Solomon approached the gathered crowd and peered over the shoulders of the LSA students. The injured boy groaned on the dirt while clutching his head. Blood trickled through his fingers from a nasty gash on his scalp.
"Why did you strike him in the head?" an older LSA student yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the opposing group.
The student in the crimson uniform twirled his wooden training sword and smirked. "It was just a training accident. We were practicing our routines, and my blade slipped."
"A slipping wooden sword does not crack a skull open!" the LSA student shouted back. "We have practiced in this courtyard for months. An injury like this has never happened before!"
The crimson student shrugged and tapped his wooden blade against his boot. "Then your friend needs to improve his footwork. He lunged right into my swinging arc. He deserves the bump on his head for lacking basic spatial awareness."
