First things first

Alaric felt the weight of Azriel shift forwards. He felt his back legs begin to tremble from the extra weight placed upon him. He tried his damnest not to buckle, pushing back against Azriel. Minutes ticked by and his hind legs betrayed him, buckle and sitting down finally. He released his grip on Azriel's maws. "I yield." He rumbled briefly to the larger male, waiting for the grip around him to be released. Once it was, he dipped his head towards the younger wolf. "I must admit, you fought well." He stated, flicking his tail. "You must have been trained from a young age." He remarked thoughtfully. A privilege he wasn't afforded in his youth. He was supposed to be a devotee of the god Ohros, he was not taught to fight. A mistake that cost him gravely and ended him up in chains. It wasn't until the murder of his master Oberyn and joining the Freeman's Guild did Alaric received proper combat training.