Ummm . . . attention Rosheen? :D

Braxton smiled. Why? Why not? It had taken calisthenics—much calisthenics—to recover from Aran’s last little joke, but now he was feeling better than ever, and more than ready to resume his training at as rapid a pace as he could set. For this reason he was up extra early on this particular morning and making his way to the Yard for additional weapons practice.

Aran, did, of course have malicious payback coming, as soon as Braxton shaped his evil intent into a solid idea. It was difficult to fault anyone totally when he had created such an opportunity. How many people would resist the fresh baked pie on the open window sill? Not Braxton, who was a very big fan of pie, and maybe not anyone else who knew they’d get away with it.

Braxton was the sort foolish enough to think “sparring” was defined by the use of actual weapons. He had stabbed himself in the foot when he first picked up a sword, but how long ago had that been now? It did not occur to him that a stave would carry, on a whole, less lethality than an edged weapon. Braxton would have disagreed, and could have proven his claim; was probably about to.

A brisk walk and the Yards were in sight. His sparring . . . partner was already waiting, as he had expected. It was easier this way, arriving before his betters would have been somewhat uncomfortable. A hail and salute did by way of introduction, if something more was required, he could count on military rigmarole to make him “aware” of the situation. Braxton was ready.

OOC: First time sparring with an actual person in *ages.*