Visar stretched and began his usual morning exercises an hour before dawn.  He remembered that waking up so early had been so difficult for him years before.  But now, it seemed only natural, only part of the routine.  Only his training this morning had a slight edge.  He was to teach some new trainees the basics of the sword, and he did not want to disappoint.  However, that was not to say he had any intention of going easy on any of them.  If they wimped out, they were simply not cut out for this life, and Visar would be doing them a favor by being tough on them.

 

His exercises done, and the things he wanted to teach already structured carefully in his mind, Visar began to set up for the class, which would start an hour after dawn if enough people came.  He set up a fold-up table with the tools of his trade: he had his own newly forged long sword, in its black wood, steel tipped scabbard, its edge very sharp close to the tip.  He had his old long sword too, the one he had used to the point of it being nicked beyond repair.  He intended to keep that, at least for this class, before giving the steel over to Shawn, his friend and one of the master smiths.  Perhaps Shawn would find use for the metal itself, or the tip would be foiled and the edge blunted, just like the other blunt steel practice swords lined up next to his sharps on the table.  And leaning against the table, Visar had plenty of the usual lathed wooden swords for sparring, of various lengths and designs.  Some were relatively crude, mere bundled sticks with not even a crossguard to keep the hands safe.  Others resembled swords remarkably in feel and weight, the main trick being lead weights set into the hilt.  All had grips long enough for two hands, but while some could be used with one hand well, others were more dedicated two handers.  And some were slightly curved in the popular warder fashion, to indicate that they only had a single edge.  While Visar was of the outspoken opinion that two edges were better than one, he would not go into that argument today. Hopefully. 

 

He was asked to provide fundamental sword principles, or armed combat basics really, that could apply to similar swords or even other weapons, and he intended to deliver.  That was, if anyone decided to show up. He wasn't exactly one of the more popular or nicer Warders around, and he had had a reputation of accidentally injuring some poor trainees' elbows of late... Nonetheless, Visar waited by the table, hoping his presence was not too intimidating.  Maybe some trainees would be bold enough to ask him questions about the weapon before joining the class?  Visar liked discussions just as much as he liked training till he dropped, and the latter could wait.

Kit had not been staying at the Yard very long, but he was already getting used to the harsh regimen of exercises and training. From what he understood from older trainees, new recruits were driven especially hard, to whittle away those who did not have the stamina or fortitude for the life. Already three of his classmates had left, to return to whatever lives had been left behind -later in the year others would be found wanting by the Warders and instructed to leave.

 

Like that of everyone else in the Yard, Kit's day began an hour before dawn when a clanging bell awoke all the trainees. They gathered in the Yard, where they were put through a rigorous and punishing set of stretches and exercises by one of the veteran Warders. Each of the trainers had their own style -some were stentorian and abusive, some comparatively warm and encouraging, some distant and dispassionate. After that, it was a long series of timed runs through the Tower grounds, sometimes involving negotatiating some of the complex obstacle courses set up on the trainee routes. Failure to complete them in time that the Warders considered appropriate led to a punishment of more laps.

 

After a hurried meal, there were yet more exercises, sometimes alternating with more traditional classes in history, politics, philosophy, mathematics and basic engineering. Some trainees took advantage of these classes to sleep, not seeing any relevance to the Warder training they'd signed up for. Somewhat to his surprise, Kit found himself very interested by them and had no difficulty staying awake as a Warder took them through the Trolloc Wars or the basic principles of bridge-building.

 

There were sports in the evening -races, ball games and anything that demanded both teamwork and competition, followed by yet more laps of the grounds. At the end of the day, after eating, the new trainees were allotted a precious hour to themselves before bed, which they could spend by themselves or in the common room of their house. Conversations in this climate of exhaustion and fear for the future varied. Some loudly bragged of their prowess on the field, hoping to cover their worry and anxiety. Some talked wistfully of home. Some simply sat in weary silence. Kit said very little at the start, although he joined the others in the common room most night and listened attentively to what was said. His fellow housemates were impressed by his grave, thoughtful manner and the air of quiet confidence he carried with him, unusual among trainees. Having Kit on one's team for races and exercises began to be sought after.

 

One thing that the day's regimen did not include was any kind of training in weapons. Trainees of longer standing could be seen practising swordplay and archery in the Yard every day, but Kit's class was not instructed to join them. This irked many of the more hotheaded trainees, who had after all joined for the prospect of learning to fight like the world-famous Warders. Some even protested to the Warders, and recieved short shrift.

