How do you do, fellow kid?

Artorias regarded Ezra and Aquila with a likewise nod to the two of them, but Corbin only leered at the chittering speechless bird with an upturn of his beak. The raven didn't care much for the eagle since their aerial spat during the pups' melee spar. Art had been about to pass by Ezra completely unassumingly until the larger boy turned to follow at his side and began to explain why he had been looking for him. His ears flicked to catch the speckled wolf's words, a curious look crossing over his eyes. Resin had instructed Ezra to train with him? Now that was odd... Why wouldn't be be training with his father, or with Dunkan, either of the two in charge of pack security and fighting lessons? Regardless of the reason, it made Artorias' ego swell with pride to know that his mother trusted his skills and dedication enough to entrust him with the responsibility of helping train Ezra. It had been no secret that the Hallows was sorely lacking in the physical protection department after their raid with Ashen, so he was more than happy to oblige his mother's command.

"Did she now? Guarding the alpacas... sounds like a punishment," he remarked, turning his curious glance on the dire wolf at his side while they strode down the corridors together. "What did you do to tick my mom off? Actually... don't tell me. Probably not my business anyway." He could understand the need for training first to sharpen and hone skills, especially if he was the only one being tasked to guard the herd animals for some reason. The extended winter had proven how dangerous it was, and the last thing any of them should be doing was going beyond the castle walls alone and unprepared. Ezra asked if he could train with him now, and since he was already on the way to do just that, Artorias gave a roll of his shoulders and nodded. "Sure, why not? The snow's getting a little too deep to do any training outside, so we'll have to use my gym in the east wing, so long as that's cool with you."

Artorias led the way down the east wing corridors until he reached a set of old double doors that pulled open with a squeal of the neglected iron hinges. Inside was another hall, significantly smaller than the great hall but still sizable enough for their purposes. Artorias had renovated it with a few training dummies he'd snagged when Ulric was setting up the outdoor training grounds and other makeshift targets around the edges of the room. The center had a circular arena marked off with scratches on the stone floor that he'd made with some old pieces of iron. It was crude, but effective. He would have to continue working on it over time. The floor around the dummies was littered with the splintered remains of broken training swords Art had clearly smashed during his workouts, a testament to the effort he put towards his craft.

Striding over to set his wooden sword down against one of the dummies, he turned back to face Ezra while Corbin fluttered his wings and flew to perch on one of the exposed wooden beams in the ceiling overhead and watch the two wolves. "Welcome to my little training dojo," he said with a proud grin. "So, where would you like to begin? You've gone over basics and fundamentals with your dad, right?" He had to assess and gauge the boy's combat prowess to know where to start with him. In their melee, he had been fairly good, but had a clear lack of tactics and form, meaning he knew rudimentary fighting skills—at least enough to bite and throw himself at opponents. But this would be his time to learn whatever he wanted to get from the blue boy.


"Artorias" | Thoughts | "Corbin"