Will worried at his lip as Redmont drew nearer and nearer, the strong stone peaks of the castle looming over him and Halt as they rode. It was Harvest Day, the air warm and the sky bright, the wind carrying distant scents of food to Will's nose. It had now been almost a month since Will had last seen Horace. Despite Halt's words, Will had spent many of the intervening nights cursing himself for his helplessness, and Jerome, Alda, and Bryn for their existence. Now Will finally had another chance and he was not eager to screw it up. He remembered how last time he and Horace had gotten into a fight. Will swore this time that he wouldn't. No matter how aggressive or rude or brash Horace acted today, Will would not let himself lose his temper.
They passed into the edges of the village, and Will saw the riot of colors, sounds, and smells that always accompanied the Harvest Day festival. There were always feasting and games, musicians playing, and both young and old dancing in the square. This year, though, Will saw something he didn't remember seeing before (although last time, he'd left so abruptly, he hadn't seen much).
"Halt! What's that?"
Halt heaved an irritated sigh and looked to where Will was pointing. "Those women? That's a group of traveling dancers. They're performers, probably from Ursali or somewhere thereabouts."
"Ursali? Where's that?" Will had never heard of that country, or if he had, he'd forgotten. He was, of course, familiar with Celtica, Gallica and Iberion; less so with Picta, Hibernia, and Teutlandt; and of course he knew more about Skandia than probably any other Araluen alive. Ursali, though, he couldn't recall ever learning about.
"It's too far east for us to have a map of it, but it's somewhere near Arrida."
"Arrida?"
"Down in the southeast below Iberion, a desert nation of proud, fierce warriors."
"They traveled that far to get here?" Will asked in wonder. Just traveling to Skandia had taken weeks, and that was by ship. Horace and Halt had taken months to get there through Gallica.
"I'm sure they didn't do it all at once," Halt said. "They've probably been traveling westward for years, now. Stop asking questions."
He didn't say it as harshly as he once would've. Will decided to try just one more. "What are they called, then? The dancers?"
Halt heaved another sigh, this one more irritated, but examined them. They were dressed colorfully, in sparkling reds and golds and blues, their black hair long and loose, jewels everywhere. Their midriffs were showing, and Will had to admit they were very beautiful. His brain conjured an image of Alyss wearing the same clothes. He flushed and look away.
"I don't know what they call themselves," Halt said. "Probably something we can't pronounce properly. We generally call them hacha-hacha dancers or something like that."
Will's eyes went wide and he opened his mouth. He shut it just in time, and thank goodness, because he had just been about to ask oh, the same dancers you told that entire tavern the King was born from?
"Now go on already and meet up with your wardmates," Halt said, frowning at Will. "I need a holiday from all your questions."
Will kept himself from rolling his eyes and slid off of Tug. "See you, Halt!"
Halt grunted and Will started away, leading Tug through the busy streets. It didn't take long to reach the meeting place Jenny had picked out for them. He must've taken longer to get there than last time, because unlike before, the Baron was not there. Will would have to be careful, then - he shouldn't know that Halt led the cavalry this time around, since the Baron hadn't told him.
He stood there for a moment, breathing in grass and apple and earth, letting the sunlight soak his bones. When he opened his eyes, he led Tug to the dappled shade under the tree and told him to stay. Then Will clambered up the apple tree to pick an apple for Tug. Just as he was feeding it to him, he heard people coming up behind him. Will turned to see Alyss, Jenny, and George all together.
"Will!" Jenny said excitedly, trying to wave but being hampered by the copious amounts of pies she was carrying.
"Greetings, Will!" George said.
"Hello, Will," said Alyss. She gave Will one of her rare smiles.
Will smiled at all of them, reserving, perhaps, the biggest one for Alyss. "Hi everyone."
"It's been so long!" Jenny said, setting the pies down with an oomph and stretching out her back dramatically. "I haven't seen you all in ages!"
"It's been scarcely three months," Alyss said, but smiled. "I have missed you all, though."
"Me too," Will said. More than they could know.
"And I as well!" George said, and opened his mouth. "On this momentous occasion-"
Alyss sighed. "George, I already said that you didn't need to prepare a speech."
"A speech?" Jenny asked. "Ooh, how's it go?"
"Jenny, no," Will said, having a bad feeling where this was going. Indeed, George straightened up and took a posture that could only be described as ceremonious. It was eerily similar to Scribemaster Nigel's when he was about to go into one of his famous one-hour monologues.
