Basic Guard

It wasn't unusual for fights to break out around town—Boralus was a busy port with a number of taverns clustered on its harbourfront, and neither soldier nor sailor were the retiring sort. Throwing down on a ship's deck tended to be frowned upon, but if anyone should ask, Shaw was about to impart some instructional combat techniques and was certainly not rising to some lacklustre bait.

"Well, it's what you do with it that counts, I suppose," Fairwind said, his backside parked on the edge of the campaign table, watching Shaw as he ran a whetstone over his dagger.

"Indeed," Shaw said. He turned the blade over his thumb, flipped it into his offhand with a spin and a flourish. Basic tricks, showy but straightforward. He taught them to his new cadets to improve their dexterity and coordination, and because it impressed them. "Care for a demonstration?"

Fairwind laughed and rattled a cutlass in its scabbard. "All right, it's high time," he said with unwarranted enthusiasm. "Let's go!"

Jes-Tereth took one look at them and said, "Take it to the promenade, gentlemen."

Fairwind had the upper hand in some respects: he was as big as an ox and had good reach even disregarding choice of weaponry. Shaw had seen him in combat enough to know he considered these things advantageous and thus relied on them. He was undisciplined and inexpert, and had no doubt been instructed by somebody equally so, if he had been instructed at all.

It would serve him well enough in a back-alley brawl, but Fairwind was about to discover that Shaw was no drunken freebooter spoiling for a fight. He regarded Fairwind levelly as he raised his cutlasses into a basic guard. Fairwind flashed him a grin and an overconfident wink.

Shaw wasn't one for smirking, but it seemed an appropriate response.

"Excuse me, did you just," Fairwind said, and Shaw stepped past his guard, caught his wrist and with a twist sent his mainhand cutlass clattering to the promenade. He kicked it away and in the same motion hooked his leg into the back of Fairwind's knee, turning him over his hip and landing him hard enough on the paving to knock the air out of him, but thankfully, not the rest of his remark.

Shaw retrieved his cutlass for him while he was gasping for breath. He might fancy himself a swashbuckler and all the romance that entailed, but Fairwind's weapons weren't as brassy as his personality. The sword was nicely-balanced and well cared for, which afforded him Shaw's respect, if not his patience.

"That was dirty," Fairwind said approvingly, halfway to his feet. Shaw caught his hand and hauled him the rest of the way up.

"You were expecting a fair fight?"

"Something more honourable, maybe."

"When it comes to my line of work," Shaw said, offering him his weapon, "honour tends to get in the way of things."

"Heh. Quite the pair of undesirables, aren't we." Fairwind took his cutlass and sheathed it, though his hand lingered at its hilt. "Best of three?"

This was what Shaw got for humouring him. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Honestly can't think of anything," Fairwind said, and drew again when Shaw shifted into a balanced stance. He lead with a predictable thrust. Shaw could let him score his point, but decided to give him what he wanted instead; he got a dagger in hand, turned his blade aside and riposted.

If it were a real fight, he'd lay a swift strike to Fairwind's sword arm and then to his neck. As it wasn't, he settled for shearing the sleeve of his longcoat.

Fairwind danced back, a wild glint in his eyes. His offensive this time was an upward sweep, as though he intended to slice the lacing of Shaw's uniform. A bold move. That would be quite enough of that. Shaw put his weigh on his back foot and led Fairwind into overextending on his next thrust, and immediately used his compromised balance against him to press the advantage.

If this were a real fight, he'd hope Fairwind would be trying harder. Shaw grappled him onto the promenade again and pinned him down with a straddle. All Fairwind could bother to do was wriggle under him in breathless, useless laughter.

"All right, all right," Fairwind said, scarlet-faced and grinning. One warm hand gripped Shaw's calf. "I yield."

Shaw lifted Fairwind's chin with the point of his dagger. Fairwind only caught his lip and gazed at him down its length as though he'd never seen a finer sight.

"Somehow, Captain," Shaw said, "I don't believe you."