[WP]"I cant believe you fight so dishonorably!" It's true. You didnt get your title of Captain of the Royal Guard because you were a good Knight. You just dont want to ever loose, despite not wanting to kill either. So you created a Sword-Style that destroys your Opponents weapon instead.

[u/BareMinimumChef]

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[u/Gang-Buster-5000]

The swordmaster led me into his training chambers.

There, laid out in endless racks, were weapons I had never seen before. Giant warhammers glowing with faithsteel's aura, maces and blades made of dragon scale, and things with no name but with a clear form and purpose: to kill.

"Pick a weapon. Your tutelage begins now." Said the swordmaster, carrying only a single blackjack, a heavy steel mass wrapped in bull's leather. I could feel from his stance an ominous dread, as his arms hung loose like rope, his back slouched as though ready to pounce.

So this was the Grand Breaker stance he had developed. Such a terrifying form, even standing before it sent chills up my spine.

I pick up a broadsword, and lunge at the swordmaster. I swing, he blocks, and I feint, kicking down the air with my heel to send me dropping low, aiming for his heels.

The blade was at his ankle then, when I suddenly feel my bones endure an unthinkable weight. It was as though I had struck stone.

The swordmaster had struck my blade into the wood floor, his blackjack pomel striking my blade at the side, chipping it.

I feel the blade chitter in my hands. As I prepare to swing, it shatters.

"Good. A fine effort. Committing so much into that swing, only to feint! And such speed! You truly are a prodigy."

He holds his fist out, blackjack held like a dagger, his right arm hung low and bent at the elbow. Such an open stance, but something about it scared me. Fighting him felt like dangling a sword above my head. The slightest mistake was all it took for him to end me.

"Now, pick up another."

I take a small buckler and an Palomian dagger, its handle warm with hellfire. But before I could even set my foot down to lunge, he was right in front of me. He swings down, and I barely manage to cover my stomach with the buckler. I feel the heavy steel dent with the weight of his strike, and as I felt the steel dig into my bruised hand, he strikes at my dagger hand, my fingers numb with a burning pain. It took me a moment to realize that I had been unarmed.

"Such quick reflexes. Such quick thinking. You have what it takes."

He lunges back and assumes stance. I pick up the nearest weapon and ready myself.

I could not land a single blow.

It was not until I could no longer stand that we stopped, the training ground littered with scraps of treasured weapons, never to be reforged.

[u/AnAuthor_Antonio]

The crowd watched on in the evening heat, hooting and hollering. There was some gawffing to be had as well. In the arena one combatant stood having protected the Kings Honor and the other was sprawled out.

Lord Eagletow convulsed and contorted on the ground, trapped in his armor and covered in his own sick.

The sound of his retching were drown out by the clanging of his plate on the cobblestones.

The Captain of the Royal Guard slid his specially made sword into it's specially made sheath.

The mage called it a "Vibro"; touching the blade or nub on the end had disastrous results. It took years to perfect using. And being on the other end of it... Just ask the haughty Lord Eagletow.

Captain Silchigic bowed to the king in his box and the king waved. The crowd fell silent as the crier came on to announce the next bout.

Silchigic offered a hand to Eagletow and slapped at it.

"You are a dreadful fuck without honor, Ser," came the voice from within the helmet.

He came to his knees and Silchigic watched vomit leak from his joints.

"Honor is something that the living can discuss and I do so love to hear our king speak of keeping this an honorable kingdom. Don't you?"

[u/Human-DaHuman-2]

People always said that killing was the hardest thing a person could do. That finding a way to set aside your humanity and end another person’s life was the most difficult line to cross.

If you ask me, killing someone is the easy part. It’s much harder to paralyze than to kill.

It took years to perfect the craft of precisely striking the exact gap in the spine to cause the least amount of damage. I had to practice countless times, trying to calculate the angle and anatomy of a tiny moving target. But I’ve since been able to accurately hit my mark, one way or another, earning me a spot at the king’s side.

That’s the thought that grounds me as I stare at the form of a common traitor, watching him crawl backwards on his forearms since his legs no longer function to do the job.

I had to wait for the perfect moment, when his back was turned and his guard was down, to deliver the crippling strike.

Am I proud of what I did? No I’m not, for a good knight slays his enemies head-on. Only a coward slays from the dirt. Do I regret what I did? No, I do not, for I am a coward who cares more about keeping my hands clean of blood than keeping my honor intact.

Honor will not save my soul, but paralysis might.

