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“Grasp your weapons at a third of the way from each end. Don't laugh – we do not have the luxury of a full armory and knocking your opponent off their feet could open them up to a better-armed ally. Isla, step forward.”
A stout but keen woman with a face like a cabbage stomped forward, hands clutching her garden hoe as per Fenris' instructions.
“Now. Swing the head up here,” waving his hands at eye level.
“You'll just grab it off me,” said Isla.
“Very good. What would you do to stop that?”
Isla thought very, very hard, her lumpen features scrunching into the middle of her face. Finally she brightened up and assumed a tackling stance. Fenris took a step back and nodded.
The hoe swept towards his face, and Fenris made a half-hearted swipe at it – if he'd been trying he would have taken it from her easily, defeating the point of the exercise – and she changed direction, using her lower arm to swing the wooden pole up between his legs. He caught that too, but it was a near thing – she wasn't fast, but she was strong, given that her life before being dragooned into the militia involved baling hay and birthing horses. The fall of Kirkwall and the decision of Prince Vael to not only oust his feeble cousin but to march on the collapsed neighbour had changed all their lives, although they still had to go back and bale hay and birth horses.
The Prince observed from the castle's watch tower, invisible to the trainees below. Fenris had refused his invitation to train militia, seemingly a thousand years ago, but the devastation of the Kirkwall Chantry galvanised the elf's resolve. Sebastian's initial incompetence had required him to step in and take charge, and once the Prince had regained his senses and formulated a plan, the elf had built a certain respect among his supporters.
The occasional whispers about 'the prince's elf' annoyed Sebastian far more than they did Fenris. Watching him from the safety of the tower, Sebastian swelled with pride as he drilled the women, their obvious respect for him showing in their quick responses and significant progress. The elf was much more to Sebastian than a toy, and he could only wish that Fenris saw himself as he did.