< knickerbocker glory >

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With Elkshires' winter approaching the median of its season, the weather would inevitably deteriorate further into its coldest of spells. The heavy quilt of snow balancing onto the bony branches of trees, and also draping itself all over the once leaf-covered floor, was a landscape Warwick frequently would wake up to. When retiring for the night alongside packmates or littermates, the winter-bitten trees and mud churning ground would still be fairly visible, but snow falling in the night was as stealthy and silent as the methodically trained pack on the hunt for their next prey; surprising all with its magical mystery when sunrise beckoned them all to witness its crafty work through the night. 

The coolness underfoot was no longer a strange adaptation, and Warwick chose his path through the settled white blanket. The glow of the dawning sunshine reflecting millions of diamond-like flecks all over the forest floor was a beautiful sight that he paid no heed to for the duke was on a mission planned out the evening prior; to look for their sole combat and survival tutor. 

Making his way through the undulating snow, he travelled in the direction of where he would oft find Remus. But not every time.

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@Remus

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Not many would seek out the hardened man, even fewer would intentionally seek out pain in exchange for glory and strength. Especially not those cursed of royal blood, who had a soft and carefree life at their disposal. Sure, royals tended to write the books of history, but their ink was written with the blood of hearty men, hardened by the elements and the harshness of life, and not the gritless cowards of some palace.

So when Remus heard the crunch if snow at his post, the light steps of youth, he turned to see Warwick. What to make of this? Remus stoicly turned his gaze back to the borders of the nightwalkers. "What brings you all the way out here, boy?"

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A hush fell onto the winters scene, and the crisp air whispered sweetly into the monarchs' ears, becoming his natural compass and gently guiding him further into the white forest. 

No songs, that would reflect a hint of spring nor summer, serenaded the once vibrantly green and flora enriched forest, and so Warwick listened only to the muffled crunch of his paws pressing into the freshly settled snow. But that unbidden and faintly sinister silence was broken when the voice of the one he so admired, valued and respected, was heard.

The prince stopped, and before Remus had finalised his question, he turned and walked toward him. 

'Good morning, Remus', despite royal blood, the duke knew his place well with his tutor and sat into the snow, across from him, with a presence that could only be portrayed as a lack of self-righteousness. 'I have been looking for you, actually. I, um, thought I'd ask if you would give me another training lesson in combat', he sat a little taller to seek out any mutual respect Remus perhaps held for him too, 'I need to build my strength'.

It was time to increase his skills, enabling him to help defend his family, to defend Elkshire and its crown. And was not limiting this to the refinement of his fighting muscle.

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https://open.spotify.com/track/4JwYsGRbq...=copy-link

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In his short glimpse at the boy, Remus noticed his physique had been building; it was evidence that the boy had chosen to push himself, regardless of the plush lifestyle at his disposal.

It wasn't often that one would willingly choose a path of hardship in exchange for strength, especially not when the temptation of worldly pleasure laid within reach. It was evidence of a strong soul. Remus had no choice but to oblige.

"It would be my pleasure Warwick." Remus remained stoic, though a crack of joy could be seen in his appearance. "Do you hear how the birds sing Warwick? Do you notice their rythm. Listen closely, do you hear their tempo."

"Some may say battle is chaos, some may say the bird's song is beautiful. But to some, the violence of battle is music."
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A hitched breath that had been caught within the suspense of his enquiry, was released into a small cloud of heated air, lingering so softly before its whisps vanished into the frozen atmosphere. Whilst Remus' hardened façade was precise to a tee, the sovereign was yet to perfect his hidden emotions and he allowed the smile he could not hold back to spread eagerly across onyx lips; he was happy his tutor accepted his proposal.

Whilst the winter song of a bird held more sorrow than an ardent lust, Warwick canted his head to the side to optimise his hearing of the steady tempo of a lacklustre chirp echoing within the hollow woodlands. Nodding, as he slowly interpreted the meaning behind the song he now concentrated on. His breathing now matched the rhythm in which the chirr reverberated through his eardrums. Allowing himself to fully immerse into his lesson.

He need not reply - the concentration now clear to his trainer. He sat in waiting for more; ever the abiding sponge to soak up more knowledge.

