Post #2568895 in The City of Chains, a roleplay on RPG

The two buildings immediately nearest the barracks had also been purchased. One of them had been repurposed into a stabling area, though at present it contained only about five horses and their equipment. The other, however, Lucien had torn down, removing even the stone from the foundation and instead laying down a large amount of sand. It wasn’t like the Wounded Coast would miss that much of it, after all. The areas had then been ringed by sturdy wooden fencing, providing an ideal practice ring for the recruits. They would train as he had trained—in sand, uncertain footing at best, against what their instructor deemed most helpful, as many times as it took for him to be certain that they would survive most anything Kirkwall could throw at them. They’d only been taking the simplest of jobs thus far, and even then, he had personally been present for each and every one of them. He would not be as other mercenary leaders he knew, and simply accept anyone who wanted to fight, give them a blade and some perfunctory instruction, then throw them at whatever came along.

Some mercenaries wanted that. He chose the ones that didn’t, as well as the ones whose commitment to their consciences seemed promising. He would not tell them what to do in every situation, but he did want to be able to trust their judgement, when the time came to send them out on their own. He also wanted them to survive their missions, as much as possible. So even if it took a year or more to train every last one of them to his standards before he sent them out on their own, that was what he would do.

Presently, the arena, as they’d taken to calling it, was occupied by all fifteen of his present recruits, who were paired off against each other and sparring with heavy wooden practice swords. He was also quite insistent that while they were free to use whatever they preferred on jobs, they should have at least a basic familiarity with how any weapon worked, both so they could defend themselves with anything and also against anything. Knowing how a swordsman had to move meant that your shield would be in the right place, without the need for too much thinking about it.

The odd man out was currently by Lucien’s side, listening as the chevalier explained what he was looking at. Though his recruits were a mixture of younger and older, with a fair few of them several years more experienced than Lucien himself, they were all getting the same drills. They had to know how to work with one another, as well, after all. The boy he was talking to, though, was the newest of the lot, and the youngest, at perhaps no more than seventeen. He was also an elf, though not the only one in the group. Lucien mostly had humans, but there were four elves in total, and a pair of dwarves. The youth beside him now, however, was actually more familiar to him than any of the rest, as they’d been sharing a house for the better part of a year, before Lucien had moved himself into the barracks and left Desne and her children the abode he had once owned.

The lad was tall, as far as elves went, maybe an inch over Ril’s height, but he lacked significant muscle mass at the moment, giving him the impression of being a long, stretched out scarecrow of a person. Lucien remembered when he’d looked like that, and he’d been significantly taller to boot. He was currently in the process of trying to reassure Cor that this was not going to be a significant issue impeding his success as a mercenary.

“There are ways to fight that do not involve brute strength. More than that, any style that relies on that to the exclusion of all else would get a person killed. Watch Tessa—she’s not nearly as strong as Dirk, but she doesn’t have any problem blocking him because she understands the angles.” Indeed, the woman he’d picked out raised her sword to parry a downward blow from her opponent, and her quick riposte put him on his arse in the dirt. “See? Learn to do that, and it won’t matter if your opponent is a Qunari.”

Sophia stood off to the side of the practice arena, leaning up against a post at the stables. She'd migrated her own horse down here from the Keep's stables, and though the conditions were not as ideal, she was seeing to his care herself, and doing an excellent job of it, if she could be allowed to judge. Aiden was fairly impressive compared to some of the other horses, but the white destrier was fairly calm of demeanor most of the time, and caused no trouble.

She'd come to nearly all of the training sessions held here, both for the enjoyment of being involved in something like this, and also for the excuse to spend any and all time she could with Lucien. Sophia was more than skilled enough to demonstrate a good many things to the recruits, but teaching experience she had little of, and she suspected she wouldn't be nearly as natural in the role of instructor as Lucien looked. Despite Lucien's birth, here in Kirkwall Sophia was the more well-known of the two, and among this group, it was as the Slayer of the Arishok. She wasn't sure how she felt about being called that.

It was better than some of the other names she'd heard, at least. There were people in the city who greatly resented her choice to leave the throne open and let Meredith take up a stewardship. The Princess Who Ran, The Broken Viscountess, The Five-Minute Queen... none of them had caught on yet, but even still it was hard to ignore them. Working with Lucien and his soon-to-be mercenaries helped in the effort. They, at least, seemed to have high opinions of her. Probably wise, considering the man they were going to be calling their commander.

Picking up a spare wooden sword, she made her way slowly out to where Lucien was instructing a recruit, Cor she believed the elf's name was. She hadn't used a training sword for years, not since she and Dairren used to spar in his Hightown home. She was dressed a lot more like Lucien might commonly be, a shirt of mail over her grey tunic in place of more elaborate armor, light brown leggings tucked into well-worn leather boots. She quickly tied her hair back up behind her head in a ponytail.

"Don't think of it so much as blocking, but instead as redirecting," she offered, thinking of all the times she'd engaged a foe with more brawn than herself. "You don't need to stop the attack cold, you just need to make sure it doesn't hit you when it passes by."

