Memories of the Blade [FLASHBACK] (Masamune)

[Drei Nervi]

4th of Kalandryas, Winter, Era XV P.F.

It was late morning when Drei arose from his sleep feeling refreshed. He ended up sleeping at some cheap inn. When he was ready he left his room with his usual items. He had a few things he wanted brought, one of them a weapon. Arakmat wasn’t really the best choice for bargains but he still found himself wanting a few things. This visit was mostly just the tied things up before moving on with his life. A few people were left in the city he didn’t deal with last time he was here. They weren’t that important but better off killing them now than risking letting them live.

First off he would need a sword. Something he would be able to use to show some sort of class. He was something of a swordsman but nothing warranting him more than a common sword, maybe something a little nicer just to add to his image. Hakim’s Weapons and Armour Emporium would do just fine. The number of customers and the number of weapons around would make things easy to acquire. He wouldn’t have to go through too much trouble and preferably no waiting.

He reached the store quickly enough and entered looking around for a decent weapon that fit his purposes. There were many weapons in different styles and makes. He stuck with swords and quickly browsed through the types he could see and then eventually chose a sabre. It was a fair weapon made of, what he could guess was, fine steel, or at worst, steel. It was a little heavier than he would have preferred, but still easily controllable. The key reason he chose it was for the elegance it represented. Of course it fit his style of sword fighting, or what little style he had.

He tried to get a feel for the sword if he could without causing too much disturbance. He moved the sword slowly in a pattern he was once shown, in fact it was here in Arakmat where he learnt how to use a sword. His mind started to bring back the memories of his times in training. The combination of being in Arakmat, practicing the sword and one of targets brought back the memories.


A teenager was sitting on the street. He was quietly watching the people go by as they did. He was homeless and living in filth. At several times during his life he had stolen just to live. It was a simple life, and one that he had somehow kept for longer than most others would. He was older than most of the people he watched walk by, doing their business, and not caring about the disheveled Esh’lahier on the side of the road. If they did notice it was only to take amusement in his humiliating state. The teen could only remember one and a half eras back before everything that happened to him was a mystery. He didn’t even understand his culture or anything else. He only knew he had to survive and how to do so.

The crowd was normal thing. They always passed by like that. Today though, there was something was going to happen, something that would be more useful then just passing him by. He was going to be given a chance.

[Masamune]

STOP! THIEF!"

The cry rang throughout the streets, and though in the more crowded lanes it wasn't unheard of for someone's coinpurse to be liberated into the hands of a greedy new owner, the circumstance of this theft was much more...unique.

The raptorian saurid that was quickly retreating from the shouting young nobile held clutched in his claw a jeweled rapier. A weapon that was a balance of extravagant taste and functionality, and it seemed clear that such a treasure would sell for a small fortune on the black market...doubly so if anyone ever discovered what the weapon was actually made of. The saurid's quick pace and hurried backwards glances ensured that he did not, in fact, see the young Esh’lahier underfoot. Tripping over the young elf the lizardman let out a soft string of sissing curses. He turned to the youth and cried out.

"Watch where you seat yourself, brat!" As he stood he drew the sword and lashed out at the young elf in a backhanded swipe that would have left a very deep wound. That is...it would have if it had connected. Instead the weapon--now unsheathed to reveal a jewelsteel blade--was parried by a walking stick.

"Come now," a dry old voice rasped, and despite the ragged tone the strength behind it was phenominal, "If you're going to draw a blade, make sure you use it correctly." With a flick of his wrist the wooden stick parried the blade wide, and at the sudden explosion of occurrences a rings of spectators quickly formed. Some of the more unsavory were already exchanging bets on the outcome.

"Of course, by 'correctly' I do not mean just with technical precision...I of course mean by honorable rules...such as no striking an unarmed opponent or a child...and an unarmed child is right out." The man with the walking stick was a human, and he couldn't have been a brightening younger than fifty. His posture was rigid and his stance fluid, however, which bespoke regular training that made his body loose, even in his old age. Aside from the slightly crooked but more-or-less straight walking stick, the man was wearing little more than rags upon his smudged and dirt-stained skin, browned as much by the desert sun as the grime caked on. Stringy, dirty white hair hung long from his head down to his chin in waves, and a thick, full beard of white was growing in on the front. By all appearances, he looked more likely to be begging for spare coin than defending the young lad's life.

