Chapter 359: Familiar Weight
Familiar Weight
When Reynard entered the gymnasium on Malday morning, Martel immediately noticed a small difference. Usually, their teacher arrived carrying staves for each of the acolytes to practice with. This time, he came empty-handed. "Time for you to try something new," the old warrior growled. "Follow me."
All the students did so as Reynard turned around and left the arena again. He only walked a short distance down the corridor before opening a door to step inside. Martel knew which room this was, though he had almost never had reason to enter. It was the armoury of the Lyceum.
The large room lay in near darkness, and Reynard did nothing to dispel it; perhaps almost on instinct, each of the fire acolytes summoned a small flame to allow them vision, giving an eerie, flickering light making shadows dance on the stone walls.
Large weapon racks filled one wall with all manner of arms. Spears, swords, axes, flails, morning stars, and more meant for melee combat; Martel only recognised some of the instruments of war thanks to Maximilian's occasional lectures on their differences, usually triggered by drunkenness. All of them blunt, presumably, meant only for training rather than actual combat. A handful of bows could be found as well, unstrung, along with arrows. Naturally, the staves used by the fire acolytes also had their place, all resting inside a small barrel.
To the other side, ten armour dolls held gambesons with chain shirts on top. Fewer than the number of mageknights who trained together at the same time; Martel guessed that some of them wore their own armour for practice rather than rely on the Lyceum to provide it.
"It is time for you to learn how to fight wearing proper armour," Reynard informed them, "instead of that boiled cowhide. Off with your robes and leather, and each of you put on a gambeson and chain shirt."
The acolytes looked at each other, all of them hesitant. Martel figured he was the only one with experience in this matter; while he was at odds with the Night Knives, he appreciated how they had taken the time to teach him about this. Grabbing the collar of his robe, he removed his outer garment and the leather armour underneath before getting dressed in the gambeson and mail.
The weight of the metal rings felt heavy, yet familiar. Martel was immediately reminded of his outings with the Night Knives; fighting thugs and brigands, feeling protected by his armour and his companions, unleashing his magic to easily best their opponents. He almost missed it, though it was outweighed by his relief at having put all that behind him. Around him, the other acolytes followed suit, awkwardly trying to handle the heavy shirt.
"Grab a staff and meet me back in the gymnasium," Reynard told them, leaving as the first.
***
"You cannot rely on your own magical shield nor your protector to catch every single bullet or arrow flying at you in battle," Reynard lectured them as they stood in the arena again, armoured and each with a staff in hand. "Any attack that can be stopped by your armour means one more spell you can spend attacking rather than defending. But first, you must get accustomed to the weight. For this bell, you will duel each other as usual, but with one exception. No magic allowed." His eyes swept over the fire acolytes. "If I detect any of you using the smallest bit of empowerment to lessen the weight, you can expect detention tonight running rounds in this arena in full armour. Understood? Get to it." He made a casual gesture pointing at the acolytes in turn, pairing them up for the sparring.
Turning towards Edward, Martel held his staff ready. He had gone easy on his fellow students these last months rather than antagonise them, and it seemed wise to continue this course; thus, Martel made a simple strike that even the somewhat hapless Edward could easily intercept.
Martel's staff struck his opponent on the cheek. As the latter moved his staff too slowly to parry. Looked like Martel had to go even easier. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"You cheated! You used magic!"
Everyone looked at them upon hearing Edward’s outburst. "No he did not," Reynard growled. "Stop whining and accept the blow – if not like a man, then like a mage."
William and Harriet resumed their own duel while Edward continued to rub his cheek. Given how gently Martel had attacked, he doubted that it hurt much; Edward was probably more affected by the surprise of the attack than any pain. "You did cheat," he mumbled.
"Sorry I hurt you," Martel reiterated. "I didn't need magic, though. I have practised with chain armour before, so I'm used to the weight. Look, how about I only defend, and you just attack me until you are also comfortable with it."
Still grumbling to himself, Edward nonetheless nodded and raised his staff.
***
Martel's afternoon lesson with the mageknights began the same way; in fact, Reynard informed them that for the remainder of their time at the Lyceum, they would wear chain armour for their combat lessons. The armoury only held just enough; once all the fire acolytes, and those mageknights who needed to borrow one, had picked a suit of armour, every doll stood empty.
"I need four mageknights willing to spar with the battlemages," Reynard announced across the gymnasium. "The rest of you, practice among yourselves for now. We will switch later in the bell." Several of the warriors volunteered, apparently relishing the opportunity to fight the fire acolytes without elemental magic. The Master of War nodded at a few of them, speaking their name as he selected them. "You go, and Griffe, you as well. Fontaine, you make it four. Choose an opponent and begin training."
Eleanor smiled at Martel and raised her sword. Behind her, Maximilian glanced at them both. "Leave a few chunks of Nordmark for me later on!"
Martel sighed. With friends like these… He held his staff up and took position.
The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on fre(e)webno(v)el.𝒸𝑜𝘮