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Narrowing his eyes Remus watched the your royal turn inward to discover some deeper meaning to what he said. While there probably was some way to do this, it would be easier to speak in practicality.

"Warwick, don't overthink what I'm saying, what I'm trying to say is that an enemy's movements, like all things can be predicted by tempo. If I where to snap at you in this moment I would be exposed in the next moment, if you could find my rythm."

Standing to his feet, the old guard turned to the child, "if you know your enemy, you can strike with impunity." Walking closer Remus appeared intent, "Would you like an example?"
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He slumped slightly at his error, believing he was the becoming of a first-class student, but alas, the child was deflated by his judgement. He nodded sullenly, but his ears perked up shortly after to shake off his deep thoughts. He was trying too hard, and doing so, would only create a better opportunity for an enemy to strike.

'Understood, Remus', and he did. There was an additional narrative to the course, and this aided his learning.

His tutor moved, and Warwick rose to a stand, all fours attempting to heighten him into a reflecting challenger, albeit not coming the inch close to what Remus was; a true warrior in the duke's bright eyes.

He nodded, uncertainty rising within him, though he mustered enough confidence to hide this. 'Yes, I'm more than ready', his assertiveness pushed his chest forth into a posture that'd only allude to a young prince that was indeed primed and ready.

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"listen with your ears boy."

With that, Remus pivoted around quickly advancing taking, one step, two step, three step, four, then snap! His Jaws snapped shut short of the prince with a clack and a snarl.

Almost imidiately, the brute's expression returned to professional, hiding his own excitement.

"What did you think? Where would be the best position to counter me? Where would you stand, and when would you strike?"
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No matter the mustered confidence and mental preparation, he was soon unbalanced in his mind when the behemoth sprung into a launch of aggression. He watched quickly, but way behind the pace in which Remus approached him, completely turning a blind eye unknowingly to the suggestion his teacher gave prior to his movement - he did not listen; only watching and tensing when the snap came.

Even when Remus' warning subsided, the duke did not untense, in the same way his palpitating heart was racing against his adrenaline. 

'Err...', he shook his head, trying to think logically rather than instinctively, 'Would retreating backwards work first, so I could lean into a strike forward?'. His eyes watched his teacher, eager to please and learn from mistakes he was due to make. 'Do I attack straight away or wait?', he quickly added, knowing this was vital too in understanding when to enter a ring with the competitor.

 
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Quaking a bit, the prince was new to this. Remus expected as much, the child was young so he still had much time to learn. It generally took a few times to teach this concept even though the idea was simple, but he had confidence in the prince. After all, he was here on his own free will.

"Retreat is never something to be ashamed of, as long as It is the service of victory.", He continued sitting himself down, in order to help calm the child. "You are wise to think that way, it is always good to take a moment to get to know your enemy, even If you have to back off. Though in the end, once you are confident, you should strike in the same motion of your opponent, use their tempo against them." , his tail wagging slightly.

Looking out over the forest for a moment, the old guard realized his excitement on the subject might be showing though, perhaps overwhelming the child. With a sharp inhale he collected himself.

"Would you like to try again?"
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His nerves and anticipation were the sources of his apprehension, and he quickly recomposed himself, with a little pep talk in his mind to spur his competitive streak on. Come on, Warwick, you can do this. 

He once again took on board his instructions and criticism of his suggestion, nodding assertively to show Remus he had his full attention at this moment. 

He took a breath and widened his stance, eyes narrowing on Remus and attempting to slow his adrenaline-fuelled heart, still unable to hide some of his nervousness though.

'Let's go again', his voice wavered slightly, but he wasn't sure if it was from excitement or being frightened of the huge man going for him for a second time.

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The young prince needed a success, Remus wouldn't mind repeating the lesson. So he aimed to keep it as simple as possible .

Standing back up he couldn't help let a small grin seep through, the old guard took a step back, making some space. Repeating exactly what he had done last time, Remus pressed forward, one step, two step, three, then...

The soldier had intentionally left a moment where his neck would be exposed to the boy. It wasn't mercy, but practically, it would well illustrate the lesson he was teaching.
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When he watched Remus position himself, the duke coiled slightly embracing his instincts to launch an attack this time round and binding his time. And as the time came, with his tutor moving in the exact way he had previously, he quickly acknowledged the sight of opportunity and sprung forward with jaws parted to cling onto the fur of the large wolfs' neck. 