"Those pies look delicious!" Alyss said, a little hurriedly. "Surely, George, we can't let Jenny's superb cooking get too cold?"
George deflated. "Well...they do look quite splendid, Jenny."
Jenny beamed. "Here, I'll serve them!"
"We should wait for Horace," Will objected. Everyone turned to stare at him. He realized as they did so that those words were the last ones his wardmates would've expected from him, given his and Horace's long-held rivalry. "I mean, it's supposed to be a holiday for all of us, right?"
"That's true," Jenny said, nodding her head. "You're right, Will."
"But I am absolutely ravenous!" George protested. "I've been slaving over a petition to the Baron all morning!"
Alyss rolled her eyes. "Perhaps we should start. Otherwise he'll begin a legal argument and we'll be here all day. We can always put a couple aside for Horace."
Like last time, Jenny began to acquiesce, serving out the pies. But Will shook his head. "No, we should wait. I don't think he'll be much longer. I mean, aren't Battleschool apprentices supposed to be punctual and everything?"
"I'm surprised you care so much," George remarked, "given how Horace has never seen a problem with wrestling you to the ground or nearly choking you to death."
Will fought back a grimace. It had been so long since he'd had to go through that, that Will had nearly forgotten how Horace had used to treat him. Anytime Horace actually got a hold of Will, Will would never leave unscathed. It had resulted in more than a few trips to the healing wing. Granted, Will had almost always made up for it later in pranks, so, looking back, Will couldn't feel too wronged. Besides, he and Horace had already forgiven each other and put each other's wrongs at rest after the boar hunt. Horace had saved Will's life; what was a few unpleasant incidents next to that?
"It's not that I care that much," Will said slowly, thinking through his words. He was aware that both a future Diplomat and a future Scribe were listening. They would catch any contradictions with ease. "But, I mean, we're apprentices now. I want to put that behind us. I'm going to be a Ranger and he's going to be a knight, after all. We'll probably have to work together at some point, and I don't want to do that with an enemy."
"That's wise," Alyss said, nodding at him approvingly. "Then, let's wait. It is a fine day, after all, and we can catch up until he comes."
They passed the next minutes doing just that. Will was unanimously elected to go first in talking about his training, which he gladly did. He did try to avoid talking about Halt, as he knew his younger self had still been rather intimidated by Halt, even several months in. Instead, Will focused on his amazing horse - looking fondly at Tug - and the most fun parts: making good shots with his bow, tracking down animals, learning about unseen movement-
"Woah, he's teaching you to do what?" Jenny cried, bouncing in excitement. "Ooh! Show us, show us!"
Will grinned and stood. "Alright, you ready? I'm about to disappear."
"Ready!" Jenny said, George and Alyss joining in.
Will lifted his hood over his head and stood stock-still, just like Halt had trained him. The effect was immediate. Jenny cried out in shock, George gasped, Alyss's eyebrows raised and her mouth parted in surprise. Their gazes swept unseeingly over the seemingly empty space where he stood. His lips curled up and he had a sudden idea. Silently he slipped around behind them, using the dappled light falling through the apple tree's leaves to conceal him. He crept up behind Jenny, grin turning wicked, and poked her in the head.
"Got you!" he cried, at the same moment as Jenny shrieked.
"Wha- Will! Don't do that!" Jenny cried, and swatted at him. Will was laughing too hard to mind, letting his hood drop as he fell to the ground in laughter.
"The look on your face!" he said gleefully. He had always wanted to see how his wardmates would react to a prank like that. He'd done it to Horace several times, of course, but that was Horace. Jenny's reaction was way funnier.
As his laughter subsided, he looked up to see Alyss looking at him disapprovingly. "Will, it's not nice to prank ladies like that," she told him, but Will knew her well enough to see the hint of a smile around the corners of her eyes. He grinned at her impishly.
"My sincerest apologies," he told Jenny, not at all sincere or apologetic, and then squawked as she pulled a kitchen ladle from out of nowhere and whacked him with it.
"Don't you ever pull that on me again!" she said.
"Alright, alright, I won't!"
The four of them settled back down again. George went next, although Will would've rather heard Alyss. Still, Will rather liked the erudite, scholarly boy George had become. George hadn't spoken for long when Will sensed a fifth person's presence. He jerked his head to the side and- yep. Like he'd thought. Horace was approaching them. Just like last time, he looked like he was in a terrible mood. Will elbowed Jenny and nodded in Horace's direction.
