Sibling Rivalry {Solo}

[Eris Coulson]

Eris was, frankly, on fire that day. The restlessness of her situation had finally gotten to her, causing her to kick her training regime into high gear. Between the stress of dealing with that idiot boy Commander Ilheod had given to her and the fury of being cooped in Macendew was just too much. She wanted to prove her prowess on the battlefield and yet wasn't given the option to set foot on the battlefield.

And, so, she took to the next best thing: spending the vast majority of her time on the training grounds.

Eris was relentless that day. Thrust after thrust she impaled the training dummy, making sure not to just stab wildly but to make every single thrust a kill shot. The heart, the throat, the lungs: she was going for the organs like a tigress. All of her pent up rage seeped through, adding power and raw ferocity to every single blow. She would grunt out and practically roar, drawing the attention of her peers.

Few wanted to spar with her that day. Eris had developed a bit of a reputation as a hot head, but as the days went by she became stronger and stronger still. Hot headed? Yeah, sure. Eris didn't enjoy being called that but she couldn't exactly deny it. But could anyone blame her? She was more baffled that all of these soldiers were so “okay” with just sticking around that rotten fort all day. Doing nothing. Routines were important. Duties were important. But had none of them joined for a cause? A reason?

Eris had. Rebellion and Bern's freedom...or at least that's what she thought. Either way it was enough of a reason to get her to fort. The other reason was that, frankly, she loved battle. She loved combat. Kiling was neither here nor there but actually beating somebody in battle, claiming victory. That sensation was what she lived for. She yearned it so much that, even when she claimed victory, she wasn't satisfied. She needed another win under her belt, and in order to keep winning she had to constantly keep improving.

With a fierce swing of her lance she took the fake head off the dummy, sending it flying up into the air and landing at the feet of another soldier. Eris glanced over at him and he met her glance with a smirk. A male, a training axe at his belt. He looked confident as he approached her. “You're really working it today, aren't you Albrecht?”

For the most part Macendew had treated her well and fairly. Despite the fact that she was of minor nobility. Despite the fact that she was a bastard. Despite the fact that she was a woman, she had been treated as a soldier first and foremost. Of course, there were always exceptions. The smirk on the young man's face made his intentions a bit obvious. He was here to mock her. "Shame," she supposed idly, "It's not a badly shaped face."

“Not much point in training if you're going to half ass it.” Eris stated, perhaps a bit too loudly. No, not TOO loudly. Just loud enough. She shot a pointed sneer around her, at the other soldiers in the training yard who were going through their regimes without so much as breaking a sweat. If you weren't sweating and in pain by the end of the regime then your regime was weak, or you weren't trying hard enough.

Eris made to walk past the man but he held an arm out, stopping her from passing. She shot him a firm look, her eyes demanding an explanation. “None of these boys'll take you on. Not today, anyway. I've seen you go about challenging them, even asking politely. How rude of them. A real gentleman doesn't turn down a lady.”

Yeah, obvious. Either he was trying to flirt and failing or he was about to throw around the usual sexist crap. Regardless Eris didn't have time for it. Not on the training field. “No, they don't. Not in their ballrooms and their courts. But on the battlefield? A real gentleman gets cleaved in twain. Or maybe impaled? But these boys aren't gentlemen...hardly soldiers but they're closer to that then gentlemen.” Eris snorted derisively as she continued on. “And here I'm no lady, either. Just a soldier. Soldiers don't bother with pleasantries. We just fight.” Her intentions were supposed to be clear with that statement: don't bother with your crap. If he wanted to challenge her then he need simply get to the point. Eris didn't want to waste time with anything else.

Thankfully for her the man seemed to understand. He stepped away from the training dummies, drew his axe from his hip, and stood in the middle of the main sparring area. His feet were planted squarely, a defensive stance...odd for the typical axe user.

“True enough, fellow soldier. Come at me then.”

