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And just like that it was over. The necromancer's machinations falling apart like a summer breeze.

"Mmngh, aaagh, all this hard work makes me want a drink~" She'd chuckle to herself as the rest of the knights began securing the area, the archer putting away her remaining arrows and returning her bow to its proper place. She'd have mentioned that Serenity needed to lighten up a bit more once again, but she'd leave it at that for now. Instead, she'd leave the cleanup to them. After being so long in this stuffy tomb, she needed fresh air. "Alllright I'm gonna go buy a victory toast! Last one there's buying a round for everyone!" She'd shout, before swiftly exiting the tomb ahead of everyone else.

Whether or not they all followed or not, was up to them.




Cecil fell out of her bed, head pounding, pain rippling through her skull.

"...Shael?"

"I don't know what uncouth prank that was, Cecil, but when I find who did it I'm going to flay the skin from their bones."

"For once, I don't think I'd stop you...ugh..." She'd sit up, having well overslept. "Haa...maybe I can ask for a vacation." Getting to her feet, Cecil would assuredly get dressed, though much slower and without her usual energy in the mornings. The dream had been troubling to say the least. Fighting a horde of enemies, as if she was watching a memory of the past. She wasn't sure what it all meant. The death and rebirth. She just knew, she really didn't fancy getting cleaved in two.

"Urf, lets see what everyone else is up to." She'd walk out of the room, stopping briefly by the kitchens to grab an apple, hearing a commotion out in the courtyard. "They're being awfully loud, ehh...oh, is that Lilia?" Looked like they were having a duel. Cecil hummed lightly to herself. She did feel a bit bad about just leaving the elf on her own at the ball...but she couldn't just ignore the Autmere. "Looks like they're having a duel, eh?" Cecil would quietly enter the courtyard, watching the bouts of duels ensuing, eyes settling on Lein. "Everyones pretty lively today, eh Lein?" Cecil greeted the Hundi.
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Renar Hagen


"No magic?" Renar echoed, his head tilting just slightly in mild curiosity. Hm. Despite her own misgivings, Lilia's movements were certainly those of a trained swordfighter. Good. Hopefully, she was at least close to her mother's might. Anything less wouldn't serve for his goals.

"I never said anything of the sort. It matters little what I can and cannot do: use whatever methods you have at your disposal. I certainly will." From his stance, his left foot shot forward, kicking up a not insubstantial amount of dust to conceal his footwork. Renar charged, using the same techniques he would have used with his poleaxe while holding a quarterstaff instead. He raised his stave and moved to smash it towards the side of Lilia's head, only to feint and draw back, aiming for a high thrust instead.

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Lilia


The elf gave the impression of almost being frozen, seeming to not respond at first--but then she ducked. Fast; not as fast as the ridiculous creature on the other side of the courtyard, but still faster and more graceful than the awkward elf had given any hint of being. She'd also started singing, some sort of nonsense verse in Elvish, a word that might possibly have been loaned into Talderian about the cold--

And, even rising out of her crouch and moving forwards, she was swinging at Renar's ankles. But it wasn't just the sword he had to watch out for, another of the hilt's many gems was lit up in response, and even faster a faint mist spread out from the weapon, turning his footing into an unexpected sheet of ice.

Nor was this the limit of her attack, regardless of its success. Now that she was moving, it was clear Lilia wasn't a stationary fighter, and she was following up to stab at his side, the song continuing to another line. This one had no loanwords to give a hint, but the turbulence building around the blade itself was a warning--along with the stab, a shock of wind. Destabilising, but not dangerous.

At least the magic wasn't adding any extra lethality.
Hidden 2 yrs ago 2 yrs ago Post by DELETED08740
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Lein



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Lein had expected some kind of impressive trick. Perhaps swordplay so sophisticated it may rend through dragon scale, or extraordinary footwork to make up for the lost limb. He did not expect common sense to simply bend under 'the soul'. Lein even had a couple seconds to just process what Rui was even talking about for a proper translation. Even as Steffen asked for the very same movement to be repeated over, as the scamp paladin whined about destroying the yard, Lein found himself watching with intense curiosity.

