(C1, Racksom) The Making of Men (12th Board)

Andyr was excited by the training going on all around them. This is what a fighting force was all about. This was an army. This was a war that he could participate in. Andyr was the Warrior Sword, after all. His soul would never be as calm as it was in the midst of battle. "You are still hurt. So we train with weapon. Pick one" he said as he unlimbered his sword. For Andyr, it'd been easy to take over a practice ring. All he had to do was walk into it, and participating soldiers just backed out.

A crowd was gathering, waiting to see what the barbarian had to give. Most thought, onerously, that he'd be slow, cumbersome and loutish. His blows would be heavy-handed, no finesse. If the little one could stay out of his reach, the barbarian would tire himself out and the little one would defeat him.

But they were wrong. Andyr was smart, and quick for his size. Not to mention that he knew when and where to apply his massive strength and although he'd be compensating for Little Blond's hurt torso, he wouldn't be going easy on him. By the end of their many matches, Little Blond would find that he wouldn't even be able to raise his arms.

He swung his sword in a practice arc, stretched his shoulders and squatted, stretching his legs. He stood, switched grips and swung another practice arc. As a dual sword wielder, Andyr was ambidextrous. So, whatever hand Little Blond used, Andyr would use the opposite. He was going to train Little Blond, but that didn't mean lesson one was going to be easy.

Little Blond was unfazed by the gathering of men around the ring, having been the center of attention many times during his training at the monastery. Sparring sessions with the older training masters were often held in front of peers, so this was really no different. Instead of concentrating on the gawkers, he watched the way Andyr moved when he drew his swords, assessing quickly what he could from the brief action.

Fighting Andyr with a single sword against his two and longer reach seemed akin to foolishness. He'd need something to compensate for the man's greater physical strength. Considering his options, he almost went for a long broadsword, but just looking at the weapon made his ribs hurt with imagined pain. A lighter weapon then…

He took a short blade pole weapon with metal sides reinforcing the wood core. The weapons was more suited to taking down horsemen with it's hooked back blade than hand-to-hand combat, but given the situation and limited weaponry available to him, it would probably just have to do. Picking up the weapon, he tested its weight and balance, swinging it experimentally to get a feel of its helot. The movement caused a lance of pain to strike up his side, but he gritted his teeth and bore it, taking a deep breath and concentrated on blocking out the pain. Andyr was probably going to try and test what he was worth, and he didn't want to end the day by disappointing the man too horribly much.

Mustering his strength, Little Blond walked to the center of the pitch, loosening his shoulders as best he could without sieving up and sunk into a defensive position just out of striking distance in front of Andyr, knees bent and legs apart, balancing on the balls of his feet. There was no way he was going to last long if he played on the offensive and relied on pure strength. Andyr would beat him in a second if they locked weapons and it came to a shoving match. He would just have to be faster, though having seen the way that Andyr so effortlessly swung his sword, he honestly wasn't sure if he even had that small advantage.

Last edited by Nen on Thu Oct 20, 2011 3:56 am; edited 1 time in total

Andyr had decided that he would fight Little Blond using only one sword. To wield two against the other man would be unfair, as Little Blond was hurt. However the other man had decided to wield some sort of poleax. Andyr smirked and wondered if the other man would have the arm strength to hold the weapon up after a couple of splintering blows. Andyr struck heavy-handed on defenders. When he was sure Little Blond was ready, he roared and charged forward, already fronting out of the path of Little Blond's arcing reach. Poleaxes limited one's arc direction. Especially with injured arms.

He swung a one handed blow to the poleax itself, his other arm raised, hand poised to grab the weapon.

He steeled himself for the charge, caught a little off guard by the warrior's loud battle cry, but the moment that Andyr's sword touched his weapon his reactionary mind took over. Little Blond used the momentum given by Andyr's blade to let the hooked blade of the poleax swing high, registering the hand meant to catch his weapon in the almost instinctive way of a practice combat fighter, controlling its course by bracing his right arm against his chest and swinging upward in an arc that took the weapon back over his shoulder, sliding backward with his left foot at the same time to avoid the barbarian's seemingly reckless forward charge. With a quick step backward pivoting around his planted left, Little Blond swung forward horizontally, altering the clean slice of the bladed edge upward to account for Andyr's height in a way that should have hooked the backward crafted edge of the poleax around the tip of the barbarian's blade, the strength of using his entire core to bring the weapon around enough to make a normal man loose his grip on the weapon. It would have been perfectly executed, but his damaged ribs hung him up, the swing falling lower than intended, slower, and weaker.

