Eadwulf should have known better. Perhaps it was Orym's genial demeanor or his diminutive size; regardless, his feint was successful and Eadwulf found himself overcorrecting in a bid to anticipate a blow that sent him down to one knee, the other buckled under his weight.
He glared at Orym. "So that's how you like it. Very well." Rust-colored dirt clinging to his pant leg, he pushed himself up and rejoined the bout. This time, he did not tease before striking, nor hold back whatever martial prowess he had learned in the empire.
It hardly helped. Orym was swift and surefooted. He possessed an innate agility that made Eadwulf seem bumbling by contrast. Eadwulf's sword met the shield once, twice, then a third time, scraping as he spun into another blow - and found himself nearly impaled on Orym's shorter blade.
He staggered back, breathing hard. "Your win, I think." He pushed the hair out of his eyes with the back of a hand. It needed cutting, but Astrid wasn't around to wield the scissors. "Another round?"