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You flung the dragging weight of the shield up at the master-at-arms, earning the moment to roll away from his next placed kick.
"Stupid bastard," Ser Hobb said, but now at least he was forced to follow you, and you had your feet. As victories went it was a small one, but it made you grin, even with tears still in your eyes.
He'd give you a beating now, you were sure of it. There was n mistaking the black fury in his eyes. He might not have taught you much, but Ser Hobb had taught you how to take a beating. You had your sword up before you, both hands on the hilt.
"Ser," a voice cut through the heat. Above you on the castle steps your lord father looked down, frowning. He wasn't alone. Ser Lincoln, his goodbrother, and your half-sister and half-brother, were with him, as was the steward, Qarl. Ser Hobb looked from your father to you. "What manner of lesson is this?"
They dressed in all their noble finery, your father and true born siblings in the blue and grey of House Clover, Ser Lincoln in the colours of House Redlark. Housed away for lunch out from under the sweat raising glare of the sun.
You don't know how much your lord father had seen, but his grey eyes were heavy with worry.
"A soldier's lesson, my lord," Ser Hobb said.
"Must these lessons be so...brutal?" Lord Garlan asked.
Ser Hobb flicked his glare to you to say 'moan to your father and there'll be worse to come'.
"It's a brutal life, soldiering. There's no room for mercies, even for tender aged boys. But we can stop if the boy's had enough," Ser Hobb said. 'Have you had enough?' his squint asked.
>put up your sword and accept the offered escape
>tighten your grip, you wouldn't run away