Andyr was somewhat surprised by Little Blond's reaction, but immediately proud once it registered that the man knew how to fight. Unfortunately, he was not yet well enough to fight effectively and Andyr had no intentions of giving him leeway because he couldn't work through the pain of bruised ribs and sore arms. He let his blade go, moving away even as it fell to the ground, enjoying Little Blond's jerky reaction. He didn't draw his other blade, simply kept coming at Little Blond.

There were some disappointed murmurs from the crowd. Apparently Andyr should have held on to his sword. People were really believing that he was some kind of meat head that didn't know how to handle a long range weapon with a medium range weapon.

How easily the faith of the fighting force relied in weapons.

Andyr regularly killed things with his bare hands, and he'd show the bystanders that relying on weapons was crippling.

Grimacing with utter discomfort, Little Blond was actually quite surprised that he'd managed to disarm Andyr and stood with his weapon out to the side, the shaft braced against his back under his arm for a good handful of seconds and simply blinked. Normally by this point, his trainer would congratulate him on a job well done and maneuver perfectly executed and that would end the lesson or else another match would start up again. However, there was no such standard set here, and immediately he realized the massive hole in his education being taught mostly defensive maneuvers: he had no idea how one was supposed to engage an opponent to start a fight. Not entirely sure what to expect next, he slid back into the home position, glancing at Andyr's discarded sword. Did he mean to continue the fight unarmed?

'Though steady and still, beneath the tranquility there is ever a reserve of determination. Never would one walk the side of a mountain and know it's fury until the landslide bears upon you, the heart crying out to the sky and screaming its defiance in a cacophony of dying souls. Carried away on the tormented river, a single leaf is no match against the current as it is swept into the void. Deter fate by not falling into its trap.'

Ah. Andyr saw it now. He was a defender, but his offense was lacking. In his bewilderment, Little Blond had made many mistakes. One was thinking Andyr's training stopped when one completed a successful disarm. Another was standing there and wondering what just happened. The last was sliding back to defend again.

Andyr's belief was that a good defense was a good offense and unfortunately, it seemed as though Little Blond did not have good offense.

He ducked, as he charged, readying to ram the poor man right off his feet. His hands were ever at the ready, to catch that damn poleax and play tug-of-war with it if need be. That was the trouble with any weapon that was mostly pole: it's killing end could be easily avoided. On a sword, all edges were deadly and unless one was good with maneuvers, one wouldn't be avoiding the killing end of a sword so easily.

He was expecting Andyr to pick up his blade. Or maybe even unsheathe the one at his hip, since that was a perfectly viable option, but he did neither and charged. Like a bull. Was the man sane?! He held his ground, leveling the blade directly at Andyr's chest and planting the metal shoe against the ground, really hoping the barbarian wasn't going to be dumb enough to impale himself on the weapon. Even horses had the sense to turn aside when they saw a wall of pikemen creating a barrier of barbs.

Then Little Blonde noticed the spread of his hands, perhaps a bit too late and understood what he intended. Dropping the point of the poleax and crab stepped to the left as quickly as he could, swinging the blade of his weapon to the right with one arm in hopes of keeping it out of Andyr's reach. If he lost it, then there was simply going to be no winning, and if he mistimed his steps, then Andyr would flatten him. It was keep away or get crushed.

PS: You have my full permission to body check and/or trample him if you so desire :3

Andyr loved this, fighting that is, whether for practice or for real. It was the one thing he excelled at, the one thing that made his blood sing and he grinned fiercely as his steps carried him past the kill zone. As the poleax swung into him, he held out an arm, catching it and instead of pulling it, seeing as he was so close, simply ran along the edge as he thundered toward the man.