"I don't have time for this!" the eager saurid hissed, but the crowd would clearly not let him pass without a decent showing of a duel, and the aged man appeared ready and willing, a back stance with the stick held outwards and upwards like a sword and his left arm behind him and held outwards for balance.

"You alright lad?" the aged urchin asked of the young Esh’lahier, a curious grin on his face even as he faced off against the frustrated and agitated lizardman.


OOC: Hello. Dark has asked me if I'd take this, and I readily agreed. I look forward to having some fun together. If for whatever reason you'd rather have Dark or another mod, let me know and I'll step aside, but barring that I think this could be a pretty enjoyable flashback. ^.^

[Drei Nervi]

He never paid too much attention to the things happening right in front of him. He couldn’t ignore everything but it was made all the easier by the constant commotion. He heard many things; people bartering, small talk, and anything else the fools were willing to discuss. If what he heard could be useful to him it registered, if not it was ignored. Such things like an accusation of a thief, though it was louder than most other things he heard. It was a common occurrence signifying the failure of a fellow thief or sometimes the idiocy of one.

Today was no different. The call came from a noble after his sword was stolen by a passing saurid. In the Esh’lahier’s mind it was quite a stupid decision to draw so much attention to yourself and let the ordeal fade from his mind. Either way the outcome didn’t effect him. This wasn’t a mistake, the chances of what happened next were quite slim. The idiot managed to run into the to young elf with quite some force. The impact itself was a shock and the pain that followed quite potent, but nothing that wouldn’t go away in a little time.

The young elf was disorientated and by the time he realized what had happened the saurid was already accusing him. He would have defended himself if he had the time but the saurid obviously wasn’t going to wait as he drew the stolen sword. Time seemed to stop for the child as the fear of his death set in. He couldn’t think or move because of it, he was paralyzed. It was almost like the seconds before his death were just play that he was witnessing, helpless to do anything about it. Luckily, he didn’t have to. An old man interfered and parried the strike. The child couldn’t comprehend that he had survived and remained still to watch a little longer instead of scurrying off.

A little dialogue passed between the saurid and the old man, but the elf didn’t take any of it in. The whole world had faded out from his mind. Only thing he was focused on was whether he was still alive, and whether what he saw really happen. An old man parrying a magnificence sword like the one the saurid had drawn seemed more like a fantasy his mind had conjured up to ease his fear. He couldn’t feel the pain for when the saurid tripped over him either, but that was because it had gone out of focus. He was sure he should have died then and believed it was true, but as time passed he felt the world come back into perspective, along with his pain. The old man was there and it looked like a duel was about to begin between the two.

His fear was replaced with respect and amazement of the old man. Instead of running away he wanted to see the rest of this fight, though he did scurry away from the two for safety. The old man asked if he was okay. The elf was slightly shocked to be spoken to but managed to respond, “Yeah.” It had been a horrible few second but he felt he was safe now and waited to witness the fight.



OOC: I completely don't mind. I'm sure it will turn out great.

[Masamune]

As the young shadow elf backed away from the pair facing off, the elderly urchin smiled congenially.

"Good! That's good. If you weren't...well, then I suppose this whole grandiose show was for nothing, eh boy?" He chuckled good-naturedly, before turning to face the thief-turned-swordsman. "And as for you, my raptorian friend...I expected better of you. Making such a show in the middle of the street. You're either desperate, stupid, or new...or a combination therein. Either way it's too late to back out, the rightful owner of that fine blade has already joined the crowd."

The man's eyes focused just behind the saurid's shoulder, and the panicking saurid turned to look...a very stupid move in a duel. With a quick riposte he tapped the finely crafted blade wide and shuffle-stepped inwards, taking advantage of the opening to poke the very end of his walking stick expertly in one of the most vulnerable parts on any living creature, scales or otherwise--his eye. As the stick poked, the saurid let out a sharp cry and backpeddled, flailing the blade wildly. The old man stepped in, taking advantage of the chaos. The blade was going every which way and the old man engaged the blade with his stick, catching it on the outside and making a circular motion while keeping the blade engaged to control the flailing and eventually flick his wrist, using the movement to remove the sword from the lizardman's hand. As it went high into the sky the saurid panicked and moved to try and catch it, but the old man anticipated and lunged again, this time for the windpipe.

With a wet sound like he was suddenly choking he stopped, his serpentine eyes bulging as his step stuttered. He looked woozy and weak in the knees as his hands grasped at his throat, unable to breathe.

