Giles flushed at Francois’ playful taunts and shrugged off the sword, chuckling. He didn’t think Francois could ever hurt him, physically or emotionally. He trusted the man with his life, even if he hadn’t seen him for years. Oddly enough, Francois still looked the same all those years ago, perhaps slightly more eccentric but Giles never did mind the man’s antics. He thought them funny and delightful as a child. He doesn’t doubt that he still would today as an adult.
Giles smirked and nodded, stepping back and unsheathing his sword as he got into the stance that was sufficient enough. “Straight to business, Francois. Of course.”
Chuckling, Giles waited for Francois to strike, wanting to give the man a fair chance. They always use to play with wooden swords -Giles’ mother didn’t think he was old enough to use a real sword until he was fifteen- but now it was the real thing, and Giles felt that much closer to Francois. No matter how the spar went, Giles knew that he’ll always have much to learn from Francois and whether it was about being a knight or not, Giles always enjoyed hearing the man’s tales.
Francois stepped forwards, to the side and around the man, his feet crossing over, nimble as if he’d been dancing all his life. As the metal swiped through the air he laughed, clanging it against the other man’s sword, over and over against the sound of swordplay rang through the courtyard and he was smiling, there was probably a glint or two of fang here and there as he laughed, but Giles seemed not to notice.
He just could not help but notice how much the boy had grown, and yet stayed the same, still the sweet, trusting boy he had always been and, for a small moment, he felt guilty for not being completely honest with him, but how could he? He was a man of God, a child of God, and Francois was not. An abomination and a monster, as many had called him.
‘You ‘ave to keep up, little man!’
He chimed, dancing around him, smacking his armour with the flat side of the sword. IT was easy to say that, from his years of practise, Frankie was quite good with a sword, better than most and would soon be the best of them all he did, after all, have all the time in the world,
‘Or are you weighed down by all that silly armour?’
You’ve assumed correctly, My Lord. Though I do not like being referred to as ‘The Dame’. It makes me sound terribly old. ‘Nairne’ will do just fine. May I see your fangs?
I could show you in another way, mon petit, but I doubt you’d be very ‘appy with that, Nairne.
Ah, you must be the Marquis. I heard you were a…charming man. However, I suppose not all rumors are true, are they? I’m more inclined to believe the rumors of your red liquiddiet.
Per’aps, my lady, you should be more inclined to believe what you ‘ear as, well, both of those rumours are very true. But yes, I am the Marquis, and you are the darling Dame of the village, I assume?
A dame, a dame, a dame. Come out, come out wherever you are.
I’ve not had the opportunity, I’m afraid. Though, it does seem much more in comparison, even in only your few words. Why are you here then, Marquis Volois? If I came from a beautiful place such as Bordeaux, I should never want to leave.
Because, as I am sure you are aware, when you live in a place it loses it’s novelty, and you are forced to look for other places in order to fulfil the curiosity that fills each of us to different levels. I, for one, am full of it, I traveled for four years through the entirety of France, England and Scotland before settling and, I must say, England is nice, as is Paris, there are nice places all over the world, I am sure.
I will be making the trip to other places, too, but I’ve all the time in the world. You should, definitely, visit before you grow too old, or attached to this place.
Marquis Francois Valois, de Bordeaux, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, little miss.
The pleasure is endowed upon me as well, My Lord Marquis. Though, if you do not mind my asking, what is it like in France? I have never been, you see, though it has often been a destination my heart has longed to visit- in the future, of course.
It’s nice, very green and warm, not as dull as it is here. Why ‘ave you not visited yet? I would ‘ighly suggest it.
Giles quickly traveled to his chambers, dressing down in light armor before racing down to the courtyard, not wanting to wait another minuted. Truth was, he was only sparring with Francois, a man he looked up to as a child, and if he did beat Giles, well, Giles wouldn’t be all that perturbed. After Francois left Humber for what may of been the last time, Giles was worried and his ten year old self missed him greatly, always waiting for the day that Francois would travel back to Humber. To say there was no hidden resentment would’ve been a lie. The man never wrote and because Giles knew he was traveling a great deal, he never wrote either. But now Giles planned to make up for the lost time with Francois.
“Francois!” Giles called out when he emerged from the gate with a grin full of mirth, Francois’ back to him.
Fighting could be put on hold; Giles wanted to spend a quick moment with the man who, as a child, he would leave his friends to go play with. It was just the two of them in the courtyard and Giles was thankful for that. He wanted no interruptions. ”It’s so good to see you after all these years, my friend,” he said, walking up to the other, his sword sheathed at his side.
Francois turned on his heel to eye the boy as he crossed the ground towards him—truth be told he was far more a man than a boy, in terms of age, but to Frankie he was still that small, awkward ten-year-old, the boy who’d clung close to him whenever he’d taken him out of the house, taken him into the markets and town after having begged his mother to let him go. That grin came over his face again, filled with fond memories and a mischief at the coming spar.
He raised his sword as the man approached, clinking it lightly on the armour,
‘Armour? Are you that scared I’ll ‘urt you?’
The vampire smirked but he nodded, shrugging his shoulders,
‘It ‘as been a long time, and I ‘ave missed you greatly but now..’
He tapped the sword against the light, silver armour again, motioning for him to raise the sword that hung at his side. Frankie knew that there was no chance he’d be beaten, not a chance in heaven, hell or on God’s green earth, but he would at least let them man try, maybe he’d let him win for a little while, or maybe he’d let him win overall, he hadn’t yet decided what he wanted to do. Knock the boy from his high horse and prove there was yet work to be done, or give him some more confidence?
Francois left soon enough, making a small detour to his chambers to pick up the necessary equipment but then he was off again, a light skip in his step as he made his way down towards the courtyard. It had been quite some time since he’d seen Giles, that little boy with shining eyes and hair of spun gold, thighs he’d just wanted to bury his teeth into—that was the problem with children, Frankie found, their skin looked.. just so tasty. He’d had to tear himself away before he’d done something he would have regretted but now, now was different. He was older, but still with those same characteristics—and an ego to match.
‘Come out, come out, w’erever you are, mon petit. Let me show you ‘ow it’s done.’
He chimed, sword in hand, letting it drag over the ground as he plodded through it, spinning in little circles and pacing back and forth, eyes scanning the area around him. It had started to grow dark and the competitors, and almost all of the city it seemed, had retired to the feast, leaving them quite alone.
No, not this year. I seem to have arrived late and I’d like to work on my training. I’m still as easily distracted as I was ten years ago.
In that case, I’ll take you on now. In the courtyard.
Well, we will see, won’t we? I think you’ll be surprised by my level of skill.
We most certainly shall see, mon petit chevalier, we shall see. I would hate to tire you out before any competition but, wait, are you competing this year?