Narrator Sira !!eK/DTdS3ONO ID:Liggshc5 No.6163695 Report Quoted By:
… in any case, I ought to prepare for the lesson.
“Before any bladework, handwork, or footwork, or the postures, we must know one’s openings. A man can be divided into four quadrants—” With my quarterstaff, I tap the picture mounted on the wall. “High left. High right. Low left. Low right.”
Standing front of a matted room, instructing the folk, brings to mind a time when I was still straight - as straight as soon-to-apothecary and later, slavecatcher could be, I suppose.
“I really do not want you to tarry long in - any - of the stances; the postures are the outermost point in which you can execute strikes from, although some may act as wards.” Pointing to Warin, I have her execute a cut with my old feder*sparring longsword. “Notice how the cut from roof flows into longpoint into fool’s guard.”
To solely instruct through words is not a wholesome way of learning, of course.
“A blade may be divided into two parts; the upper third, ‘the weak’, and the ‘strong’, the lower third. The former, easily manipulated, best used for strikes, the later, more earthfast, best used for parries. They are nothing more than functions of leverage.” Sohm’s eyes light up as Warin retrieves my battlesword. The tip is rolled and its edge blunt, but nevertheless it stands - when upright - some inches above my head.
“There is far more to the knightly and noble art than strength. Miss Warin. Cut at my high left quadrant, please.” Warin, taking care to ensure the blade does not hit the ceiling as she steps a little further from me, moves it to her shoulder and shifts her weight on her back-foot. The blade sits just behind her shoulders - wound up and ready to cut.
With a passing step, she strikes at my upper left quadrant; my right side shoulder and arm. I extend my arm and turn my edge to catch hers.
The steel clangs loudly, but my block does not collapse, rather, the battlesword bounced off my rappier since I caught it edge-on and on the strong of my blade. My rappier rattled, of course, but it moved scantly an inch. With her point and edge off-line, I drop my edge onto her newly exposed arm.
“W- wow.” Her eyes stay fixed on the battlesword as Warin returns it to the rack.
Ha. I cannot say I was elsewise when I first learnt the art. It does not see much use outside pike squares or the hands of body-guards nowadays, but swinging around a head-height sword is good for the shoulders (and mind).
The latter half of the afternoon was spent outside, practicing on a pell. Predictably, with the battlesword, although I did get her to try the shorter swords, too. She did not like the complex-hilt ones any too well; all the bars and rings made them tiring to hold while extended.
We were all sweaty (well, excepting Warin) and panting when evening came, so I concluded the lesson there.
(It will be some time before I let her use a live one, but she has the heart for it.)