"Nothing special? Rui, I've shot a bow hundred thousand times and more, and I've never shot an arrow of mere air - and certainly not from a sword!" Lein had, in fact, seen this sort of...trickery? Mastery, as Rui would call it. Weapons with scales and weights far beyond what mere muscle should allow. Lein had always cautioned himself, however, that his distant memories of the Hundi duels had been riddled with inventions of the nascent mind, back when he still fantasized about standing atop the podiums and performing his own wild demonstrations. Dragons roaring plumes of orange-black fire into a glittering night sky, the vast sea murmuring his name in the folds of its waves; always with the re-inventions of his circumstance. Lein had steadily grown to accept that he knew very little of what was possible, each step outside of his sequestered lands a showing him the great divide of his own fantasies and capabilities.

Rui's mastery of the sword was yet another surpassing of his expectations. But underneath his veneer of enthusiasm, Lein yet questioned why this confirmation did not alight a sense of wonder within him. It was the same kind of buzz, the same twitch reflexes in his phantom limb that desired, as it ever did every so often, to will itself to move, to inhabit the prosthetic that had replaced it. Yet it felt caustic, lingering with a bitterness. Lein tracked the leporine swordswoman's movements hungrily, dissecting every movement in her limbs as much as he could allow. No comparable experience with a sword, yes, but the tension of her muscles, flow of balance, pacing as she drew her sword, up and - swing. Simple, she says. Hmm. Lein had planned to use Fleuri's duel as a distraction to shift some cargo hidden in the yard. He did not expect to have drawn in by this new fascination.

"Everyone's been through hell and back last night, apparently. Nothing like a nightmare of getting your teeth kicked in by the First Knights to make people scramble for an extra swing or two." Lein replied, then taking a moment off watching Rui's movements, meeting Cecil's greeting with the usual fanged smile. "Guess you're also in the same camp. Who's the one to have gutted you? Must've been some real high kicker to have drawn you out here."
Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by VitaVitaAR
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Fanilly had heard of things like this. Not necessarily specifically from Akitsushima, and certainly not in this specific form. But she had heard of the idea.

The warrior who is so utterly devoted to their craft that, even if they possess no magical capabilities of their own, the laws that hold the world together become weaker. That they become an existence that surpasses such things entirely.

The Gentle Blade's sword that could strike in manners that seemed impossible, even without the use of magical enhancement. A training, a honing of one's skills, to the point of obsession. And then tempering oneself even beyond that, surpassing the material world entirely. It was as if there was a blade in such a person's soul.

She had never witnessed an example, of course. But someone who could manifest a spectral limb entirely for the sake of swordplay, then swing their weapon with such speed that objects dozens of meters away were damaged from the mere release of pressure...

Surely, that was the sort of person who fell under such a definition.

A dragonslayer with capabilities like that... Just who had the Knight-Witch sent to them?

"Er... yes, Dame Tyaethe is correct," she managed, realizing that she absolutely needed to comment on the damage being dealt to their surroundings, "It would be best if you aimed for training equipment, that's far easier to repair and replace."

So distracted by the nearly surreal demonstration was the Knight-Captain that she nearly forgot why she had come out to the training yard to begin with, until Serenity reminded her.

"Ah, r-right, er..." Fanilly paused a moment to place both hands on the hilt of her training blade, "No, I think I'll stick with this one."

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On Serenity


As soon as the Arcedeen took another step, she was confronted with a substantial risk of tripping. A series of bags, without any warning or notice, had appeared in the courtyard... not one pace away from Serenity. Fancy bags, at that, with extremely foreign patterning--no doubt the luggage of the warrior that had shown up slightly earlier.

Even if that had been in doubt, the quickly-scrawled note on top explaining just that with a hasty apology made it pretty clear.
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Renar Hagen


Fast. Almost too fast. Almost. The fact that he still had room to react surprised Renar more than the actual sequence of attacks, but he shoved his mild disappointment aside as he processed his next few moves in sequence. The ice limited his options severely, and combined with an attack at his ankles, it was a good tactic to hamper his mobility. The lack of lethal intent, even in training, was an expectation that fell short, though.

Renar slammed his quarterstaff down into the ground, simultaneously blocking Lilia's ankle sweep while cracking the ice at his feet. Her follow-up move was much more in line with what he'd been expecting. She didn't relent, and it was damn near impossible for him to evade completely at this range and with his available options. Good. Very good. This was more in line with what he'd been looking for. A desperate twist of his waist saved Renar from the stab, but the wind magic running along the blade was a far different story. It still grazed him, sending him skidding back on the remains of the ice and leaving a bruise in his side as he planted a hand on the ground to brace himself.

A savage grin crossed Renar's face as he rose a good distance away, taking up his stance again.

"Just so you know, I don't expect to win this. I only wish to learn as much as I can from facing a superior foe. So come at me with the intent to kill, I'll not mind the bruise to my ego."