Though he would not realise what enthusiasm was behind his attempts and perhaps locked on a little too ambitiously... He stayed clinging on, with his front paws mid-air and his hind still firmly onto the ground keeping him balancing. 

Gauging just how tight his locked jaws were, he released and landed next to Remus, his ears back and his body composed in a way that stated he was already prepared for the next step in his teachers' dance.

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Remus was delighted when he felt the sharp youthful teeth of the duke punch into the scruff of his neck. That sting meant that the Duke had understand and Remus' objective as a teacher was accomplished. The boy hung from him for a moment, the attack was ambitious, yet the old guards expression didn't change regardless of the bit of blood matting his fur.

When the boy let go, he appeared to be ready for more. In a rare instance, Remus cracked a smile, his tail wagging.

Once again Remus approached from the other side mirroring his previous attack, one step, two step, three, then the lunge.

This time he left the Duke an even smaller window of opportunity. The boy had a lot of potential.
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It would come as no shock that Remus would have felt only minor pain from the princes' bite, no matter how over-enthusiastic he was in his friendly fire attack, but Warwick had little time to reflect on this but clocked, for a fleeting moment, the excitement his teacher posed instead.

He interpreted this as a positive mark on his current scoreboard. 

His tutor came at him once more and gave the duke only a moment to shift his weight so that he was prepared for the swift change in direction. When the third step came with a lunge, Warwick engaged in his own, now entirely focused on his task and immersed in the lyrics of their duet. 

Using his smaller height as an advantage (in his mind anyway), he went for Remus' front left leg, again aiming to cling on for a second or two, with a growl for good measure, to ensure his teacher made no mistake in witnessing the move he made and prayed it was one that he would be pleased with. 

He moved back, panting from the adrenaline and physical effort, but still clung onto that battle poise in case his tutor gave him even less of an opportunity to recompose himself and lead to him faltering in the next move.

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Good, the young royal was taking to his own.  Remus could feel that the child was understanding the lesson, the prince was moving in tempo, using the openings that Remus provided. The boy scored another hit, latching to his leg for a moment.  Once again, Remus looked pleased rather than pained, looming over the boy with stern care.  

It would be a shame now to stop the session here, especially now that the boy was taking so well to the art of the duel.  Again, Remus sped his tempo, even though the boy was tiring.  This time, much faster.  

Lunging forward, Remus intended to wrap his jaws across the boy's scruff.  Now that the boy seemed confident, it was time to see what he could take.
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His instincts were right, and later on, he would recollect this, perhaps getting too far ahead of himself in believing he was a natural for this fighting malarkey. 

Too quick was the behemoth, and within a crack of a second, Warwick felt only a fraction of the serious damage his tutor could cause if he so desired to. Their teeth sank into his scruff, much tighter than the delicate grasp his mother would adopt when carrying him at such an early age. The dukes' first reaction was to release a growl, with frustration lacing and plaiting along the lines of pain. 

It would take him a moment or two to figure out what to do in this vulnerable position, attempting to twist himself at first but that only deepened his agony. And then he managed to twist barely enough to grasp hold of the side of Remus' neck, too far from a windpipe or vital area, but enough to clasp onto some fur to demonstrate his intention.

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Imidately when Remus' Jaws made contact he could feel the way the boy reacted. Full of spirit, the child thrashed against him, returning his own futile bite.

Making some distance, Remus attempted to throw the prince back onto his feet, just out of striking distance. "Good work boy."

"Now, you take the offensive, think about how you can slip my guard." , he added circling the boy. Perhaps the prince could draw this conclusion on his own, now that he seemed to understand the basics of a counter attack. How can an opportunity for an attack, be created?
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The duke was hurled away from his teacher, grateful for the crash mat that was the pillow-like snow which blunted his fall and managed to stay up all fours. He spat out a tuft of fur, his meagre reward when attempting to take ahold of Remus' neck.

The roles were quickly turning in the princes' lesson, and his tutor had thrown him a rein to take lead. 

Eyes narrowed onto the large target, and whilst he contemplated what steps to proceed with, he watched the rhythm and pace of their footfalls, specifically the timing of each as they circled him.

