Roland was not surprised in the least that the colonel, Dasari, the highest ranking officer of River's End's newest residents, was more than willing to make good on his word. Last week, give or take a day or two, he had given Roland and his friend, Henri, an interesting gift - weapons, real ones - and promised to teach them a thing or two when he had the time. Truthfully, Roland suspected that Dasari probably thought that only one of them would have really taken him up on the offer, but, at least this morning, Roland was quite forceful - er, resourceful - when it came to convincing the second recipient to get his ass out of bed, dressed, and ready to learn to swing their new toys around; it was a good reward for themselves, really - after last week, they deserved to do something fun, and who knew, it may come in handy one day, right?

Colonel Dasari stood at the center of a large circle - ‘the stage’, he had called it - with a large, loose smile on his face. Before they had started, he had instructed Roland to ‘clench his teeth and stick out his chin’, and then punched him, hard, in the face, and sent him spiraling about, Roland was also pretty sure that Dasari had said something unflattering about Henri’s mother, but he wasn’t sure. His head was spinning at the time.

Suddenly, some of the snickering he had heard while they were heading to the ’stage’ made sense. Henri and Roland didn’t - couldn’t - know it, but ’on stage’? Dasari was something of a douchebag.

“Okay, let us set some rules,” Dasari said as he un-slung a wooden . . . wooden hunk of . . . Wood. Yes, it was a large (former) tree branch with one end having been shaped into a handle and the other left completely natural, although broken and riddled with signs of use. Parts of it jutted from here and there, pieces of it were sharp and, well, angular, and that made it an effective weapon of intimidation. Still, it was wood and mostly non-lethal, provided Dasari didn’t go berserker on them, and pound them into red, pulpy mush.

“Hm, okay - you go first,” he pointed at Henri with his free hand’s index finger, “you can set one rule and I’ll follow it, and then Dufort,” he left off the honorific, purposely, “can set his one rule.”

Roland shot Henri a glance before standing up from the ground.

Something fun. Henri couldn't believe his ears, did Roland REALLY think training with Dasari would be fun? Not that he didn't wanna learn how to use his fancy statue monster slicing knife it was just...Dasari? He was going to -kick their asses, he knew it. It's not that he wouldn't -expect- it from a sword knife thing training session, but there were many differences between Roland and Henri. Several actually, and while Roland was a strong, musclebound mountain of a man, in comparison Henri hardly measured up, he was like a dead stick on the saddest tree ever. He was what Mr Dufort would call spoiled or "soft around the edges."

Needless to say, he needed a LOT of aggressive convincing to get out of bed, having done his usual job of staying up all night tending to the lighthouse. He arrived with bags under his eyes, quiet, scared, and looking a mess. Basically how Colonel Dasari was used to seeing him. The stage served to make him feel more put on the spot, and completely self conscious, if he could shrink or disappear altogether he would.

Standing quietly and holding his breath, Henri waited for their instructions. Dasari asked Roland to "clench his teeth." Oh christ, his eyebrows twisted. "Now stick out your chin." Now his eyes widened, he was on the edge of his seat. Dear sweet Jesus Roland you are going to get punched in the mouth.

"Roland!" The hit brought out a strong reaction in Henri, yet he didn't dare go to see if he was okay, because for one, he knew Roland could take a punch, and was fine, and secondly, there was nothing he could do about it. He felt it was uncalled for but only stammered very quietly to himself. He sort of stood in an awkward tightly wound position, between standing and rushing to see how his face was. He tried to reason with himself that it was weapons training, and they were gonna get hurt regardless.

In the end he knew it, it just didn't make him feel any better.

"UH...." Dasari would find Henri quiet the way he usually was around him. At least he was giving them options on where they would and wouldn't like to get hurt? Having to choose which parts of him he valued most were difficult. He'd want to say NOT THE FACE, but then the rest of him was fair game. His -eyes- were the most important thing on his face, but he also needed his hands for work? What the heck was he supposed to say?

"N-n-not...the eyes or hands please? I kind of need those."

The colonel gave Henri a look that was somewhere in-between 'what're you, stupid?' and 'I thought you would've been more imaginative than that', but, fortunately, it was just a look. He wouldn't hit Henri in the eyes or the hands, but that still left plenty to brutally pulverize -

"You-can't-use-that-thing!" Roland sputtered. Like Dasari, Roland had figured Henri would have been more creative, but, at the same time, it sort of made sense that the one time Henri was encouraged to think outside of the box, he wouldn't. That was Henri for you.