[Eris Coulson]

Almost immediately the atmosphere changed. Some of the other soldiers and recruits slowed their training regimes down or stopped completely, their eyes turning to Eris and the man that challenged her. Eris herself had trouble deciding whether this pleased her or ticked her off. It only proved a further point that they had all been slacking. On the other hand...an audience wouldn't be so bad.

“Your challenge, my conditions.” Eris stated firmly, taking her place opposite the man in the practice square. Her eyes shifted to his axe and then his person. No other weapons, just the one standard training axe. Fair enough. “We fight until first blood. Not first strike: first blood.”

Eris despised the typical “fencing” spars, which only lasted until first strike. Or first strike in a vital area. No, if Eris was going to spar she wanted it to FEEL like a fight. What use was the experience otherwise?

Thankfully her opponent nodded, his eyes fixed on her lance. “Sounds fair to me. On your ready, then.”

There was a widely accepted belief that axes, in combat, held an advantage over spears. Their broad blades had plenty of space to block the narrow ends of a lance, and the average spear could be bent, crushed, or completely broken by the weight and force behind an axe. Eris understood this, but disagreed.

When does one ever aim for a weapon? A weapon hand, perhaps, but not the weapon itself. Lances aren't thrust at their full range very often or for very long, so the chance to destroy them isn't a large one. However the sheer range advantage a pole-arm held over the standard axe was constant. A permanent advantage. Capitalizing on this advantage was how Eris had beaten axe users before: it's how she'd beat this one now.

Taking a hard step forward with her left foot, Eris swung her lance at her opponents legs. She didn't want him to sit still, waiting for the opportunity to knock her weapon down or deflect the spear tip. Eris wanted to keep this man dancing, until he made a misstep.

Her opponent took a quick double step backwards, evading the swing of her lance before attempting to close the distance. Eris wasn't having any of that, either, pivoting hard on her left foot and bringing her lance down on the man in a wide arc. He pivoted in turn and raised his axe to attempt to block the blow and succeeded, but Eris held her lance firmly.

Pulling her arms back to draw her weapon close to her, Eris thrust the lance at the man's torso three times. It, like his axe, was a mere training lance. It'd take extreme force and pathetic armour on his part if she were going to mortally pierce the man. No, this attack wasn't her finale: she wanted to wear him down. If he wouldn't dance he was going to get pummeled.

The man was unable to readjust the position of his axe, unable to block the thrusts with it's broad edge, and instead was forced back a few steps as the lance-tip twanged and banged against his breastplate. He likely didn't feel too much pain, but the repeated strikes did force the man back a few paces.

Not wanting to lose the offensive edge she now had, Eris cried out before making two more sweeps at the man's legs. He tried to make a hop backwards to evade them but nearly lost his balance in turn, bouncing on his right foot before Eris' second strike connected with his knee. Unfortunately Eris had extended a bit too far, hitting his knee with the pole of her lance as opposed to the blade.

She drew no blood, but her opponent did fall onto his back.

[Eris Coulson]

First blood on a downed opponent was easy, especially with a spear. Eris simply drew her weapon close and made to thrust at the man's legs. Of course she didn't aim to impale him, simply to cut the sides of his legs. However this only made her job more difficult, and Eris let out a growl of frustration as she narrowly missed her first thrust. Before she complete a follow up strike the man rolled to the side, swiftly scrambling to his feet.

“Damn it, now we're back to square one.” Odds were the axe wielder wasn't going to trip up like that again, Eris would have to get him while he still stood.

Quick to take the offensive once again Eris gave several quick thrusts at her opponent, her eyes narrowing each time he dodged one. At this rate she'd wind up on the defensive, and that's when things would take an ugly turn. So Eris slid her hands up her weapon and gave a wide swing, only for the axe user to duck beneath it. “Damn it!”

Then, however, he made a rather critical error. Flustered from being kept on the defensive the man ran straight for Eris, hoping to turn the tables. Eris slid her hands further down her weapon, granting her greater control at the cost of shortened range. Since the axe wielder was closing the gap, however...she didn't need the range advantage anymore!

