignity in order so losing wasn’t even an issue. Unlike the other training sessions he had endured, a blissful night sleep was something he didn’t have and instead had been up all night fretting about what was going to happen the next day. Being tired did not bode well for him in battle but hopefully Prince Arthur would be oblivious to his worries and anxieties. Well, that was how he was going to make it seem anyway.

Tristan’s legs dangled lazily out of his bed whilst he carried on mauling his thoughts over tactics and weaponry. He had been allowed to choose any weapon of his choosing yet this was something he was still yet to decide. Whatever he chose, Arthur would match but he was trying to think out of the box. Bringing a sword was going to be expected, what would bring the element of surprise?

With a quick start, he hauled himself out of bed immediately springing up and began to dress himself. Tristan’s chain mail hung loosely over his muscley figure and his sheath lay empty sprawled out across his bed. The crest of Pendragon was worn proudly on the starling red cover over his chain mail to show exactly where his allegiances lay. He knew it felt wrong to be fighting someone who had been mentoring him all this time, helping him through all of the training sessions and being there whenever he found things difficult; not that he did. Little did he know, Tristan had already made his mind up over his choice of weapon and accepted it with little protest.

After all of his preparations over protection, Tristan left the empty Soldiers leaving his sword propped up against his bedside cabinet. After all, he wouldn’t be needing it...

Quite a range of other soldiers had gathered to see the fight between himself and Tristan. They were either there to watch Tristan, supporting him and backing him till the end, or were there to mock him and put him off his train of thought. Either way he was happy to see the turnout as he would need a lot of witnesses to show for when he beat the great Prince himself. Tristan was not phased at all when he entered the barracks hearing the cheer as he entered the ring to join Arthur who had only just gotten there himself. Being late was not even going to be on the agenda today as he was keen to show his eagerness for the position of knighthood, but first of all he had to get through this battle.

“Well, where is your weapon?” Prince Arthur addressed as his eyes strolled across the body of Tristan to see no sign of any weapon. Tristan simply smiled at the look of confusion on Arthur’s face and chose to keep him guessing for just a little bit longer as he weighed up the competition. “Take your gauntlets off, you won’t be needing them” Tristan said liking the momentary bout of power as Arthur reluctantly obeyed; this was Tristan’s time to shine. “My chosen weapon: Nothing... Nil... Nada. I have two very good things at the end of my arms; there called fists. I think there just as good as any forged weapon” He watched on as Arthur threw down his sword and rid himself of the unnecessary weight, throwing away his shield and his shoulder pads. “Okay, well, I’m pleasantly surprised. But maybe that was foolish?” Tristan knew exactly was he was doing, Arthur was trying to sike him out making it out he had made the wrong decision. But he knew he hadn’t. “Why? Scared?” Tristan rounded a large smile as he began to circle Arthur at the roar of the crowd.

“3...2...1” One of the servants called out across the stadium as he held the hourglass in his hand ready to start the battle. “GO!” He cried; the crowd around him fell into deathly silence. “Don’t think I’m going to take pity on you because you’re the prince. I’ve seen that being the downfall of many a good warrior. You knowingly put yourself in this position so you knowingly put yourself up to the risks.” Tristan said lightly, again smiling trying to build up a friendly rivalry between the two. “Oh, good. I look forward to it” The pair were still circling each other, trying to determine which one of them was going to make the first move. This would not only be a battle of determination, strength, stamina and endurance but it was also going to be a battle of wills.

“I could do this all day. But eventually one of us will tire” Tristan said as he came to a standstill, waiting for the prince to attack. But it seemed Arthur was waiting for the same thing, it looked as though it was up to him to start the battle. He slowly began to walk forward, placing tentative step after tentative step until he was almost staring him squire in the face. Tristan sent a flying fist straight for Arthur’s face knowing it would immediately be blocked and with this in mind smuggled a clenched hand into his stomach. The face assault was blocked but whilst he was pre-occupied with defending his second fist managed to connected lightly with his opponents stomach and watched as Arthur stumbled back slightly not expecting the hit.