"Oh! Horace!" Jenny cried, getting the hint and interrupting George mid-sentence. "You're here! We were waiting for you to start!"
Horace's frown subsided at that, and he looked gratefully at Jenny, supposing her to be the one who'd stopped everyone else. She smiled at him and immediately went to serve up the pies. Will noticed, with some amusement, that the prettiest pies of the batch went to Horace. The two had always been closer. Then again, Jenny was friendly with everyone. It probably meant nothing. Still, they clearly were close...just as, Will suddenly realized, George and Alyss were.
As the conversation started back up, he realized how often Alyss would make a dry quip or remark after something George had said, or back him up in some way. The Scribes and Diplomats worked quite closely together, Will knew, and their apprentices would spend a fair amount of time with each other. Will swallowed, uncomfortable by the thought.
Well, he told himself, a little childishly, regardless of all that, I'm still the one she kissed.
The thought didn't comfort him as much as he'd thought it would. Mostly because, as he looked at Alyss, he couldn't help but find her so...young. She was practically baby-faced. She was tall, yes, and dignified, with sharp cheekbones and perfect posture. Yet, when compared to the gaunt, somber expression of Evanlyn, the rough, hard jawline of Horace, and Will's own face he'd seen reflected off the ice of the Skandian wilderness - sharp-edged and weary - Alyss looked unbearably young. Will shifted, brows furrowing in discomfort. She was only two years younger than he, he knew, and many marriages had women far more than two years the junior of their husbands. Still. Will was used to the idea of Alyss being his equal. The idea of this baby-faced child, who had never seen the ravages of war and did not even know about Morgarath's return, kissing Will felt wrong.
Maybe...he thought, eyes flicking from her to George. Maybe I should let whatever there is there happen.
An ugly buzz of jealousy came at the thought, but Will swatted it down. He and Alyss weren't anything. He knew they weren't. It had been one kiss and they hadn't even spoken about it afterwards. Then he'd left for Celtica and it had been over a year since. He'd changed. For all he knew, he and Alyss weren't even compatible anymore. No. It wouldn't be fair to her if Will got involved with her.
Besides...he glanced off to the north, over leagues and leagues of forests and hills and mountains, of water and ice. I have other things to deal with. More important things.
"A penny for your thoughts?" came a soft voice. Will looked up to see Alyss looking at him. She had a single brow raised and seemed unconcerned, but Will knew she must be worried, to have asked such a question. "Your expression seems out of place on a holiday."
Will gave a nervous smile, wishing, as ever, that he were a better liar. "Not thinking of much. Just, um. Training."
Alyss's other eyebrow rose to join the first. "You haven't had enough training? You aren't tired of thinking about it?"
Will flushed. He felt certain she had seen through him. "Um, I mean, yeah I am, just...it wasn't my training, you see." He glanced around and accidentally looked straight at Horace. Horace, only hearing the last few sentences and seeing Will look straight at him, instantly jumped to conclusions.
"Then whose training was it?" Horace said, a bite to his tone, a warning to his glare.
"No one's," Will said, which was actually the truth. Unfortunately, Horace didn't believe him.
"No one's, just like you're No-Name," Horace said with a sneer. Will couldn't quite hide his wince.
"Horace, don't be unkind," Alyss said, softly but reprovingly. Will looked at her in surprise. She had never told off Horace before. She had always stayed out of their fights. Why had she picked today of all days to back Will up?
Alyss's reproof only made Horace angrier. Having never been challenged by her before, it now seemed to Horace that the other wards had been allying with each other in Horace's absence. "I'll be whatever I want to be, bitch."
The word - one Will had never heard him say - seemed foreign on his tongue, and Horace's face scrunched up the moment he said it, regret softening the hard lines of his forehead. It was too late. Jenny and George gasped and Alyss's cheeks flushed, though Will couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or anger. His own face was hot - he knew exactly the emotion.
"Don't speak to her like that."
Will's voice cracked partway through, but he kept his tone level and his expression as calm as he could. Horace scoffed.
"Or you'll what? Beat me?" he gave Will a sneer. "As though you'd be any match for a Battleschool apprentice. You've already shown you're more than willing to run from them."
Will's hands clenched. You were the one who told me to run in the first place! He thought, but he barely managed to choke the words down. Horace didn't mean it, he told himself. Horace was hurting, and hurt people hurt people. The guilt in Will - the guilt that he'd torn himself up over for the past month - made Horace's words difficult to bear. But he had sworn not to get into a fight with Horace. He was going to keep that.