He brought his axe arm back, ready to swing, but Eris was faster. She grinned victoriously as she swung with her entire upper body, the tip of her lance slicing across the axe-man's chest, a few droplets of blood spilling immediately from the wound. The man stopped in his tracks and brought a hand to his chest, as if to confirm what had just happened, but Eris already knew: she could see the blood on her lance.

“First blood.” She stated smugly, relaxing her stance and bringing her lance in. Eris' breath was a bit heavy now, but she felt more energized than fatigued. Nothing revitalized her quite like winning a spar, and with a so called disadvantage too!

“Looks like it, yeah...” The man let out a sigh, conceding his defeat. “Well fought. I...underestimated your ferocity.”

Eris nodded, approaching her opponent whilst some of her audience clapped their approval. The feeling was dying now, and quickly. The spar was won, somewhat impressively so, and Eris was aware of the mistakes she made throughout it. That wasn't the issue. Her pride, her satisfaction...it was draining away. Like something was literally syphoning it out of her. This was becoming a more and more familiar feeling to Eris, but that only frustrated her more.

“Yeah, thanks.” She replied a touch too curtly, attempting to suppress this growing emptiness. Rather she tried to focus on the man before her. She didn't have his name. “You know my name but yours escapes me. What is it?”

“Hah, I thought you wouldn't ask.” Her opponent seemed to cheer up a bit. “The name's Joseph. Thank you for the match, Eris.”

Eris gave a nod before turning away from him. Joseph. She supposed she ought to commit the name to memory, if nothing else. Eris had all but overwhelmed the man, but it wasn't the worst spar she had. If her offensive pressure had been misused or ineffective somehow then she'd have surely struggled significantly.

The day was still young, however, so Eris decided she ought to resume her solo training. As she approached her training dummy, however, she couldn't help but notice a familiar yet unwelcome face amongst what had been her audience.

Eris didn't even bother hiding her scowl. “What do you want?”

[Eris Coulson]

It was Cyrus that held her gaze. His hair, orange-brown like hers, and even his eyes the same. It was only their faces that were so different, the structure of it. Yet anyone who knew the two would note that they wear many of the same facial expressions. Cyrus sneered at Eris, just as she did to so many others on the camp.

“Nothing. Just wondering how you can be content with such a wimpy spar.” Cyrus' arrogance and condescension rang clear in his tone. It was enough to make Eris bristle.

“There was nothing 'wimpy' about it. It was a good spar.” Eris retorted snappishly. The spar hadn't be that great, really, but even Eris wasn't going to go so far as to openly mock fellow soldier...well, okay, not that often anyway. But when Cyrus acted that way, and said those things, it lit her very blood aflame in the worst way possible.

“Hah. Not what I saw. If you want a good spar, then dance with me, Coulson.” Eris sneered at that name. The name she grew up with, her “base” name. Eris had no shame in that name, but the manner in which Cyrus wielded that name made he grind her teeth in contempt. He was supposed to be her brother, and yet ever since Varrick had publicly legitimized Eris, this had been their dynamic. Their relationship. One of contempt.

Cyrus stepped into the sparring area, drawing the sword at his hip and twirling it once in his hand before standing where Joseph once stood. Eris said nothing as she took her spot opposite him, gripping her lance once again. She narrowed her eyes as Cyrus opened his mouth to speak once more, but Joseph stepped onto the sparring area between them.

“Uh, hold up. Maybe I ought to referee this, you know?” He said it joyfully, as if it were an innocent suggestion, but even Eris could pick up the subtle undertones. If they declined odds were he would fetch a superior officer, and both Eris and Cyrus would wind up reprimanded. Soldiers had no business seriously harming their fellow soldiers. Knock them around if you whoop 'em in a spar, draw first blood, but if Joseph thought Eris and Cyrus intended on severely harming each other then he was right to make such a suggestion.