He surged forward once more, engaging in a series of practiced thrusts, closing the distance with each one. After getting close enough in arm's reach, Renar shifted his grip on his quarterstaff. His left hand flew off the grip, the handful of dirt he'd grabbed while skidding along the ground earlier flying straight for Lilia's eyes. His right hand whirled his staff around, coming around in a one-handed swing for the side of her head while she was distracted dealing with the blinding move.

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"Good, then let's be-"

Before that word could be completed, luggage appeared, as if manifesting from the aether itself. Perhaps not 'as if', but 'actually just'. For a moment, she stared at the bundle of bags, the scrawled note pinned to it, and then closed her eyes. Just very briefly. Long enough for her to marvel at the sheer weight of the magical potential the Knight-Witch possessed. Cross-continental spatial magic, whereas others would exhaust their life just fueling the ritual for leaving a city without walking its streets.

It was mere marvel though. It was not a path to aspire towards.

"Lady Rui," Serenity called out. "A moment. Your bags are here. Lein, Sir Steffen. Perhaps you could assist her with them?"

The training field was large. Large enough that after that declaration, the Arcedeen girl gestured towards Fanilly. Strode ten steps away from the pile of bags. Raised her shield. Nodded, ready.
Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Raineh Daze
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Lilia


The elf-girl looked perturbed at the suggestion, like coming at someone with killing intent when she didn't want them dead was unthinkable. But as she was still singing, there was no actual answer given to the idea. Instead, the girl kept fighting defensively, proving extremely hard to get close to with a thrust, everything just missing. It wasn't an obvious way to win anything, especially not when the dirt achieved its obvious goal of forcing her eyes shut.

It would seem almost disappointing that such a trick should get an obviously experienced enemy, but at the last her ears seemed to twitch slightly, Lilia using her blade to actually deflect the attack--a shockwave rippling through the wooden stave, rippling unsettlingly. Much as if he'd slammed it into a wall, not had it pushed away by such a delicate looking blade.

Now there was a frown on the elf's face. Possibly because that was the second time Renar had gone for trying to smack her in the head with a big hunk of oak.

Now the position of aggressor and defender was swapped, everything the darting elf doing just enough to inflict a slight cut on a battle. But the threat of getting hit at all was made more alarming, with every blow still carrying some magical trick, another line of her song a simple spell. A crackling field around one thrust that would make an entire limb frustratingly numb. A swing that, blocked, came with a sudden crack as the ground beneath Renar's feet. An unexpected layer of greasy oil forming along the shaft she was holding.

The blade eventually slipping past to rest on his throat after the barrage of attacks just to wear down his defences was the only thing without some magical payload.

"Mum always tells me to not use anything in practise I can't fix..."
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Fleuri Jodeau


Fleuri watched Rui perform the weapon's swing in slower motion. Could one really perform such feats simply by martial mastery? What other sorts of feats could a master of swordplay achieve.

His thoughts were interrupted by Serenity speaking up and informing Rui that her bags had arrived. Fleur looked over and indeed, there were several foreign-looking bags that were not here a moment ago. Another of Merilia's tricks?

"How long do you intend to stay with us, Lady Rui?" Fleuri asked. "I think we can all agree that it'd be a great boon to the order to have a combat instructor of such sword mastery."
If he had to guess, it'd be that Merilia had decided to send someone to help bring the Iron Roses to a higher standard of martial skill. Even if she wasn't going to fight, the Iron Roses could definitely use an instructor. If she was sticking around for the long haul, it might be a good time to start training with a messer sword, Fleuri mused.

"Would you like to continue sparring? If not, I can assist with your bags."

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Rui


"Then practice a hundred thousand more," the girl said blandly, giving Lein a look, "Improvement can stop when you die."

Her response to Fleuri's question came with a sheathed sword, phantom limb disappearing without a sound. Rui headed over to the bags, looking briefly into them to check what was there before looking over her shoulder, "I expect to be here as long as my lord feels my task is incomplete. It seems this must be expected to take some time, otherwise I would not have been sent so many of my things." After another moment's consideration (or perhaps translation), she added. "I believe I should pack these away first."

Over to the side, the vampire moved her head back and forth a few times, thinking, before asking, "That accent... did Merilia teach you her weird Talderian dialect first?"

