"Ehm, Sir?"
Len and Titanyana were on the field, preparing to fight.
"You may speak."
"Ah, er, is it really okay for me to fight Lady Strapper? I don't think I even stand a chance at hitting her." He hadn't even attacked and he was already espousing his own defeat. It wasn't difficult to see why, Len came off as unexperienced. From Titanyana's performance with the other two, he had naturally come to the assumption that he didn't stand a chance.
"Whether you win or not isn't the point, I only wish to see how you fight. You should be demonstrating your ability as best you can, she won't hurt you."
"Okay..."
He settled into a fighting stance, kind of. His body and feet were in a proper position, but the way he was holding his weapon was not anything Donovan had seen before. Granted, he hadn't had much training with lances or how to deal with them, but keeping your weapon behind your head would leave you open for attack. You might be able to get a stronger attack off from that position if you moved right, but it would be easy to see coming.
'Unorthodox'
That was what came to mind when he thought of his squad. Nothing about them was wrong per se, they just didn't seem to have methods of fighting consistent with the norm. Wall utilized armor and a shield, something even he seemed to understand had its drawbacks. Sanna used split sorcery, an extreme rarity in this field. Len, young and inexperienced, used a lance that didn't fit his body.
Hell, even Titanyana admitted that she was forced to fight differently because of her smaller stature and shorter reach. Sure she might be able to fight on equal terms with everyone else, but only as long as they couldn't hit her. Any heavy blows near her center of mass would break her stance, even if she blocked it.
Donovan was convinced that a 'heavy' blow was stronger than what he was thinking.
"Ready? Set? Mark!"
With a strained groan, Len began to slowly swing his lance. For a moment it looked like he was going to fall backwards, regaining his balance once upon moving his foot back. All at once, he went from a slowly and painfully lifting his pole to swinging down with the speed of a raging . . . pig? Like, it was fast, but not too fast, Donovan could see it move very clearly.
Titanyana didn't even bother unsheathing her sword, opting instead to dodge. This was the beginning of a dance, long and slow, with steps reminiscent of a ballroom.
Using the momentum from the forward slash across his body, Len brought the lance around his body. He was spinning, bringing it back up to conserve energy and prepare for another blow. A full turn later, and he once again brought his lance down towards Titanyana. Once again, she kept out of its immediate path.
Clearly, Len's weapon was HEAVY. Otherwise he would probably employ some form of stabbing motion or reverse his motion to track Titanyana, trying to keep some space between them. Such information should have been readily apparent from the way he teetered and tottered around with it before, but the reality only dawned on Donovan now.
Titanyana dipped and dodged side to side, making sure to keep within Len's weapon's range but never get hit by it. As her hair, short to keep it from interfering, billowed in the wind generated from the lance, Donovan started to think there might be more to Len's fighting style than what met the eye. It seemed too slow, too weak, to receive such acclaim from the Captain. Praise might be going too far, but Donovan didn't think that the entrance examinations would be anything to scoff at.
If they were, there wouldn't be nearly as many applicants.
"Wall, what do you think of the way Len fights? I don't have experience fighting with or against a lance." Donovan was not above asking for help when it was needed. If his main source of information was preoccupied, he would rely on another.
"Tough to say. The boy isn't fighting an equal opponent." The stinking hulk shifted around on the bench. His opinion, honest, was welcome, if unhelpful. "I hate to admit it, but Tanya is not an opponent any of us are equipped to deal with. Too fast, too small, and with her proficiency with split she possesses a physical strength unsuitable for her size. Maybe if she blocked one of his strikes I could give a rough idea of his physical power, but I can say nothing of his technique."
"Is that so? What about you Sanna?"
"I might have trouble fighting him. Aside from the speed of his blows, he is quite agile. I think its fair to say he fights more like a normal lancer, if a little different in his attack pattern. I can't say much more than that."
"I see. Thank you for your opinions, though I do wish I had more to work as a reference."
Donovan turned his attention back to the scene before him, taking note a few more oddities. For one, Len was once again unstable. He wobbled as he swung around and around, slowly losing his composure. Slowly, his weapon began to slip out of his hands as he increased his speed in a bid to land a hit. Len had to readjust his grip after every pass, but it was apparent he wouldn't be able to keep it for much longer.