"Relax," the man said, stepping in and pirouetting to catch the blade perfectly in his off-hand before completing the turn to lay the blade on the lizard's neck, "It's not crushed, just bruised and, for a few seconds, constricted. One false move and this blade will give you a neck-smile, however...not a fun prospect." The lizardman remained completely stationary even though he was still gasping for air as the old urchin turned to the constable, who'd been watching with a bemused grin. "If you don't mind, good sir constable, I believe this man is ready to turn himself in and confess...once he can speak again, of course." The constable chuckled and stepped forward, taking the saurid into custody.

"That's Ol' Smitty for you...always had a way with people, you did," the constable said, dragging him off as Smitty reclaimed the sheath from the raptorian's clawed hand before sheathing it, and passing it off to the owner who had indeed been watching; impressed.

"I can't thank you enough," the noble said to the beggar, "If there is a way to repay you, just name it and I shall." Smitty laughed and shook his head.

"Don't be stupid enough to get you blade snatched in broad daylight again and I suppose we shall call it even." The noble gazed at him, shocked, his mouth stammering for a moment before he could speak again.

"Are you sure? Nothing? A man in your...condition?" Smitty eyed him, the ocean blue tint glinting amusedly.

"I used to have your life...I like mine just fine as it is now, thank you. Off with you." He gave no more explaination than that and the very confused noble reclaimed his blade and left, scratching his head as to why a beggar wouldn't want money to feed himself for performing such a kind-hearted and honorable task. Meanwhile, the old man turned his focus to the Esh’lahier youth who'd been the spark of the entire event.

"Well lad...that was quite an adventurous moment. I dare say you were imperiled for a moment...lucky that I happened along. Have you no way to protect yourself?"

[Drei Nervi]

Drei had little choice in the following events. Regardless of what he said of did, none of it would change anything. The fight between the two was interesting. The old man appeared to have control and was incredibly confident in his own abilities, quite inspirational to the young elf. As things continued the old man showed humility, denying anything the noble wanted to offer. The old man couldn’t appear anything but a brilliant saint after all he had done. The elf wasn’t interested in how good he was, but how the others reacted to him. If the boy could get people to respect him as much as the old man he would be on the streets anymore. The thought of it only crossed his mind at the time.

The old man finally finished with the authority, the noble and the saurid and now it was the Esh’lahier’s turn. The Esh’lahier response was simple, “Not really.” But he did reveal his dagger. Something he had picked up and mostly used for menial tasks more than to protect himself. The incident beforehand was enough to show he couldn’t use if the time came. His fear had controlled him at that point and couldn’t even draw it. He was determined to get control of fear so he wouldn’t have to suffer such embarrassment. It was probably something he’d have to get used to, but at that point the child didn’t care what he did. He was just going to do it.

The old man had saved his life and his style had impressed him. Drei wanted this man to teach him what he knew. If he could adopt his confidence he was sure he wouldn’t freeze up again. “Could you help me?” the child added. The child was quite an unusual sight and hopefully his apparent innocence would convince the man. After all he was a defenceless child like the man had pointed out earlier. Age would come with time, but as for the skills, someone would have to teach him at some point, hopefully it would be him. Who knows how he’d turn out if he learnt from a bandit; he’d probably end up no better than the raptorian.

[Masamune]

The aged urchin gazed at the youth as he answered, holding out his dagger. Smitty never once looked down on the Esh’lahier, the smile that tinted his face was one of kindness.

"A child should never have to learn to wield a weapon. When one draws any kind of weapon for any reason, they must be prepared for two things: Prepare to kill, and prepare to be killed. Swordplay is a risky business, and only the best can control it with such precision that they can keep from killing. Until one is an expert with a blade, the best approach is to fight as though one truly intends to kill their target. Now, knowing all of this, are you still sure you wish to learn? What do your parents think of such a thing?"

By now the crowd had broken up and were moving along the streets as though nothing had happened. Smitty stood, leaning heavily upon his walking stick, and as he asked Drei the question, there seemed to be a slight edge of desperation in his eyes, as though he truly didn't want the boy to learn how to fight. A child with a weapon was a sad sight indeed, but a truly mournful sight was a child who knew how to use it out of necessity. He asked about the young shadow elf's parents, but in truth he already had a good idea about this lad...so damn much like he himself had once been...