Dasari was noticeably disappointed as he tossed the club to a nearby adjutant before rambling off a string of words - spoken in his native tongue, of course. The adjutant nodded and then dismissed himself, but returned soon after, carrying two large gloves - gauntlets, actually - that were reinforced with leather and links of metal.

“Not my most interesting students,” Dasari admitted as he and his adjutant readied the gauntlets for the training match; although, at this point, 'training' appeared to be an inappropriate term for what was about to occur.

“My second? Now that was a pupil - a good, strong lad. Gave his partner an extended visit to medical, too. He set a good rule."

One final clasp, a click and a gesture, and Dasari was re-equipped and ready to go.

Fumbling with his sword's sheath, Roland eventually drew the weapon and readied it, but appeared lost, waiting direction; he shot another glance to Henri and then to Dasari.

“Both of you at once,” Dasari encouraged. “Don’t worry, and don’t hold back. You might die.”

"Not my most interesting students..."

Oh Henri had thought up a fistful of creative rules in his head before resorting to politely asking not to have his eyes and hands damaged. Rules like "we have to all get drunk during or after" or " you have to wear your shoes on your feet" or "you have to pretend you're dinosaurs fighting over a scrap of meat" which would have definitely made it more interesting and maybe even fun, but they weren't there to have fun, and he was sure Dasari would punch him in the mouth for making rules like that, especially since he punched Roland for no particular reason at all. In the end he decided on choosing a rule that he thought would at least get him hurt a little less.

Roland's rule was a great idea, he sort of gave him that acknowledging nod, as if to say "Yeah you're right I don't quite fancy having branches and splinters up my ass either." It was a good thing that, like usual, Roland was more on the ball than Henri was.

None of this was helping though, they could come up with any rule but they were going to get pulverized. Henri swallowed hard at the nice little anecdote Dasari gave them about the student being sent to medical and about the good rule. When he had time to think about it, he would dwell on what it was.

Now it was time to get things started. Both of them at once. Henri reached for his knife thing, and returned Roland's glance.

"One...two...three!"

Right, it was probably best that Henri had chosen not to share his other ideas. The result would have been less than satisfactory, after all; he would have been asked to leave and would not have been invited back - and that, that meant a noticeable lack of bro-time with his bro, Roland.

Fortunately, no such punishment would have to be endured and he could take pride in the fact that his being somewhat serious for once had lead him into being brutally beaten in every place save his hands and eyes rather than being a pariah in the Esconian encampments! Good for him!

Unmoving and patient, the colonel folded his arms across his chest and waited.

With both his hands on the hilt of his sword, Roland eased forwards bit by bit, but chose not to charge the colonel until Henri was ready and prepared to move in; in a straight fight, it was suicidal for the smaller man to go in first. Roland needed to be in front, he was larger and more compatible with Dasari’s size, and if need be, he could slow Dasari down enough to maybe line up an opening or two for Henri. Truthfully, the strategy was suspect . . . There was no way Dasari didn’t know what was going through Roland’s mind; after all, he was the one who had instructed them to both attack at the same time. There were only so many ways they could do that without getting in each other's way - Roland had a large, broad weapon and Henri had a smaller, more mensurable one. They both had their places.

Lurching forwards, Roland reduced the distance between he and Dasari; he brought his sword up and prepared to bring it back down . . .

Oh what. Oh what. Oh shit what the fuck. As soon as Roland brought his sword out, it finally sunk in how serious this really was. Neither of them were joking. This wasn't a simple training match. Knives and swords were pointy, assuming that Henri was even skilled enough to land a hit, it could you know, HURT somebody. Somebody could lose an eye (not Henri though) with that thing!

Henri was shaking like a tiny chilly little lapdog. There was a brief moment of hesitation, but time was wasting. It would be stupid of them to go one at a time, especially with the blatant size difference between the two. If he wanted to go at the same time, it had to be now.

And not in the same place either. He figured it would be difficult (or at least prayed to god or whatever deity the Mercoran's believed in) for a guy to hold off two attacks in two different places at once, so while Roland was rushing in to attack him overhead, Henri would take advantage of the size difference and attack lower, and from behind. With a surprising burst of speed Henri closed in for the attack...

“Good,” Dasari smiled.

While Henri was maneuvering to the side and Roland was taking the initiative, Dasari met the latter’s charge with his own; he shot his left hand out to deflect the descending blade, and used his opposite to grab a hold of Roland’s, placing a crushing grip onto the boy’s hand. Roland, having only ever been in a fistfight, refused to give up his weapon, clenched his teeth and tried to regain control, but was unsuccessful; he could only watch as Dasari disarmed him and cast the weapon to the side.