Lucien hummed a note of agreement, the small smile on his face spreading quite broadly when Sophia joined them. “She’s quite right,” he agreed, “and that applies equally well with shields and blades alike. Even a gauntlet can be used to block, if you keep that in mind.” Cor nodded seriously, looking caught for a moment between somehow deferring to Sophia’s presence and not doing so, but in the end, he didn’t, offering a lopsided smile instead.

“But,” Lucien continued, “Theory will only do you so much good. Go join Havard and Donnelly. They’ll help you practice.” Havard was almost as old as Lucien’s father, and considerably more grizzled, but he had a grandfatherly heart, to say the least, and seemed to quite enjoy tutoring the younger ones. Donnelly was almost as inexperienced as Cor was, but not quite as good at asking for help. The youth nodded again, taking half a step back before he remembered himself, reset his feet, saluted, and then left.

Lucien had to exert a significant amount of effort not to laugh at him. “I’ve told him not to do that, but he seems remarkably good at forgetting, for someone who hangs onto everything else I say the way he does.” Shaking his head, he turned to Sophia, noting the practice sword she carried. “In the mood for a match?” He inquired. “I almost fear to accept, lest I find myself so thoroughly bested that my people lose all respect for me.” It was a jest, to be sure, but the implied respect threaded into it was quite genuine.

"Well, I suppose you'll just have to risk it," Sophia replied, lifting the wooden sword and setting the point lightly down on Lucien's chest. This wouldn't be a regular occurrence, the two of them sparring. For the first couple of sessions, Sophia had merely shown up to watch from the sides, though eventually she found herself wandering close enough to offer critique to some of the trainees when Lucien was otherwise occupied with someone else, or even stepping in briefly to demonstrate a particular stance, parry, or attack. "We'll just have to see which one of us is rustier with a blade."

She smiled, as ever enjoying teasing him about his former unwillingness to pick up a sword. Sophia understood quite well that it had been a serious issue for him to grapple with, but she still remembered his scythe-wielding days, and still happened to think he was quite a ridiculous man for using a farming tool as a weapon, by choice. She was immensely happy to see him wielding swords again, even if it was just a wooden one for the moment.

Sophia herself had yet to take up her real sword in actual combat since her battle with the Arishok, but she had at least been keeping in practice, though not as regularly as was optimal. She backed away several paces from Lucien, letting the sword fall away towards the ground, and taking up a place alongside the line of recruits. The line wouldn't hold for long though, of course, as the recruits would undoubtedly halt their practice in order to watch their leader spar with her.

"Shall we?"

“We shall.” Lucien stepped a few paces backwards himself, making a quick gesture to Tessa, who tossed him the sword she was practicing with. Testing its weight for a moment, he accustomed himself to the feel of it and then nodded slightly, bowing in a genteel fashion at the waist to his foe. There were some formalities it was hard to train out of oneself, after all.

As it turned out, they need not have waited to gain their audience; as soon as Lucien had the wooden sword in his hand, all attention was fixed on what he was going to do with it. Aside from teaching them the motions of their drills and the occasional demonstration with one of the recruits, they hadn’t really seen him fight, at least not in a situation as calm as this one. Jobs didn’t really count, since there was no time to be concerned with anyone else’s form. The initial seconds were exceedingly quiet; some were a little afraid to breathe at too great a volume.

Lucien was still, standing apparently quite relaxed, his practice sword held firmly but not too tightly, knees slightly bent, one foot somewhat in front of the other, shoulder-width apart. He was hardly ever the aggressor, and it seemed he did not plan on taking that role now. He knew Sophia well enough to know that she would attack before he did, anyway, and he preferred to defend first.

He was quite right: Sophia was not one to take the defensive if she had a choice. She tested the weight of the wooden blade in her hand, coming to the conclusion that it was a little light, and not quite as long as Vesenia. It would have to do. She wasn't quite prepared for how being watched so closely like this felt; the recruits had almost immediately come to see the bout. Sophia had only had one of her battles widely spectated before, and in that one, they'd been easy enough to ignore for the bigger threat. She offered them all a brief smile.

Then she began, her features settling into a focus as she made her attack, starting with a pair of low slashes, followed by a feigned lunge for his midsection, which she pulled across her body and then brought down in a straight vertical chop.

The low slashes, Lucien stepped back from, raising the practice sword to block the feint, which of course never completed. Sophia’s redirection was quick, but using the very same principle he’d just been trying to explain to Cor, he turned the downward chop aside with his forearm, stepping into the space created by the motion and thrusting the sword in the style of a fencer for her sternum.

Sophia was able to bend backwards rather impressively to avoid the thrust, the dodge necessary because she couldn't bring her sword back in time to block, courtesy of Lucien's redirection. She took a step back and brought her blade across hard, to smack the other wooden sword away, before making a cross body slash the other way, aimed for the base of the neck.

It was Lucien’s turn to duck, though he didn't bend backwards to do it, instead simply bending his knees, the wooden blade whistling by over his head. He rose after it had passed by, grinning. “I fear for the safety of my windpipe,” he said, tone congenial as of they’d been dancing rather than sparring. There were those who likened the two, and the comparison was not entirely without merit, though excessive flourish could get a person killed on a battlefield where it got them lauded in court. He followed the comment by stepping in, quickly swapping his grip on the blade and aiming the pommel for Sophia’s center mass.