To say that he plowed into Little Blond would be a bit incorrect. See, the force of Andyr's body check sent Little Blond right off his feet, and made him slide a couple feet in the dirt. With Andyr's grip on his weapon, the barbarian had also disarmed him. He turned the poleax in his hands and pointed it at Little Blond, lying on the ground.

The man was probably winded and decidedly against getting up. Andyr didn't blame him. He remembered being charged like that by his father, and knocked flying.

The difference between Little Blond's experience and Andyr's, is that the men around Andyr had laughed heartily. The men around Little Blond stared in open shock. Then again, there were a couple factors against Little Blond, but all in all Andyr had shown intelligence, quick thinking, agility and a lack of fear of death... or losing.

Andyr never came into a battle thinking he was going to lose. He also didn't fear getting hurt. He just may have caught the blade of the poleax on his hand instead of the harmless shaft, but that fear didn't stay him, he'd simply decided that he'd be faster and that he would catch the shaft.

"Are you fine?" Andyr asked, immediately cursing his lack of vocabulary. He meant to ask if Little Blond was alright, and if he needed help. "If you are not ready, I can wait" he said and leaned on the poleax.

He resisted the initial collision, trying to keep his feet against the odds, but his body protested loudly, pain blooming in full for a blinding second and when he could manage something like a coherent thought, it was to realize that he was flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him from the jolt of the fall. Little Blond's vision was dark around the edges, curiously tunneled has he drew for breath, the action causing more pain to lance up his side and his vision swam, blurring, so he closed his eyes and concentrated on not dying, barely registering Andyr's words in the strained tumble of his own thoughts.

'And so the leaf tumbles into the river, despite the wind's breathy lift.'

"I don't suppose you could be most useful and set a broken rib, could you?" He hissed under his breath, feebly setting up on his elbows, causing a whole new wave of pain when he moved. But he had to get up.

'For all the will a mortal soul provides, it can not even will itself to rise. Spend all the years of eternity forcing the world to move around you, and for all the effort a body will find himself standing in the same place. Strength comes when will is applied to oneself, for nothing can conquer a steadfast resolve save the doubts of a weak heart.'

Little Blond was too tired and in pain to even try and decode that one, managing to roll on his side and push himself to a kneeling position facing Andyr, his face pale with the effort of fighting the pain, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin. This was utter madness. Bracing his arm around his damaged rib cage, Little Blond managed to get himself to his feet and swayed unsteadily where he stood. "I'm… ready as I'll ever be." He gritted out, his voice thinner than he would have liked, but it was the best he could manage.

Andyr, for all his love of fighting, did not realize that others were not built like him. Andyr could withstand harsh punishment and training. Never before did he ever have to think about anyone but himself and already he could see how fatherhood could be difficult. He realized that maybe his own father had seen his limits and worked carefully to stress them but never go farther than a step beyond them. Andyr had not at all thought about Little Blond's limits.

The barbarian paled and knelt by Little Blond. "I did wrong by you. I take you to healer" he said, genuinely concerned. Carefully he threaded his arms under the man and picked him up, bracing him against his body, so as to prevent exacerbation of the injury. "Lead me to a healer. Now" he bellowed.

It didn't take long for someone in the crowd to peel off and lead the barbarian and his charge.

He was surprised to hear the earnest concern in Andyr's voice. Little Blond had always assumed that he was more or less like a duty to take care of, something to look after because Zartear told him to. To see that the man actually cared threw him a little off balance, even if his current state was mostly due to his rough handling. He didn't pull away when Andyr moved to help him out and gratefully leaned against him which took off some of the pressure that standing had on his chest, but not enough to keep rum pulling a pained expression that every step and every breath brought him.

'Be it cage of steel or cage of bone, a container inevitably holds something precious and fragile. So it is with a wandering soul that knows only be bounds of the body it carries. One without the other gives neither a lesser value, for gold is gold and forever will it shine. But the separating of the flesh and the mind is a painful transition from which there is little return. Bewildering the senses never broke a cage, but picking away from within the captive can learn to escape their prison. Be the carpenter and the key, control the body that would bound the soul and learn what it is to be free.'