Roland had maybe lasted two seconds.

By the fourth second, Dasari had pushed against Roland and sent him tumbling backwards before turning his attention to the quickly approaching Henri. Position was good, sloppy, though, and the attack? Well, it was close to right, at least, but Henri's form was way off; in fact, he was almost a danger to himself with that thing . . . That would have to be fixed, later.

As Henri was extending his arm and weapon, Dasari would quickly side step and try to grab the young man’s wrist, and then pull him forwards, striking at the side of his head with his free hand; he was aiming for the temple, specifically.

It didn't take long for Dasari to do away with Roland, who could easily take Henri in a fight. What chance did Henri have now? Dasari batted Roland away as if he was some pesky inconvenience, and turned around to deal with Henri. As Henri was going in for an incorrect stab, Dasari successfully trapped his diminutive wrist in his vice like grip, and offered Henri a good crack to the side of the head.

Henri's world became thick and misty with colourful swirls. A strange wet dampness trickled down the side of his head. Unless his face pee'd itself, he was pretty sure the warm wet liquid was blood. His head swam and Henri staggered, still within Dasari's grasp, sort of semi- hanging off of him like a Christmas decoration or some annoying little french monkey on a vine.

But that was okay. Dasari had his hand, luckily he had another. Quickly he regained his balance and tried to reach for his kukri with the other hand.

Had Dasari hit him harder than intended? Maybe, because he was kind of surprised by the blood and surprised again when Henri made to grab his kukri with the other hand, and for a moment, the colonel entertained the idea of letting him succeed just to see what he'd do - no, it was too dangerous for them both.

"You can have that kukri back, . . . - " Dasari's voice trailed off as his grip tightened against Henri's wrist. "- but it'll cost you the hand. Your choice," he finished.

If he actually succeeded in what he was about to do, Dasari could seriously get hurt. Yet at the same time, he was told to give it his all. That's what he was supposed to do right? Did -giving it your- all mean REALLY hurting someone? Henri had no intention of hurting anyone ever, but if that was true than why did he reach for the kukri?

Idiot.

"Uh-I!"

Henri felt that he was in trouble but he wasn't sure. Dasari specifically mentioned that holding back would get him killed, it wasn't that he wanted to hurt him that badly, but he also didn't want to die, which seemed to be a very real consequence.

"You can have that Kukri back...but it'll cost you your hand."

Maybe he didn't need to go for the knife? Maybe he could just take a swing at him? His hand fell limp to his side, and he hung his head in shame. He had no idea what to do.

To say that had gone about as well as Dasari had expected would have been an accurate enough statement, but that was not necessarily a bad thing. No, in fact, Dasari had to admit that, at the very least, these two youths had some guts, but he credited that to them being on the frontier, the very fringe of the Empire’s Mercoran territory.

“What?” Dasari released Henri’s wrist. “What is with the low spirits? Did you think you were going to win?"

That would have just been plain silly! Dasari was not just some large, over-muscled man - no, he was a trained soldier, and a damn good one, at that; he had spent more years fighting wars than Roland and Henri had spent alive. In fact, so unlikely were the chances of Dasari getting defeated by the two Mercoran youths that, if either of them had managed to win, it would have been taken as something of a prophetic occurrence, and they would have been shipped off first-thing to some secret, dread fortress-like Esconian military academy until they were broken down and remodeled into the perfect recruits.

That kind of reminded Dasari of the time he was sent to a secret, dread fortress-like Esconian military academy, but that was a story for another day, probably.

"I, uh, kind of thought we could win. I mean, it was two against one . . ."

Managing to finally gather himself, Roland was standing a ways behind Dasari.

". . . Was,” Roland repeated, with emphasis.

"Yes," Dasari turned his head to hide his smile from Henri. Picking on Henri and Roland was going to become a favored pastime, he could tell.

“Just taking your measure is all. There’s some potential in you - both of you, actually! Neither of you froze up or died, or got horribly maimed."

Wait what? Henri wasn't in trouble? Dasari must have seriously been giving him an option when he said he could have that Kukri back or not. Maybe from now on he should start taking what people said at face value instead of assuming the worst. That would happen the day that Henri wasn't so incredibly self conscious, paranoid and assuming that people were out to get him. Even then, he still wasn't sure if taking that swing at Dasari would have been a safe bet.

