Roland Windsor
"Ah!" Roland exclaimed as Sir Ernest's wooden sword smacked him on his left shoulder, he couldn't predict his movements to save his life, his sword glided elegantly through the air, his swings were graceful but strong, and he was in total control at all times. Roland was quite frankly amazed, his own movements were primitive and wild by comparison. Discipline, that is what it took to be a masterful swordsman. By the end of the training Roland was about to collapse, but he was grateful for Sir Ernest's beneficial training, he would make sure to assign him as his personal trainer, afterall he seemed to have the perfect balance of discipline and criticism. Roland was nearly dead on his feet, even after having a brief rest on a chair his legs were still sore.
He frowned slightly, this threw a hammer into his plans. For royalty dancing was an important skill, maybe not so much for a king, but for a prince it was. While he was fatigued, he resolved that he wasn't too tired to learn a new skill, besides how taxing could dancing be? He called to one of his servants and ordered her to find a dancing instructor for him. He would have a brief lunch in the dining hall, nothing that would take more than ten minutes to eat, afterwards he would be guided to the ballroom by one of the servants, as it was the most suitable place for dancing and all self-respecting palaces had one. He tried to stretch out his body a bit, hoping that the pain in his muscles would fade away.
Hopefully he wouldn't be too bad at dancing, long ago he was pretty good, but that was before he began to reject his 'trainers'. It was all a bunch of fake crap anyways, like stickers on an prison cell, it gave his life some flavor, but that flavor soon began to make him sick. He hadn't danced in years, maybe some of his former talent would come back to him? He tried to push unpleasant thoughts from his mind, he would just focus on learning, and by troubling himself he only worsened his already prominent fatigue.