The Voice's words took some of his mind off of his physical pain, and before he knew it he'd somehow managed to make it to the compound where the medics kept to themselves, set aside from the regular infantry to do their own work as they could. Hopefully, someone there would patch him up again, or at the very least give him something to dull the pain. Who knew? He could only hope to be as lucky.

Vespira looked around the small healing area. Most were here because of over tirdness, or too much sun. It wasn't much of a healing area in the first place. Although, what say did she really have, she wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place. She was more called for simple servant things, running errands and such. Unlike most the mages, she didn't flaunt her magic, which meant that her magic ability was horribly underestimated. No one really knew persay exactly what she could do. So, no one really was paying much attention to her now.

Ves sighed and stood up. She was bored of sitting there with nothing to do. She'd already snuck over and healed anyone who seemed to be in a lot of pain, so really there was nothing left here to do. That was, until the sound of feet come from the hall. She blinked and turned her head, gaging from the sound that it had to be someone much taller and bigger, and the first thing that came to mind was the man whom she'd seen with king Zartear. That really large barbarian man. Oh great, who did he break?' she wondered to herself. She couldn't wrap her head around someone actually being able to break any part of him, except maybe a nail of his, but that didn't seen like a reason anyone would visit the healing wing.

So, curiousity may kill the cat, but Ves decided to stick around for a little longer. One of the main mages would visit with the barbarian, she figured, and then she could go see what the fuss was about. Same thing she'd been doing all morning with a bunch of little things. The way the mages handled this stuff it was like they were two trying to heal an ant that they'd accidently stepped. Maybe she was a little over cocky in her powers, but she knew for a fact she was a hell of a lot better than any of these mages, and their cocky showoff attitudes. That was one of the many reasons she didn't bother showing off what she could do.

Andyr was very picky about who he wanted to see to Little Blond. He communicated with the healers, frustrated the entire time because he could barely articulate what he wanted. He wouldn't set Little Blond down and he didn't let them get close. In the end, the healers, equally as frustrated with Andyr as he was with them, led him to Vespira. She was known to be the most benign of them, attending to any task given to her without dissent. Andyr huffed as they left him.

He looked to Vespira and his brows furrowed. "You heal soldier. Arm broke yes?" he asked. He remembered her from his first meeting with the Lord Zartear, she'd come to heal the man whose arm that harlot had broken. She had been polite and had deferred to Lord Zartear. Andyr had approved of her attitude and had been grateful that she'd been around to help the poor guard. He realized that guards probably got a lot of flack from everyone.

Even himself.

He wondered if she healed the men he had harmed for insulting him.

No matter, Little Blond needed seeing to.

"I hurt Little Blond. Heal him... please" he said and carefully laid the man down on one of the beds.

Vespira was shocked when she saw the healer leading the large barbarian towards her. She was even more shocked when she saw who he was carring. The blond haired man from when she'd been called to see to the man in King Zatear's company. She was confused by the annoyed look on the healer's face. It seemed strange that anyone was led to her. No one knew what she could do, no one cared to be honest. She blinked startled for a moment, then remembered where she was, who she was around, and that she was directly looking at the barbarian.

Ves dropped her head low and nodded to his question. "Yes sir," she said softly, "I was, sir." She waited and listened to the man and when he set down the blond haired man she nodded her head. "I can heal him, yes sir," she said speaking softly. She channeled her magic, aware of the eyes that were watching her. The other healers smirking at the thought of how they figured she wouldn't be able to do this, and would end up getting punished or something. A few even watched her with pity, but she ignored them and focused. She rested her head on Vann's forehead, using her magic to numb any pain he might feel. She let her magic seek out what was causing the pain, anything that was broken or needed healing.

Finding what needed healing was the easy part. Numbing the pain was the easy part. It was actually mending everything and making sure it was done right that was the more difficult part. Difficult for some, but not for her at least. She'd gone back and fixed errors of others before, but hardly did she ever have the chance to fix something herself. This would test her slightly, but with what she knew was broken and hurt, she knew she could do this easily. And so, she set to work, shutting her eyes and focusing her magic to correct anything that needed to be corrected. She also kept the steady stream of magic to dull any pain. It took her a few minutes but finally she pulled away and turned to the barbarian. "I believe that is everything, sir," she said with a curtsey to the man. She didn't say anything else, and stood there waiting to be dismissed or yelled at.