 

Then one evening it was announced that training in weapons would begin the next morning, and that the trainees could choose from a selection of trainers. The end of their induction period was greeted with mixed feelings. Now they could indeed begin to learn what they had come for. On the other hand, now the trainees entered the ranking system. Before, they had been an undifferentiated mass. Now, each of them would be being assessed, being given a ranking in swordplay, archery and the uses of other weapons. They were in competition with each other now and, if anyone's ranking fell too far, they would not be allowed to stay. They now each had to prove their worth to the White Tower.

 

Kit doused himself in cold water and walked outside. To his surprise, Visar stood behind one of the stands, testing the weight of a blunted practise sword. Kit had not seen the Warder since his arrival in the Yard several weeks ago.

 

One of the trainees behind him, an Illianer lad called Natan, caught his glance:

 

"I would not be choosing him now. Warder Visas do be a very hard man, they say"

 

"He helped me when I first came here", Kit answered.

 

"He helped you?", the Illianer said, squinting doubtfully.

 

"Yes, he and Warder Anwashawn. It's a long story. I sang a song I shouldn't have sung"

 

Natan rolled his shoulders expressively. "It do be your choice, sure"

 

Along with a large proportion of the other trainees, he was making his way to Warder Beroth's stand. Beroth was not an easy trainer, none of the Warders were, but he was known to be a little more softhearted than most, and could sometimes be prevailed upon to overlook a failure or mistake.

 

Kit, who always preferred to think for himself and in any case, had his suspicions that Beroth's putative kindness would melt away when training began in earnest, made his way to Visar's stand.

 

"Good morning, Visar Gaidin", Kit said, giving a formal bow.

Visar gave a small smile at Katran (ooc: that is his full name right?) coming over.  Including him, there were only about half a dozen trainees gathered so far.  Well, let the more popular Warder teachers have their flock, Visar thought.  It was easier to focus on improving the fighting skills of a few trainees than keep track of too many.

 

"Good morning, Visar Gaidin" Kit said, bowing formally.  Visar acknowledged the respect given with a small bow of his own, replying,

"Good morning, Katran.  I trust your training goes well so far?  Have they got you started on any weapons yet or is this your first class?"

 

He might as well talk to a few trainees as they came in before starting the class.  Visar passed Katran a blunt steel long sword, so that Kit could get a feel for the weapon himself while they talked.  Visar had made sure that all of his training blunts were reasonably wieldy, the center of balance on the blade very close to the hilt.  That would allow for agile cutting and deftly controlled thrusting.  With the pommel to help balance the weapon and the crossguard to help trap another blade, the long sword was in Visar's opinion a very versatile weapon.  However, he felt that he should let the trainees make their own observations and judgments.  Not everyone fought like he did.

(ooc: That's right; Kit's full name is Katran)

 

 

Kit weighed the blunt steel sword in his hands thoughtfully, passing it between them, trying to get a feel for the weapon's weight. He gave an experimental swing, then rested it over his shoulders behind his head in the Amadician guard position.

 

"This is our first weapons class", he said.

 

Other trainees were swiping or cutting with the blunted blades and wooden practise swords. Some, like Kit, had clearly had a little training before coming to the Tower and their movements were marked with a certain economy and control. The others swung wildly, or engaged in clumsy mock-duels with the unfamiliar weapons, laughing.

 

"At home, the Whitecloaks always favoured lances on horseback and long swords in hand to hand", Kit said thoughtfully. His mention of the Children no longer provoked odd glances among his fellow trainees, who had grown accustomed to Kit's apparent nonchalance when discussing the Whitecloaks and the training they had given him. "Lothair Mantelar praises the long sword as the ideal weapon for a Child in The Way of the Light -well-balanced, heavy enough to inflict serious wounds but not too heavy to swing repeatedly. He says a well-trained Child can express his beliefs through swordplay just as much as through words"

 

(ooc: I guess it's just you and me and some NPC trainees for now, Kit; if anyone wants to join still you can say you were among the npcs and catch up potentially)

 

"This is our first weapons class" Visar resisted the urge to sigh.  New trainees could be difficult even in the best of times.  Especially with some of their assumptions on swordplay, wildly swinging their blades around like drunken buffaloes.  However, Kit at least seemed to be focused enough, adding his thoughts on the weapon, including an intriguing insight from Lothair Mantelar.

