Song listened to: 'Funhouse' by P!nk.
"Sir, not to question your judgement, but are you sure this is a good idea?"
Michael looked over to him in amusement "Saying such at the beginning of a statement insinuates you mean to question my judgement."
His captain sent a look in his direction, watching closely as his charge and little friend were each given a weapon of their choosing; the elder choosing the short blade and the younger the two daggers that were to be gifted when she was older. Sorath stood on the other side, his own blade in hand, standing ready to fight his oncoming attackers, and that was what the Commander was hoping for.
Neither little Akeelah or young Paul would hold back, they did not know the constraint of doing so yet, and with him being surrounded under the watchful gazes of the Powers and Commander himself, Sorath was bound to fight fair lest he be struck down before completing the task at hand.
It was simple enough, defeat them fairly, and he would keep his place among the Commanders Powers. But should he fail, he would be disgraced, there was no room among his ranks for those without honor and to attack to young ones without their own capability to fight back was most certainly dishonorable. He chose his personal legion very carefully, his Powers could recommend any they thought deserved a place among them, but in the end it was his decision to be made. He had chosen each of them by hand, not just for their ability to be fierce on the battle field, he could trust them entirely, not to bow down until the job was done, but also for their ability to know the difference between battle and not. They were tough when needed and soft when not, their compassion is what stuck out to him, and watching from the sidelines the way they cared for their young charges he knew he had picked correctly.
That being said, any who did make it passed his judgement, such as on the word of his Captain in regard to this one, could be exiled from his faction even after sorted in. It did not happen often and only to those who truly earned such a decree of punishment and shame. Gabriel had exiled Metatron from his faction upon learning of what the scribe had done to the rest of the host, some still hadn't been found from that impromptu fall, and from the words of the young ones most of those left missing were fledglings. Just as Raphael had exiled Naomi from his own faction, after having witnessed what his teachings had really been used for, he was meant to provide comfort to pain, not cause pain that then needed the comfort.
When an angel was exiled from their faction, they were exiled through the rest, often sent down to earth, so long as they weren't war criminals, and diminished to nothing but miracle making guardians to the human race. Which in itself was a faction, and those who chose said faction did so with pride, but being exiled to that faction bared you from returning to Heaven lest you be given permission, it was the only difference between those who chose that faction and those who were sent there afterwards.
He nodded to the other, Sorath looked prepared, but he wasn't just Commander because of his status as Heavens Sword. He knew his warriors; the good and the bad, like the back of his hand, and gestured for Nisroc to follow his gaze.
"Look there, he is resting on the balls of his feet, whereas our young friends rest on their toes." He gestured with a nod towards the two young angels looking their opponent up and down, taking in what they could see between strength and weakness, there was a few that his well trained eye picked up on immediately and he wondered if they had as well. Just how bright his two unofficial pupils were. "He is already committing one error, he is underestimating his opponent on appearance alone, they will not go easy on him." Michael gave his captain a side glance "I know that you have been teaching them. I've seen, and am impressed with how quick they learn, they work well together." The key to being on a team, such as the Powers, was the ability to work with those around you. You had to be fluid, using the other as an advantage, where they slashed, you would stab, and so on. It was a dance, between two or more persons, one of precision and coordination, and from what he's seen thus far has left him impressed from it coming from two so young.
Akeelah, at least a head shorter then her friend, knelt slightly, covering his front and sat coiled like a spring ready to pounce at a moments notice. Whereas Paul, the taller of the two of them, stood above, falling into a fighting stance of his own, twirled the blade in his hand in similar fashion that his guardian did when preparing for a match of his own (something that caused the Archangel to snort in amusement to) before settling to rest, crouched slightly, on the balls of his feet.
Honestly, the engagement was not all that exciting to watch, from someone who had been gifted a position in the Powers, Sorath was taken down much too soon for someone that was supposed to be best of the best. He surged forward, at the call of the start, and they stayed where they stood in wait, only striking when he struck first.
Paul met his swing in turn, twirling the blades around, and Akeelah surged forward with ease, nicking the recruits lower legs as she did, had they been allowed to truly do as they intended, she would have just severed his hamstrings and left him paralyzed in the fight.
When he stumbled, her friend met his stumble head on, twirling the blade around and jammed the hard end of the hilt into his left side.
Michael hummed in approval, whispering to his Captain "He favors his left side. Was he injured in training?" and his captain could only shrug, too captivated in watching his two students show just how well they had taken to his teachings, he knew he shouldn't have and that his Commander would frown upon it later (though not give him the order for it to be stopped—notedly), what with one being in beginners classes and the other too young to weld a blade unsupervised but he was under the impression it was better for one to know how to defend themselves then to rely on others to do it for you.
Such as what had been proven that one night months ago, when their Archangels were gone, and the Hell Knights had managed to take all the faction legions hostage, and though the Powers would never admit to being rescued by a fledgling and youngling, they did owe it to them.
Sorath yelled when his little opponent nicked his right tendon a bit too deeply, and Michael called in a gentle tone "Subdue only." To which he would swear he saw her groan and roll her eyes to at a later time. From there, it was pure entertainment, his Powers cheering on the two young ones from the sides, even his Captain joining in with pride, as the youngling took on the brunt of the attack. He allowed the distraction for his young friend to crawl under the recruits legs unseen, a major error on the elders part in remaining ever vigilant, and little Akeelah silently made her way to the benches that their engagement was quickly heading towards.
Paul sent him forward with a wild swing to the midsection, and in the error in previous judgement, as the recruit jumped back, the fledgling on the bench jumped forward. He yelled out when she landed on his back, clinging to him like a baby monkey does its mother, and brought one dagger up to the side of his neck and the other under, both poised to the jugular.
"To your knees."
Her tone was sharp, hard, but softer then the wind and that perhaps made it even more terrifying. The recruit shook his head, hissing as the blades of the daggers dug in harder, and she repeated herself. The friend joined in, blade raised evenly to his chest, both hands curled around the hilt, end of the blade tucked under the others chin. Perhaps allowing them to have range with the one who tormented them was an error on his part but Michael figured there was no turning back time to stop it (and part of him was happy on that fact) and thus they stood by and watched.
Sorath gasped when the dagger drew blood, it dripped under his ear, and slowly dropped his blade. The shame of being defeated by two child angels was overwhelming and he felt his face heat up from it, in front of the elder Powers and the Commander himself was adding insult to injury on his pride. He held his hands up in a placating manner, slowly dropping himself to his knees, and when she was close enough the little baby monkey withdrew from his back to stand in the grass behind him.
Michael stepped forward when he saw the red drip from under the recruits chin "I said subdue only."
"But he's gotta say he lost!"
"Subdue only."
The fledgling had the audacity to try and glare at him from over her defeated opponents shoulder.
"He lost and he gotta say so!"
"Akeelah you will release him."
"He's gotta say it!"
Nisroc stepped forward in time with him, easily disarming his own charge, and tucking him into his side. They would discuss the matter later, the boy knew he had broken the rules outlined for them and looked down contrite.
"What is it with you and making people admit their loss when you clearly know they did?"
The Archangel snagged her up by the scruff of her robe, and she yelped as she was lifted, the daggers confiscated, and settled on her big brothers hip. He ignored her for a moment, they come back to that matter in a bit, and turned his gaze to the shamed recruit.
"I have no place among my ranks for those who would fight so dishonorably as to use their rank to their advantage. I expect you to have cleaned your quarters out by sun fall and if you fail to do so I will have the others do so for you."