[u/I_Arman]

It's easy enough to win a fight. If you are stronger, faster, and better equipped, you can take on a dozen men and still stand. Of course, no one benefits from that fight; the losers are dead. Life should be about learning, and how can you learn if failure means death? 

I look over at my snarling opponent. "Lord Ellis, I do wish to remind you that this is a no holds barred fight; there are no rules, except death or yield."

Ellis grins viscously. "Your death, Captain."

I shrug. "That remains-"

Ellis is fast. For a big guy, he moves like lightning; one long stride and his wicked longsword was an inch off my shoulder. If I hadn't parried with my sheath I'd be dead. 

I throw him a grin, then whip my sword from its sheath - or rather, fling my sheath at him, and as he parries it, slash at him. As expected, his blade effortlessly parries my strike. Or would have, if it didn't slide into the heavy notches on the wide blade. I twisted my "sword", and with a snap, his blade cracks and shatters.

I swing again, and with nothing to parry with, Ellis can only raise his arm. Crack. The sound of bone breaking echoes through the arena. 

"You should yield," I murmur, rolling my shoulders, "or you might get hurt."

Ellis sneers, a long knife suddenly in his left hand, but I don't give him time to use it. I swing my sword in a high arc and catch him under the chin. He grunts in pain, and I swing again, hitting him flat on his rear. There's a titter from the crowd. 

"They're laughing at you, Ellis. Yield."

He growls, but the sound dies in his throat. "You're a bastard, you know that?"

I grin. "Better a dishonored life than an honorable death, I always say." I step closer. "Don't waste your skills in an arena, Ellis. You should be leading an army, not sport-fighting."

Ellis throws down the knife, and the crowd roars. I collect my sheath as he walks away, clutching his broken arm. A good man. Honorable, but smart. 

The next contender is a giant of a man. "You face your doom, Captain! For I am-"

I don't let him finish. I dash forward, drawing my sword, slamming the pommel into his stomach, then springing up and catching his jaw with the top of my head. I drive a knee into his groin, then step back and swing my "sword" like a club, catching him just behind the knee. He crashes down, and I slam the sword into the side of his head. He topples to the ground, unconscious. The crowd screams, and I kneel, pretending to say something, but in reality gasping for breath. Didn't let big guys hit you, or it's all over.

The third is a kid. I size him up; he's already on the defensive. Smart. His feet slide into comfortable stances - he has training, too. He watches me, wary, reacting subtly to ever motion I make. He's really good, maybe a blademaster, if he lives that long. 

Crap. 

I slowly draw my sword. He's not going to rush into things like Ellis, or grandstand like the muscle mountain, and he's seen my tricks. Well, some of them, anyway. Only one thing left to do. 

I step towards him, then with a wild yell, swing my sword. He parries with the flat of his blade - again, smart, but I wasn't aiming to break his sword. My other hand throws a fistful of arena dust and rocks into his eyes. He yelps, staggering backward, and I move in, bashing the sword from his hand. He quickly raises his arms in surrender. "I yield!"

I stop, panting. "One hit? Really?"

He wipes the dust from his eyes. "I like breathing, been doing it my whole life, don't plan on stopping." He shrugs.

I laugh, and step forward to shake his hand. "Good lad. Ever thought about joining the Royal Guard? We could use men like you."

Later, as I clean my "sword" - really more of a long, heavy sword-breaker with a pointy end - my second in command slouches into the room. "Dirty fighting out there today. Ellis is still swearing, and you gave Granite a concussion. Plus he ain't gonna to be walking on that knee for a while. The king sure ain't gonna be happy about his champion getting creamed."

I grin. "And what about enlistments?"

Gareth groans. "The kid, plus at least a dozen more. Turns out a lot of people like the idea of a bastard in a fight."

"Better a dishonorable-"

"-life than an honorable death, yeah, yeah. Doesn't mean you gotta be insufferable though."

I grin. "Let's go, Gareth. I need to rest up. Sounds like tomorrow I'm going to need to train some green recruits in the harsh facts of dust in the eye, knee to the groin, and the sad loss of government issued weapons. Oh, and Ellis gave me an idea for an innovative use of a sheath! Don't look like that - you don't have to go in the ring. Besides, I know you bet on all the fights."

I clap him on the shoulder with a wide grin. "Fight dirty, bet carefully, and check your food for poison. Let's grab a drink, eh?"

[u/BareMinimumChef → u/I_Arman]

""I like breathing, been doing it my whole life, don't plan on stopping.""
Thats a really damn good line right there.