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Black and Blue (Rockaxe, Matilda Knights Fortress) "No, no, NO! That's not the correct way to--" Miklotov's loud shouting was promptly cut off by the sounds of snapping wood, the grinding of gears and wheels, and the loud crash of a young blue knight getting knocked right out of his saddle as the quintain he had set his faulty lance aiming upon reeled with a spinning, return blow. The sparsly-armored youth tumbled to the ground with a startled grunt, his horse trotting off away in a mild panic, leaving its owner red-faced in embarassment in front of his training fellows. It was quite evident that his blunder could be seen throughout the center courtyard of the Matilda fortress... Miklotov slapped his forehead with a white-gloved hand and groaned inwardly, quickly brushing aside his short-cropped, dark strands of hair away from his forehead before he could fluster. His uniform was a complex design of plate armor hidden within deep blue garb, edged with whites and blacks, the badge of the Matilda Knightdom proudly pinned to his left shoulder, denoting his rank as commander. He grimaced tightly, kicking aside a small, dusty stone with a black-booted foot, as he watched the knight that had fallen from the back of his horse struggle to sit up. Even with THREE hours of training each and EVERY morning, even with the tapering war between the Jowston City-State and Highland giving them reason enough to test their skills, EVEN with the minor border skirmishes with the former Scarlet Moon Empire...there were still flaws amongst the Blue Knights he commanded! Miklotov puffed a frustrated sigh. Maybe he wasn't pushing his knights enough... "You couldn't hit the broad side of the CASTLE with aim like that," he said bluntly, walking over to the fallen knight and helping him to his clumsy feet. "And you should know by now that the quintains are made so that they spin around to knock you off the horse if you strike them wrong! How long have you been attempting this, anyway?" The berated knight quickly stood under his own power, dusting himself off briskly and flushing red in the cheeks. "T-Two weeks, Commander Miklotov," he stammered, obviously unused to his leader's blunt mannerism. "I was only initiated THREE weeks ago, sir! I've never been good with horses!" "All the more reason to train even harder," came Miklotov's flat response, taking the reins of the same horse that had previously been deprived of its rider. Planting his booted foot into the stirrup, the blue knight commander skillfully slid into the steed's saddle. "Let me show you how it's done. Mark this lesson well!" The younger azure knight watched on with widened eyes as Miklotov slid into the back of the saddle, obviously a position which would make the chances of him getting knocked off much more likely. Confusion settled on the young man's face. "Um, sir...?" he dared to mutter, "but...wouldn't sitting like that...um..." "Increase the chance that I might get thrown? Of course," Miklotov replied, his expression like marble as he drew a wooden lance from the rack beside him. "You've got to learn to rely on your own strength to keep yourself mounted. You shouldn't let your muscles slacken!" Miklotov transfered the wooden lance to his right hand, tucking the long handle of the eight-foot long weapon firmly under his arm to retain a close grip. Gloved hand tightly clasping the horse's reins, he promptly gave a sharp kick to the steed's side, forcing the animal to whinny and bolt into a headlong rush for the quintain dead ahead. Instinct and natural skill quickly took over. Miklotov tightened his legs against the sides of the horse to keep himself firmly in place as he sped forward in a full tilt, aiming his simple lance for the dead center of the wooden dummy poised motionlessly before him. He quickly ducked down lower, as a precaution should his aim fail... Another loud snap echoed through the courtyard, causing the training blue knights to halt their trainings and watch in wonder as the quintain Miklotov struck snapped into two equal halves, the lance that had speared it imbedded in the crack that split the dummy at the seams. Jaws hung slack and eyes widened at the spectacle; while many of the knights--blue, white, and red alike--had been around long enough to have seen Miklotov accomplish such a feat countless times, they were nonetheless amazed at the display of skill. Miklotov's face showed no sentiment of satisfaction to his deed as he brought the steed back over to the other young knight, who stood gawking at the shattered quintain that lay as nothing more than rubble upon the packed dirt. "T-That was amazing!" the youth remarked, eyes wide. "That was nothing," Miklotov grimaced, swinging around gracefully as he expertly dismounted the horse and handed the reins back over to the slack-jawed knight. "I expect all knights within my company to do the same as I just did. Practice even if you develop blisters on your backside! We have a reputation as knights to uphold, understand?" The young knight snapped a quick, albeit clumsy, salute. "Yes SIR!" he answered. "Right away!" Miklotov nodded curtly as the young blue knight quickly got back into the saddle, inspired to make another attempt to better his cavalry skills. The azure commander turned aside, calmly walking towards the southern courtyard exit. The morning's three-hour training was just a half hour away from ending; Camus would most likely be returning from Two River City soon. Another of Miklotov's deep, characteristic grimaces dominated his features as his thoughts settled upon the thought of the Two River region. All Camus had told him was that Lord Gordo had sent him to the fellow city-state in order to speak with the commander of the Kobold forces stationed there...no news on motives or the like. Sure, things were tense due to the fact that Highland and Jowston were FINALLY getting to signing a peace treaty, but something about the whole situation made him feel...uneasy. It doesn't really help that you're almost NEVER on good terms with Lord Gordo, Miklotov mentally reminded himself. And other than that, he's barely done anything to help in defending Jowston, especially capital Muse herself... Miklotov quickly pushed his troubled thoughts away from his head as he headed through the carpeted hallways to the entrance of the Rockaxe castle. Hopefully, his friend Camus would be back soon...and maybe then he could pry some answers out of him during breakfast. Mind firmly made up, the blue knights commander increased his pace to a brisk step, disappearing through the stone fortress halls.
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