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Tanzanno Fernando

To a passerby looking into the training courtyard, one might be surprised to find the young Feuille engaging in what appeared at first glance to be a set of push ups. Only after a bit of examination would one find him not going about it the way one should, instead holding the upper position, sweat beading off of his brow as he clenched his muscles in concentration, trying his best not to fall. About a meter away, in the same position, was a southern Nepharian, calmly staring at the ground in a complete opposite demeanor to the boy. The exercise in question was plancha retenida, designed to gain total control over one's muscles, learn that patience is key, and most importantly, to become more in tune with your body. Because of its importance, Tanzanno could often find himself able to hold the position up to four hours at a time. The boy, on the other hand, was barely managing ten minutes. Tanzanno always found himself amused at the vigor and shear cockiness that young men often exhibited. As if swordplay was just simply bashing each other with sticks, only to find themselves baffled at being beaten by old Tanz. The young ones in Orarius knew better from the constant beatings he had given them. But the son of the Councilor? The boy in question had no idea what he would be getting into. A letter sent by pigeon to Tanzanno had required his presence in The Capital. Not being one to deny such a request, he had saddled up onto a courser, ridden the many leagues, and finally arrived after a few weeks of travel only to be socked up to train yet another child. Not that Tanzanno was complaining, but it would have been nice to do something different for once. Still, Tanzanno, even with his infinite pool of patience, often disliked the children of noblemen. Feuille especially, being the Chancellor of the entire country. Children under men of such power had a tendency to behave like stuck up brats. Thankfully, Tanzanno had been given complete permission to whip the boy up into shape, and that he intended to do. His first steps were to test the endurance and dexterity of the boy, both of which were seemingly lacking. So many of them just wanted to get right into the midst of whacking each other over the head, but what good is holding a sword if you can't swing in for hours at a time? In his deep thought, Tanzanno looked back to the incident that had occurred earlier that day as he stared into the warm stone. It was an incident that smelled of disaster and chaos. Having been standing in a corner, listening to the procedures and meetings that took place in the Council, a certain group arrived that seemingly only wished to cause trouble. Ignion, it was a strange word that fell harshly on the tongue. Even more harsh was their demand that Nepharie surrender completely to the brigands. The whole ordeal ended in four brave soldiers dead, struck down by what could only have been described as the domination of thunder. Tanzanno's hands had dropped to his two weapons, but it was all over as soon as it began, leaving behind only widows. A loud buckling of limbs and a thud on the cobble ground interrupted his train of thought, and Tanzanno stood up with a slight sigh. The Feuille boy had managed a total of ten minutes, twenty two seconds. Compared to his own record, it was pitiable at best, but he had only gained such a feat through practice and more practice upon said practice. "Well, you made it longer than I expected... its a start at least." His slight praise was met with a moan of dread. "Now, twenty laps around the courtyard. Come on, boy, do try and keep up with an old man!"

SirBeowulf Member

What a load of Donk.

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