Andyr waited patiently while the woman worked, a little anxious, but not altogether worried. This woman moved around like she knew what she was doing, and if Andyr was any judge of body language, she was a confident and talented healer, if not a bit rusty at it. Maybe she hadn't done large scale healing in a while.

Of course you'd require her to dust off those particular skills, Andyr. Way to go. What a great Father you are to your Jakthund.

Andyr scowled at his conscience and willed it away. There was a time and a place to question himself, this was neither the time nor the place. When the healer turned to tell Andyr she was finished, the scowl was gone and he looked curious. He knelt near Little Blond and passed a hand down his chest and abdomen. "How you feel?" he asked him. He looked to the healer. "He is... awake to talk? Not awake enough?" he asked, and for the hundredth time, cursed his lack of vocabulary.

He meant lucid. Was Little Blond lucid?

He hadn't felt any irregularities when he'd passed his hand down Little Blond's torso. He nodded to the healer, a smile of appreciation and relief on his face. "Sorry. Good work. Yes. He okay?" he asked. He could feel if there were major problems, but not the minor ones.

He also realized he was asking too many questions at once. He fell silent, an apologetic smile on his face.

For the most part, he couldn't really understand what was going on. The voice in his head was ranting on about the fragile nature of Vann's mortal body and something about pinecones. How the two correlated, he wasn't entirely sure, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind to try and understand either. The move from outside the medical tent to being transferred to the table was more or less a blur of pain, the movement required of him to transfer from a state of standing to a state of sitting required far more endurance in pain tolerance than what he had, and for a span of seconds he completely blacked out.

He was only roused to consciousness again when he felt a nagging urge to wake up and a strange pressure in his chest. The Voice had stilled, for once remaining silent in the wake of the healing magic that coursed through his body, realigning broken bones that had cracked after Andyr rushing him. It felt strange, but it didn't necessarily hurt, and as the pain receded, his rational mind began to come back somewhat.

'Feel it. Remember it. Threads of the elder loom woven in flesh, flowing through form and forced forward for philanthropy.'

The feeling faded, and he began to hear outside voices. Muffled at first like coming up from a deep dream, then clearer. Slowly, carefully, he sat up on his elbows and looked around. Andyr was the first thing he saw, the man looking genuinely concerned, if a little put out. Immediately on his other side he could sense someone there and looked to see a woman standing by. Her face registered a whisper of memory, and he could feel the Voice gear up to start saying something about her and promptly ignored the beginnings of the speech, touching his side cautiously. "Looks like I'm better now." He mumbled, awed at how he didn't hurt anymore. He'd been prepared to be covered in splotchy bruises for weeks to come, but even those were gone under the healer's care. "Thank you." He said directly to the woman, nodding his thanks and sat up fully on the table, tapping his chest lightly with his fist. "I'm alright Andyr."

Vespira shifted uncomfortably as she was being stared at. She kept her eyes down and nervously nodded her head to the barbarian in response to his questions about the blonde haired man. Although, she realized she really hadn’t needed to say anything as he stirred. He moved stiffly and she relaxed slightly as he showed no signs of pain. That was good, so she’d gotten everything. She smiled softly to herself. She knew she was way better than anyone of these mages here. It amused her to see from the corner of her eyes a few older mages looking over. They were shocked, and she knew that they would come up with some kind of way to play this off and take the credit. She shrugged to herself. Let them for all she cared. So long as she could still help people.

Ves smiled and nodded her head to the blonde haired man as he thanked her. She didn’t dare look to either however, for she knew her manors. She felt a surge of weariness, but she ignored it. The loss of energy wasn’t much, nor did it bother her, and it only lasted a few seconds. She stood there in silence wondering to herself if she should ask if they needed anything else, or if she should merely wait till one of them dismissed her. She was leaning more towards the second option, but she did add to the blonde haired and the barbarian a curtsey and a simple, “Welcome,” in her small soft voice.