“Ooh, that hurt?” Tristan played, trying not to offend his prince but talking to him more like a fellow friend than a superior. Arthur looked quite mad now, lunging for him, sending a swift kick to his lower leg. He endured the split moment of pain before he started off again trying to get Arthur into a headlock in which he could flip him over onto his back and pin him to the floor where he would be unable to draw up any more attacks. For what seemed like several few minutes they both blocked and defended themselves against each other’s attacks and seemed drawn in a stalemate. Tristan let his defences drop for a second though and felt the wind knocked straight out of him as he dropped to the floor. He had no idea where the hit had come from but chose to stay on the floor and wait until he had recuperated. “Not done already have you?” Arthur asked returning back the playful banter.

Tristan sent his foot behind the prince’s legs and swept in a wide arc until his opponent lost his balance and fell on the floor too. “Sorry to bring you back down to earth but...” Tristan laughed, propping himself up by his elbow and dabbing his finger at the corner of his mouth as it began dripping blood. The prince placed a hand behind his head and felt throbbing as he too had drawn blood.

The match was paused until they had both stood up again, stalking each other as they began to circle again. “Round two, ding ding” Tristan said, ignoring the crippling pain from his stomach and the steady trickle of blood that was seeping from the corner of his mouth. He could feel his chain mail digging into his side uncomfortably which was beginning to distract him as much as he tried not to let it. The rest of the battle was made up of dodging, attacking, falling, bleeding and more attacking but it seemed none of them were working up an advantage.

“Match, even.” The servant called from behind them signalling the time to be over. Tristan had not won, but at the same time he had not lost. He judged this to be a victorious battle all the same as he had fulfilled in his ultimate aim to not look stupid. “Fair play Arthur.” Tristan said as the two shook hands and bowed in a sign of respect. The crowd was unsure whether to cheer or not as technically the battle did not hold a winner and Tristan began to become unsure as to whether he had passed his training or not. “I’m not wishing to be rude Arthur, but if you don’t mind I think I’m going to get myself down to the Physicians Chambers. I think that final blow to my stomach really did finish me off... Mind you, you’re not so well off yourself, maybe you should think about seeing Gauis too? Not to be arrogant or anything but I did deliver a good few punches as well, in fact screw that, I am being arrogant” Tristan said laughing, ending their hand shake and turning on his heels to make his way down to see the court physician.

[Word Count- 1,508]

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

Congratulations Tristan! You have now reached the esteemed rank of A Pendragon Knight!

Well done ont he fantastic post and you may now change your signature.

A pm will follow with the details of the celabratory feast

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Continued training from a Knight of the Cavalry division to commence training as an assassin.

Several months had come and gone, nothing overly exciting and most importantly, nothing to strive for. Tristan had found himself lost after he had finally been appointed Knight of Camelot, but now he had reached this milestone he was unsure of what to do next. He had spent his whole life aiming for that title, and now that he had it, he felt like he was without purpose. Being a Knight was fantastic, in fact it was everything that he thought it would be but he was missing the training. Venturing out into the barracks every morning, watching those who aspired to be a noble Knight, it made him miss the climb. Training was not the same when you had already accomplished the very thing you were striving to achieve.

So it was for this reason he had spoke to Prince Arthur and had been initiated into training to become an Assassin. So not only would he be sufficiently well practised in being in the Calvalry, but being an Assassin opened plenty more career prospects for him and made him even more desirable to be out on missions. Plus, having two different titles behind his name meant his chances of being sent out on active duties increased so his risks of boredom therefore lowered. That was all the persuasion he needed to actually do it; it was a win win situation. Tristan just hoped he wasn't going to look like he had bit off more than he could chew, and being thrown in with a bunch of recruits was hardly a fair match. But endlessly fun all the same.

