“Wonderful idea, dear.” Thayva smiled at her husband. “I’ll see who I can get to volunteer to go with them and teach them the basics. I’ll get both messages made later this afternoon.” She glanced out the window in the kitchen, the clouds making it difficult to gage the time. “Well, unless something else more pressing comes up, of course. How’s it coming?” She nodded to the beef Serapis roasted on the fire of the stove, the smell of it making her salivate. 

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	“I said what I meant, and I meant what I said!” Tor stumbled forward when Laura pulled from her grip. “They’re basically the same thing.”
	Tor sighed sadly when their match was brought to an end without either of them declared the victor. Tor offered a hand to Laura. “Good match!” 

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	Kia grumbled unintelligibly under her breath at the instructor’s questions. “Run and wonder what the freak I did to be anywhere [i]near[/i] a hobgoblin, let alone make it mad enough to attack.”

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	The young halfling straightened as quickly as he could, his body posed to strike the dwarf again against his better judgment as his tormentor rolled onto his stomach and got to his feet.
	A smug smile spread across the halfling’s face at the rage, anger, and humiliation swimming in the dwarf’s eyes and turning his face cherry red.
	The dwarf’s rage visibly deepened at the halfling’s expression. “You wretched little Brownie!” he roared wildly, and sprung at the halfling.
	The mute boy made to sidestep, his muscles quicker than the dwarf’s, then to lunge again, but the dwarf’s enraged battle cry cut short when one of the dwarven trainers all but tackled him then grabbed his shoulders firmly, and a dracon gripped the nape of the halfling’s shirt, making him jerk awkwardly back.
	“THAT’S ENOUGH!” the dracon bellowed, baring his fangs at the boys in warning. “Unless the both of you want to be sent to the headmaster for punishment for fighting outside the mats. After this afternoon’s stunt, something tells me he isn’t in the most merciful of moods.”
	The halfling boy scowled and crossed his arms in a disgruntled pout, ignoring the murderous glare the dwarf, panting hard through gritted teeth, kept on him.
	“A’right, ya lot!” a burly human called into the chaos of boys, his volume amplified by a bit of magic. “Training’s up. Report to the message therapists immediately!”

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	Nick shrugged at Jorn. “Call you Jorn, the great halfling warrior, and have you protect their crops?” he answered distractedly, watching the fight between the two young boys. 
	When the excitement ended and the training session was brought to a close, Nick eagerly got to his feet, his muscles protesting his speed.
	“Is it just me,” he offered Aurelian a hand up, “or are these sessions getting longer by the day?”