"... it's odd?"
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Lein



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"Then I'm glad you'll be here for my first thousand." Lein scooped up Rui's luggage, balancing the bags in a precarious stack on his back and head with experienced casualness and swaying back and forth to keep them aligned. He examined Rui's reaction carefully from under the bags slumping over his ears as she received the news. Excited? Disappointed? It didn't seem like she was expecting to stay for long. But if she was indeed an asset to the Knights, Lein will have to make sure to extend her mission as long as necessary. And that meant excusing himself from the training yard - more than his already planned aloofness.

Rui claimed that this phantom limb was the product of simple repetition, but Lein himself witnessed how hard some of his compatriots honed their craft. He alone had to help out ferrying out carts of broken training dummies splintered from the single-minded dedication of the likes of Serenity and Gerard. Repetition was not enough. And if it were, she could still demonstrate exactly how exactly her training regimen was set out to have achieved such heights. Lein turned his head to 'nod' at Fleuri, a harrowing endeavor to anyone who doubted Lein's confidence in his balance, lingering a little with an eye on Steffen and Cecilia as if to solicit an offer of assistance. "Don't you worry Flowers, I'll drop these off. You go ahead with the duel and do the Knights proud, eh?"
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Renar Hagen


It was almost unfair how strong someone could be while being so evidently coddled. The bladework he could handle. Just barely, but it wasn't what took him out of the fight. The spellwork accompanying it was perfect, grinding Renar down until Lilia's blade found purchase right next to his throat.

"So be it. Victory is yours." Renar casually held his hands up, dropping his staff. "Well played. I've been sorely needing experience against both spellcasters and fighters just better than myself in general. We all have been, really. I don't suppose you'd care to repeat this with us for the duration of the time you're here at the keep, Lady Lilia? The practice ought to do you good as well, especially if we improve quickly enough."

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Gerard Segremors


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At mention of his name, Gerard's gaze perked up from the dull feder he'd been halfway through yanking free from the rack— had Fionn been more insistent on pulling Sir Renar into a spell of back-and-forth bickering about his absence earlier in the day, the younger of the two ex-mercs was indeed planning on kicking off the circuit directly himself. If nothing else, his own approach would have been tailor-made to feed the pair that were better schooled situational insight, with the emphasis on aggression forcing exchanges and drawing Lilia's pressure responses forth. Giving them a rough preliminary on how she worked by simply forcing work onto her—

But all things being equal, he welcomed Renar to take it for himself, indicating as much with an compliant lift of the hand as he marched over to Fionn's side, and set the ad-hoc blade onto the soft grass before him as his frame dropped to meet it shortly after. One elbow propped onto a knee, he leaned forward and let his chin rest upon the palm as the bout commenced— seated, but far from languid. His amber gaze, so often clouded by the rolling fog of overthinking, was sharp and alert.

Too often, he let instinct and repetition do most of the heavy lifting when it came to the heat of battle, as there was little room for anything else beneath the rushing sensation. Training, similarly, drew upon leveraging his conditioning and fierceness in spars while he continually strove to polish form on his own. It had gotten him this far. It was growing clear that it wouldn't get him much further— much to the imminent vindication of the other three in their nascent circle of iron sharpening iron. They'd get their ribbing in soon enough.

His gaze flicked back and forth between the dueling pair as the opening salvos were loosed between them. Those instincts had been a crutch for very good reason, it was worth noting— the hunch they'd given him was correct. The girl was quick. Were it not for how he'd dialed in his focus, he might have lost the motion within the burst that had begun it. With her rapier, a low swipe for the ankles, cloaked in mist that melded into hoarfrost into rime.

"That's..."

Let them if they chose, then. His unwitting stubbornness had begun to chip, they'd earned the gloating.

"Kinda the same thing that I do, in a sense of offensive effect."

This was an opportunity to learn the lesson everyone had been trying to pound into his head— and gain those insights for himself. His focus had centered upon that task, and those thoughts were drawn forth as they were formed by mind and tongue in equal measure, floating through the air in a low murmur even as his eyes continued to dart from fighter to fighter.

"The distance is different given the weapon and stance, stretches the ranges out to something more even with most polearms than other swordsmen. Speed's higher. Magic's offering additional lines of attack, but the theory's all the same. Starting by trying to kill the base and mobility, initiating with surprise by shifting vertical levels, and then it's immediately lateral movement and going for pokes while the enemy's still navigating the first range— and then getting dirt in the eyes, too. That one gets everyone once."

The prattling was clearly more for his own benefit than anyone else's, but Fionn Mackerracher lived and breathed the finer details on a scale that seemed to be beyond even intuitive— no better sounding board Gerard could think of, and he was right next to him.