"I've told you already, I was more than willing to stay," Will said, calmer than he felt. "I can help you! I can tell-"
"Don't you dare tell them anything," Horace hissed, leaping to his feet and towering over Will. His hands were clenched. A vein stood out on his neck, throbbing in time with his pulse. "If you do, I'll- I'll-"
Will stood as well, just wanting to be on more equal footing with the clearly unstable Horace. He realized as soon as he did that it might not have been a good idea. Horace was squared off as though moments away from throwing his first punch. In standing, Will had just brought them even closer to a fight.
"Hey now," George said, also standing and stepping in between the two of them. He held up placating hands and said, in a careful, mollifying tone, "There's no need to fight. We're all friends here. Let's just sit back down and eat some more pie, yes?"
"Shut your mouth and let the warrior talk," Horace said rudely, shoving George away. The smaller boy stumbled, falling back onto his butt and nearly squashing one of Jenny's pies. Jenny squeaked, diving for it and snatching it out of harm's way just in time. She and Alyss were both wide-eyed. They exchanged glances, the same ones they always exchanged when Will and Horace went at it, but these ones were more grave than Will had seen before.
Horace stepped towards George. Will shouldered in, forcing himself between the two. He forcibly loosened his clenched fists and jaw and said quietly to Horace, "Stop."
Horace sneered. "Who are you to stop me, No-Name?"
Horace was ashamed, Will thought suddenly - ashamed that Will, his long-time rival, had seen him in a weak moment. It didn't matter right now that Will had pledged his help and his friendship; all Horace cared about was that Will had seen. He had seen something Horace hadn't wanted anyone to ever see. Horace was not about to back down.
Will lifted a shoulder. "I've said before, I'm your friend - or I'd like to be, anyway. This isn't you. Don't be a bully, Horace."
He winced the moment he said those last words, already knowing they were a mistake. Horace's face purpled in fury and then his fist swung through the air.
Will dodged it, nimbly side-stepping. He breathed in and out, distantly hearing the cries of alarm from Jenny and Alyss. His hands were shaking from barely withheld emotion. His breaths came in staccato puffs. Will did not have Halt's control over his emotions. He wasn't at all good at holding his emotions in. He was dangerously close to losing his hold on them.
"Horace," Will said, seeking Horace's face pleadingly. "Come on. We don't have to fight."
"What," Horace taunted, "are you afraid of me?"
He swung again, a series of vicious and angry punches. Will dodged again, but much more narrowly. Horace was a powerful fighter, even with fists and muddled thoughts. Will couldn't afford to underestimate him. As Horace paused for a moment, Will met his gaze.
Will remembered doing so the first time - last Harvest Day, two years ago, when both of them had still disliked the other. Last time, Will had glared at Horace in defiance and anger, and Horace with belligerence. This time, Will kept his expression even, not allowing his internal tension to show. Unfortunately, Horace was not yet an experienced enough warrior to know that a foe who was calm was far more formidable than one who was angry. He saw only Will's lack of defiance and instantly categorized it as timidity - the same fear that Will had always used to show, back in the Ward. He attacked again, certain of success.
"Come on, No-Name," Horace bit out as blow after blow of his only hit air instead of flesh. "Is the sneak-thief too scared to fight the warrior? Is that it?"
"I've told you already, I don't want to fight you!"
It was at that moment that one of Horace's punches connected. Will staggered back, an explosion of pain cascading down from his eye. Another one of Horace's blows hit, right in the chest, and Will...
Will looked up, and for an instant he didn't see Horace. He saw a Skandian, spear rushing towards him, tip piercing Will's chest...
Will struck back.
He dodged the spear shaft, elbowing it away from him at its weakest point - right where the spearhead and shaft intersected - and hit the Skandian hard in the jaw. The Skandian staggered back and-
Will blinked, arm halting in mid-air. That...that wasn't a Skandian. That was Horace. A Horace who had stumbled away from Will, clutching at his wrist, staring at Will, eyes wide.
For a moment the two just stared at each other. Will's chest was so tight it hurt, even though the punch would have barely left a bruise. His left eye throbbed painfully. It was already beginning to swell shut. With his good eye, he found Horace's wrist, which Horace held clutched in the fingers of his left hand, and then Horace's jaw, bruise seeping through skin like ink through water. Will felt nauseous at the sight.
