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Moon
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2013
"And again!” Weapons Master Ammon shouted. Myla Banefort took up her stance once again and prepared to face her trainer. She grasped her longsword. It was a simple but sharp sword, the grip wrapped in worn black leather. Myla took care of her sword, as she did with her armour. She wore black padded leather trousers and a black gambeson under a dark castle-forged hauberk. The rest of her armour was plain steel. Her lower arms were protected by vambraces decorated with a flame outline forged into the metal and on her shoulders sat spaulders. On her legs and feet were cuisses, schynbalds and sollerets. Her blue eyes peered out from behind the barbute helm and a braid of her hair poked awkwardly out from under the back of it.
The Weapons Master and Myla circled each other, trying to pick out any flaws in each other’s moves, working out how each other would proceed. Myla took the first step. She faked a lunge but Ammon did not respond. The training proceeded with both the pupil’s and teacher’s swords flurrying and clashing. Myla finally disarmed the Weapons Master and at arm's length she poised the tip of the sword against Ammon’s neck.
“I believe it’s time to finish for the day, my Lady.” Ammon told Myla, looking at her steadily. Myla held his gaze then nodded, slid her blade in it's scabbard and bowed to her teacher.
As Myla walked from the training grounds, she took off her helmet and shook her hair out of the braid. Her black hair had become wavy from the tight braid and it framed her flushed face. She arrived back at her room and poured a glass of wine whilst asking her maid to draw up a hot bath to soothe her aching body.
When the bath was ready, Myla was helped out of her armour she stepped into the water. She immersed herself slowly and simply laid there, the cuts and bruises on her body stinging in the heat. Myla had been training twice a day, every day for four weeks. She had been insistent on this, wishing to hone her skills as much as she could but now it was taking its toll. After a while she called her maid in to wash her body and hair. She usually washed herself, however today she was aching so much that she was happy to have a little help. Myla got out of the bath feeling a bit more invigorated by the cleansing hot water. She dried herself, brushed her hair and was about to get dressed when there was a knock at her chamber door.
The maid scurried up to Myla. “It’s Lord Banefort’s squire, my lady.” Myla quickly dressed in black trousers and a simple hooded black knee-length tunic, reminiscent of the dark figure of her house sigil.
“Send him in.” She ordered her maid.
The squire, clad in leather, stepped into the chambers. “My lady,” he started, “Your father Lord Banefort has requested your immediate presence in the Black Chamber."
Myla raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She slipped on her shoes and followed the squire to meet her father.
----
Quenten Banefort was sat at the large black walnut wood table with Weapons Master Ammon to sat his right. The Black Chamber was so called for the absolute lack of windows making the room dark and foreboding. Candles were lit upon the table but the room still held an oppressive atmosphere. The candles spluttered somewhat when Myla opened the doors and entered the room. The squire closed the doors behind her.
"Daughter, sit down." Lord Banefort ordered.
Myla sat down and looked directly at her father. Lord Banefort gestured towards the Weapons Master. "Ammon has advised me that you have been training a lot recently, however he says he has no more to teach you. You are... outgrowing him." Myla looked from her father to Ammon. Her teacher nodded once. Her gaze reverted back to her father when he spoke again.
"I sent a request to Kings Landing some time ago. I asked our friends the Lannisters if they could provide you with some further training. Today we received word back from them." Lord Banefort pushed a loosely rolled piece of paper across the table to Myla. "You leave for Kings Landing at dawn."
----
The large doors to the throne room in Kings Landing were opened, and Myla and Ammon were ushered in. They were walked up to the throne where King Joffrey sat, looking small against the massive chair.
"Lady Myla Banefort of House Banefort and the Weapons Master Ammon, my King" the squire introduced them. Both Myla and Ammon dropped to one knee, but it was only the Weapons Master who stood up again. Myla stayed stooped, her gaze averted from the King.
"Well, well. It's the Lady Banefort. I heard you fancy yourself to be quite the knight!" Joffrey's sullen face twisted into a cruel sneer. "I considered your father's offer and I'd like to see just how good you think you are."
