They had been much alike, as the current situation attested to, but the two of them had also been very different. Both had taken to combat with an uncanny instinct, formidable with any weapon at all, or with none. When offered the luxury of choosing, however, Basch had chosen heavy weapons, usually one-handed - swords, hammers, axes - and a shield. Noah had claimed no need for a shield, for he gravitated towards light weapons that could be wielded as their own defense - twin swords, spears, staves.
Perhaps this was the reason for Basch's difficulty now, as he stood in the roped-off arena beside the barracks in the early hours of the morning, wrestling with the unwieldy divided staff while no one was awake to bear witness. There had been no need for him to use it as of yet, a fortnight into his new appointment, and he counted it a blessing. The balance was odd when used as a staff, he was still puzzling out how best to take advantage of the unusual shapes of the blades when separated - and as for the seperation, it sometimes was triggered accidentally, yet sometimes he could not find the catch upon the grip when he tried. It could not be said that Basch was an impatient man, however; he had time to learn, and so he would.
Even caught up in the routines he had devised for practice, reminding himself to be aware of the differences between the swords and the heavier weapons he favored, muted footsteps in the dust of the yard caught his attention at once, and he turned. Someone was indeed awake to watch, and watch he did, standing in the shadows beside the ropes. "Your excellency," Basch acknowledged, bowing his head respectfully as he lowered the weapons. The minutiae of the accent were less difficult than those of the staff's components. "Is there something I might assist you with?"
Larsa shook his head. "Not at all - I simply could not sleep, and I thought to find where you had disappeared to at such an hour."
Basch looked more closely in the boy's direction and confirmed something. "You are alone," he observed, and his tongue lapsed back into the Dalmasca-tinged sound to which it was accustomed.
The boy smiled faintly. "I have always been able to escape the watchful eyes of my protectors when I wished. Aside from you," he added, and then softer, "and your brother. You have that in common."
Kindness or admittance - Basch was not sure, but he chose to assume the former as he stepped to the lines. "Tell me," he asked, a wry edge further coloring his voice, "was my brother ever so clumsy with these weapons as I?"
"I could not say - he came to us when I was very young."
Of course. "...I had forgotten your age," Basch admitted, gruff but amused. How could he forget, when looking so far down to speak?
"It may have been only my youth and inexperience," Larsa mused, looking up to him thoughtfully, "but Judge Gabranth seemed always to be skilled in any weapon he might encounter. I expect, however, that when he first was appointed, he had to accustom himself as you do now. I have no doubt that you will be just as skilled, and in so short a time that I shall not remember when you were not."
Basch was not so sure, but he appreciated the sentiment.