"I think," he said slowly, waveringly. "I think I'll...I think I'll go now."
"No, stay Will!" Jenny said, her tone tremulously confident. "You haven't finished all your pies, and - and neither has Horace, isn't that right?"
She stared pointedly at Horace. Will didn't look to see his expression. If there was fear there, Will wouldn't be able to bear it.
"Yes," said Alyss. "Please, do stay, both of you. We are all apprentices now; surely we can put all this unpleasantness behind us?"
Will swallowed. But then, to his surprise, Horace's head jerked into a nod and he sat back down. He hunched his shoulders and mumbled, "If Will's fine with it, so am I."
Will gawked at him. What? Just a moment ago, Horace had been bellicose, utterly unwilling to back down. Now, as soon as Will had fought back, Horace was suddenly okay with stopping? Will frowned at Horace crossly. Couldn't you make sense this time around?
But Jenny and Alyss and George were all looking at Will expectantly, and he knew he couldn't disappoint them. He heaved a sigh older than his body and sat down next to the remnants of his pies. "George was telling us about Scribeschool, right?"
George beamed and immediately set off on another speech.
"Where were you earlier?"
Will turned to look up at Halt, standing beside Will's rocking chair on the porch. It wasn't quite nightfall yet, but it was close. With his good eye, Will watched a formation of geese fly across the sky in the distance, grey in the fading grey-black of the descending night. His other eye was covered by a poultice that Halt had made, one to help with swelling.
"I went looking for you," Halt continued. "I thought you'd be with your wardmates."
He didn't ask, but Will already knew what he wanted to know. It was pretty obvious. "I...had a disagreement with Horace," he said softly. "I thought it better if I didn't stay."
Will had stayed a bit, long enough to hear Alyss talk about her apprenticeship at the Diplomat school, but had quietly snuck away soon after. Seeing the darkening bruises on Horace's face and wrist had been more unbearable every minute. Not to mention, his own eye and chest had begun to throb as well. Will had waited for his four wardmates to be occupied before standing and nodding to Tug to go. Even Rangers' horses were stealthy when they needed to be, and Will and Tug had vanished without any of his wardmates' notice.
He'd found Halt soon after, who was - to Will's great amusement - talking to Pauline. Alone. He hadn't wanted to interrupt, so he'd turned and left them too, spending the next few hours wandering around the village. When the sun had set, Halt had finally caught up to him and they'd ridden back together.
The rocking chair next to Will creaked as Halt sat down. "So that's where you got the black eye from."
Will winced. He'd tried to hide it in the cowl of his cloak, but of course that had not lasted long with Halt. It had taken about half the ride back to Halt's house for Halt to lose his patience and tell Will to drop the hood. Will had promised to tell Halt what had happened once they were back. Now, Will had no other way of putting off the inevitable.
Will looked down. A large beetle was crawling across the earth at the bottom of the steps. At this point, Will might take even a beetle's life over his own. "It wasn't Horace's fault. I mean...not entirely. I started it."
He glanced quickly at Halt. "Not - not that I meant to!"
Looking at Halt, Will thought there was a lack of his old harshness in his expression. Something had shifted after Halt had gotten sick. Sometimes Will wondered wryly if it was because the fever had baked Halt's brain into mush.
"Well, regardless of the intention, the fight still happened," Halt said. He shook his head. "I don't think I need to tell you that I am unhappy with that. Although it does you credit to have admitted it to me. What happened, exactly?"
Will looked away and hunched his shoulders. He chewed his lip. If he told Halt the truth, Halt would think him mad. There was no sane way Will could say that, as Horace had attacked him, Will had thought he was seeing a Skandian instead - further, the Skandian who had killed him.
"I tried to talk to him about something he didn't want to talk about," he said finally.
"In front of your other wardmates?"
Will sighed. "Yeah. It wasn't the brightest idea, I see now."
"You don't say."
Will frowned at him, then subsided. "I didn't realize...I didn't think he'd actually attack me over it, but I must've said something wrong, because he did."
"It seems to me that that was his fault, not yours. He didn't have to attack you over that. He could have chosen to walk away, but he didn't."
Will shrugged. "I fought back."
"I would hardly want my apprentice to sit still and take a beating," Halt said. "As long as you just defended yourself and didn't try to prolong the fight, you did nothing wrong."
Will huffed and muttered, "I never used to fight back."
