Dear Diary,

Why is it the things that most make me want to get medieval on Lancaster Senior are the things that prove he's the Right Guy For The Job of running the army in a fashion least likely to cause bodily injury to Saffron.

I mean, yeah, I care about other people getting hurt? In an abstract kind of fashion? If Lancaster said, 'go fuck up the 'Damn army to keep your friends out of danger', I'd probably do it and feel good about it? But I don't think I'd get 'put the fear of me into every person on the planet' the way I do with Saffron, y'know?

Okay, definitely with Isnomi. Fuck, wouldn't be fair to do it for Isnomi and not The Smith. I need to find another name for him that doesn't sound like a Morrissey band. If I'm gonna do that for him, I'm sure as hell gonna do it for Sigyn and her biggest fanboi.

Fuck. How the fuck am I the villain when my whole reason for Global Thermonuclear Panty Wetting Terror is protecting my loved ones?

Anyway, I wound up back on weapons training duty today, and thought I was gonna have some Fun with Projectile Weapons. I marched today's unit through the armory that had been set up at one end of the Loading Docks; we pulled four shields, four spears, and twelve crossbows with a dozen bolts for each. We all marched down to the riverside and lined up, the four biggest guys in front with shields braced on the ground, spears braced on the shields. I mean, yeah, nobody expected anybody to come charging out of the river, but you practice the way you're gonna fight. That thought gave me a bit of a bitchy idea and had my front line guys pull one of the Academy's rowboats over and set up on top of it.

Right about then Lancaster called out from behind the unit. "Cadet Diaz!"

I turned to see him standing next to Larry. "Yes, sir?"

"Swap with Cadet Lancaster." I sighed. Life sucks, and then this asshole gets all nepotistic. "Cadet Diaz, why do you have your front line standing on an upturned boat?"

I sure as fuck didn't want to give away my cool idea, but I recited my mantra of 'I am a Mature Woman who doesn't do Petty Shit' to myself, then said, "Hill training, sir. No depressions here at the riverside, but this way the guys can get used to shooting braced on the front line's shoulders, or however they've got to do in order to hit a target when the front line is at the edge of a rise."

Lancaster Senior just smirked at me as I handed my crossbow to Larry and took the spear he handed me. "That's a bit of an edge case, isn't it?"

It took me a second, and when it hit I nearly dropped my fuckin' spear. "Was that a pun, sir?"

He sneered at me, and I couldn't tell if it was real or faked, even when he said, "a Lancaster is above such coarse things as humor. Especially puns, which are the lowest form of humor." Then he spoiled my impending bitch fit by moving his hands through a Messaging Shape and saying, "attention to all units training in crossbow marksmanship. Observe Cadet Lancaster's unit," here he Shaped a fire bolt straight up into the fuckin' sky, in case anybody couldn't tell where he was. "today during training improvise a low rise for your front line, in order to practice maintaining fire while cresting a ridge or other obstacle."

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

With that he turned and walked away, motioning for me to follow as he did so. "I expect that sour look on your face is a result of giving Laurence your unit for the day?"

I shrugged. "Was kinda lookin' forward to playing with a crossbow for a bit."

He sighed and nodded. "I expected as much. Since other than your sour look, which I can and will excuse on the basis of your clever addition to our training regimen, you followed orders with alacrity, I will explain while we walk. First and foremost, I expect Laurence to both be and need to be more skilled with crossbows than you. Do you know why?"

Trying not to sound like I'd just sucked on the southbound end of a northbound lemon, I said, "because he's your son, sir?"

He shook his head, but shrugged while he did it. "While not untrue, it's also irrelevant. While Laurence has studied the blade since he was your daughter's age, he does not have the body mass to have the kind of impact he would like to have on the field of battle. In a duel, he is marginally competent, or I wouldn't have allowed him his own sword. On a battlefield? As a swordsman he would be a marginal asset at best. On the other hand, he is probably the most accurate archer among my sons, and these new bows your wife has developed have mitigated both his lack of strength and his height. Pushing him into training with crossbows as much as possible is a way to maximize his battlefield contribution."

I tried to hold in my sigh, but some of it leaked out. "Yeah. I guess I can see that, sir."

"But you still feel I'm being unfair."

I shrugged. He said it. "Kinda."

He nodded. "If I were to order you to kill Sister Trease, what would you do?"

"Before or after asking you why the fuck I'm killing someone on our side?"

His turn to hide a sigh. "If I were to tell you Sister Trease was a traitor, and her next move was to harm your daughter, what would you do?"

I tensed up, barely keeping myself from popping out a pair of Mana Blades. "Please, sir, is this situation entirely hypothetical?"

He nodded. "It is, and yet even so your first thought was to melee weapons. At no point in your planned rampage did you intend to pick up a bow, did you?"

I shrugged. "Didn't plan on it. Unless she knows how to fly or some other crazy shit I probably wouldn't, either." I thought about it for a split second before continuing. "Hell, even then I'm just gonna Fire Bolt her whole area."

"And there is your answer, Cadet. My son Laurence, similar to your wife, is a precision weapon. A stiletto, a rapier, perhaps even a crossbow. You, on the other hand, are a blunt instrument. A fist. A mace. A zweihänder. Perhaps a catapult. Both precision weapons and blunt instruments have their uses, but each must be used appropriately to maximize effectiveness." He half turned to face me as we neared the Academy Loading Docks. "Do you understand why I am focusing your own training on leading melee units?"

I couldn't keep my disappointment out of my voice, but I wasn't about to lower myself to lie to Lancaster Senior. "Yes, sir." I managed to force those words out, but after that I couldn't help myself. His explanation made perfect sense, but the snark must flow. "Aw, c'mon. If I'm gonna be a ranged weapon, can't I at least be a trebuchet?"

"A what now?"

Someday. Someday I promise I will learn to keep my fuckin' mouth shut. Ah, who the hell am I kidding. Time to do some more Black Swan shit.

Least it's not more Lime Green shit.