And when Warwick concentrated on the steps in his mind, he counted them down for his queue to hopefully take his tutor by surprise.

4...3...2...1...4...3...2...1...4...3...2...1!

When his timer reached the last second and timed to what he thought was perfection, he abruptly flicked a cloud of snow up into Remus' face and lunged forward blindly to bite onto what was hopefully his vulnerable flank. A move he had once or twice performed as a playing tactic with a sibling to gain the upper hand in a snow fight, though he would manage to make them tumble, that was hardly going to be successful against the solid wolf that was his teacher.

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Watching the boy intently, Remus was taking note of the child's tempo, learning about his own pace.

Predictably, in rythm the child sent a plume of snow upwards into the guards face. It was a clever trick.

Though by experience Remus had seen this before. If the boy had played this note now than his next must be an attack. He didn't need his eyes to know the next attack was coming. Leaning back Remus sidestepped the follow-up only using his ears to guide him.

"Very clever boy!" Remus said, lingering over the boy with his eyes still closed. Obviously, goading the prince to continue. What other tricks had the boy picked up already?
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If the eloquent prince had any curse words within his vocabulary, there would have been a colourful assortment sputtering out as he tumbled forward, his whole body missing Remus completely. Alas, he was yet to meet a foul-mouthed wolf to taint his lexicon, so only groans and moans were muffled into the snow once he face-planted into it.

He felt enraged, completely certain that he would've outsmarted his tutor with that swift move and it would come as no surprise that his next move, therefore, was one that derived from ill judgement. His embarrassment blinded any sense or wisdom.  

It was in this frustrating moment, he forgot just who he was sparring with. Pushing himself back up, not even shaking off the excess snow that clung to his winter coat, he growled, temper searing through the bitter cold, and he lunged forward snapping at his teacher's face before teeth bared to snag onto them somewhere, anywhere (if he was lucky enough).

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His eyes where still clearing up, thought the man's ears could still discern that the boy had whizzed by and now was tumbling. On top of that he could hear the boy's attempt at cursing. He was likely angry now.

Through squinted eyes, he could see the princes snarling form lunging back at him. This simply wouldn't do. Once again Remus stepped back out of the boys range, avoiding the attack to his face. "Careful boy, anger can get you killed."

Remus' tone was neutral, though if one knew him well, it almost came off as a threat. Shaking off the remnants of the snow, he watched to see what the boy would do next.
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A second miss, and there came his inevitable warning. With a snort of defeat, the duke took a reluctant step back, realising his anger would not win this battle. So he then weighed his next options, but with Remus being a significant distance, a leap was hardly going to give the element of surprise and any brunt of the impact he needed. 

The boy was struggling, and it was obvious in his features as he contemplated what should he do next. He took his guard up again, head low, eyes focussed and then he darted to Remus' left, but then a split second after, shifted his weight and aimed straight for the behemoth when he was close enough, jaws parting and once more lunging at him to either a)grab hold of his flank if Remus had turned, or b)grab hold of Remus' neck which was his main target.

Or, perhaps faceplanting the snow with immense failure once again.

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Looking at the boy, Remus seemed pleased that the boy was able to get himself together. Waiting for the prince to make His next move, the soldier's tail slightly wagged, focused on the boy.

He had to commend the prince's moves, now he was changing up his tempo, moving for a fein, switching from left to right. It was a good move, even though he had seen it before.

For a pup, it was brilliant, as such it had to be rewarded. Turning his head away he offered the back of his neck to the boy's attack. Good habits had to be reinforced, so the prince would find his mark.
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Growing up in such a large litter had its advantages, more opportunities for play fighting with either prince or princess, he was not picky in his younger age. Until he reached a time when he made more conscious decisions, and there was a sister that was always unwell, and another sister that perhaps was not as robust as he'd like, and the same applied to his brothers. But for the most part, he was able to practice some fighting, and apply different strategic tactics - since he was not one to want to lose.

When he grappled onto Remus' neck, he couldn't help but let out some satisfactory growls that released the tension that was building up into a crescendo. Tugging slightly with a sway of his jaws, before letting go and standing back. 

His warrior poise now decreased and he wagged his tail. Hoping this was a job well done. 

'How was that?', he sounded breathless, with his tongue lolling out of his mouth to gulp in extra oxygen and cool himself off.

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