Sure enough, he reached a critical point. With a final desperate scream, he threw the lance at her as hard as he could using the momentum he had built up. It didn't travel very far, but that was owed more to the fact that Titanyana wasn't very far away and closer to the ground than he was.
Titanyana only had to step out of the way and let the rod whiz past her, following which there was a sharp crunch as the rod impaled itself in the dirt.
"Houuuu..." Len whined a bit before trying to catch his breath. That was his last resort, and seeing it fail so miserably didn't make him very happy. What made him less happy was the state of his spear. "Not agaaaaaain."
He must have had good throwing form, because it flew straight as an arrow. Unfortunately, it went straight as an arrow, straight into the ground. With all of that energy behind it, a perfect throw, and loosely packed dirt as a target, less than a third of the rod's length was left above ground.
Aside from the obvious fact that it missed, Donovan was quite impressed. It seemed heavy enough to preclude blocking as a viable option, so if it hit it was bound to do damage. That all hinged on whether it hit though. Donovan was already thinking of ways to improve accuracy or otherwise use that sort of mass.
"Um, Wall? Could I please get some help?" Len was coy in his enlistment of Wall's aid. "I don't want to spend an hour digging it out."
Wall marched over and tried his hand at freeing Len's weapon from the clutches of the Earth. He rather embarrassingly failed to pull it out with a single hand, and even his second attempt with both hands didn't quite have the effect he wanted. It was only once he started using split to strengthen himself did the spear budge, and only barely.
"How do you even swing this thing?"
Wall had to really push himself to get it all the way out, exhausted though he may have been. When he righted it and put the tip on the ground, it started sinking in again.
"Thank you..." Len hefted the spear onto his shoulders, careful to not fall backwards.
"Might I ask what your weapon is called? From the way you moved with it, I can't imagine that it is a standard lance."
"Ah, it's called a Pile Lance sir! It was my father's weapon, or so I'm told."
"I apologize for bringing up a touchy subject."
"No, its fine. I never knew my parents, so I don't have much of an attachment."
"You don't know your parents? Who raised you then, if you don't mind my asking? Even I know that the costs of attending the academy are expensive."
"Um, my adoptive father. He's a higher ranking individual in the Bulsarz Empire, one of the emperor's field marshals. I am told my father died to protect him, so he took it upon himself to raise me in his stead. I came here to follow in my blood father's footsteps."
"Interesting. Could I hold it? Just to get a feel for its weight?"
"I mean, if-if you want to. But its heavy! So, be careful, or something." With ginger and feeble movements, Len positioned himself so that Donovan might take the load on across his shoulders.
"Holy shit." The instant the full weight was left for him to bear, his legs almost buckled. He hadn't locked his knees, something he knew was bad, but he was not at all prepared to lift this much. "What's this fucker made of? Tungsten?" By Don's estimate, it was easily two hundred pounds, maybe even three hundred.
Curious to see what fighting with it might be like, Don rotated it out in front of him. Len practically dove out of the Pile Lance's path, desperate to avoid the tip. Don didn't dare hold it close to one of the tips like Len, he had neither the training nor confidence to do so. His grip was wide, about as far as he could while still being able to move it around. Holding it away from his body was also a no, in fact he was using it to help with the weight.
Straining just as hard as Len, if not more, Don began to work it around his body. It wasn't much of an imitation, but he was trying. "Fuuuuuu." A long a forceful exhale as he lifted one side up, swinging back down into a thrust which nearly sent him careening into the dirt.
"I think I've had enough. Len?"
Len relieved Donovan of the burden in a hurry, leaving him feeling lighter if a bit fatigued. Rolling his shoulders to alleviate some pain, he regained his composure in order to address his underlings.
"With that we are done here. Titanyana, do you have any concerns that you would like to address?"
"Nothing that can't be discussed tomorrow."
"Very well. Do any of you have questions?"
"What can we expect in terms of compensation and accolades?" Sanna was the first to speak. "You do know what those are, right?"
