The smirk gave Orym away, or else Eadwulf might have hesitated. As it was, he'd barely inclined his head, still watching his opponent from beneath his lashes, and was able to spot the precise moment that Orym decided to attack. Eadwulf raised his long sword to parry.
Steel met steel with a satisfying ting. Eadwulf grinned. "Gentlemen don't believe in dallying in Zephrah?" He repelled Orym's attack and circled him, moving in the way of a predator around another not quite of its kind. Orym's shield caught the fading sun, its gleam briefly stinging his eyes.
"We're not very patient in the empire, either," Eadwulf said, and lunged. Two brisk slashes of his sword, then a third thrust, aimed to penetrate the gap between Orym's shield and his blade-wielding arm. It wasn't meant to carve flesh, but it was a sign that Eadwulf would meet him blow for blow.