After a past like Smitty's, teaching a child how to hold a weapon would just seem to cap it all off. He truly would feel in his heart that he were a monster, no matter the necessity. He was working hard so that his sins would be forgiven, but there were some sins, such as soiling a child's innocence, that simply could not be forgiven. If asked, he would teach, for he truly did believe it better he than anyone else, but it would break his heart to do so.

...if this was the penance he had to pay for his crimes, however, he would do so with nothing less than his all, as that was how Smitty did things. If this child truly wished it, then the mysterious urchin would teach him the ways of the blade.


OOC: Sorry for the long wait. Hope you had a happy 4th weekend. ^.^

[Drei Nervi]

OOC: No problem. Hopefully by next post I can flashback to the actual training.


It would have been so much easier if the old man had given him a simple yes or no, but instead he asked the young esh’lahier if he was prepared to learn how to kill. It was a little more than the dark elf had asked for. He would have been happy with just learning how to defend himself, and hopefully ridding himself of the paralysing grip of fear, but if the old man would teach him how to kill, he’d happily accept. He had some sort of realisation that learning to kill would give him more freedom. He didn’t have to always be on the defensive, meaning he could remove the threat before they could even try to hurt him. Of course, darker reason also came to mind, like he could kill for money, or something similar, but he dismissed them. They seemed more like something the raptorian would resort to, and he didn’t want to be group with such a common criminal.

The esh’hahier finally came up with his response for the man after his little day dream. He decided to answer the parents question first, even though it was pretty obvious he wasn’t involved with them anymore. In fact, he couldn’t even remember ever having any to begin with. He wasn’t exactly sensitive about it and openly told the man, “I’ve never known my parents, only thing I can remember is these streets. If they are still alive I’m sure they don’t care about me.” After giving a slight pause before getting back to main question, he continued, “Still, I want to learn, even if it is a horrible thing. Nothing can be worse then losing my life, at least for me. I’m sure if I survive long enough I’ll be able to advance to point where I am skilled enough so that I won’t have to kill people.” He had given more than just a simple response to the old mans question. He couldn’t say anything less after the old man had enforced how indecent it was for a child to hold a weapon, and be taught how to kill.

He waited for the old man’s response, hoping it would be favourable. He had given his reason for wanting to learn swordsmanship, and could only hope that the old man would help him, though if he didn’t, nothing much would change for the boy. He’d just go back to him normal life.

He snapped back to reality after he heard the response. The whole event had reminded him of something he didn’t want to remember. It was a disgrace that he let fear control him like that. These days he didn’t let anything he felt take control of him, including the anger he currently had at his old, weak self. He chose to thing a little more about the sword he was holding to get his mind off of it. He liked the way it felt after he had got a little used to it. He decided it was a good fit, at least for something that wasn’t made specifically for him. He could have spent more time looking around the shop for different weapons, but was fairly sure he wouldn’t find much better and also it would be a waste of time.

It had been decided, and the only thing left to do was to actually buy the weapon. He found his way towards wherever he would pay for the item. He presented the sword and said, “I’d like this.” It was the sabre he had chosen that was a simple weapon with a simple sheath, though it still held some elegance. It would be more than enough to get him through his business here.

[Masamune]

As the child spoke his response, the old man nodded sadly. He would do what he had promised himself he would, no matter how despicable a thing he thought it was...he was proven right when the youth spoke of not remembering his parents, nor of them caring for him. Someone had to teach this child how to survive, and it would be better Smitty than another, more sinister presence in his life.

"Then I will teach you. I am a harsh instructor, and you may hate me in the end for it...but when I am through with you, at least you won't hurt yourself if you must hold a blade. Come...your studies begin immediately...no time like the present eh?" He held out his arm for the young boy to follow in the direction the urchin was intimating, and gave him a smile that showed something about this man's life was awry if they were very, very careful about details:

Despite being an urchin, his teeth were all present, and a brilliant pearly white.



As Drei was snatched back into the present, he saw the young, dark-skinned shopkeep in front of him. The man smiled pleasantly and inclined his head at the requested order. "That'll be a hundred crowns for the basic steel model, sir."

It was a simple enough weapon, the curved-edge blade sharp on the front and dull on the back with a circular guard, though a small branch of metal came down to protect the fingers along the front of the weapon. The hilt was little more than cloth-wrapped ivory--and a relatively cheap ivory at that, though it probably wouldn't be breaking any time soon.

