Time to Reforge the Blade: Where Did Medieval Combat Go Wrong?

In the early days of what was once proudly called Historical Medieval Battles (HMB), the very word “battles” implied a violent, skillful clash of weapons – axes and halberds, swords and maces. It promised action rooted in history, with combatants showcasing martial prowess through the art of weaponry. But somewhere along the way, we took a wrong turn.

Today, the term “medieval combat” is gaining traction. It sounds logical – broader, more inclusive. But in reality, this shift in language has paralleled a deeper, more troubling transformation: one where the “medieval” has all but vanished, and the “combat” has morphed into something hollow. What remains is a shell of what this movement was meant to be.

Rules have expanded to allow almost everything, and in doing so, they have allowed the worst to dominate. Wrestling has become the meta. Not because it’s inherently wrong, but because it has become a goal in itself rather than a tool within the wider framework of armored fighting. Over the last five years, striking techniques with bladed and pole weapons have all but disappeared. Fighters no longer train to strike; they simulate wrestling maneuvers with little to no real technical proficiency.

Let’s be honest: what we see in the lists today is not real grappling. Most of the time it’s a performance by two mediocre fighters who can’t strike properly and can’t truly grapple either. A clean, executed throw is a beautiful thing. But it demands precision, timing, and skill – qualities increasingly absent from our movement. Instead, we see sluggish clinches, meaningless pushes, and awkward entanglements that lack both grace and danger.

Armored combat is supposed to be the art of mastering weapons first. Throws and wrestling? They’re the seasoning—not the meal. But in today’s reality, there’s no dish – only salt.

Somewhere in the rules, we forgot what we were trying to simulate. The core of the movement – its medieval essence is being suffocated. Watching endless shoving matches by the barrier is neither historical nor entertaining. If you enjoy watching a wrestling scuffle in armor, you might just be lacking perspective, or taste. Boxing, jiu-jitsu, freestyle wrestling – all of them are more dynamic and meaningful without armor.

By removing weapon interaction from center stage, we are killing the identity of the movement. What remains is a second-rate combat sport for people who couldn’t make it in the real ones.

Modern tournament cages, flat mats, and rubber-floored arenas have stripped away what made medieval battles visually and emotionally powerful. The question is simple: Is this what we want? Or is it time to pause, reflect, and reset?

Right now, the rules favor those who grab the helmet first. But what are we even doing? Why are we using weapons if fighters don’t use them? Why wear armor if it’s only there for wrestling?

Wrestling in armor is one of the leading causes of knee and neck injuries. Why? Because most fighters are poorly trained in grappling. It’s far easier to get knocked out with a halberd blow from behind while grappling as well. Yet instead of addressing the cause, we treat the symptoms.

Mass battles reveal this rot most clearly. A fighter raised in the cult of grappling doesn’t know what to do in open field combat. Without a barrier to lean into, he becomes useless, absorbing hits and trying to grab onto something, anything, because he’s learned nothing else.

Even pro fights, once envisioned as the proving grounds for the elite masters of weapon handling, have turned into brawls. There are no attempts to strike. Just a clumsy rush into clinch and a desperate crawl on the ground. It’s painful to watch. It looks like a schoolyard scuffle—not a duel between knights.

We are at a turning point.

It’s time to analyze. To take a hard look from the outside. And to be unafraid to experiment with new rule sets. If we ever hope to return to the spectacle, danger, and beauty of medieval battles, we need to bring weapons, and the skill to use them back to the center of the sport.

Let’s not forget: the sword is not just a prop. It’s the soul of the fighter.