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Ingrid watched from across the training grounds coolly as the grapple Miklan and Glenn were supposed to be in turned into an embrace. She watched Miklan lean down and press his nose into Glenn’s hair to whisper something, his arms tightening around his middle minutely. The raven haired man turned toward Miklan and gently smacked him with the back of his hand- not enough to even be considered a true smack, the action more of a light scolding than anything. Miklan had laughed loudly and Glenn started to chuckle as well.
Ingrid felt her eye twitch in irritation, unable to properly explain why it was that watching Miklan and Glenn was so annoying for her.
For one thing Glenn had been born with everything he ever wanted: a prosperous house, a loving father, and the highest honor of not only becoming a knight but one specifically destined to protect the royal family.
Yet he threw that all away and for what? As far as Ingrid could tell Miklan Gautier was nothing but a bad influence to those around him.
After all here they were supposed to be training and yet instead they where just slacking off and flirting- preventing people who actually cared about their training from doing so.
Glenn had never neglected his training before he ran off but here he was- unwrapping his hands after only a few bouts of what could only generously be called grappling. Miklan leaned against the pillar, drinking water from a canteen while Glenn gave him a long hug, whispering something in Miklan’s ear that made the much larger man smirk, his eyes narrowing and watching Glenn leave the sparring grounds in what Ingrid could only describe as a leer.
She waited another minute, hoping that Miklan would also leave so she could train free from distractions but as the red head set his canteen down and selected a heavy training axe from the rack, she resigned herself to either leaving herself or sucking it up and training anyway.
And she would never neglect her training the way they did. She didn’t have that kind of luxury.
Making a point not to make eye contact with Miklan, Ingrid selected her favored training lance from the rack and tested its weight. As she checked to make sure it was in acceptable condition, she was acutely aware that Miklan was watching her and how it made her skin crawl.
It was quiet. Too quiet. Miklan hadn’t begun his own exercises and Ingrid clenched her hands around her lance. After about a minute of awkward tension without anyone there to cut it, she felt herself snap.
“Don’t you have something better to do than stare?” she hissed, turning her head so fast that her loose braid swung an arch behind her.
“You really hate my guts huh?” He replied, not looking fazed in the slightest by her ire. “Every time you see me you stiffen up and act all terse- you’re not a very good actor kid.”
“You don’t get to call me ‘kid’- not when you are disrespectful toward everyone.”
Miklan snorted, leaning foreword and crossing his arms over the blade of his double headed training axe. “You sound just like my father, always throwing around the concept of respect as if it’s something you’re entitled to if you have power and not something earned.”
Ingrid felt her cheeks heat up in rage, “I just don’t understand you- it’s like you ruin everything you touch. You were always disrespectful and of course you couldn’t be content with just ruining your own life- you had to drag Glenn into it too.”
The change in Miklan was instantaneous the moment Glenn was mentioned, his once relaxed posture shifting effortlessly into one of aggression, his eyes darkening and his scarred face twisting into a scowl. “The fuck you say?”
Ingrid swallowed but stood her ground, stubborn and confident in her ability to hold her own if needed. She had trained practically her whole life for this kind of situation and a knight never backed down. “You heard me.”
“I don’t care what you say about me- I’m used to being talked about like I’m garbage- but don’t you ever try and drag Glenn into it.”
“Why shouldn’t I when that’s exactly what you did, having him run away with you and throw his life away? He was always so dedicated to both his family and his training but now-“
“And what would you know about Glenn?” Miklan cut her off, his voice cutting like a shard of glass. “You keep speaking of Glenn as if the way you remember him was how he actually was and that I’ve changed him but have you considered that what you remember of Glenn was actually an act and that this is how he always was? Your insistence that he has somehow changed for the worse when this his how he’s always felt is a big part of why he left in the first place.”
Ingrid glared, her face turning pink as she struggled to find any words at all. “He was like a brother to me.”
