Raban quickly dropped his centre of gravity and held his long practice blade close to his body, making himself a smaller target. He circled with the boys, trying to keep them all in at least his peripheral vision. Tension sent his heart pounding, and adrenaline rushed through his veins. He knew he shouldn't underestimate them - untrained though they may be, they knew they had the advantage here, and they would probably try to capitalize on that early. He allowed himself a small, quick grin as they charged simultaneously, as he'd expected. Raban dove forward towards Loues in front of him. The boy immediately balked, and he swung his sword to his left to parry the blow from Dale as he moved. He rolled past Loues as he recovered, but the young Damian was quicker than he was. He swung his practice blade low, hitting the boy's ankle hard, hoping to slow him down. Loues yowled and hopped on one foot, but Raban was already beyond him, dropping back into his stance to face the other two who were still charging. The attacks came together, and Raban danced to his right, dodging one blow and parrying the other. His counterattack was swift and brutal, whacking Dale's sword hand and making him drop his weapon, but his last assailant was upon him before he could press the advantage. Harod's wobbly offensive was easy to defend, but Loues had stopped his sniveling and was at Raban's side again. The two of them attacked relentlessly, but Raban quickly found an opening in Harod's defense, kicking him soundly in the gut and winding even while he parried an attack from Loues. Seizing the opportunity, Raban leaped over the page curled upon the floor to intercept a surprised Dale who was moving to rejoin the fight, and giving him a sound buffet against his left temple. Dazed, he went down into the dirt when Raban tripped him with a low roundhouse. Loues approached, nervous, his hand unsteady. The prince ventured a quick glance at Ulfred, who was standing implacable with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Raban smirked, and this was enough to rattle Loues' already shaken confidence, and he flicked his gaze quickly over to his teacher. Raban pounced, attacking in quick succession against Loues' right side - even the parried blows reverberating pain up the boy's sword arm. Eventually, the page dropped his wooden sword with a whimper, and backpedaled quickly, his arms up for amnesty.
Panting hard, Raban let his defensive stance fall as he stood, running his free hand through his hair to pull dark, wet strands from his eyes. "Was that... alright... Ser?"
Sticking his practice sword in his belt, the young prince went to help the other boys to their feet, apologizing and making sure they were okay. He looked up and saw his father, Kervall and Adelaide watching, and gave them a nod, before turning back to his teacher. "D'you think I'm good enough to fight one of the hedge knights, yet?"
=*=*=*=*=*=
The more time he spent with her, the more Kervall realized he was growing to enjoy the company of the princess. Most of the women he'd met at court were vacuous, pampered little flowers, as delicate as they were spoiled. How surprised he'd been to find a princess who could not only match him in his intellectual pursuits, but who enjoyed it as much as he did! Not for the first time, he found himself wishing their families weren't such bitter enemies. He couldn't imagine a having a king for a father-in-law would be bad, but he knew how deep the blood feud went. He had been told all his life that the Damians were cowardly, cheating dogs. Of course, this had proved to be more or less true in the case of Lionel, but ironically the boy wasn't exactly a Damian, was he?
Shaking the ruminations from his mind, he nodded at Adelaide's request, grinning briefly at her. "I shall, m'Lady." He nodded and watched her go, his gaze lingering on her back for a little while longer. A surprise, huh? I wonder what she's cooking up. Wiping the grin from his face, Kurt gave a bow to the king and turned to go, calling Flynt to his side as he did so. Speaking quietly, he gave the knight a set of instructions to carry out before day's end. 'Hostage' though he may be, Kervall would be damned if he was going to let the situation squirm completely out of his control; he had several contingency plans well underway for a few circumstances he had foreseen. He knew Jamie would not be content rampaging through the countryside forever, though from what he'd heard he hardly had a standing army that could lay siege to any real city. Things changed, though, and Kervall planned to stay in the game whatever happened. Once he'd sent Flynt away, Kurt stopped by the stables, and spent a suspicious amount of time inside. Afterward, he headed over to the gardens to meet Adelaide.
He arrived before she did, and took the time to stroll among the flora being grown by the royal horticulturists. He liked this place - people rarely came here besides himself and Adelaide, and the gardeners did a surprisingly great job of creating a relaxing and beautiful environment. It made him wonder why it was so unpopular. Not that he was complaining, really. It had served as the perfect spot for him to meet not only the princess, but his network of spies had convened here several times, as well. As he limped by a wall grown over with ivy, Kervall let the fingers of his left hand trail along the stone and the thick, ropey vines scaling the wall. He paused, staring at that wall, and wondered quietly at its tenacity. Stone was hard and unyielding, but with much time, perseverance, and a little sunshine, the plant had grown to cover an entire wall, its arms reaching along and even through the unbreakable stone. If the ivy were to be ripped out, now, it would surely take part - if not the whole - wall with it. What a curious strength it possessed.
He turned as he heard his name called, and saw the princess approaching. He could not help but smile. Here, where they were alone, it did not matter, and he let his affection show clear to his face. As she drew near, he lowered himself to one knee (with a bit of a wince that he quickly hid), took one of her hands and placed a gentle kiss on it, then stared up at her, "Lo, thine eyes doth glimmer with empathy; what desire dost thou wish 'pon moonlight?" The goofy grin on his face lent the somber, poetic words a playful twist, "Fair maid, mine own heart stills b'neath thine visage; Prithee, tame its madness in earnest flight."