Sleep was fleeting, fragmented. I left it for another night. Dawn found me slashing the air with my stolen sword, hidden in an abandoned building. Ma had always said that it was better to practice with the weapon you planned on using, thus aiding in adapting to its heft and size. The blade was heavier than I remembered, especially after the thousandth swing, however my talents at doing the same thing over and over were unmatched. It was a simple matter to empty my mind, and focus only on the burning in my arms.
I stopped once the rosy light outside became enough to see by. Wrapping the scabbard and stashing my ill-gotten gains back into their nook took longer than I would have liked, however by the time I got home it was still far earlier than I usually rose. Ma was in the dining area, meditating. I tried not to disturb her while I moved into the kitchen and grabbed the largest of the three staves Ma had prepared not long ago.
The pole was long and surprisingly thick, made from smooth, varnished wood of a rich hue I rarely saw. It had probably been expensive. On one of the ends were three sacks filled with stones, each lashed to the staff using plant cordage. Where Ma had found the time to make them, I didn’t know.
Hefting it over my shoulder, I lurched out into the courtyard. The practice weapon was weighted awkwardly. Its shaft was heavy – it was obviously filled with more than wood – however coupled with the incredibly bulky end, the stave became impossible to move as I intended it to. I could only barely lift it.
Placing my feet shoulder-width apart like I had seen Ma teach Jackson, I began heaving it around, only to stumble and fall almost immediately. Getting up, I tried again. And again. And again. Eventually, I managed to swing it without toppling like a drunkard, however doing so required me to lean back, making it feel more like spinning one of the twins around than delivering a blow with a weapon.
“Orvi.” That was Ma’s voice. I wheeled around, accidentally tripping over my own staff. She was looking out one of the shutters, which had been opened in order to watch. “Use your left hand to grip the bottom of the stave, and your right to hold the middle. Try stabbing.”
I adjusted accordingly, then thrust. It was far easier, even if the difficulty of making manoeuvring the hefty rod made my arms shake.
“Very good. Avoid mimicking an Oxblood – you have neither the mass nor the strength to do so.” I shuffled my feet sheepishly. “Place your feet as if you were punching. Don’t be afraid to move with your blows.”
I stabbed forward, stumbling slightly.
“Keep your balance. Once more.”
Again, I stabbed, stumbling again.
“Once more.”
We continued like that for a time, with Ma explaining how to correctly move the awkward weapon and myself trying and failing to meet her expectations. It was disheartening to witness my own incompetence, yet my mother’s cadence never changed from the rough, patient rumbles I was familiar with.
By the time the twins emerged, I could make a thrust while moving forwards or backwards. Any other direction was too difficult – accidentally turning a thrust into a swing was easy with such an imbalanced weapon, and doing so caused me to wobble like I had a concussion. Despite this, Ma judged my work decent, and called Dash and Sash to join me.
As I practiced what she had taught me, the twins were given the same lecture I was – with varying adjustments for each of them. It was embarrassing to see both starting with stabs rather than haphazard swings, however each had specific problems. Sash’s footwork was terrible, and Ma spent the bulk of her time attempting to correct a child who stubbornly insisted that hers was the best methodology. She was just too used to flowing movements. They were good for unarmed spars, yet the staff was just too heavy for them. Dash was leagues ahead of both of us, able to move any direction in a proper stance, yet had a tendency to lean backwards instead of moving into his thrusts. It was good for retreating, not so much for delivering a powerful blow.
After an hour of running us through the most basic of basics, Ma readied us to spar – this time only to first touch. The results were less bombastic than our hand-to-hand competitions: Dash and I were evenly matched – his skill clashing with my much heavier weapon – while Sash finally managed to admit that Ma’s decades of combat experience made her qualified to alter Sash’s footwork, if only for heavy weapons.
With the spars done, the three of us stood listlessly, likely thinking the exact same thing. I thought I was good at fighting, yet that was absolutely disgraceful. Of course, the only one with evidence to back up the first part of the thought was me; neither Dash nor Sash had ever been in a proper brawl. Still. Our showing, collectively, was shameful.
Ma clapped her hands together, the sound sending us out of our stupor. “Good first try, you three. Now, I will tell you my personal recommendations for your choice of weaponry.”
I blinked. What? Was I dreaming? A hesitant smile clambered its way onto my face. I imagined the twins had the exact same expression.
“Sash, yours is the easiest to recommend. Provided you can see an attack coming, you can generally avoid it. A dagger would aid you in making use of those skills, while still allowing you most of your dominant arm to control your opponent’s movements. However, your awareness of your surroundings will need some serious work. In a battle, focusing on one enemy alone is a death sentence, and it is impossible to dodge a blow you don’t know is coming. I would also recommend you train with a spear or pike, in the event you must fight monsters or larger Blooded."
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Sash bobbed her head so hard she nearly fell over.
“Dash. I am training you with polearms,” the boy in question opened his mouth, his face still scrunching at the memory of his earlier showing, yet Ma continued regardless. “Despite what you may think, you have considerable talent at controlling larger weapons. You’re also excellent at reading a situation, and a longer reach gives you more opportunity to control opponents. But be aware that fear is not always an asset. There are other factors contributing to this decision, which I will explain later.”