"Different details and method, but same principle. Seizing the initiative and adding a new problem every time it looks like he's got a chance to breathe. This is one other way to do that, work to end."

He frowned thoughtfully, then let it fade— glancing to his friend with a wry, almost needling smirk.

"You wanna lecture me about the part where she sat in indes before the dirt though, don't ya?"
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Fionn MacKerracher


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"Nach," he corrected, almost unconsciously. "And not quite. You're not entirely wrong but I don't think she ever lost her own control of the situation, which is the real danger getting stuck in such a situation. What I want to lecture you about is that bit about going for the base, for the legs. How often do you really get a chance to make a properly covered attack at someone's leg? Too easy for them to smack you in the head while you're going for their knee." Or any number of other such attacks taking advantage of how open any significantly low strike could leave the person making it.

"You're bigger than me and you use a bit longer sword. Bind and wind around their defense, don't treat it like you're a low wolf aiming for someone's hamstrings. It's not worth it unless they've clearly overextended their stance and you know for sure you aren't in harm's way attacking their leg, or if the contact is incidental after they failed to entirely void from a cut you were making."
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Lilia


"Um... are you sure? I don't mind at all! Really! But, I'm not sure how much use I am, when you get better I'd have to use dangerous spells to keep up, and then someone might get hurt..." Now that the fight was over, all the awkwardness was back, the elf fiddling with her sword rather than looking any of them in the eye. "I don't know anything like a blunt sword for fire..."

Her gaze lifted and swivelled between Gerard and Fionn. "I only went for the legs because of the ice. Sometimes people slip immediately, and... well... or I can freeze their legs entirely. Shattering their weapon is easier, though, if it's metal... I don't know one for breaking wood so quickly."
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Fionn MacKerracher


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"It's not a comment on your fencing, it's just a recurring discussion I've been having with him."
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Steffen Gravinir


She didn't have to do it slowly, but she did. Steffen was at least thankful she didn't damage the training ground further. He'd need to check that roof a bit later on once everybody was done with their day.

On the more technical aspect, the number of little details in her movement was quite mind-boggling. This wasn't a trick or magic. She was right that this was attainable from practice, though to be precise it was more of the right technique and executed few hundred thousand time to perfect and improve it. She likely wouldn't be able to do the same feat if she had just swung the sword mindlessly now, would she? If he were to find a comparison, a martial art technique that was taught by his mother utilized pretty much similar concepts, one of which was the perfect coordination of the muscle groups to create fast acceleration, which translates to power. He might not have used swords to expertise, but those ideas could have been transferred over to his own weapon style.

Now that he had ideas, he was pumped to hit the field, but alas, Rui's presence seemed to invoke more work than it seemed. So much for training in the field with the others.

"Alright." Serenity would receive an obedient nod as he took some of Rui's heavier luggage from Lein. If there were someone fit to handle the boring part of a guest arriving, it would be Steffen. "There are vacant rooms in the southwest corner of Candaeln. I'll leave a sign to which one I used, but they should all be the same." Whether Rui wanted to continue the duel with Fleuri or proceed to settle in was up to her. "My office is down the hall for any issue, or if you just want a chat. You're always welcomed there."

As for training, he'd probably go to his usual spots in the forest later at night. Or that reinforced statue in the courtyard. It's quieter and he could enact his own training methods that he normally wouldn't be able to for regular dummies.

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"... Bags...?"

It took a few moments for Fanilly to comprehend what just happened.

Teleportation was, of course, a type of magic she was aware of. The process of instantaneously moving from one location to the other wasn't impossible with magic. But it did have limitations, even if she didn't fully understand them. Surely, moving something from a distance as far as Akitsushima fell far beyond such limits, didn't it?

Or was this simply what such a legend as Merilia was capable of?

Regardless, it was hard to focus on things when Dame Serenity seemed quite intent on their training duel. And Fanilly could hardly deny that practice was always a good idea.

Especially when her position was so important.

The blonde knight-girl took a position across from her opponent.

The wooden blade raised. Her feet shifted, spreading, as she angled her weapon across her body.

'Your opponent carries a shield and you do not. But your sword is longer and possesses more reach. Use it to your advantage.'

She took a deep breath, then exhaled through her nose.

'Avoid a range in which your reach is no longer effective. Use your leverage. Find an angle from which to strike.'

She was ready.

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Steffen Gravinir & Lein





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