His worries were not unwarranted. If Eris could have it her way, she'd have a full on spar with Cyrus. A true mock battle. Not first to disarm. Not first blood. It would be a fight until one either surrendered, or was no longer capable of carrying out the fight. If one of them was in a situation where had their opponent been the enemy they would be killed. That was the sort of challenge Eris really preferred, and she would definitely enjoy facing Cyrus in that.

Especially because of how cocky he was. Cyrus was primarily a mounted fighter. He rode a horse and fought most battles mounted throughout the entirety of that battle. He was naturally putting himself at a disadvantage by sparring on foot. Beyond that he was choosing a sword over a lance. Just like axes were supposed to “trump” lances, lances were supposed to “trump” swords. It was a theory that was generally widely known though, of course, not widely accepted.

Either way Eris factored it in. Cyrus probably wanted to best Eris at a series of disadvantages to show off whatever sort of superiority he felt he had. She wanted to punish him for that, but sadly she'd have to settle for first blood.

“Fine. First blood?” Eris asked bluntly, eager to get on with this spar. She lowered her stance a tad and raised her lance towards Cyrus, who gave a nod.

“First blood. My challenge, your move.”

Eris needed no further encouragement.

[Eris Coulson]

Eris' first move was, of course, and aggressive one. She wanted to, needed to, assert offensive dominance over Cyrus. She went for a strong thrust straight at Cyrus' chest, but he placed his left foot behind his right and parried the blow with his sword, knocking Eris' lance downwards. Scowling, she readjusted her footing to bring the pole-arm back up in a diagonal swing, but Cyrus weaved out of the way and began to close the gap.

Damn, so much for her offensive.

Bringing her lance back close to her Eris was swiftly forced to dodge a heavy swing of Cyrus' sword. He was close now, too close for comfort. So Eris lifted a leg and planted her foot against his chest, kicking him back within a comfortable range before thrusting a few times at his upper thighs, hoping to get through his leggings for first blood.

Unfortunately she had pushed him too far away, in fact, so her thrusts wound up missing their mark. Damn, missed opportunity. She needed to be more aware of her actual range, otherwise fighting around that advantage would be useless.

Cyrus gained his balance swiftly enough and tried to press an offensive with a few more swings, but it seemed he wasn't quite used to his range either. Eris smirked as she backed up a pace, easily evading the strikes. Cyrus was used to swinging down, letting the momentum of his mount carry his strokes to their target. Now he had to move with his own swings, and all Eris had to do was keep him from growing too accustomed to that.

Eris made a swing for Cyrus' legs, forcing him back some more, but then she stepped forward swiftly, bringing her lance up and thrusting at his chest four times in as swift succession as she could manage. Cyrus blocked the first two thrusts with the flat of his blade, the sound of metal ringing on metal heard once again throughout the training area, and made a quick pivot to evade the rest.

This was already a far more even match than Joseph had been. While Cyrus may be at a disadvantage, he did have overall combat experience over Eris. At the moment the two looked evenly match.

Eris wanted to change that. She couldn't afford to play it safe anymore, lest her shoulders and triceps grow too sore from all the thrusting. Instead she made a dash along the opposite end of the sparring area, careful not to step out of the boundaries of the rectangle and into the training dummy area all around it. While dashing she made another swing with her lance, her foremost hand extended to keep good control of the lance in exchange for range.

Cyrus met the lance swing with a swipe of his sword, batting the slash off it's mark before charging past the lance's end straight at Eris.

The girl's eyes went wide. She had to react instantly or she was going to lose right then and there. Hastily bringing her spear closer to her body, Eris let out a sort of battle cry, thrusting the spear back out at Cyrus' side just as his sword arm came down on her shoulder.

And...