I grinned, excited to hear her take on my particular talents. “Orvi. Of my children, you are the most unsuited to combat in life-or-death situations.” Oh. “Your ability to hit and be hit is an asset in any hand-to-hand fight. With your sturdiness,” she shot me a meaningful look, which I tried not to think about, “there is no doubt that it truly is. However, in real combat your methods are more likely to get you impaled or delimbed. You will have to learn how to avoid and deflect to be able to use the traits you have cultivated. A sword and shield is the most versatile for that purpose, however training in ranged weaponry and polearms will give you more options, and help you stay out of range of many blows.”
She inclined her head. “Of course, given you have not informed me of any plans to become a soldier, this is less relevant than with the twins. Still, if you plan on defeating them, you will need to train as if your life depends on it. And knowing how to wield multiple weapons will assist you in that regard.”
Ma looked at both Dash and Sash. “That goes for you two as well. It is always beneficial to have experience with a variety of weapons. A dagger will not shield you from a cavalry charge, whilst a spear is useless in close-quarters. However, you can only use one set of weapons at a time. It's important to have a mainstay, one that you are capable with. An all-rounder will be defeated by a more specialised warrior, if on equal footing.”
The three of us nodded our understanding.
“Dash, you already have decent sparring equipment. Hopefully, we’ll be able to acquire a proper weapon for you to practice with.” She turned to my sister and tossed her something. Sash fumbled slightly, but managed to catch it – a kitchen knife. “It’s blunted, but should do. I’ll devise some perception training for you. Are you willing to practice some meditation?” Sash winced – she hated sitting still – and reluctantly nodded. “Orvi. A sturdy stick and perhaps a pot-lid should do for sparring-“ I was slightly disappointed by the mundanity of it- “however a proper blade and a heavier shield is a priority. If you have any ideas on where to get one,” she smiled threateningly, “let me know.”
I gulped and nodded.
She tossed me a metal lid from the kitchen. It still had condensation from a soup's steam. “For now, Dash and Sash will attempt to bypass your guard. You must avoid that.”
And so an hour of hellish sparring began.
----------------------------------------
Ma kept me in the kitchen for the rest of the day. There was no part of my body that wasn’t reddened, no part that wouldn’t turn black or blue by the end of tomorrow. It wouldn’t be a good look for customers to see a teenager so thoroughly beaten, so I was confined to cooking duties. I felt like emerging and placing myself in full view of the city, just out of spite.
Dash and Sash had taken to their weapons like fish to water. I, on the other hand, had taken to the shield like a fish to a hook – I’d swallowed Ma’s bait, and now I was in a world of pain. I couldn’t blame her. She was protecting us the best way she knew how. It just so happened the best way she knew involved me getting beaten. A lot.
The twins were hosting the customers. After our sparring was finished and their fervour had worn off, both had suddenly looked at my face and nearly burst into tears. The sight of them sniffling had actually pissed me off; they had been the ones to do it to me. In addition, I was still slightly angry that Ma had decided her son would make a decent substitute for a training dummy. The fact that I had gotten better rapidly was a point in her favour, but one against her was how the twins had gotten more skilled far quicker than I had. The bruising had only accelerated over the hour of sparring.
As I stewed in the kitchen – both figuratively and literally – Dash knocked on the doorway. “Orvi. The little stalker’s here, for you, this time.”
I scowled at him, ignoring the question in his eyes. “Sure, sure.” I turned to Ma. “Is it alright if I leave for a little while? I need to help a friend with something.” She nodded, also refusing to look at my face, which continued to piss me off.
Grumbling several curse words, I emerged from the kitchen. It was mid-afternoon, and the restaurant was packed. Bab stood, awkwardly fidgeting in the corner. He carried a bulky satchel far too big for him. It was an impressive looking backpack – jet black, complete with straps and a buckle to keep it closed. This time, the awkward boy actually made eye contact, though he looked away immediately afterwards. He grabbed my hand and tugged me out the restaurant, his bag clinking as we went. I let him, curious as to what the urgency was about.
He pulled me down the street, then around a corner, frantically looking around. “Ca-can you see anyone?” he whispered. Bemused, I glanced around as well. The secrecy was warranted, I supposed. Though it felt a bit… lame? Especially when the meeting was headed by a chubby boy who couldn’t be more than ten years old.
“No.” I attempted to look him in the eyes, but he glanced away. “What’s this about, Bab?”
“Th-the Guard!” The kid blurted. “They, um, they’re leaving! On an expedition!”
I gestured for him to continue.
“We-we have to, uhm, have got to break in before they go!”
Squinting at him, I spoke. “Why is that?”
“They, uhm, they, uhm,” he stuttered, then suddenly began talking faster than I could comprehend. “When they go they lock up and then we won’t have any chance of getting in and then everything will go wrong and I’ll be stuck here and I’ll never be able to leave!”
“Okay, okay.” I said, trying to soothe him. “Let me just grab the other two-“
“There’s no time,” he interrupted. “We’ve got to go now!”
I blinked. That was bad. Breaking into the offices of the most dangerous group in the Foot with only a pre-pubescent scribe for back-up was very close to a worst-case scenario, only beaten by actually being caught. But Bab’s fear was too raw to be faked; if this was our only chance, we had to take it.
“Alright. I just need to go grab my picks, I’ll be only a minute.”
Bab lit up into a relieved smile. “Thank you for believing me, Orvi.”
Running to my stash, a thought struck me. I had never introduced myself to him. How did he know my name?