[Drei Nervi]

The price for the sword was one hundred crowns, which seemed reasonable. The elf would have preferred something with a little more quality, but he didn’t have the time or the money at the moment. “Okay.” He responded and then handed over the crowns before leaving the store. It was a little abrupt, but he wanted to get this over and done with. The longer he wasted doing this, the more he was likely to remember, and there wasn’t much he’d like to recall. In fact, he was doing this so he wouldn’t remember, and neither would anyone else. He planned to start something a new life, and didn’t want anyone he once knew to ruin it.

He walked quite casually through the streets with his sword sheathed, and in hand. There was always a lot going on at this time, but he seemed to be completely unfocused on any of it. He could remember this place. It was not far from here where he had met the old man, and a little more out of the way was where he learnt how to fight. He wasn’t proud of those memories since he was weak although they were a few he didn’t mind recalling, especially before a fight. It was quite some distance to where he was going so he started to recall the lessons the old man had given him.

The boy had followed the old man to start his training. He was expecting to training with a sword or something like a sword, maybe like how the old man had used his stick. The boy hid most of his excitement, but it was still apparent. His life, so far, had nothing. He only lived for the sake of living, nothing else. Before this old man had come to him, he had little hope of ever been anything more than what he already was. Half of the excitement also came from how inspired he was by the old man’s skills. If someone that good was going to teach him then he’d have a decent future ahead of him.

Whenever, and wherever they arrived, the boy was ready for the old man’s teachings. He would do what ever the old man said, within reason. He wanted to learn, but knew little of what to expect from training, or much else. He had a very simple life and didn’t really know how people did a lot of things. For learning swordsmanship he could only guess they would fighting or something to increase his skills. Other stuff such as making weapons he couldn’t even understand. To him it was a weapon made out of something in someway, though he couldn’t even imagine how. As his life continued he’d probably be able to understand more and pick up more facts, but for now he still knew nothing.

[Masamune]

The pair arrived at what seemed to be little more than a small shack--almost a lean-to, really, built into an a rather broad alley--but inside there was plenty of room to move about, as furniture was practically non-existent. When the came in Smitty closed the door--which, apparently, was a thick woolen blanket hanging from above--and turned to face his protege.

"Listen good, child. Every time you take up a weapon, you do so with the intent to defend something. Be it your life, your principles, the life of a friend, or in some cases like that saurid, whatever provides for your livelihood. Now, make no mistake. When taking up that blade, if you don't do so with the intent to kill, as that is exactly what a weapon is. A tool of death. As such, do not take drawing a sword lightly." He eyed the Eshi narrowly, examining him.

"Now, as for what would suit you...heavy weapons are clearly out of the question. So, a lighter blade. You're small, so something with at least a bit of reach would be helpful...but still light..." He stroked his beard thoughtfully before turning and moving slowly back towards something covered by a thick blanket not unlike the one serving as a door. As he pulled it off, a very small rack of a variety of swords was present. None were new--indeed none of them were even combat worthy, as rusted and dull as they were--but they would serve well enough for training purposes. He pulled two weapons from the rack, and compared them carefully. One was a katana, the other a saber. The third option, a balance between the two, was the elven longsword, but racial weapons served no good, as limited as they were. He hefted each carefully before nodding and replacing the katana.

"The saber will probably do you well. Lighter than a katana, but with similar reach. Heaftier than a rapier, which would be a bit too dainty methinks, the saber is a good, stable weapon that has a good balance for someone of smaller stature like one of the elfkin...yourself." He flipped it in his hand so that he held the blade, pommel out facing the young Esshie.

"The part I'm holding is the blade, and the very end facing you is the pommel. The grip or handle is obviously where you hold it, and the guard is the part at the top of the grip that flares out to protect your hand. The edge is the very sides of the blade, honed razor sharp usually to slice open flesh, and the tip, the very end of the sword, is used for thrusting at your opponent; trying to drive the blade into them." He swung his walking stick over his shoulder, tapping it slowly and thoughtfully on his old but corded muscles.

"These may seem like obvious things to you, they may not...but I don't know know what you know and what you don't, so I'm starting from the beginning.

"Now...stances. Footwork is one of the most important aspects of wielding a sword, especially among the lighter blades. The careful precision of your steps help determine the fate of the battle. This first one is a front stance or forward stance, and is commonly used as it lowers the center of gravity and places most of your weight on your front leg, which is good for challenging your opponent head on. Weight usually goes on the balls of your feet, as it allows for quicker movement and reaction time. Watch."

