He had been impressed by the effective avoidance of Namer's shield. The small ought to be fast. By most accounts Shy should be a fair contestant for fodder at least, which was where any good fighter started. He'd recruited lesser knights and watched them do wonders under dismal circumstances. But Esfelt had liked the boy upon first glance, the way he'd liked Selin. He sat in his chair now, with a curious feeling of pressure behind his ribs and in his head. It was part of the freedom the witch had given him to always know himself, and the cost of that acuteness was also present, pulsing louder than usual.<br/><br/>He supposed it should be a relief in some way, but it was as much of a bother as any itch is. Before the cursed forest and that bloody pagan's delicious quim, he'd been well fed in this regard, at least. Now Namer drank its fill while other parts were parched. Esfelt did not see a blessing in this stirring. Another stark image of bright green color and strangely lucid blood of Namer's hilt after impact to a pretty cheekbone attached to his inner vision so hard he grunted when he tore it away with some effort from his spirit. Little brats were a rewarding target, but he didn't make a habit out of finding singular outlets for his own annoyances, despite that honored tradition among officers at his level. Bullying and almost torture weren't uncommon. Yet, he didn't mind the thoughts of making that boy moan.<br/><br/>To dispel the rising interest the knight lashed out, and even his naked hand at reflexive strength was enough to splinter the arm of the sturdy chair he sat in. As the tinder fell to the mat of his tent the sudden, unknowing obsession stepped in. Esfelt huffed with disapproval at how the swollen eye made the last of his doubts go away, as the cup of leather protecting his nowadays unused limb became taut. "Not really." he replied and stood. At least this time some of the plates had come off Esfelt's armor. Perhaps Will could think it made this setting less formal? The visitor's stance did not suggest it.<br/><br/>"Shy," not Will. "you're a spirited lad, aren't you?" he asked as he stood. Many who would be knight had stood before him. Some of them were collected, like this strangely drawing youngster, and some other had worn their eager a little more visibly. "It takes bravery, I suppose, to be of lacking stature and walk among giants, whether friend of enemy." An old thought, but the boy could use with some acknowledgement. Esfelt had not learned what kind of personality the scrappy looking puppy had yet. All the Silverum knight ever did was brandish swords, whether they be man or man-made - he didn't employ only one technique for turning them into enemy casualties. Yet, the value of this budding warrior was not his blade, Esfelt knew.<br/><br/>"Your caretaker speaks of you. It's light but noticeable." On any other day Esfelt would only take it a sign of good character on them both, and easily approve anyone who had impressed a trainer with a good eye. Marius was not stupid or blind. "Do you think favoritism is contagious?" he asked, standing close now, and reaching out to touch the bulb he'd gifted the boy's face with. Esfelt was surprised his leather cup did not creak audibly. He wanted to give the small face more. He wanted to see those green eyes flare like Selin's had when he continued after the curse had been delivered. He wished Will had been born a honey-gashed whore instead of this little soldier.<br/><br/>He should have sent the boy away with a few words that let him know he'd be fighting for his life now, but instead the taller knight pressed his thumb against the swelling. It gave him a dull, familiar satisfaction. How frustrating. "I'll take you,  I'll keep you, if you can prove yourself." he said and leaned in, because he couldn't let it be. He smelt the light hair, bright like his own had been in his childhood. Will could think it was because he was being measured like an animal, by an animal. Esfelt shoved him back after that, a quick push, not friendly and not disapproving. Endless hand-to-hand made the assault enough to topple the knight-willing, or at least ruffle him. In truth, he wanted to eat Will, that's how daunting the scent of his face and sweat and dirt was. It hurt in Esfelt, because he'd always thought he'd been a lover of women. This boy was an insult. "Bathe, would you. The least you can do is give the enemy a clean corpse to bloody."<br/><br/>Esfelt waves his hand and stepped back, shaking his head, turning away like he was bored. He didn't think he'd be bored of Will in a long time. How wretched. This was not sharping a sword, and it made the knight doubt himself. "And present yourself here, after." he said over his shoulder. Whether that be tonight or tomorrow he didn't leave in his voice. Perhaps the boy was eager. The request wasn't out of order, but he'd never asked this of any other recruit before.