Egfor readjusted the wraps on his hands for his next training spar. He discarded his tunic at some point, wearing his trousers and soft soled boots now, his hair pulled back into a tight bun. He turned to face his opponent.
He had a stark realization that he was letting his weight build up and his health slip and neglecting his training. If he wished to see his daughters on their wedding days and potential grandkids, he needed to make some changes.
Perhaps he should have started with gentler exercises, but Egfor was an all or nothing type of man. He already sported a generous bruise and a dull ache in his left shoulder.
He faced his opponent, some guard he forgot the name of who was also looking to improve his technique.
Egfor lifted his hands, getting into a defensive position. The two men shuffled around each other, watching movement with keen eyes.
Egfor lunged with a left fist, grunting at the pain shooting through his left shoulder. He ignored it. His attempt was brushed aside and his opponent retaliated. Egfor easily knocked his fist away, aiming a punch up at the man's gut as he ducked down. His opponent growled in pain as Egfor's fist contact his ribs, trying to twist to minimize impact.
Egfor swore he heard a certain child call out, "Make 'appy!" He froze. The hesitation cost him. His opponent's fist connected square with his face. There was a resounding crack of his nose breaking and Egfor crumpled to the ground, out cold.
A mortified silence filled the room for half a moment, all staring at the guard that knocked out his employer's spouse in what was supposed to be a friendly match. After several beats, everyone sprang to life, yelling for Dem and Doctor Rae.