Andyr appraised her, then her surroundings, then Little Blond. Finally, he came to what he thought was a suitable conclusion and decided to share it with the woman and Little Blond. "I am strong. Not yet know boundaries, might need healer for Little Blond. You be healer" he said and supported Little Blond as he sat up. He hurt the man, so he was showing him it wasn't on purpose. He cared about his being okay. He looked at him carefully, making sure that he was alright before he looked to the healer.

"This okay with you?" he asked.

He thought having a healer on standby would be a good idea and an improvement for the woman. It seemed as though she didn't like her environment and that her peers were jealous of her talents.

Vann blinked at Andyr's offer, finding it a bit strange and at the same time was relieved. His training with the Brotherhood had left some serious gaps in his self defense, and Andyr could really pack a punch if he meant to. Having someone around that could fix him when the barbarian went too far would probably be a good thing. Absently he was tracing the curve of his newly healed ribs, still somewhat in awe that all the pain had been taken away so suddenly. "That's a good idea." He said, looking first from the healer to Andyr, appraising the both of them quietly. It was still very strange to think that the barbarian cared so much about his health, but he was quickly learning to take it all in stride. He could be in a much worse situation without Andyr, of course. Swinging his legs off the table, Vann stood, expecting still to receive a shock of pain and smiled when he didn't. "That would be a great idea." He corrected himself mildly, then looked up to the other doctors who were looking on with distaste. He would much rather entrust his life to the soft-spoken woman than these grumpy men. For sure.

Vespire was completely shocked by what she was hearing. Had this man really just asked her that? In all honesty, Ves had never been used for anything useful. Not in her opinion anyways. And normally, when she wasn’t caged in her room, she was here, healing those that these other morons failed to. Still, she really wasn’t supposed to be here, per say. In all honesty, King Zartear knew very little of her magic other than the small bit of healing she did with simple things. The broken arm had been healed, but they’d probably assume the pain was just numbed and he’d have come here to have it fixed. None of that bothered Ves though.

This was completely different. She’d have a job that required her time, and magic, and she didn’t even have to hide how good she was? The offer was something she’d always kind of wanted, but she had never wanted to show off to get it. She blinked and looked up to the barbarian from the tops of her eyes, her head still lowered, not wanting to be disrespectful. She glanced over to the blond haired man, the one called ‘Little Blond,’ and watched for a moment as he stood up easily and seemed to like the idea as well. She couldn’t help the small smile of satisfaction on her face as she heard a soft gasp from one of the older healers. Of course, she had no time to think about her own glory in her abilities.

Doing a small curtsey she picked her head up just enough to look up at Andyr respectfully when she spoke. “Sir,” she said softly, “If that is what you wish of me, then I would be happy to help.” She gave a small smile before going on. “I shall be sure to help in any way possible and I thank you for the offer.” She ducked her head again once more after that and returned her gaze to the floor. She waited then, to see what would happen next. She was more aware now of all the eyes on her, and it made her a little uncomfortable. She wanted nothing more than be a kid again right now and hiding from everyone in the shadows of the trees.

Andyr grinned widely. Little Blond was fine, in fact, it was like Andyr had never beaten him for his insolence and then broken his ribs during training. The woman had accepted, so polite and graciously. He was more than happy, he was elated. He rose, dusting his thighs off and put his hands together, looking between Vann and Vespira. "Good. Have two teachers for speaking" he said and not so subtly pushed Little Blond toward the woman. "Be good. Lead her" he told Little Blond and looked to the woman. "You come with us. We stay at stables. You like it. Warm, quiet, secluded" he said.

And it was the truth. The stables were warm, thanks to the animals and it was clean now. It was also quiet, save for the noises the horses made every so often and not many people came around the stables, so it was definitely secluded. He figured he'd have to keep the woman nearby. Having to go fetch her from the healers would be a lot of work. He didn't want to take the time to go and get her when that time could be spent making Little Blond into a Man.

It was also odd that Andyr knew some words and not others, but it could be rationalized that if his language had words that correlated with the words in Common, he'd learn them, even in passing. He was like a vocabulary sponge. What he couldn't grasp on his own was the small things, the grammar. Articles, prepositions, conjunctions. He needed help with them all.