Henri was scolding himself, but wasn't sure if he should be scolding himself, and was scolding himself for not being sure. Bottom line was, Henri was definitely conflicted. It showed on his face. His eyes traveled around everywhere, and even when his hand was released he fiddled with it as if he wasn't entirely sure what to DO with them, until he settled for just tucking them away in his armpits and slowly shuffling backwards towards Roland, who had a different opinion on what he thought the outcome was going to be.

Henri shook his head. "Really Roland? I didn't really think so..." That didn't stop him from trying his best though. Like Dasari said, none of them were seriously maimed or injured (well Henri was hurt but only a bit) and he even said they had potential! If they applied themselves, it might not be as bad as Henri made it out to be, and next time he was going to try to make sure it was different.

"Y-yeah," Roland admitted. Now that he thought about it, it was kind of embarrassing . . . Okay, yes, maybe it was a long shot, but Dasari was just human, right? Outclassed or not, if Roland hadn't been so thoroughly destroyed right off, he was sure he could have taken out a leg or something, and once Dasari was down, that'd be it!

Okay, probably not.

"Hhh," Dasari scratched at his chin as he considered his future plans for the two boys. They had a handful of months to learn from him, at least; he could work the basics into them in that time, definitely. Once the ruins were properly catalogued and the real excavation team arrived, however, the boys would be on their own, but that was a ways off, Dasari would just hate to see the potential of the two wasted . . .

"There are a few younger guys under me near your age - better than you, too - but near your age. I'll ask if any of them are willing to help out. Ha,“ he laughed and flashed a wicked smile, “actually, I’ll probably get a lot of volunteers.“

Laughing at was sure to be a menacing thought about abusing his new pupils, Dasari finished speaking and began to walk away at a hurried pace. He stopped just once, shouting over his shoulder: ‘tomorrow then, be here,’ and then he was gone to do who knows what.

Regardless, Roland had known the colonel was a busy man; he had delivered a few things to the Esconian camps since their trip down below River’s End and had often seen the colonel shouting orders, directing both contracted Mercorans and his soldier. Still . . . Roland would have thought today’s ‘training’ would have at least been longer than getting knocked on his ass once and hell, he was expecting it to be harsher, too. That club was just to frighten them, wasn’t it?

“What do you wanna do now?”

"Okay."

Well that's awfully nice of the Esconians isn't it? Offering time out of their busy schedule excavating ruins to help them? That was mighty neighborly of them!

Henri stopped himself from being too positive though. Being told they had potential wasn't a get out of jail free card, it meant that he would work them just as hard to meet that potential, and he doubted the younger Esconians would offer them the courtesy of rules and things like Dasari had. In fact, he was sure Dasari was even doing this for his own amusement, since he was so sure the Esconians felt the same way about him as the local Mercorans did, but he would try not to be too much of a downer. He was alive after all, that was certainly a step up from what he was certain would happen. Maybe he'd keep on getting surprises like that.

"Sss!" A slight touch on the cut/bump on his head would make him hiss a bit in pain. Rubbing the blood in between his fingers, he stared thoughtfully at the smears and sighed. "I dunno man, prolly stop at the lighthouse for a bit, figure it out from there. Sound good?"

River's End, Mercoras
October 10th, 5128
7:09pm

“Oh, yes indeed! I know young master Bernard here quite well,” he said with a sly grin on his face. This man had spoken with a silver tongue the entire evening and had done quite well impressing the family, from the looks of it, and that was an amazing feat in and of itself, wasn’t it? Especially since he had quite literally invited himself, forcefully, to dinner; oddly, however, nobody, save perhaps one individual, seemed to mind the intrusion.

A foreigner with an unknown past, he had recently made large waves in the town, regarding his reputation, and was well received by just about every community in River’s End, from the deckhands to the Esconian encampments.

“Rescued my sister from starving in the streets, alone and confused, and lost, too; she and I were most appreciative of young Bernard’s efforts, I assure you. Tried to accost me in the process, though, and that was most regrettable, I can't condone such brutish behavior . . ."

Everyone who wasn’t Henri Bernard and Donald felt a strong urge to nod in agreement, occasionally glancing to Henri and flashing him a look of pity, and in their eyes, they seemed to say ‘how could you?’ and ‘such a shame!”

Yes, that just about summed up the night: A whole lot of half-truths and lying, all night long . . . And nobody seemed to care, or knew the truth, for that matter.

Luckily for Henri, Donald’s jokes and lies appeared to be in harmless fun, childish, yes, but nothing lasting and definitely nothing that Henri couldn’t play off later. Still, despite all of that, there was a touch of anger and spite in each one, like Donald personally had something against Henri, and this something had nothing to do with their first meeting so many months ago.