Sivan knew that Rhydian had likely gone easy on him last time, but he was entirely sure of it less than a heartbeat into this combat. He had gotten better, and his foot rose in order to step on the low flowing blade, but he wasn't quite fast enough to catch it. Suddenly off balance, he leaned into it, letting his weight pull him to the side, not where he had been, hoping to require Rhydian's compensation.
He decided to use the style that had worked best against Laurevere, who was his better: Xiothur style. It was a reactive style, which ought to frustrate a Red Dragon, less so a Golden Gryphon. Named for minor eldritch spirits, he reacted to stimulus, but his follow-ups were chaotic, following no real logic. It was a rare style, oft derided by blademasters, but he understood it, most likely from his communication with eldritch spirits as a summoner.
After a few passes as such, Rhydian, at least, would sense a little flare of frustration from Ailuin. Not sembled, but known on a primal level, as one whose heart wanted to beat in time with the king's. This style defied observation until Ailuin looked deeper, sought more profound insight.
"How would you beat you?" Sivan asked suddenly. Laurevere blinked, wondering if this was a tactic or Sivan had just blurted it out in his own frustration. Rhydian's defense was nigh unassailable.
"A valid question," Ailuin allowed, amused. "How would you defeat Rhydian Val'Kor, my Strýchnos?"
