58 – Familiar Help

Evening training for the guards was held in the hall again, though with a different set of faces than in the morning. Anders, Yarek and their colleagues had the unenviable fate of being on duty at this time.

In other words, the hall was filled with people who didn’t know of my new capabilities beyond a few rumors.

Unlike in the morning, I didn’t hold back too much during warm-up. I ran the fastest, lifted the most and all-around performed far above everyone else. Not including Lars of course, but he didn’t count.

Needless to say, I drew some looks. Admittedly, it felt good to show off like this. I might not have Kalin’s massively inflated ego, but that didn’t mean I was beyond some pride of my own.

For me, evenings were weapon training. While the others began with hand-to-hand like the morning crew had, Lars continued my instructions in using a staff.

It was a versatile weapon, combining reach and impact into one rather simple package. With a wide swing those two concepts were tied together as well, a longer range meaning more of a lever to amplify the force of strikes.

Though of course large, sweeping motions weren’t the best in all or even most situations. They traded reach and power for predictability and, to a certain extent, speed.

Just like not every sword swing was an overhead chop, not every staff attack was just flailing about with a grip far down the length. Lars also emphasized more varied options available when gripping the weapon more centrally, losing some range to enable attacks with both ends.

As he’d demonstrated in our first lesson on the topic, switching up your grip could do a lot to trip up your opponent and their understanding of the area you threatened. Sliding my hands down the haft mid-swing could give an impressive extension to how far my attack went.

Another important thing Lars introduced was the fact that, though outwardly a blunt weapon, a staff could thrust just fine. Less deadly than an equivalent spear, certainly. But it was still a lot of force concentrated on a small area. Doubly so with my enhanced body.

When he claimed I could easily dent mundane plate armor with a well-executed poke, I believed him.

And, if I ever got my hands on a spear, all this training in proper stabbing attacks with a long stick would translate well. Just as a spear could also be used like a staff to bludgeon someone, if a bit awkwardly due to the different weight distribution a metal point would bring.

About an hour or so into our staff session, Lars had me pair up with one of the more experienced, older guardsmen for a spar. The man wielded a staff similar to mine, but with a weighted sack affixed to one end, to simulate a spear’s balance. While also simultaneously reducing the risk of injury if he jabbed it at someone.

Unlike the hand-to-hand combat this morning, I didn’t utterly dominate in this spar. My opponent clearly demonstrated his superior experience in fighting with a polearm.

With my self-imposed limits, I struggled much more here. Not that I performed badly, if I did say so myself. For only having a few hours in total of instruction, I would even call my performance great.

There was simply more to learn here than in the unarmed combat training, not to mention the significantly shorter time I’d spent on the staff so far.

Not that it felt like a small amount, honestly. But thinking back, it had just been the previous two evenings. And I’d been distracted yesterday, so I only had about one and a half sessions prior to this.

My main issues were two-fold. One, while errors in form were rare, I often made mistakes in what move to use in any particular moment. Which was tied together with the second issue, my still lacking muscle memory and instinctive grasp of the flow of combat.

Combat wasn’t really a circumstance that afforded much time to think. If I tried to think through each move my enemy and I made and how to best counter and retaliate, I slowed down. In unarmed sparring like earlier I had a bit more leeway, due to my slightly higher experience and the nature of the moves.

Unfortunately, the tip of a spear was much harder to predict than a punch. At least for me anyway. Small adjustments in hand positions, when applied to the base of a two meter stick, could create a large variation in outcomes.

The expedited perception I enjoyed in the previous brawl was not nearly as helpful here. Still probably better than if I didn’t have it, but not as huge of an advantage.

In essence, I was freezing up or doing the wrong thing often enough that I lost more than half our bouts. More frustrating since I often knew in hindsight what I could have done better. Which was the point of training, to be fair. But that didn’t stop me getting annoyed at myself.

I also knew that I could have won most if not all of these exchanges if I abused my enhanced body to its fullest. That wasn’t what this was about though.