 

"Lothair was right; it is a good weapon." Visar said simply.  He had never had too much against the Whitecloaks other than their hatred of Aes Sedai, but had he been any different in his suspicions and ignorance growing up in Tear?

 

Visar noticed that some of the trainees immediately started to spar, some with the blunt steel swords.  He needed to stop that for now; steel, even blunted, was dangerous in the hands of young boys who did not have the experience to control their strikes.

 

"Enough of that!" Visar snapped at them, ordering them at attention.

 

"Alright, you WarTs! Line up!" he said, ready to begin.  Kit seemed already ready.

 

"First up, everyone put the practice swords back, we're going to practice some footwork without swords.  Though if you wish, imagine you have a sword gripped in your hands."

 

The swords put aside for the moment, And Visar turned to face the same direction everyone else was.

 

"Everyone get into a stance.  On the balls of your feet, back straight, knees bent, front foot facing your imaginary target.  You may have a wider stance with your feet than normal."

 

He turned, making sure everyone caught on to his stance, and demonstrated a lower, more powerful stance.

 

"First up, a simple step forward, the back leg passing the front.  Next, pass the front back to end where you started.  This is good, powerful footwork for cutting!"

 

Visar had them practicing advances and retreats with simple, passing steps for a while.  Most of them had it down, as it was the natural step when walking.

 

"Pretty easy, huh!  Alright, we'll vary it up, this time a shorter step, better for short slices and thrusts!  Advance with the front foot first, and then gather the rear foot behind!  To retreat, step first with the back leg, then gather the front leg back to remain in balance.  You should have the same foot forward either way.  Alternately, you can advance with the back foot first coming to the front, and retreat with the front foot first coming to the back. Practice this! Advance and Retreat!"

 

Visar took a lathed wooden sword, and walked up and down the line, correcting stances and shouting encouragement.

 

"Good, you got it! Do it faster!" he shouted to one trainee.

 

Seeing one trainee leaning forward too much, he thwapped them lightly on the head with the lathed stick.

 

"Back straight! You don't want your head being the closest thing to your enemy do you?"

 

"Eyes forward!  Don't stare at your shadow, no matter how pretty it is!"

 

And so forth.

 

 

Kit moved back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to make the movement as natural and balanced as possible. Something he had always noticed about Warders and Tower Guards was their air of intense situational awareness. No matter what distractions surrounded them, they always seemed to be able to focus and take in all the smallest details of the scene. Instead of simply concentrating on the exercise, he tried to let his muscles take over and focus on the scene surrounding him.

 

Gripping his imaginary sword, Kit delivered a stab at the figure in front of him. He tried to imagine a Trolloc, but he found it hard to imagine them. Before he'd come to the White Tower, Trollocs had been half a myth to him. There were enough Borderlanders, like his friend Miyas, among the trainees to dispel that idea, but all the same he found them hard to picture.

 

Visar now started to speed up the pace, using his lathe sword to rap those trainees who did not move fast enough or allowed themselves to become distracted. Kit gave up his speculations on Trollocs and concentrated.

 

After a while of them practicing moving back and forth, Visar called a halt.

 

"Alright, that was good enough for most of you.  You'll have to keep practicing of course until you move without thinking.  Now, so far we've just been moving forwards and backwards.  Boring isn't it!  As some of you might know, close combat, especially with swords, demands you be able to move in any direction.  So I want you all to pair up.  One with a lathed sword, the other without."

 

Visar picked up a lathed sword to demonstrate the attack he wanted the person with the sword to make.

 

"Either make a quick cut straight down." Visar demonstrated, cutting fully out and down the vertical line, the tip of his blade stopping just before it would hit the ground.  He then went back into a guard, and thrust straight out at chest level.  "Or thrust straight at his chest; no higher.  I'll have no eyes taken out on my watch, thank you, or I'll see that you get kicked out of the Yard for good after I'm through with you!"  Visar meant his threat.  He wanted no careless injuries today.  Playing rough was one thing, but disregarding safety, especially concerning trainees who mostly had not learned proper control yet, could be dangerous.

 

He explained what the person without the sword should do.

