early morning training


Knights’ Practice Room
Castle Anvard


Myles is in the part of the room stocked with training dummies, where he is working through a set of boxing exercises. It is too early to be light out, and the room is otherwise deserted.

Lanisen, looking like he was asleep not very long ago and would much rather continue in that state, opens the door from the equipment room and steps inside, carrying a lamp. He blinks to find the room already lit, then quickly begins to back out again.

Myles glances up when the door opens and, upon spotting Lanisen, waves to him before landing his next punch.

Lanisen, recognizing Myles, hesitates in the doorway. He bows and glances briefly at the rack of wooden swords, pauses another second, then seems to come to a resolution and crosses apologetically to fetch one.

Myles continues with his set, making plenty of straw-and-fist and hard-breathing noises but not talking.

Lanisen seems to be trying to be quiet. He gets his wooden sword and lugs it with a target to the other side of the room, where he is least likely to bother Myles.

Myles finishes his set and stops, stepping back from his target and shaking out his arms. As he catches his breath, he glances up again at the target-dragging Lanisen. He tilts his head and watches him with a look of confusion, but doesn’t say anything.

Lanisen sets up his target and steps back. He takes the wooden sword in his left hand and begins. The initial movements he uses are almost laughably elementary, but carefully controlled and very neat in their form.

Myles’s expression grows contemplative as he watches Lanisen for another moment or two. After that, however, he tilts his head from side to side to stretch his neck and then lunges into another boxing set.

Lanisen’s exercises grow slightly more complex once he has warmed up, but his focus still seems to be more on control and strength rather than mastering a more advanced technique. He relaxes into his rhythm.

Myles circles around his target, ducking low to the ground for a few punches and weaving as if to dodge opposing blows now and again.

Lanisen works quietly. The target doesn’t show much damage by the time he begins to wind up, but there’s a faint sheen of sweat on his face and he stretches his left shoulder and shakes out his wrist.

Myles works for a few minutes longer before he pauses to catch his breath again. A drop of sweat runs into his eye, and he winces and rubs at it with his sleeve.

Lanisen carries his wooden sword back to the rack and replaces it. He returns for his target and begins to lug it back to where he got it.

Myles, still a little out of breath, asks in a friendly tone, “Do you usually train this early?”

Lanisen stops, straightening, and bows slightly again. “Um. Yes, sir.” He gestures vaguely toward the chair where Doel sits during civilized hours. “Doel said it was all right, if I didn’t, um, if I didn’t leave a mess.”

Myles nods his head. “Can’t thing why it wouldn’t be. I just didn’t know anyone usually did.” He swipes at his sweaty forehead again. “Sorry if I’ve disturbed your quiet.”

Lanisen looks startled. “I– no, no, I’m, you were here first, I’m sorry.”

Myles shakes his head, grinning. “No, I didn’t come early for the quiet. Sounds like neither one of us needs to be sorry, then.”

Lanisen offers a slightly cautious grin in return. He picks up his target and returns it to the stack. “What did you come early for, then, sir?”

Myles shrugs one shoulder. “It looks like being a busy week. Got to find the time somewhere.”

Lanisen says, “Makes sense.” He rubs his right shoulder absently.

Myles tilts his head in the general direction of the sword rack. “How long have you been training?”

Lanisen says, “Um.” He pulls his lips between his teeth. “These past… six months, I s’pose?”

Myles nods in understanding. “You’ve got a good foundation,” he offers.

Lanisen says, “Thank you, sir.” He pauses, then explains, “Sir Darrin’s been helpin’ me some, showin’ me some things.”

Myles raises his eyebrows a little. “Is he? Well, good.” He straightens his tunic where it has gotten rumpled though activity. “Are you training in hope of a position, or just to know?”

Lanisen shifts, a little uncomfortable. “No, no, sir, just to– um, just to know, I s’pose.”

Myles nods again as he picks up his sword-belt, which as been set off to one side, and straps it on again. “Well, there’s always more to know, so it’s a good choice as far as that goes.”

Lanisen says, “Yes, sir.”

Myles sighs a little and looks toward the now-light sky outside the window. “Well. I suppose it’s time to see what’s on in the mess.”

Lanisen follows his glance and agrees, “Gettin’ on towards breakfast time.”

Myles nods and looks back at Lanisen. “Care to join?”

Lanisen says, “Oh, ahh.” He shakes his head slightly and bows. “No, that’s– I’ll get somethin’ from the kitchen in a couple hours.”

Myles says, “Ah, right.” He smiles. “A good day to you then, Lanisen. And good luck with your training.”

Lanisen says, “Thank you, sir. Good mornin’ to you.”

Myles dips his head in farewell as he heads out through the equipment room.

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