Again, I had to remind myself that if I just brute-forced my way through combat against weaker opponents, that would be successful until I faced someone I actually needed to fight seriously. Then I would proceed to lose.

Contrasting that, this middle-aged man I was fighting – a normal human with a few years of training – might actually be able to land a hit on me even if I gave it my all. Just because he knew how to use his weapon and I didn’t. The fact I could shrug that blow off and then proceed to eviscerate him didn’t change anything besides the outcome of a one on one deathmatch.

If this man was given Lars’ body, I would probably just lose. Supernatural regeneration only helped up to a point. It wouldn’t protect me from someone who could pummel me into the dirt repeatedly until I stopped getting back up.

So I grit my teeth and continued doing my best to learn how to properly fight with a staff.

After who knew how long, Lars called for us to swap partners. The man who’d been beating me – mostly metaphorically, he’d been quite careful not to actually hit me with any force – bowed to me and thanked me for the spar. I nodded and thanked him in turn.

Much as it had frustrated me, the battle had also been very informative.

My next opponent was far less skilled. A younger man, with correspondingly lower skill level. Not to say he was bad, just much closer to my own proficiency. Though saying I was nearly the equal of someone who had received at least a year or two of instruction was probably a bit arrogant, the results spoke for themselves.

Here, I won almost all matches. With a slimmer margin of skill between us, my mind was better able to keep up with what was happening.

After that, I sparred with several more people of varying amounts of mastery. I noticed Lars was making everyone fight me with a training spear, even though other fights also contained various weapons. My assumption was that he first wanted me to learn from observing others using my own weapon – or something close to it, anyway – before I switched to countering others.

Not that I doubted I would eventually learn how to beat a swordsman with my staff. That seemed like an important sort of thing to learn properly. After gaining a decent grasp on the basics.

Our session ended with me sparring against Lars himself, also using a staff. This was a major change of pace compared to the mostly thrust-centered ‘spears’ my previous opponents used. And Lars was good at using the weapon too. In other words, I got my ass kicked.

Even with both of us limiting ourselves to reasonable speeds, this was not enough of a handicap to hamper Lars. The amount of gentle taps I received when his attacks landed was too high for me to willingly keep track of.

At least Lars explained what mistakes I made in-between bouts, demonstrating how I could correct myself going forward. I also learned more about proper staff use from watching him than the spear users before.

When I returned to my room afterwards, I felt a weird mixture of defeat and accomplishment. While my pride stung from all the mistakes I made, my progress was heartening. I knew I wouldn’t always get better this quickly, but that just meant I had to savor this time more, while it lasted.

Staring out of the window into the storm still continuing, though a bit diminished, I decided not to go outside for tonight.

It would hamper my progress in The Art of Magic, but that was fine every once in a while. After how I lost myself in it last night, a little break was probably healthy. Not like I wouldn’t improve at all either, since I could practice some concepts by controlling my blood.

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A pair of squeaks woke me from my thoughts. Looking down at my bed, I realized my familiars were still here.

“Did you stay in here all day?” I scooped them both up in my arms for a hug. “You cute little guys. I hope you rested well?”

Little bat flapped his wings – well, wing, since the other was sort of pinned by my hug – to indicate his renewed strength.

“I know I already said this before, but I’m so sorry for worrying you guys. I didn’t know that would happen. But thank you for coming to make sure I was alright, yeah?”

The rat had wiggled his way out of my embrace and climbed onto my head, where he now balanced somewhat precariously. He was pretty big for a rat after all. The surface area up there was limited, no matter how much of a big head Kalin had. Ha.

Some discomfort made me realize I was still holding the poor little bat, so I released my grip and lifted him to his favorite spot on my shoulder. Like usual, he draped himself over it. Then, the little rascal squeaked right into my ear to complain.

“Ow, please be careful with my hearing. What’s the problem? Oh, you’re hungry?”