Caden S. Freemont
Stoatorian Guard: Instructor
Sweat beaded on Caden's brow as the warmth of the midday sun heated the training grounds of the Ministry of War. The shield on his right arm had set his still-healing forearm injury to aching, but he ignored the dull throb. He swung his practice sword up into a ready position and nodded over the shield to the rat trainee opposite him, who was picking up her sword from where it had landed when Caden had disarmed her moments before. Her peers standing in a loose circle around them cheered her on.
"Come on, Lia, just one more round! You can take him."
"He's still favoring his shield arm, you just gotta be fast!"
"Fight dirty--throw sand in his eyes!"
Caden chuckled. "Don't give her any ideas."
"Why not?" The rattess brought her sword and shield to the ready. "I need all the help I can get."
She darted in at Caden, and the pair exchanged a quick series of blows. Their booted footpaws churned up the packed sand of the training grounds, the clatter of wooden practice weapons on shields ringing out. Though the jack was bigger, stronger, and with years of experience and skill on the trainee, she was indeed quite fast, and Caden's flagging shield arm worked to her advantage. She saw her opening as he lost half a second in repositioning his shield to prepare for another attack. Lia shifted her stance and brought her sword in quickly between his shield and body, then thrust forward with a blow that would have been at the very least maiming and taken him from the fight.
"Ha!" she cried triumphantly. The other trainees cheered as Caden lifted his swordpaw in defeat. He stepped forward and clapped a paw on her shoulder.
"Well done, Lia. I'd say you passed your review."
As she went to join the others and receive congratulations from her peers, a nearby bell tolled noon. Caden gave the younger beasts an informal salute. "Alright, you lot. Take a break, get some lunch, You've got an hour before your polearm review with Lieutenant Derby." And I have the rest of the afternoon to write up progress reports and rest my aching arm and shoulder.
He rubbed at the latter offending limb, which protested him spending the entire morning swinging a sword. Caden didn't remember it taking this long to recover from injuries even in his early thirties.
In the office he shared with several other instructors, he peeled off his sweat-soaked and dirt-streaked shirt, tossing it over the back of a chair. He sat with a long exhale and leaned forward to place his forehead on the cool surface of the desk, closing his eyes. Or maybe a nap before reports, that sounds nice.
"Come on, Lia, just one more round! You can take him."
"He's still favoring his shield arm, you just gotta be fast!"
"Fight dirty--throw sand in his eyes!"
Caden chuckled. "Don't give her any ideas."
"Why not?" The rattess brought her sword and shield to the ready. "I need all the help I can get."
She darted in at Caden, and the pair exchanged a quick series of blows. Their booted footpaws churned up the packed sand of the training grounds, the clatter of wooden practice weapons on shields ringing out. Though the jack was bigger, stronger, and with years of experience and skill on the trainee, she was indeed quite fast, and Caden's flagging shield arm worked to her advantage. She saw her opening as he lost half a second in repositioning his shield to prepare for another attack. Lia shifted her stance and brought her sword in quickly between his shield and body, then thrust forward with a blow that would have been at the very least maiming and taken him from the fight.
"Ha!" she cried triumphantly. The other trainees cheered as Caden lifted his swordpaw in defeat. He stepped forward and clapped a paw on her shoulder.
"Well done, Lia. I'd say you passed your review."
As she went to join the others and receive congratulations from her peers, a nearby bell tolled noon. Caden gave the younger beasts an informal salute. "Alright, you lot. Take a break, get some lunch, You've got an hour before your polearm review with Lieutenant Derby." And I have the rest of the afternoon to write up progress reports and rest my aching arm and shoulder.
He rubbed at the latter offending limb, which protested him spending the entire morning swinging a sword. Caden didn't remember it taking this long to recover from injuries even in his early thirties.
In the office he shared with several other instructors, he peeled off his sweat-soaked and dirt-streaked shirt, tossing it over the back of a chair. He sat with a long exhale and leaned forward to place his forehead on the cool surface of the desk, closing his eyes. Or maybe a nap before reports, that sounds nice.
