"What's wrong? Didn't see that coming, Prince?"

The five travelled together to the secluded training location in silence.  Torhyl originally kept even strides with Ubbe as he leads the crew but fell back purposefully.  She fell back inconspicuously into a soft rhythm with Ivar.  Torhyl admires as he carries his weight as well as the weight of his weapons on his arms. 

  "Are your arms growing tired, Ivar?" Hvitserk remarks snidely.  "You seem to be falling behind."

  Torhyl's face tightens with anger at the painful insult.  Her immediate response would have been to put him in his place...rather physically, but she simply tightened her grip on the spear in her hand in order to refrain herself from doing something she may later regret.

  "Perhaps we should all carry you, dear brother," Sigurd follows on with Hvitserk's slander.  "Like a child."

  Ivar's jaw clenches in rage. His whole body strains as he continues to pull himself faster than his already impressive pace.  Torhyl felt the fire burn in her own stomach, the heat of anger and disgust.

  "Ragnar did not tell me you were so strong, Sigurd," Torhyl comments innocently.  "It must be quite a strain to carry your unusually large ego and your brother at the same time."

  Ubbe snorts at the ridicule.  Sigurd's face flushes over with an angry red hue as he continues on in silence.  Torhyl smirks at her own comeback and looks down at Ivar below her.  Ivar was already looking up at her, an amused grin playing on his lips.  She simply sends Ivar a mischievous glance before continuing to walk in silence.

  An opening the forest is revealed before them.  Torhyl lips purse slightly at the view before her.  She is not thoroughly impressed with the training system, the place being seemingly less equipped than her training camp, but she does see the potential of the place.

   "What do you usually do first, Commander?" Ubbe asks Torhyl as she examines the props that surround her.

  "Well, usually," Torhyl unloads her weapons and places them into a small neat pile.  "I will spar with my men to see what skills we need to work on.  Alas, that is what I do, this is your homeland, you show me what you do and I will follow your lead."

  "We will spar in turns then," Ubbe affirms as he gathers up his sword.  "Sigurd, you can go first."

  Sigurd shoots Ivar a taunting sideways glance.  Ivar gives Sigurd a indignant glare as he pulls himself up onto a stump.  Torhyl withdraws her swords from her sword belt that lays on the ground at Ivar's feet.  She takes it and spins it around her hand before raising it directly in front of her and pointing directly at Sigurd.

  "Your move, Prince." Torhyl smirks at him.

  Sigurd takes his sword and grunts as he takes a harsh swing at her. She blocks it easily and sends him stumbling to control his loose blade.  He turns back towards her.  She extends her arms and sends him a taunting look.

  "That all you got?" Torhyl taunts.

  He runs towards her and takes another controlled swing.  She blocks each swing with precise accuracy.  He takes another slash at her, but this time she ducks and sweeps his legs out from under him.  He falls onto his back with a breathless thud.

  Torhyl kicks his sword away from his loose grasp then crouches over him.  She holds her cold blade against his throat.

  "You do have incredible strength, but you use it loosely," Torhyl comments firmly, removing the blade from his jugular.  "Control your arm, don't take long swings.  Use your body as a guide.  If you have to take a swing far from your body for leverage, you are not controlling your sword hard enough.  Strength is a valuable trait, but control is the root of power."

  Torhyl helps him to his feet and puts her self in her defensive stature once more.  "Again."

  Sigurd comes at her once more, this time his swings are controlled and precise, giving him more leverage against Torhyl.  She held her ground well, each swing form Sigurd was deflected until she was able to push into him with a sharp offensive slash.  He jumped away from the blade but lost his balance and stumbled slightly.

  "I think your head is getting a little heavy for you." Tohryl ridicules playfully. 

  Sigurd charges her once more, this time his swings are supercharged with the rage pumping through his veins.  With one harsh defence, she holds his blade in the air, frozen forces battling each other neither side daring to let up.  She grunts as she twirls his blade around hers in a swift circular motion, causing the blades to slip sending Sigurd's flying into the dirt.  Torhyl swiftly places the tip of her blade against his jugular once more.

  Her face remains emotionless as she speaks to him once more.  "Your anger...control it and it could be your best weapon...allow it to control you and it could very well be your downfall."

  Torhyl lowers her sword and extends her hand to him.  He shakes it firmly and she grips his shoulder with her other hand.  "You have much promise in you, Sigurd, your father would be proud."

  Sigurd gives her a polite nod as he collects his sword and prepares for his next spar.  Hvitserk nods for Sigurd to join him off to the side and he eagerly agrees.  Torhyl turns back to Ubbe and Ivar.  Ivar mouth is open slightly, clearly impressed with what he has seen.

  "Ivar," She says as she steps closer to him.  "Let's see what you got."

  Ivar doesn't even raise a brow as he reaches down to grab his sword.  He grips the blade and spins it around in his hand, testing the weight of the object.  Torhyl grins at her opponent as she raises her blade.  She takes the first swing to which he blocks.  She sends him an impressed look before hitting him with a few combos which he successfully deflects. 

  Torhyl skilfully takes a few slashes and is met with a solid block by Ivar.  Ivar keeps her blade suspended in the air, held in place by his opposing force.  She pushes harder to loosen his blade, but is caught off guard when his blade shoves her own away.  He grabs her wrist and pulls her into him, holding the cold steel of his blade against the sensitive skin of her jugular.

  Ivar leans in close to Torhyl's ear and whispers, his hot breath tickling her skin.  "What's wrong?  Didn't see that coming, Commander?"

  She lets out a light chuckle as she sends him a side glance.  "I'm impressed, Prince."

  Tohryl's eyes drop down to Ivar's lap, indicating for Ivar to look also.  His eyes fall down to see the crafted metal of one of her knives pressed against abdomen.  The edges of his mouth curl up into an impressed grin.

  Tohryl put her mouth close to his, as she whispers her reply.  "What's wrong?  Didn't see that coming, Prince?"