The sword clashed against one another, echoing through the training room that was dimly lit only by the few lit candles, in the candle stands on walls, accompanied by the gentle moonlight creeping in through the windows and reflecting on the clean floor.
The air smelt slightly of burning wax, sweat and mostly of firewood and food from a long distance away.
Many were celebrating the New Year differently. Some with cooking, and for the people here, with training.
Roc swung the sword around, attacking Joseph, while he defended himself, meeting each clash by twisting his sword around his opponent in a bid to disarm him. But Roc was skilled himself, he recovered quickly from each twisting, refusing to fall a bait to the method he knew all too well.
Then suddenly Joseph flung a dagger to him. Roc dodged it. Using his opponent's slight distraction, Joseph suddenly threw himself backwards, flipping, till he disappeared into the shadows.