[Eris Coulson]

Eris recoiled as Cyrus' blade cut her shoulder. It didn't hurt greatly, but it sure did sting. Blood began to leak from the wound and she practically hissed her anger. Had she lost? No...Eris looked to her spear, the tip of which bore fresh blood, and saw that Cyrus staggered a touch from the wound he suffered. Had she struck him first? Or had he struck her?

“No...no, no!” Cyrus exclaimed, no doubt coming to the same realization that Eris had. He whipped his head to face Joseph and barked at him, “Who drew first blood? Who won?”

Joseph himself seemed a bit...perplexed on the matter. He stepped closer to the two Albrechts, as if some how getting near them would help him resolve this matter. However after a moment of agonizing silence Joseph let out a small chuckle and shrugged.

“Honestly I think you both did. You both struck at about the same time, and I can't really tell if either of you pulled out ahead.” He was smiling, the idiot, as he proclaimed the absolute worst case scenario like it was some kind of great event. “I'd say the fight ends in a draw. Well fought.”

No, no no no! Not well fought! A draw meant that nothing was resolved! Nothing was proven! Even a decisive loss would have showed Eris that she needed to improve in an obvious fashion. A decisive victory would have shown that she already HAD improved. A draw was...stasis. Nothing. Useless. Pathetic!

“Gods damn it!” Eris cursed, gripping her spear so tight she might snap it in two with just one hand. If she had been angry before than she was downright furious now. “What kind of end to a spar is that?! No...we go again. Full spar. No first blood. Just submission, now!” She demanded, glaring pointedly at Cyrus.

The older Albrecht met her glare with his own, the tension such that literally every soldier in the sparring area had their eyes on them. But Joseph stood between the two before an answer could come. “I uh, don't think that's the best idea...”

“And who the hell asked you, huh?!” No, he wasn't interfering this time. Eris walked right up to Joseph, her glare now fixed entirely on him. It must have been quite the sight, because it seemed to take everything the axe-wielder had not to wither beneath it. “This has nothing to do with you anyway, so how about you back the hell off!”

It was not a suggestion, it was a demand. Eris couldn't have this spar end in a draw. She needed a decisive answer. But Joseph wouldn't budge, and even in this state Eris wasn't mad enough to strike a fellow soldier.

“...Fine.” Cyrus spat behind Joseph, sheathing his sword with an angry huff. Jospeh stepped aside and Cyrus returned Eris' glare back at her. “For now we let this end in a draw. For now. But next time I won't show you any kindness by lowering myself to your level. I'll crush you with everything I have, and you won't have any room for luck to interfere.”

“Luck?! Bullshit, you cocky bastard.” It didn't help that he was right. Cyrus' arrogance may have led to his undoing in this spar, but at the same time he still managed to fight her to a draw. He had been on the offensive during that final clash, and Eris had merely reacted out of desparation...and she KNEW it.

Even now there was a certain sort of desparation in Eris at this point. A part of her that genuinely NEEDED a decisive result. It fueled her rage further, in the hopes that somehow Cyrus would agree and they'd battle each other once again. But unfortunately her half-brother wouldn't have it. Not that day.

“I believe that's your title, Coulson. Not mine.” He tried to be composed but, if one had a keen eye, they'd see a certain rage in his gaze that even Eris lacked. Her anger was obvious, loud, and in the open for all to see. But at least she was letting it out. Cyrus' rage was heavily restrained, and it was a wonder he didn't draw his sword once again to strike down his bastard sister.

Instead he walked away, even with Eris cursing after him, leaving said bastard feeling...awful. Terrible. She felt humiliated, worse than simply defeated, and yet she felt helpless. Like there was nothing she could truly do to shake this emotion. If nothing else she would take her anger out on the training dummies once again.

“Er...are you all right?” Joseph asked as Eris stomped back over to the dummy she had been working on before.

“No. Piss off.” Eris' voice was quieter now, but her tone was no softer for it. She didn't want to talk to someone, she just wanted to work through this rage. So she went at it viciously, stabbing and slashing the training dummy with more vigor than ever before.

