With feet submerged in a thin sleet of snow, Ehren lifted his boots out of the winter slush and shivered at the chill. Though the winter had just begun and the royal family would usually barricade themselves in the warmth of the palace walls, as a squire, Ehren no longer had that luxury. He was still required to wake before dawn, dress, eat and sprint into the cold to meet his master.
That particular morning, the moment he placed his feet onto the icy floor, a ripple of shivers flowed up his body and he was already regretting being a knight in training.
A cold gust of wind flew into his side and he wrapped the cape over his shoulders tighter against him. Before the winter, Hannelore had presented the handmade winter cloak to him, using most of her spendings to buy the material.
"It is the skin of a black bear," she explained, holding the cloak out shyly to him. "I hope you use it."
The cloak itself was nicely made, with the smooth pelt of the bear around the collar and in the inside as insulation. The rest of the back was nicely stitched with the kingdom's stallion crest in the centre as the main feature.
"Boy!"
The bark of Ser Erhard snapped him to attention.
"Tell me again boy, how long have I trained you?" the knight suddenly asked as he picked up a wooden sword off the snow covered rack.
"About six months Ser."
"Six months?" Ser Erhard echoed. "And you're..."
"Nine years old Ser," Ehren finished for him.
"I see," he swung the wooden sword around aimlessly. "Throughout this whole time, we've never tried combat, have we?"
Excitement fluttered through Ehren's chest, "No Ser."
The knight turned around and Ehren stared at the wooden weapon in his hand, his eyes wide with pure, fleeting adrenaline. The knight suddenly tossed the sword over to him and Ehren clumsily missed. He had to pick it out of the mud when Erhard began to go through the basics.
"A sword is a tool. It will cut down your enemies in front of you and protect yourself from harm. A sword is your arm, your new limb. Lose your sword and you lose your life."
He rearranged the grip Ehren had on the handle and adjusted it accordingly. "Depending on your weapon which is a sword for now, the right hand is placed on top of the left," Ser Erhard stepped back and unsheathed his sword, demonstrating the basic hold on his silver beast. "The left is placed below. Grip the handle tightly with it, use your last three fingers to squeeze the life out of it, the rest are relaxed."
Ehren peered over and adjusted and made sure to copy everything the knight showed him. Ser Erhard sheathed the sword and stood in front of the prince. He slapped the prince's hands and pulled them up. "Pommel should be at your stomach, no higher, no lower."
The moment he released his grip, Ehren's arms got tired and he rested the sword against his stomach.
"Don't rest it boy!" Ser Erhard barked angrily. "Keep it held out!"
Immediately, the wooden sword was pushed away from Ehren's body, his arms shaking slightly as he attempted to hold the position.
"Keep the blade straight," his master instructed. The man quickly showed him the footwork and arm motions of a basic swing. "Left foot should be behind the right. Stand on the back of your feet."
Ehren adjusted his weight and wobbled, nearly tipping over in the process.
Instantly his master barked again, "Balance!"
