[color=bc8dbf][b][h2][centre]Lord and Lady Coswain[/centre][/h2][/b][/color]
[color=bc8dbf][b][h3][centre]Temple of Lunaris[/centre][/h3][/b][/color]

[color=bc8dbf][b][centre]Guard Camp training montage[/centre][/b][/color]

Downing his ale Loed Coswain stood up and began to head out, the clear indication was that the innkeeper was the one taking charge and she would handle it. The small yet rather blighted Lamia was staring down the much larger pirate like he owed her gold… I'd. Well he was in greater trouble than law he thought with a mental laugh as he pushed the heavy door open walking out into the snow across the square to the town garrison, he needed to find someone to see if they could repair his breastplate and sort out the acid burns on his sword. 

The town was quiet as he moved and Persephone was not in sight, already heading to the Temple, she was always the religious one of the couple and he knew she would be happy to be able to make her offerings. 

“To the left of the camp m lord.” One of the sentry outside the camp said to his question about the smith and armoury walking in, his not bring a full part of the garrison but his rank and status, he still ws a full officer of Royal Guard. “Sir” one said as they headed out maybe late for a handover at a pace. 

The camp was same as many others but split violently in two, with two large command tents visible, a large parade ground had been  marked out for drills and soldiers were busy doing everything from sword drills, eating, cleaning or just playing dice games… he chose to ignore if currency was on the table and not look to closely. 

…

“Swing it… sheild up, sheild up I mean, like… you fragging thick as your eyebrows, you dense ass rock brain.” He hered someone trying help practice with one who looked like a green shoot they had dragged along if the lack of status marks was accurate. The older Lunarian was getting annoyed and was starting to shout more than teach as he decided to fo fuck it, he would train him instead. He had nothing else to do while the armourer was taking a look at his gear. 

[color=6ecff6]“Stop, il take over.”[/color] He said as he grabbed a practice blade and shield from the rack and shook his head, just go as it was going nowhere. 

[color=6ecff6]“Right, what style where you trained in, and where. Im a Lord, but right now im your teacher, you hit me, il buy you a good meal. sound good”[/color] He began to try and understand the younger soldiers issues and where he could start to correct the error. The younger guardsman was nervous so he sat down and pulled over some water and began to study the problem before he began to fix what caused them, 

A little incentive as he began to unpick the mystery. Bad workers blame their tools, good ones knew it was their mistake. After a few minutes he began to start sparring again, though his authority was clear, he was a more patient teacher and kept calling out what he needed to do after each bout and running through the how...and why he lost not just putting him on his ass. 

Thr far more experienced Lord Castellan was putting him on his ass for sure, but would help him up and he was starting to last longer. The sound of training sword and sheild slamming together rang, bash, strikes, and parry sounding out amongst the other noises of camp.