Miklan laughed- genuinely laughed so hard he nearly doubled over but it wasn’t a joyous laugh but one that sent a shiver up Ingrid’s spine. He sounded almost...unhinged. “Oh this is too good- you think you know Glenn better than me? Please, you were what- 5 when we left? I’ve been married to him for ten years and I’ve been best friends with him since we were toddlers. I know Glenn better than I know myself.”
Ingrid didn’t know what to say to that and instead lifted her lance into a ready position, her frustration and anger begging her for an outlet.
And what better outlet was there than some good old fashioned fighting?
Miklan snorted at her lance but brought his own axe up into a ready position, his eyes daring her to make the first move.
Ingrid lunged forward, thrusting her lance toward Miklan’s thigh, hoping to land a strike and unbalance her opponent. Easily, Miklan shifted his stance fluidly, her lance jabbing the air to the left of him.
Miklan stepped back as Ingrid pressed forward, salvaging the missed attack and using the momentum to move her forward and keep her balance. Trying another tactic, she feinted as if going in for another jab only to bring her lance down in a sweeping motion instead. To her irritation Miklan just stepped to the side, calling her bluff from a mile away.
Ingrid quickly turned counter clockwise to continue to face Miklan, determined not to let him take the offensive. With a jab she aimed at his dominate axe hand, hoping to disarm him only to be easily rebuffed by the smallest of movements, his grip shifting and letting the axe head slide closer to his hands and for the spear to instead hit the flat of his axe instead of his hand.
The second the tip touched the axe Miklan lunged forward, sending Ingrid’s own momentum back at her and forcing her to shift her weight onto her back foot. She grit her teeth but instead of following through and sending her sprawling into the dust he kept still, his eyes locked upon her, calculating.
Ingrid got the distinct impression that she was being toyed with- tested. Why else would he allow her to continue to fight him even though she was clearly outmatched?
So Miklan was experienced- that didn’t matter if one wasn’t conditioned properly. Ingrid knew she had endurance and Miklan was a big man- and the bigger the opponent the slower they were. Now all she needed to do was turn that size against him.
Zipping foreword, Ingrid used her whole body to gain momentum as she aimed to sweep his legs. She gasped when Miklan instead jumped over her lance as if it was a skipping rope and then brought his axe down hard, cracking the training lance into two.
Ingrid dropped the weapon and stepped backward, not expecting that level of power from just a swift movement. Miklan didn’t give chase, instead shouldering his axe and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Ah my bad- when the mercs and I train we didn’t have training weapons so we used our own gear. A steel lance is a hell of a lot more sturdy than a piece of wood.”
Ingrid huffed, “I don’t get you.”
“What’s there to get? I thought I was a no good runaway who ruined Glenn’s life, that’s what everyone thinks after all.”
“I don’t get you, Miklan.” Ingrid frowned, looking him over with an appraising eye. “You were obviously angry at me and you had many chances to retaliate against me yet you didn’t. Why?”
“That’s easy, you’re just a kid.” Miklan held up a hand, stopping the indignant rebuttal on Ingrid’s tongue. “Let me finish. I don’t have anything to gain from sending you sprawling on your ass- I have 15 years of experience on you and the advantage of being physically bigger than you. You were driven by emotion and so you made assumptions about what I would fight like and underestimated my skill level. Taking that into consideration it wouldn’t have been fair to strike back.” He crossed over and hung his axe back up. “Take this as a learning opportunity to never underestimate your opponent and when you’re ready we can spar again.”
Ingrid watched as Miklan collected his belongings and started toward the door, sipping at his canteen on the way. “Where are you going?”
“I promised Sylvain I’d eat dinner with him and I’m not about to let him down. Not ever again.”
Miklan let the heavy doors to the training ground swing closed behind him with a heavy thud and Ingrid turned to stare at the lance he had so effortlessly broken and mull over his surprisingly astute observations.
Perhaps she had been wrong about him...maybe there was more to Miklan Gautier than met the eye. Whether that was a good or bad thing, she wasn’t sure but Ingrid knew one thing for certain.
She would never underestimate him again.
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