In Andyr's culture, women had names, but unless she freely gave it, the Man would continue to call her Woman. Women were entities unto themselves, the politics between them largely unknown by the men they surrounded themselves with. It was generally accepted that women were allowed to do as they pleased, so long as they did the work that was expected of them. So too did Andyr believe this, and did not ask her name. He would call her woman, or lady unless she told him her name. Besides, she deferred enough to him for Andyr to assume she was the good sort of woman to keep around.

"Lead to stable. Not sure where I go. Soldier lead me" he admitted with a wide smile. He'd get the lay of the place soon.

His nod was subtle when the healer accepted Andyr's proposition, and then he very nearly tripped into her, only managing to avoid a collision when Andyr pushed him by grabbing her shoulders briefly. He spared Andyr a baleful glance over his shoulder for the shove but didn't comment. He'd just gotten fixed. There was no reason to tempt the barbarian into re-injuring him for being unruly again, even if there was a whole host of doctors standing nearby. "Follow me." He said quietly to Vesperia, then turned and lead the way out of the tent. He very nearly got lost on the way back to the stables once or twice, but in the end managed to get back after taking only one detour. During their walk he briefly explained what Andyr meant by 'teachers for speaking' to their newest addition to the group, but otherwise let the barbarian have his say on the matter to his contentment. When they got back to the stables, a thought occurred to Little Blonde and he stopped just outside the stable door, looking up at Andyr. "Can you read?" He asked, honestly curious.

Vespira kept her head down, even as the barbarian shoved the blonde haired man forwards. She blinked when his hand touched her shoulder and her checks grew red, but she quickly let a few pieces of her hair fall into her face, not wanting her embarrassment to be seen. That was the last thing she needed. She swallowed and nodded her head to what Andyr had offered. Quiet, secluded, warm. That all sounded nice, but she'd have to eventually return to her room. Wouldn't she? And what if she didn't? She thought that over to herself as she started to follow the blond haired man. She reached up and gently brushed her hair back behind her ear, watching the man's shoes so she knew where he was going.

She kept quiet to herself about how he'd make a wrong turn or get lost. She didn't want to be rude, nor step out of line. She wondered how she'd report back to her room though if the barbarian had offered her to stay with them. Well, all she really was at the moment was an errand girl after all. No one would miss her. She shrugged mentally to herself. Her steps were quiet as she walked, and though she never let on, the reason she managed to be so quiet was she literally walked on compressed air. She had learned to never make a sound unless asked to speak. Her magic made it all the more easier. Still, when the blonde haired man made a detour, she had to try hard to stifle a giggle. She knew her way around very well, seeing as she walked around silently at night, but Andyr had offered Little Blonde to lead, so she followed.

She listened to the blonde haired man as he explained being a speaking teacher. That worried her slightly. After all, she was shy. She wasn't supposed to speak unless asked to, and even when she did speak her voice was soft. She didn't that would be the best idea for her. She could heal easily, yes, but when it came to teaching? Nervous she ducked her head more. Now she felt a little uncomfortable. What if she didn't teach the man right. She feared being punished. She knew easily how to avoid getting hurt, or taken advantage of, but that meant exposing her true abilities. She had promised to never let anyone know exactly what she was capable of, and that left her defenseless. She actually almost ran into Little Blonde when they stopped at the stable door, but she quickly created a small breeze to push her off to his side, and stopped there and turned to face the two men, embarrassed again, but trying not to let on.

Andyr shook his head at the young man's inquiry. "No. Letters are harder than speech" he said. He'd tried, but all the marks just looked like odd scratchings and nothing more. Oh he could read runes, but he'd fast learned that the runic letter system was all but completely forgotten in the Southern lands. "I can read runes" he supplied, as much good as that would do anyone. They were at the stables once more, and Andyr knew his way around, so he pushed past Little Blond without apology and began to tend to the horses. "Little Blond! See the woman gets nice clean stall. Give what she wants. Animal, no animal, straw, no straw... blankets. Understand?" he said. He paused to let the order sink in before he gave another. "When you finish, come with me. We feed and brush down horses. Talk of fighting attack" he said. There was much to discuss. After all, he could defend well, but what was the use of defense when one had absolutely no offense.

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