The assistant instructor assigned to the Heron brotherband was a typical large, hairy Skandian named Gort. Jesper watched as he approached their lines. While it was clear that Gort enjoyed his food, Jesper could tell that he was still a formidable opponent. Just not to a demigod.

"Very pretty," Gort snorted sarcastically. "But there are no marks for being pretty, if that's what you had in mind." He looked at Hal questioningly. "Was it?"

Jesper rolled his eyes as Hal spoke to Gort. He had seen the impressed looks that had crossed the inspectors face as the Herons entered the field. Gort was only mocking them to try and divert them from the fact that they had impressed the instructors. Well, he mused, thinking back on his days as a sword instructor at camp, not all good ideas were reserved for the intelligent minded. Just most.

Gort walked down the line, studying the odd assortment of weapons that the Herons possesed. He stopped in front of Jesper and held out a hand for his small hunting bow. Jesper was always reluctant to hand over a weapon to those he did not trust, especially one that provided him with food.

Alas, he had to cooperate if he wanted to get through the day with as minimal pain as possible. With and inward sigh, Jesper handed over the bow, ready to spring into action at any sign of it being taken away or broken.

"All right for small hunting ame. Not much use in battle. There's no power there." Gort grunted.

As if Jesper didn't know that. What did Gort think he used the bow for? Shooting his enemies? It would require an especially small brain to do that. He would have more luck stabbing someone with an arrow himself and discarding the bow altogether. Adults always seemed to underestimate those who were younger than them. While it was helpful in battle, it was rather infuriating at times like this.

He passed the bow back and Jesper grabbed it, silently letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He watched with amusement as Ingvar swung his club at Gort. in all fairness to Ingvar, the phrase "Take a swing" coming from someone standing right in front of you was generally translated to "take a swing at me". While jesper successfully contained his laughter at the sight of Gort yelping and dropping to the ground to avoid the club, he couldn't contain the slight upward twitch of his lips.

He grinned as Hal and Stig joined forces to try and explain Ingvar's short sightedness to Gort, however exaggerated it may be as the twins kept Ingvar quiet.

"Blind as a bat, sir!" Edvin called out.

"Can barely see beyond his nose!" Stefan exclaimed, struggling (and failing) to contain his smile.

Jesper thought it was high time he joined in the fray. "Can barely see his nose!" he laughed gleefully at the cornered look on Gort's face. Ingvar started to protest again, but Wulf shut him up. When Ingvar asked who attacked him, Wulf grinned and said innocently, "It's Ulf." His grin grew wider as Ingvar promised to settle it with him later.

Jesper laughed inwardly. It seemed that Wulf had forgotten that he and his brother had switched the rope on Wulf's wrist to Ulf's in order to confuse the Herons. Well, he wasn't going to back him up tonight. No, he was going to sit back and enjoy the show. If only popcorn had been invented yet.

Jesper watched as the twins argued the similarity of the words "mediocre" and "ordinary". He looked on in approval as Hal managed to shut them up. His leadership was showing improvement, but Jesper knew it still needed work. Unfortunately, he still hadn't figured out how to help him without actually letting him know he was helping him.

He smirked and shook his head slightly as both twins missed in perfect unison. He watched as Gort studied Stig's axe. That was definitely Jesper's worst weapon. He had never practiced it very much as they were extremely large and unwieldy. Where could he have concealed one on his person?

"Pretty good. Show me a few moves. And remember the rules. If you decapitate the instructor, the team loses points." Gort barked. Well, Jesper thought, the instructor wouldn't really be in a position to take away points, would he?

Jesper watched as Stig demonstrated his ability against an imaginary enemy. With his trained eyes, he could tell that the timing was off and that he wasn't putting his full body weight into the strokes. He could also see that Stig was purely on offense. If he were in an actual battle, he would be killed within seconds.

Gort moved on to Hal and his crossbow. "Where did you get your hands on this?" It wasn't common for Skandians to carry around missile weapons. Jesper hadn't seen any weapon with that particular design before, but he was almost positive Hal had made some of his own modifications.

"Thorn gave it to me," Hal said as he handed the crossbow over to Gort.

"Aah, yes. Thorn. The old drunk." Jesper raised his eyebrows. That was not the smartest thing to say to Hal. jesper didn't live in the town of Hallasholm, but he could see that Thorn and Hal were extremely close.

He watched as Hal snapped back at Gort in defense of his mentor. Gort looked up from the crossbow with a warning look, and Hal flushed, muttering an apology and dropping his eyes back to the ground. Jesper pursed his lips. If he were defending a friend he would have stood his ground and defended them until they relented or he was dead. Then again, there was a reason Hal was a skirl and not Jesper. Jesper could lead a group of demigods into battle no problem, but this world he was thrown in was not his own and he had to be extremely careful with how he acted.

"Loyalty to friend is a good thing, skirl. But if he is your friend, you should know this: A drunk is never completely 'over it'. The risk is always there that he'll start drinking again when things get tough. You simply can never depend on him." Jesper raised his eyebrows again. Thorn had no more inclination to drink when things got hard than anyone else in the town. Skandians weren't exactly careful about how much they drank. In fact, if what Hal said was true and Thorn hadn't touched a bottle in years, then he was probably less like;y to turn to the bottle now than an average bulky Skandian.