Myla felt her face flush at this comment. She stood up and looking at the king, she opened her mouth to answer him back but a large figure to the King's left caught her attention. His presence was intimidating and it made the words catch in her throat. She had heard about this man. He was referred to as "The Hound".
The Weapons Master and Myla circled each other, trying to pick out any flaws in each other’s moves, working out how each other would proceed. Myla took the first step. She faked a lunge but Ammon did not respond. The training proceeded with both the pupil’s and teacher’s swords flurrying and clashing. Myla finally disarmed the Weapons Master and at arm's length she poised the tip of the sword against Ammon’s neck.
“I believe it’s time to finish for the day, my Lady.” Ammon told Myla, looking at her steadily. Myla held his gaze then nodded, slid her blade in it's scabbard and bowed to her teacher.
As Myla walked from the training grounds, she took off her helmet and shook her hair out of the braid. Her black hair had become wavy from the tight braid and it framed her flushed face. She arrived back at her room and poured a glass of wine whilst asking her maid to draw up a hot bath to soothe her aching body.
When the bath was ready, Myla was helped out of her armour she stepped into the water. She immersed herself slowly and simply laid there, the cuts and bruises on her body stinging in the heat. Myla had been training twice a day, every day for four weeks. She had been insistent on this, wishing to hone her skills as much as she could but now it was taking its toll. After a while she called her maid in to wash her body and hair. She usually washed herself, however today she was aching so much that she was happy to have a little help. Myla got out of the bath feeling a bit more invigorated by the cleansing hot water. She dried herself, brushed her hair and was about to get dressed when there was a knock at her chamber door.
The maid scurried up to Myla. “It’s Lord Banefort’s squire, my lady.” Myla quickly dressed in black trousers and a simple hooded black knee-length tunic, reminiscent of the dark figure of her house sigil.
“Send him in.” She ordered her maid.
The squire, clad in leather, stepped into the chambers. “My lady,” he started, “Your father Lord Banefort has requested your immediate presence in the Black Chamber."
Myla raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She slipped on her shoes and followed the squire to meet her father.
----
Quenten Banefort was sat at the large black walnut wood table with Weapons Master Ammon to sat his right. The Black Chamber was so called for the absolute lack of windows making the room dark and foreboding. Candles were lit upon the table but the room still held an oppressive atmosphere. The candles spluttered somewhat when Myla opened the doors and entered the room. The squire closed the doors behind her.
"Daughter, sit down." Lord Banefort ordered.
Myla sat down and looked directly at her father. Lord Banefort gestured towards the Weapons Master. "Ammon has advised me that you have been training a lot recently, however he says he has no more to teach you. You are... outgrowing him." Myla looked from her father to Ammon. Her teacher nodded once. Her gaze reverted back to her father when he spoke again.
"I sent a request to Kings Landing some time ago. I asked our friends the Lannisters if they could provide you with some further training. Today we received word back from them." Lord Banefort pushed a loosely rolled piece of paper across the table to Myla. "You leave for Kings Landing at dawn."
----
The large doors to the throne room in Kings Landing were opened, and Myla and Ammon were ushered in. They were walked up to the throne where King Joffrey sat, looking small against the massive chair.
"Lady Myla Banefort of House Banefort and the Weapons Master Ammon, my King" the squire introduced them. Both Myla and Ammon dropped to one knee, but it was only the Weapons Master who stood up again. Myla stayed stooped, her gaze averted from the King.
"Well, well. It's the Lady Banefort. I heard you fancy yourself to be quite the knight!" Joffrey's sullen face twisted into a cruel sneer. "I considered your father's offer and I'd like to see just how good you think you are."
Myla felt her face flush at this comment. She stood up and looking at the king, she opened her mouth to answer him back but a large figure to the King's left caught her attention. His presence was intimidating and it made the words catch in her throat. She had heard about this man. He was referred to as "The Hound".