False Honour

Episode I Scene I&II

Scene I

Noon, the waves of the vast, endless ocean hitting the shore of a small coastal town. A woman would stand by an empty merchant stand, her expression filled with anticipation as she sees a ship from the edge of her eyes sailing to the Town's port. Crys of the many disturbed seagulls echoed around the port as a merchant ship lands in it, the Captain of the ship climbs down to the shore, looking back at his crew as he guides them to his stand. As he walks to his stand, he sees her. They exchange smiles, holding hands as their eyes sparkle with joy and satisfaction.

"Did I keep you waiting?", asked the Captain, his smile not faltering and his gaze on her not diverting.

"Not more than the usual." his wife remarked with her gaze also on him, though her smile widened slightly.

The Captain leaned to her, kissing her forehead before turning to his crew, making sure they were organizing their commodities. At ease that his work is being taken care of, he looked back at his wife and started walking down the road together.

"So where is our young lad? Unlike him to be absent at this time." The Captain asked, his tone not harbouring irritation, rather curiosity.

On the contrary, her expression and tone changed at the mention, looking distressed. "He gotten rowdier since you saw him last. All he does is venture around in these godforsaken woods, fighting any animal he comes across. Not to mention, he's been trying so badly to fit in with his cousin..."

The Captain's expression didn't seem to change as he heard the news, his voice remained calm and curious. "Well, is he fitting well with him?"

His wife stayed silent for a moment, struggling to find a way to describe her concerns. But then she spoke with no less distress than before. "I am not so sure...he always comes back late with bruises, calling it 'training'. I feel as if Crépus is just bullying him, but he just keeps denying it!"

The Captain looked over to his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder and cracking a small grin. "Worry not, I'll talk with him when he gets back. Let us go back home for now."

Scene II

The Sun's unforgiving rays of heat struck his tired, reddened face as he panted. He used his sword as a stick to lean on it, giving himself a second to breathe.

"Not a bad strike there, cousin. But I would see any of the men in the camp put up a fight of the like." Crépus spoke with a sense of cynicism to the panting young man. His smirk was evident and so was his lack of fatigue, in complete contrast to the other's scowling, tired face.

"I can...kill any of these walking targets any day..." The young man declared as his eyes stared back at his relative, the light of the sun hitting his iris.

Crépus' smirk didn't falter, rather he tilted his head at his relative's statement. "Bold statement, though not untrue. However, they have more experience than you and... surely better stamina. In 7 minutes or less you're sweating and leaning." He moved his head back and raised an eyebrow, continuing: "It's not all about strength and speed, you know. You should know how t---"

The other young man leaned himself back, correcting his posture and taking a step back. "Don't lecture me, this isn't over yet!" He declared, cutting off his relative's advices.

Crépus furrowed his brows and took a stance, placing his left arm forward and putting his sword to his cousin's direction. "Nay...'tis already done. But you can send another strike." He challenged.

The cousin would let out a cry before dashing towards Crépus, his arms going high up to descend on his opponent.

Crépus' smirk faded as hedashed towards his cousin with greater speed, kneeling to the ground in an opposite direction before striking his opponent on his armour, making him fall but not injuring him terribly.

Crépus got back up and turned around, walking towards his defeated opponent. He looked at him from above, not lending him a hand, saying with a cynical tone: "And what was that supposed to be? Have I not told you a million times to plan your strikes? Or perhaps not flail your sword that high?" He scoffed. "Should I ask my father to give you a battle axe?"

The defeated young man struggled to get up, his body was shaking from all the bruises he took before. He looked not at his cousin but responded with a low voice and an annoyed tone: "If it will silence you."

Crépus grinned and retorted: "Can't wait to see how you mess that one up." He stretched as began to walk away from the woods, letting his relative help himself. As they did, he spoke to his beaten relative: "I've heard from father that my uncle is coming back today. Unbecoming of you to abandon such an event."

The young man walked and leaned on his sword for support, saying with a nonchalant tone: "So what? I will return to my house regardless, he will see me either way."

Crépus snickered, speaking with slight sarcasm to his voice: "Come now, at least act excited."

"For whom? A man who treats weapons like ornaments and uses them only when his life is threatened?" The young man replied. Though his words carried harshness, his voice was void of malice.
"Perhaps, though you should not deprive yourself from his wisdom. You could learn a thing from his own trials, Desider."