"Not without cause," Sophia commented back, a smile breaking her own look of focus. She reacted to the pommel strike well, shifting sideways to snatch Lucien's wrist in her off hand. She attempted to pull him forward and past her just a step, while she made a smooth spin around his side, slashing down for the back of his leg.

And here Lucien faced a dilemma: go where she was guiding, or dig his heels in and refuse. In the end, he went with the latter, utilizing his size and balance to remain in place instead of stepping forward, something which took almost all the force out of the hit to the back of his legs by giving Sophia very little room to swing. A metal sword wouldn’t have made it through leathers that close, which was the important consideration. Once the hit connected, he spun the other way, disengaging them and putting both again at distance where their swords were effective. “One more pass, for demonstrative purposes?” If he was going to ask his men to analyze this later, and he was, he didn’t want it to last too long for them to remember it all.

It was a draw if Sophia had ever seen one. She'd landed a hit, sure, but it had been far too weak to really do anything. Still, the sparring had her blood pumping a little more now. It was a different kind of dance with Lucien, to be sure, but she found it almost as enjoyable. Almost. With a short flourish of her sword Sophia reset her stance, her smile having difficulty fading away. "Of course." She moved forward at him again with a pair of zig-zagging sidesteps, before attacking with a rising slash that crossed her body diagonally.

The rising slash was met by a downward chop, and then Lucien circled his arm to lock the blades together, stepping forward so that they were far too close for the swords to be of any use, before his muscles slackened and he stepped back again, disengaging. “All right,” he said, addressing the others after bowing once more to Sophia. “That last position—both swords out of the picture, very close range. What should I have done?”

Perhaps half an hour later, Lucien had dismissed the rest of the Lions to use their afternoons as they would, and taken the opportunity to shed his practice armor. The weather was getting very warm again, and though he would never complain about wandering about in full plate in the middle of summer, it was vastly preferable not to need to. He’d asked if Sophia might be amenable to joining him for something to eat, and so at present, they were sitting outside, on a bench with a short table in front of it, accessible through the back door of his office. The entire setup overlooked the less-crowded side of the harbor, and the smell of the ocean was refreshing from this close, unclouded by the general odor-milieu of Kirkwall.

“So?” he asked quietly, leaning back against the bench and crossing one leg over the opposite knee. “What do you think of them?”

Sophia waited until she was finished with her current bite to reply, which also gave her time to think them over. "They have a lot of potential," she noted, thinking that the younger ones in particular could really grow into themselves with a teacher like Lucien. The others would have perhaps developed habits that would be harder to break, but she didn't doubt that could be done as well. "They also have a long way to go." She said this with a small smile. There had been a few clumsy incidents during the session, as there were bound to be when getting used to various kinds of equipment.

She found it remarkable how well-picked this location was, and figured if she'd been asked to pick a spot in Lowtown that had a decent view, enough space for combat training, and a lack of industrial stench, she would have been hopeless. It had to simply be his experience with this place. She found it very... comfortable. A welcoming place to apply oneself. She supposed she didn't even need to practice all those strict manners she'd been taught for the table, but of course she did it anyway. Habits.

"And what does their commander think of them so far?"

Lucien had, of course, spent quite a lot of time thinking about this all already, and so the answer was quite ready to him. “Well, I did choose them all, so I may well be incapable of objective assessment, but…” he smiled. “I think that eventually, they will be excellent.” The thing about the right kind of training and the right amount of dedication was, it could make a soldier of anyone, in the physical sense. Their bodies would break and rebuild as anyone’s did who had to become accustomed to a new lifestyle, and he would do his best to ensure that their skills grew to match their capacities. That had honestly never been the part of the whole thing he was worried about.

“What concerns me most is that they have the judgement they’ll need. And the conscience.” Mercenary work was one of those things where opportunities were plenty to take the easy way out instead of the right one. “I can lay down as many rules for conduct as I want, but I won’t be out there with them every time, and I can’t teach them how to make decisions of that kind.” It was why he’d been much less concerned about the experience or combat-readiness of his recruits than their motivations for joining, their goals in life, their histories and aspirations. He could teach anyone to swing a sword and be good at it. That he was any good was proof enough that such things could be done even for the least likely candidates. But he couldn’t make them into good people; he had to hope he’d been able to pick the good ones in the first place. That they were so willing to work with and help one another was a good sign, but the true test would not be one event, nor one period of time. It would be everything that followed this.

“In all honesty, I don't think the world needs more soldiers or mercenaries. It just needs more good people who have the power to act.”

"And if anyone can show them how to be that way by example, it's you," Sophia said with certainty. She also knew that he wouldn't allow them to be the type of mercenaries that he feared, that if any of them showed an inability to act with good judgement and conscience, they would have to change, or otherwise no longer represent the organization he was trying to build. He wasn't the kind of man to settle for something adequate, and he wasn't doing this to make money. They would do fine.

Snippet #2568895

located in Kirkwall, a part of The City of Chains, one of the many universes on RPG.

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