3. supplement
When Ratonhnhaké:ton first started training under Achilles a couple of months ago, he was almost positive that the old man's training was the most rigorous task he's ever gone through. However, upon entering under the tutelage of Marceline Chaput, he'd discovered that he was wrong. He was so very wrong.
"Oh come now, garçon." Marceline teased, "I am sure you can do better than that." Her fighting style was nothing like that of Achilles, who was slowed due to his old age. Hers was rapid and cut-throat, almost quite literally as Ratonhnhaké:ton soon learned when he had a close call with Marceline's blade.
A little under two weeks of this horrid training regimen and Ratonhnhaké:ton could feel his body begin to protest the harsh treatments it was being put through. His muscles were sore. His skin was bruised. Every part of him ached for rest, but Marceline would not allow it.
The only part of him that remained intact was his resolve and he knew despite the coarseness of her words and actions, Marceline was helping him to the best of her abilities.
Despite this knowledge, he still felt irritation prod him when she poked fun and with a grunt, he slid his leg around hers, jabbing his elbow into her arm causing her to lose her grip on the sword in her hand which fell to the floor with a clatter.
Marceline took a step back as he pointed his own sword to her throat, holding her hands up with a sheepish grin, "Well now, that is more like it!"
Achilles smiled as he watched Marceline pick up her sword all the while ordering Ratonhnhaké:ton to take his stance once more. Perhaps, she was just the extra push that he needed.