Jesper rolled his eyes as Gort unintentionally offended Hal by calling him an Araluen. He felt bad for Hal, as he seemed to never get away from the fact that he wasn't a full Skandian. Jesper wasn't Skandian at all, but no one knew that, so it didn't matter in situations like this. He supposed it was the Mist. No one in Hallasholm had ever asked where his parents were. They just assumed that he was being taken care of since he wasn't begging on the streets.

He sighed inwardly. People only ever saw what they wanted to see. It was good, because it meant that no innocent lives were endangered from his enemies, but it was hard on Jesper. Patching up wounds was always difficult, and it could get difficult stealing without anyone noticing missing supplies when it was a particularly hard winter. Above all else, Jesper missed the comradeship that he shared with the demigods, especially Pavel and Dawn. He couldn't talk to anyone about his problems, as no one here was a demigod. The emotions just built up inside him until he had to sprint and scream and sob, barely holding himself together with the weight of it all bearing down on him.

Jesper was jolted out of his morbid thoughts by the loud THUNK of Hal's crossbow releasing a projectile. He shook himself slightly, as if it would shake off all of his worries. Everyone else was too focused on Hal and Gort's conversation to notice. At least it made his life easier. Jesper watched as Hal shot again, this time at a shield a much further distance away. The bolt was slightly off center to the right, but it knocked the shield from its support, sending it spinning for a few meters back.

Gort motioned for them to come closer, and the Herons formed a loose semicircle around him. "All right," he began, "We'll issue you with your other weapons today. Some of you will be better suited to the sword, I think." Gort gestured at Hal, Edvin, and Jesper. They were of the slightest builds of the brotherband. Jesper was by far the skinniest, what with having the exact same body size he died in, but it always seemed that people overlooked the fact.

"Stig, you keep your axe. It's a good weight and balance for you. Stefan and you twins, it'll be axes for you too. Forget about the spears. You can use 'em as tent poles if you like." he turned to Jesper. "Lose the bow as well. Use it for hunting if you want, but that's it." Jesper mentally rolled his eyes. What did Gort think he used it for? Decoration?

Jesper could see the slight drop of relief in Hal's shoulders when Gort said to keep working on the crossbow. Gort would have been a fool no to. The crossbow was a powerful weapon, and, with Hal's modification, shouldn't take too much time to master.

"All right. The armorers have set up a tent. It's over there, at the end of the training ground." Gort pointed to the tent at the other end of the field. "Let's get over there and get you some weapons. Then you have the rest of the day to make final improvements to your quarters, and go over the list of tests we have in store for you."

Jesper started across the field with the rest of the brotherband, heading toward the armorers' tent. He watched as Hal ran to catch up with them. He knew how Hal felt. Things were moving quickly, and there were already assignments to catch up on. It was school all over again, Jesper thought with a grimace.

After the boys were issued their weapons, they headed to lunch. Jesper's stomach ached with hunger, but he knew he would regret eating anything more than an apple. He had pushed his limits, eating more than he should have at breakfast. Unfortunately, his stomach had shrunken to the point where he could never eat his fill before he died. Now that he had died, it seemed that the only way his body would change was if it caused him more pain and discomfort (ie. he could get skinnier, but not fatter. His hair could be cut short, but it would never grow back because technically he was dead (but he wasn't really. He just died)). Sighing, Jesper turned away from the food and inspected the weapon.

It was a plain sword, with an unadorned leather hilt stained with sweat marks. It was unbalanced, but he was skilled enough that he could still cause devastation to his opponent. He inspected the blade. It had a few nicks and needed an edge, but he could fix that later in the day.

Glancing around, he could see the other boys looking at their issued weapons almost reverently. To them, it was the symbol of them becoming a man. Jesper snorted inwardly. Demigods got a weapon as soon as they possibly could. There was nothing symbolic about it until its owner had fought countless battles and subconsciously created a symbolism for it. But, he suppose it was a good thing they were handling the weapons with such care. It showed their understanding of what wielding a weapon meant, and that they (hopefully) wouldn't treat it like a plaything.

He snapped out of his musings when Stig called him over to join him. He stood up, hiding his grimace from the rise in pain in his side where the knife entered (and apparently never came out, not that he could do anything about it). "Hal wants us to put some more roof frames under the canvas to stop the rain from pooling so much." Jesper nodded, and the two set to work.

He glanced over at the other boys. Ingvar was watching the twins, who were arguing quietly. He wondered what was on his mind. Hal and Edvin had their head bent over what Jesper assumed was the list of assessments. That was good. Both had intelligent and strategic minds. Plus, it was an added bonus that he didn't have to read it. Jesper had gotten faster and faster when reading and piecing word that he couldn't read clearly together, but his dyslexia was still a pain in the podux. Sending one more puzzled glance at Ingvar, Jesper turned back to the task at hand.