"I'm not too familiar with the systems in place, but you will receive what you earn. I have no intention of taking glory that does not rightfully belong to me, and I would prefer excellence to be recognized properly in those I command. As far as payment, compensation, that is by and large out of my hands. For the moment the Sanctum seems to be managing our finances given our unfamiliarity with the local economy, so you can expect to be paid what you are owed."
"Not that type of compensation." Wall shook his head, slightly disappointed. "He means political backing."
"Indeed. In the off chance one of us has a run in with some unsavory individuals belonging to those of a higher social status, we want to know how much of a difference in status you can compensate for. Obviously we can't run wild on your authority, but we would like to be able to preserve our honor with it where possible."
"I don't know much about that, but for now work under the assumption that I can't do anything to help you." Don shrugged. "I'll try to figure out more about my status when I get the chance."
"Thank you." Sanna bowed before returning to his seated position.
"Anything else?"
A short period of silence.
"Um, Sergeant? Would you be able to lease instructors to us? Or are there not enough of us to justify it?" Len probably wanted to be taught by someone who knew what they were doing. The other two probably didn't need it, more because there was nobody who fought like them on a professional level than because they were masters, but he still decided to couch his request with their addition.
Donovan didn't know if this was an act of mindfulness or a justification he needed to break his nervousness, but it didn't matter. "Owing to our somewhat special status as a detached squad I am unable to hire an academy sanctioned instructor for you, however I have received permission for you to attend the sessions of the instructors hired by the Holifanian controlled army."
"Which number is that?"
"I think they are the 3rd." Sanna answered. "What's more surprising to me is the fact that they agreed to something like that. They are notorious for rejecting diplomatic missions."
Donovan did not feel himself at liberty to discuss their relationship. "A little bit of pressure from the Sanctum. Apparently one or two more people won't make much of a difference all things considered, which is all the more reason for you to behave yourselves while there. I won't mind you making some acquaintances among their number either, the plan is for us to join their army eventually. We just can't do so in the middle of the session. Anything else?"
"""No sir."""
"Alright then. I encourage you all to take a bath. Titanyana, meet me in the mess hall after you've finished bathing. Don't feel inclined to rush, you should feel welcome to relax. We have to wait for Diana after all."
"Yes sir!"
"Ehm, Sir?"
Len and Titanyana were on the field, preparing to fight.
"You may speak."
"Ah, er, is it really okay for me to fight Lady Strapper? I don't think I even stand a chance at hitting her." He hadn't even attacked and he was already espousing his own defeat. It wasn't difficult to see why, Len came off as unexperienced. From Titanyana's performance with the other two, he had naturally come to the assumption that he didn't stand a chance.
"Whether you win or not isn't the point, I only wish to see how you fight. You should be demonstrating your ability as best you can, she won't hurt you."
"Okay..."
He settled into a fighting stance, kind of. His body and feet were in a proper position, but the way he was holding his weapon was not anything Donovan had seen before. Granted, he hadn't had much training with lances or how to deal with them, but keeping your weapon behind your head would leave you open for attack. You might be able to get a stronger attack off from that position if you moved right, but it would be easy to see coming.
'Unorthodox'
That was what came to mind when he thought of his squad. Nothing about them was wrong per se, they just didn't seem to have methods of fighting consistent with the norm. Wall utilized armor and a shield, something even he seemed to understand had its drawbacks. Sanna used split sorcery, an extreme rarity in this field. Len, young and inexperienced, used a lance that didn't fit his body.
Hell, even Titanyana admitted that she was forced to fight differently because of her smaller stature and shorter reach. Sure she might be able to fight on equal terms with everyone else, but only as long as they couldn't hit her. Any heavy blows near her center of mass would break her stance, even if she blocked it.
Donovan was convinced that a 'heavy' blow was stronger than what he was thinking.
"Ready? Set? Mark!"
With a strained groan, Len began to slowly swing his lance. For a moment it looked like he was going to fall backwards, regaining his balance once upon moving his foot back. All at once, he went from a slowly and painfully lifting his pole to swinging down with the speed of a raging . . . pig? Like, it was fast, but not too fast, Donovan could see it move very clearly.
Titanyana didn't even bother unsheathing her sword, opting instead to dodge. This was the beginning of a dance, long and slow, with steps reminiscent of a ballroom.