"You others might be wondering why you don't get a sword.  This is because you are to move off the line of the strike.  For attacks on the vertical line like that cut or thrusts, the best way to do this is to step diagonally forward; this way you can avoid the strike and at the same time put yourself well in range for a strike to hit him if you had a sword."  Visar demonstrated a quick traversing step, diagonally moving well off the line of an attack.  "If you get hit, it means you're either not doing it right, you're not fast enough, or your training partner is anticipating your direction before you actually move and tracks you.  Remember, WarTs with the sword!  You're not trying to kill your partner; this is just a drill to help them!  Strike ten or twenty times, it matters not to me, and then switch off, and let the person who did have the sword practice getting out of the way."

 

Visar saw to it that everyone was paired up, and watched carefully for those that struck too tentatively, afraid to hit their training partner in the head, or struck too aggressively, not caring for safety.  He'd be ready with his own lathe to break up any potential fights, as often happened with new trainees that arrogantly thought they were already blademasters or some such.

Kit found himself paired with Maen Domade, a Tairen lordling. Kit had always heard stories of the highhanded and supercillious nobility of Tear, but Maen had always seemed perfectly pleasant if perhaps a little too self-possessed. Stroking his short dark beard, Maen gestured politely for Kit to pick up the practise sword first.

 

What followed was literally an exercise in frustration. Unruffled and imperturbable, the dark lordling seemed to step effortlessly out of Kit's every step. Kit tried to vary stabs and cuts in order to take Maen unawares, but he still seemed capable of predicting Kit's every moment. Evidently taking pity on him, Maen ventured to make a courteous suggestion:

 

"It's your eyes, Kit. You always look in the direction you mean to strike"

 

Kit made no comment but from that point on tried to school his expression, reducing his face to a blank. He was rewarded with several solid thumps on Maen's bare chest, and the white flicker of a mildly irritated smile from the Tairen. After that, it was Maen's turn with the sword and Kit tried to read him in the same way. It wasn't easy and involved a share of hard drubbings, but by the end, Kit was beginning to learn certain tells, ranging from the way Maen gripped his sword to the tension of his upper arm muscles. The last practise swing of the bout had Kit stepping forward within reach, and punching forward an imaginary sword into Maen's ribs.

 

"You seem to have killed me", Maen observed. Kit just smiled.

(ooc: sorry about the wait, dude)

Many of the trainees seemed frustrated with the drill, Kit included.  Some were making very quick strikes that were difficult if not impossible to void against anyway, and others made strikes so slow and telegraphed that they would have easily been killed.  It was time to work on that, then, Visar concluded.

 

"Alright, while that was not the easiest drills in the world, being able to void and then strike is an important defensive concept.  So while footwork is a foundation for fighting, you will have to practice that more on your own, because we are moving on."

 

"How to defend?  It is said that a good offense is a good defense, and I happen to agree with it.  The faster you kill or disable the opponent, the safer you are.  So let us start with strikes, also called blows, cuts, hews, or slashes."

 

Visar led the group over to a row of practice dummies.

"When starting out, using pells like these are very useful to get your striking technique down.  You can strike as hard and as fast as you like without endangering your training partner.  There are four lines to strike on.  Vertical, horizontal, and two diagonal.  With these you can cut to the middle, or cut all the way through.  You can cut up or down, or left or right along the lines, making that eight possible cuts.  And with the longsword, you generally have two edges to make all of those strikes with, making that sixteen possibly ways to cut."

 

Visar demonstrated cuts against a pell, cutting against it along the four lines.  There was a vertical line that split the opponent in half; a horizontal line that could be moved up or down, but in this case Visar struck high in the middle of the head; there were two diagonal axes, one running down from right to left, and the other down from left to right.

 

"When you cut," Visar advised, "Imagine if you will that the tip of your sword is tied by a string to the target.  You should strike directly and in as short a manner as possible, as if your blade is snapping out following the line of the string.  The true time is this: first you move the hands and the arm straight out as if you were punching with them, the blade torquing naturally around. Then your body and foot follow behind the blow for maximum strength and stability.  If you move the foot or body before you move your sword with your arms, you will telegraph your intentions.  While making a devastating cut to hew your enemy in two is certainly impressive, you want to strike as quickly as possible, without telegraphing, so that you do not get hit around the same time as when you strike."

 

"Practice this please, and then we'll work on thrusts and basic defenses from what we've learned so far."