There had been no surrendering in the castle. A man fought until he was either killed or could no longer heft his sword, ax, or whatever other crude weapon he'd managed to get his bloody hands on. Only when training with Isaac had Hector felt safe enough to submit and catch his breath - sinking down and raising his sword just as Firo is. That in mind, his first instinct is to assume this is but a means of yielding; he's mildly disappointed.

Until his feet are swept out from under him, that is.

Years ago, he would have reacted with grace, or dodged the move entirely, twisting away into some sort of aerial feat that shouldn't have been possible while wearing those boots. Now, the possibility of submission fresh in his mind, he's caught off guard and pitches toward the ground, having barely enough time to break the fall with his free hand. He raises his blade as he attempts to get back to his feet, ready to parry whatever Firo might send his way.

But there are no hard feelings. In fact, his fleeting disappointment has been swiped away, and his grin's returned.


[ooc: It's alright~]