Familiar Weight
When Reynard entered the gymnasium on Malday morning, Martel imdiately noticed a small difference. Usually, their teacher arrived carrying staves for each of the acolytes to practice with. This ti, he ca empty-handed. "Ti for you to try sothing new," the old warrior growled. "Follow ."
All the students did so as Reynard turned around and left the arena again. He only walked a short distance down the corridor before opening a door to step inside. Martel knew which room this was, though he had almost never had reason to enter. It was the armoury of the Lyceum.
The large room lay in near darkness, and Reynard did nothing to dispel it; perhaps almost on instinct, each of the fire acolytes summoned a small fla to allow them vision, giving an eerie, flickering light making shadows dance on the stone walls.
Large weapon racks filled one wall with all manner of arms. Spears, swords, axes, flails, morning stars, and more ant for lee combat; Martel only recognised so of the instrunts of war thanks to Maximilian's occasional lectures on their differences, usually triggered by drunkenness. All of them blunt, presumably, ant only for training rather than actual combat. A handful of bows could be found as well, unstrung, along with arrows. Naturally, the staves used by the fire acolytes also had their place, all resting inside a small barrel.
To the other side, ten armour dolls held gambesons with chain shirts on top. Fewer than the number of mageknights who trained together at the sa ti; Martel guessed that so of them wore their own armour for practice rather than rely on the Lyceum to provide it.
"It is ti for you to learn how to fight wearing proper armour," Reynard inford them, "instead of that boiled cowhide. Off with your robes and leather, and each of you put on a gambeson and chain shirt."
The acolytes looked at each other, all of them hesitant. Martel figured he was the only one with experience in this matter; while he was at odds with the Night Knives, he appreciated how they had taken the ti to teach him about this. Grabbing the collar of his robe, he removed his outer garnt and the leather armour underneath before getting dressed in the gambeson and mail.
The weight of the tal rings felt heavy, yet familiar. Martel was imdiately reminded of his outings with the Night Knives; fighting thugs and brigands, feeling protected by his armour and his companions, unleashing his magic to easily best their opponents. He almost missed it, though it was outweighed by his relief at having put all that behind him. Around him, the other acolytes followed suit, awkwardly trying to handle the heavy shirt.
"Grab a staff and et back in the gymnasium," Reynard told them, leaving as the first.
***
"You cannot rely on your own magical shield nor your protector to catch every single bullet or arrow flying at you in battle," Reynard lectured them as they stood in the arena again, armoured and each with a staff in hand. "Any attack that can be stopped by your armour ans one more spell you can spend attacking rather than defending. But first, you must get accustod to the weight. For this bell, you will duel each other as usual, but with one exception. No magic allowed." His eyes swept over the fire acolytes. "If I detect any of you using the smallest bit of empowernt to lessen the weight, you can expect detention tonight running rounds in this arena in full armour. Understood? Get to it." He made a casual gesture pointing at the acolytes in turn, pairing them up for the sparring.
Turning towards Edward, Martel held his staff ready. He had gone easy on his fellow students these last months rather than antagonise them, and it seed wise to continue this course; thus, Martel made a simple strike that even the sowhat hapless Edward could easily intercept.
Martel's staff struck his opponent on the cheek. As the latter moved his staff too slowly to parry. Looked like Martel had to go even easier. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"You cheated! You used magic!"
Everyone looked at them upon hearing Edward’s outburst. "No he did not," Reynard growled. "Stop whining and accept the blow – if not like a man, then like a mage."
William and Harriet resud their own duel while Edward continued to rub his cheek. Given how gently Martel had attacked, he doubted that it hurt much; Edward was probably more affected by the surprise of the attack than any pain. "You did cheat," he mumbled.
"Sorry I hurt you," Martel reiterated. "I didn't need magic, though. I have practised with chain armour before, so I'm used to the weight. Look, how about I only defend, and you just attack until you are also comfortable with it."
Still grumbling to himself, Edward nonetheless nodded and raised his staff.
***
Martel's afternoon lesson with the mageknights began the sa way; in fact, Reynard inford them that for the remainder of their ti at the Lyceum, they would wear chain armour for their combat lessons. The armoury only held just enough; once all the fire acolytes, and those mageknights who needed to borrow one, had picked a suit of armour, every doll stood empty.
"I need four mageknights willing to spar with the battlemages," Reynard announced across the gymnasium. "The rest of you, practice among yourselves for now. We will switch later in the bell." Several of the warriors volunteered, apparently relishing the opportunity to fight the fire acolytes without elental magic. The Master of War nodded at a few of them, speaking their na as he selected them. "You go, and Griffe, you as well. Fontaine, you make it four. Choose an opponent and begin training."
Eleanor smiled at Martel and raised her sword. Behind her, Maximilian glanced at them both. "Leave a few chunks of Nordmark for later on!"
Martel sighed. With friends like these… He held his staff up and took position.
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