Using the momentum from the forward slash across his body, Len brought the lance around his body. He was spinning, bringing it back up to conserve energy and prepare for another blow. A full turn later, and he once again brought his lance down towards Titanyana. Once again, she kept out of its immediate path.
Clearly, Len's weapon was HEAVY. Otherwise he would probably employ some form of stabbing motion or reverse his motion to track Titanyana, trying to keep some space between them. Such information should have been readily apparent from the way he teetered and tottered around with it before, but the reality only dawned on Donovan now.
Titanyana dipped and dodged side to side, making sure to keep within Len's weapon's range but never get hit by it. As her hair, short to keep it from interfering, billowed in the wind generated from the lance, Donovan started to think there might be more to Len's fighting style than what met the eye. It seemed too slow, too weak, to receive such acclaim from the Captain. Praise might be going too far, but Donovan didn't think that the entrance examinations would be anything to scoff at.
If they were, there wouldn't be nearly as many applicants.
"Wall, what do you think of the way Len fights? I don't have experience fighting with or against a lance." Donovan was not above asking for help when it was needed. If his main source of information was preoccupied, he would rely on another.
"Tough to say. The boy isn't fighting an equal opponent." The stinking hulk shifted around on the bench. His opinion, honest, was welcome, if unhelpful. "I hate to admit it, but Tanya is not an opponent any of us are equipped to deal with. Too fast, too small, and with her proficiency with split she possesses a physical strength unsuitable for her size. Maybe if she blocked one of his strikes I could give a rough idea of his physical power, but I can say nothing of his technique."
"Is that so? What about you Sanna?"
"I might have trouble fighting him. Aside from the speed of his blows, he is quite agile. I think its fair to say he fights more like a normal lancer, if a little different in his attack pattern. I can't say much more than that."
"I see. Thank you for your opinions, though I do wish I had more to work as a reference."
Donovan turned his attention back to the scene before him, taking note a few more oddities. For one, Len was once again unstable. He wobbled as he swung around and around, slowly losing his composure. Slowly, his weapon began to slip out of his hands as he increased his speed in a bid to land a hit. Len had to readjust his grip after every pass, but it was apparent he wouldn't be able to keep it for much longer.
Sure enough, he reached a critical point. With a final desperate scream, he threw the lance at her as hard as he could using the momentum he had built up. It didn't travel very far, but that was owed more to the fact that Titanyana wasn't very far away and closer to the ground than he was.
Titanyana only had to step out of the way and let the rod whiz past her, following which there was a sharp crunch as the rod impaled itself in the dirt.
"Houuuu..." Len whined a bit before trying to catch his breath. That was his last resort, and seeing it fail so miserably didn't make him very happy. What made him less happy was the state of his spear. "Not agaaaaaain."
He must have had good throwing form, because it flew straight as an arrow. Unfortunately, it went straight as an arrow, straight into the ground. With all of that energy behind it, a perfect throw, and loosely packed dirt as a target, less than a third of the rod's length was left above ground.
Aside from the obvious fact that it missed, Donovan was quite impressed. It seemed heavy enough to preclude blocking as a viable option, so if it hit it was bound to do damage. That all hinged on whether it hit though. Donovan was already thinking of ways to improve accuracy or otherwise use that sort of mass.
"Um, Wall? Could I please get some help?" Len was coy in his enlistment of Wall's aid. "I don't want to spend an hour digging it out."
Wall marched over and tried his hand at freeing Len's weapon from the clutches of the Earth. He rather embarrassingly failed to pull it out with a single hand, and even his second attempt with both hands didn't quite have the effect he wanted. It was only once he started using split to strengthen himself did the spear budge, and only barely.
"How do you even swing this thing?"
Wall had to really push himself to get it all the way out, exhausted though he may have been. When he righted it and put the tip on the ground, it started sinking in again.
"Thank you..." Len hefted the spear onto his shoulders, careful to not fall backwards.
"Might I ask what your weapon is called? From the way you moved with it, I can't imagine that it is a standard lance."
"Ah, it's called a Pile Lance sir! It was my father's weapon, or so I'm told."
"I apologize for bringing up a touchy subject."
"No, its fine. I never knew my parents, so I don't have much of an attachment."