Halt's expression suddenly sharpened. Will felt, somehow, that he'd misspoken. He shifted, frowning at Halt. What? He hadn't been lying - at the Ward, Will had learned quickly that the best way to escape from Horace with the fewest injuries was to flee as fast as possible. Trying to trade blows with Horace would only ever result in worse injuries. Will always got his revenge later.
"This is a usual occurrence, then?" Halt asked. "Horace hitting you?"
Will shrugged, uncomfortable. "I mean...boys will be boys." He didn't particularly want to tell Halt his own culpability in the situation.
Unfortunately, Halt seemed to like that even less. "Boys will not be boys if being a boy includes being an ill-bred bully," he said decidedly. He swept his eyes over Will, lingering at his eye, and added, "Rodney'd better train that out of him. If he does not..."
He trailed off, but his expression made it clear that Halt would not be happy about that situation. Will swallowed, then said, "Well, I mean, it's not like I wasn't...I wasn't always nice to him, either, Halt. Just because I didn't fight him doesn't mean I wasn't mean. We've both done things that were better off not done."
"Perhaps one more than the other," Halt said, frowning and still giving Will that odd look, like he had just realized something.
Will said nothing, hoping the subject would drop. He stared back at the ground, the woods, the sky. The birds and crickets and frogs were setting up the opening lines to their lullaby. After the day Will had had, he was more than content to be lulled by it. Lowering the poultice from his eye, Will settled back into the rocking chair and closed his eyes.
"Why are you so concerned about Horace?" Halt asked suddenly.
Will frowned, irritated at being interrupted. Then he processed what Halt had asked and felt a vague creeping of anxiety.
When Will didn't immediately answer, Halt pressed, "We've established that he has no issue with beating you."
"And I had no issue with pranking him right back," Will said, defensively. When Halt just gave him an unimpressed eyebrow, Will sighed. "It hasn't always been like this."
It was the truth, though not the one Halt probably thought it was. Will and Horace had never been close as children, at the Ward. Realistically, there was no reason that Will would want to seek Horace out like this. He hadn't last time. In fact, if Will remembered correctly, it was Horace who had come up to Will at the boar hunt. They'd gotten interrupted by the second boar, but Will was fairly certain Horace had been trying to make amends - and it had been Will who hadn't wanted to speak to him. How things had changed!
"It clearly is right now," Halt said. Will frowned at him. Why was he being so stubborn about this?
"Like I've told the others, I want to put it behind us. I know Horace and I can be friends, so why not try to work towards that? After all, you've told me that Rangers sometimes lead military units. What if I ended up leading Horace to battle somewhere?"
"Fighting alongside someone you've got bad blood with is generally inadvisable," Halt conceded. "I wasn't particularly fond of it when I had to do it, myself."
Will really wanted to know that story. He opened his mouth to ask. Halt huffed. "And no, I will not be telling you that story now."
"Tomorrow?" Will asked hopefully.
Halt glared at him. "Stop changing the subject. I am not fond of my apprentices putting themselves in danger."
Well, you're going to have to get fond of it quickly, Will thought. Then he realized what Halt was implying. "Horace isn't - he's not dangerous, he's just-"
"Been using you as a training dummy for Battleschool for the past decade or so?" Halt asked.
Will gritted his teeth. Why was Halt acting like this? Just because Will hadn't fought back directly didn't mean Horace was some sort of horrible person! Horace was his best friend, an honorable man, who had become calm and gentle and kind.
"Horace is my friend," Will said, tone that same low one that Halt used when he was mad.
He'd hoped that the tone would get Halt to see reason, show him that he was getting worked up over nothing, but Halt just gave him a look. "I'm sure he is."
Will stood and entered the house, not wanting to deal with the conversation anymore. His skin itched in discomfort as he made his way to his bedroom and closed the door. That look Halt had given him...
Why on earth had Halt looked pitying?
A/N: Happy Sunrise Sunday! Okay. So. We all know that elbow strikes can break wooden boards (that's what you train to do in martial arts like tae kwon do and karate). Spear shafts are...apparently, NOT as easy to break as wooden boards. They're often made out of ash wood, which is extremely hard to break - much harder than, say, yew wood, which is what bows are often made of. They're also pretty thick, soooo in reality, the idea that you could break a spear shaft by elbowing it really hard is...not realistic. That sort of thing requires like, a good stroke (or several) from an axe or a sword. There's your 'today I learned' fact, I guess?
Also. Halt is trying his best lol, don't him.
