Bloodsworn (MxM)

Chapter 10

Lance, Ivan's guard, often partook in sparring with the guards, offering his wisdom and tips to those daring to approach him. Rowan was one of the few who frequently asked for a training session, attempting new and different techniques he was accustomed to improving his skills. While Ivan had sired a few children of his own, many of which remained in the Rosenthal estate as guards, Lance looked after Rowan like his own, teaching and training him as he did with his sired children.

These training sessions were often when Rowan considered Lance more than just a mentor and trainer; he was the only father figure that Rowan had grown to know. While Rowan had only been at the estate for a couple of decades,

Lance parried another strike from Rowan's trusted blade, swinging his wrists in a careful maneuver to disarm Rowan. In superb speed and grace, Lance had rushed past Rowan, pressing his blade to the guard's throat, his other hand pressing the small of his back. "What does that make that? Thirty to three?"

Rowan smirked as he slid the smaller dagger from his sleeve, stealthily giving Lance the benefit of the doubt. As Lance lessened his grip, Rowan spun around, pointing the short blade above the older vampire's heart. "I believe it's actually twenty-nine to four."

"Clever," Lance commended as they sheathed their weapons, stepping apart to catch their breath. "Though stealth is your expertise."

"Learned from the best."

Lance placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "No daggers, just swords this time?"

Rowan nodded, unlatching the dagger holders on his thigh and arms, tossing it to the side. Lance did the same before inspecting his blade. His was heavier than Rowan's, most likely heavier than any other guard's, but he wielded it with the grace of a rapier.

In a real fight, Rowan stood no chance against the vampire. Rumor was that Lance had been a blacksmith in his youth, a pioneer in perfecting weapons of destruction for many historical figureheads. Over the generations, Lance had perfected his craft, using his skills to hone his weapons and practice with experienced swordsmen worldwide.

Ivan was lucky to have such a skilled and experienced swordsman.

Rowan studied the vampire, watching as Lance resumed his position, completely relaxed. "Ready?" Lance asked. With Rowan's curt nod, Lance stepped closer, his sword as steady as ever. Rowan gripped the hilt tighter, anticipating his moves, despite knowing he was easily disadvantaged.

They sparred intensely, Rowan nearly losing his grip from the sheer weight of the blows, narrowly missing the edge of his blade as he stepped out of the way. Not once did Lance look exhausted, even though they had been practicing for well over an hour. Rowan couldn't do much besides blocking the onslaught of Lance's offense, his muscles straining at every twist and turn.

Eventually, Rowan managed to thrust his sword toward an opening on Lance's right, but faster than Rowan could blink, Lance had already blocked the blow, the sheer ricochet of the clashing steel throwing Rowan off balance.

Rowan gritted his teeth and dug deeper, compelling his feet and arms to move faster, slowly pushing back at Lance. Whether he was letting Rowan gain traction, Rowan didn't care. Their blades met again, Lance overpowering him and pushing his face closer to Rowan's.

"It looks as though we've attracted some attention." Rowan glanced to the side, noticing the prince immediately. Julien led the younger prince and Jean in the hallway, lost in some conversation he couldn't quite pick up on, even with his advanced hearing. While Rowan would've preferred they remained in their rooms, at least they had remained at the manor while Rowan had been training or asleep.