Stepping forwards with his left leg, his forward leg was bent at the kneecap so that if he looked straight down, all he could see was the tips of his toes. This right leg which was behind him was perfectly straight and the foot was turned at a slight angle because otherwise it would be a little bit painful to maintain. In between his legs was a gap about 30cm apart.

"Now you try."

[Drei Nervi]

As they walked through the streets nothing was new. The boy would normally disregard most of what he had already seen, but after the events of today he was still a little uneasy. Before too long though they had reached what the boy assumed was the old man’s home. They entered straight after arriving, leaving little time to observe the alley. Once inside it was quite spacious and probably even more so to the moderately short boy. There wasn’t much inside so the boy had little to be distracted by, nor was he allowed any time to do so. The old man started the lessons straight away. The boy was quite willing to do so as well and listened as the old man.

First, he explained again about how the boy should draw a sword with the intent to kill and nothing less. The child nodded in response and was quite sure he could do so with no problems. For as long as he could remember he never cared about anyone other than himself. It was wrong, but it didn’t bother the esh’lahier. Maybe it was his upbringing on the streets or just something wrong with his mind, but his mind was set. It wasn’t the only thing wrong with him, but the rest probably didn’t apply much to swordsmanship.

After that the old man started searching for a weapon for the esh’lahier to use. He was also rambling on about what would suit the elf. The boy was slightly interested, but he remained quiet and still. He was a little excited, but had enough restraint to wait. The old man knew way more than the child, so there was little point to get involved, especially since the man didn’t look like he wanted the boy to do anything. In the end the man chose a sword called a sabre, which meant nothing to the child. A sword was sword. The rest of what the old man said like comparing it to another sword the child absorbed, but it meant absolutely nothing to him yet.

As things proceeded the child was going to receive the weapon, but not before the old man explained it. The child was somewhat bright, even if he didn’t know much, and was able to understand what the man was saying. It might have been obvious but it was good to actually hear it instead of just assuming. The boy took the weapon from the man. It was heavy, but no heavier than the boy had assumed. It was still too heavy for his untrained arm to wield swiftly, but given time he’d get used to it. The boy continued to watch the old man, who had yet to give him an instruction.

There wasn’t much left for the old man to do after giving the boy the sword. The old man had chosen to start with footwork, which to the child sounded like a joke more than anything else, but he’d give the old man some leeway and at least go through with the training with questioning it. If this footwork was truly as important as the man had explained then the boy would need to learn it if he wanted to be successful swordsman. The first position as explained and demonstrated by the old man didn’t look too hard to imitate. The child took the form that the man had taken, and triedg to understand more the reasoning behind it and proper use than actually perfectly imitating the old man. The child figured that the stance would involve steps along with just standing still. Until he had heard all the man had to say on the matter he would bother interrupting the man’s teachings. The boy looked, almost blankly at the old man, waiting for him to continue to lesson.

[Masamune]

"Not bad," he replied, eying the youth taking the position, "this would be most useful for a sword that could handle two hands, to increase control and power, but for a one-handed blade that requires less core-strength to swing, a blade that can rely more on arm strength, it is somewhat lacking, because it leaves several openings and limits maneuverability. It allows for short, quick steps, but little speed as you always wind up with emphasis on your front leg. That’s where the weight is. You’re not fully balanced. The only time much weight would go on the back leg is for retreat, limiting mobility." He shrugged, showing that while it was worth learning, it wasn't necessarily going to be used as much.

"For most of our lesson, you’ll use what for simplicity’s sake can be called a side stance. Similar, but the legs aren’t as wide spread, and the weight more balanced." He began to demonstrate by knocking at the youth’s legs with the wooden blade, shifting his feet once more. "As you do this and turn your body to a slight forty-five degree angle from your target, your weight is even between the two feet, with only a slight emphasis on the back leg. This allows for a quick shift of weight to put more power behind the momentum of the blade." He demonstrated with a quick slice forward with his walking stick, stepping as he did so to emphasize the weight shift on his feet.

"This stance is ideal for lighter blades like the saber, as it maximizes mobility, which is a lighter blade's greatest strength. Now, I want to see you take the forward stance, then shift to the side stance, or center stance as some call it." He motioned to the youth, letting him take the position. He could see that the young boy was already not taking the importance of footwork very seriously but going through the motions. Once he'd taught him all three as well as step movement and how to swing a blade, he'd have to impress the importance of stances on him through a more direct manner than verbal instruction it seemed.