[Eris Coulson]

Eris had been completely content with putting her anger and fury into training until the time for her usual duties around the fort began. It would be a terrible lie to say that Eris had always been content with such menial tasks, tasks she felt ought to be beneath her, or that she should at least try and leave behind as soon as possible. No, she had always disliked them, silently bearing the burden of her anger towards them. However she never really had an aversion for carrying them out. She had to climb the ranks, after all. One way to do that was to be ever dutiful and prove yourself efficient.

Ever since her talk with the Commander the other day, though, Eris had been forced with the fact that soldiering on simply...was not what she had thought it was. The similarities to being a servant, like her mother back at the manor, was too strong to ignore. There were differences, obviously, and Eris would choose being a soldier over a maid a thousand times over. It was recognizing those similarities, however, that forced Eris to realize that the glory she truly sought was not really obtainable through the route of a soldier. It was different than the glory her father demanded of her and his sons. Of Cyrus.

Yet she did not know any other way of achieving it, even though she had given it genuine thought.

So yes, adding that onto everything that normally left her moody, had rendered her particularly snappish that day. Now Eris had to add that infuriating spar to the list. Eris thrust her spear firmly into the training dummy and nearly collapsed, sweating and panting, forced to bend over and place her hands on her knees for support.

...Perhaps she'd gone a bit too overboard.

“...Yeah, are you sure you want me to just piss off?” Familiar voice, obviously. It had only been about five minutes since she had last heard Joseph speak. What really surprised Eris was his continued presence. The man was there, watching her from a few feet away with his arms crossed and a brow raised.

Eris was too exhausted to give a proper verbal response, but she stood up and looked at him firmly. There was still fire in her eyes, she had buried too much emotion over the past few days for their not to be, but the absolute aggression was noticeably subdued. “Well, clearly just telling you to piss off isn't going to work.”

“Sorry. We're just supposed to be comrades, right? Hard to ignore when I see a comrade so...distressed?” Honestly, that was probably a good word for it. Joseph took a step closer, keeping a warm smile on his face. “You obviously don't want to talk about it, or you wouldn't have been stabbing the hell out of this dummy all day.”

Eris snorted, but she didn't disagree. “Obviously.” There wasn't much for her to say, she was just waiting for him to get to whatever point he wanted to make.

“But I don't think that's exactly the healthiest way to process your uh...whatever you're going through?” Point taken, she just exerted herself so far that she nearly keeled over in exhaustion. Unfortunately Eris didn't exactly know of a healthy way to process all of this. If she could yell at someone, and had no enemies that she could justifiable take her aggression out on, then that left her with an unresponsive training dummy. Needless to say it was only so satisfying, and it didn't really do anything to clear her head of her issues.

“And you know a better way?” Eris' reply was quick and snappy. Joseph likely wasn't expecting such a direct and swift response, as he seemed to struggle for words.

“I uh, heh...I didn't say...no, I don't.” Pathetic, but...admittedly honest. Eris studied Joseph briefly, trying to get his angle. There really wasn't a lot to gain for him to speak with her. Nothing that Eris could think of, really. He must have honestly been trying to help.

Eris sighed. Couldn't exactly fault him for trying, right? It was more than most did. She pulled her lance out of the dummy and fixed him a stern look. “Thanks, okay? But I'm fine. My problems are my problems, and I'll deal with them.” Certainly more polite than “piss off”, and Joseph responded well to it.

“Fair enough, I can accept that.” He uncrossed his arms and shifted his position a bit, likely making ready to head off. “Just uh...know that if you ever do need or want to talk things out, I'm all ears, yeah?”

Eris gave a nod and watched as he walked away, feeling less angry than she had the past few days. Her mood wasn't exactly better: she still had issues she'd need to deal with. However that burden didn't feel quite as heavy knowing that there were at least a few people in Macendew willing to give her some aid where they could.