"You don't know your parents? Who raised you then, if you don't mind my asking? Even I know that the costs of attending the academy are expensive."
"Um, my adoptive father. He's a higher ranking individual in the Bulsarz Empire, one of the emperor's field marshals. I am told my father died to protect him, so he took it upon himself to raise me in his stead. I came here to follow in my blood father's footsteps."
"Interesting. Could I hold it? Just to get a feel for its weight?"
"I mean, if-if you want to. But its heavy! So, be careful, or something." With ginger and feeble movements, Len positioned himself so that Donovan might take the load on across his shoulders.
"Holy shit." The instant the full weight was left for him to bear, his legs almost buckled. He hadn't locked his knees, something he knew was bad, but he was not at all prepared to lift this much. "What's this fucker made of? Tungsten?" By Don's estimate, it was easily two hundred pounds, maybe even three hundred.
Curious to see what fighting with it might be like, Don rotated it out in front of him. Len practically dove out of the Pile Lance's path, desperate to avoid the tip. Don didn't dare hold it close to one of the tips like Len, he had neither the training nor confidence to do so. His grip was wide, about as far as he could while still being able to move it around. Holding it away from his body was also a no, in fact he was using it to help with the weight.
Straining just as hard as Len, if not more, Don began to work it around his body. It wasn't much of an imitation, but he was trying. "Fuuuuuu." A long a forceful exhale as he lifted one side up, swinging back down into a thrust which nearly sent him careening into the dirt.
"I think I've had enough. Len?"
Len relieved Donovan of the burden in a hurry, leaving him feeling lighter if a bit fatigued. Rolling his shoulders to alleviate some pain, he regained his composure in order to address his underlings.
"With that we are done here. Titanyana, do you have any concerns that you would like to address?"
"Nothing that can't be discussed tomorrow."
"Very well. Do any of you have questions?"
"What can we expect in terms of compensation and accolades?" Sanna was the first to speak. "You do know what those are, right?"
"I'm not too familiar with the systems in place, but you will receive what you earn. I have no intention of taking glory that does not rightfully belong to me, and I would prefer excellence to be recognized properly in those I command. As far as payment, compensation, that is by and large out of my hands. For the moment the Sanctum seems to be managing our finances given our unfamiliarity with the local economy, so you can expect to be paid what you are owed."
"Not that type of compensation." Wall shook his head, slightly disappointed. "He means political backing."
"Indeed. In the off chance one of us has a run in with some unsavory individuals belonging to those of a higher social status, we want to know how much of a difference in status you can compensate for. Obviously we can't run wild on your authority, but we would like to be able to preserve our honor with it where possible."
"I don't know much about that, but for now work under the assumption that I can't do anything to help you." Don shrugged. "I'll try to figure out more about my status when I get the chance."
"Thank you." Sanna bowed before returning to his seated position.
"Anything else?"
A short period of silence.
"Um, Sergeant? Would you be able to lease instructors to us? Or are there not enough of us to justify it?" Len probably wanted to be taught by someone who knew what they were doing. The other two probably didn't need it, more because there was nobody who fought like them on a professional level than because they were masters, but he still decided to couch his request with their addition.
Donovan didn't know if this was an act of mindfulness or a justification he needed to break his nervousness, but it didn't matter. "Owing to our somewhat special status as a detached squad I am unable to hire an academy sanctioned instructor for you, however I have received permission for you to attend the sessions of the instructors hired by the Holifanian controlled army."
"Which number is that?"
"I think they are the 3rd." Sanna answered. "What's more surprising to me is the fact that they agreed to something like that. They are notorious for rejecting diplomatic missions."
Donovan did not feel himself at liberty to discuss their relationship. "A little bit of pressure from the Sanctum. Apparently one or two more people won't make much of a difference all things considered, which is all the more reason for you to behave yourselves while there. I won't mind you making some acquaintances among their number either, the plan is for us to join their army eventually. We just can't do so in the middle of the session. Anything else?"
"""No sir."""
"Alright then. I encourage you all to take a bath. Titanyana, meet me in the mess hall after you've finished bathing. Don't feel inclined to rush, you should feel welcome to relax. We have to wait for Diana after all."
"Yes sir!"