He was unsure what sort of things he would be put up to today, and being at the hands of Prince Arthur his wandering thoughts weren't exactly feeling reassured. Hopefully his previous training would prove useful, but the division of assisination was unlike anything he had done in the cavalry so maybe the experiece he had clocked would not be of very much help at all. There was nothing wrong with his skills with weaponary, well perhaps his archery was less to be desired but he was next to none when armed with a sword or dagger. Maybe this would come in handy?

Being an assassin though was all about lying low an staying out of sight and out of mind. It was being inconscipicous and ordinary and those weren't exactly things that came naturally to him. He was loud, arrogant, clumsy and liked to be noticed, maybe that would be his downfall? Those were such things he would have to work at, but hey, he was being thrown in with those of recruit level so maybe it would be fairer than he had initially thought? First thing was first though, if he didn't get a move on, he would arrive late to the first sessino of assassin training and as Arthur knew what he was already like, he would struggle to come up with an adequate excuse that would be worth believing.

Bolting down the stairs from the quarters, he soon joined the small congregation of army recruits on the barracks, and to his delight he was not late. In fact, If anything Arthur was running late. What was wrong with that? When it came to training, Arthur was always there on the dot, keen to lead by example but he was not here. "What's going on?" Tristan asked one of the recruits who shrugged his shoulders and let out a confused grunt. "I don't know, he was meant to be here an hour ago to help set up the training ring" How strange.

As Tristan began looking around, scanning his eyes over the atmosphere, he noticed the absence of all of the training equipment. They all stood, standing on an open plain and Tristan being Tristan, he felt strangely exposed. He was on edge, sensing something was not right. Everyone was here yet Arthur was not. Maybe going back to bed or catching breakfast of which he had missed was the right move, if Arthur could not bother to turn up, then why should he?

"Wait, MOVE!" As he had been letting his mind wander, he had noticed something strange standing on the roof of the castle. Moving a stride to the left, he noticed it's large wooden frame and it's strong bounds, similar to that of a large catapult used for throwing rocks large distances. As he said it, the familiar sound of the 'thwangg' ropes snapping at the catapult was let lose, several round spheres of heavy rocks were sent shooting off into the sky and in the direction of exactly where they all happened to be standing. It was only now that Tristan had realised, they were sitting ducks waiting for an attack. It was stupid to think that Arthur would not have a specific reason for attending- this was all part of the training session.

"Get under cover, we don't know how many of them there may be" Tristan warned, running over to the nearest spot of shelter to be followed by most of the recruits who were looking astounded, shocked and confused. What a first training session, how cruel Arthur could be! In past sessions, Arthur had trained Tristan well so he had put it down to that fact that he knew to trust his senses and keep himself on his toes.

For a second, everything went deathly quiet. Only the sound of heavy breathing until the tension was cut by the sound of loud, sharp clapping. "Well done, I wasn't expecting anyone to notice this early on." Arthur remarked, encouraging everyone to come and join him for a well needed explanation of all of this madness. "One trait of being a good assassin is to be able to spot one wrong out of a series of rights. You need to be able to tell when something is not as it seems and when your life is endangered as its likely it will happen in the future. Mostly, when people walk past buildings or surroundings, they only notice what is staring them in the face and not what is hiding behind closed doors." Arthur continued, trying to phrase it as best he could to make it understandable to those who were listening.

"The purpose of this exercise was to place you in familiar grounds and see if you would notice when something was not as it seemed. You did this Tristan, and for that you should be congratulated. Not only is identifying a potential threat important, but acting upon it is the next crucial step and something removing yourself from the danger can be better than confronting it." And with those words and a side-wards glance, Prince Arthur left to continue his duties. Leaving both Tristan and the recruits quite astounded as to what had just happened.

[Words- 1,159]

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

OOC: I would literally have bet my life that i replied to this!

Accepted and another great post! Keep up the good work and i can't wait to read the next one!

You may now add that you are training as an assassin to your signature if you wish.