"Are you saying our people don't have artisans? Have you truly been away for so long you think us savages?" Annoyance and the slightest tinge of anger colored Nymira's words, her eyes holding Kensen in no small degree of disdain. Were they back in their lands and had she the authority to she might just smack him. Instead the Dimuran refrained from striking out and exhaled deeply, opting to use her words instead. "You speak as though our people use violence for the sake of violence. Its how we've decided a ruling clan, how we decide on our leaders, its been that way since the first clans settled. Do you mean to say our people are wrong then? Because we do things differently?" On one hand Nymira did agree with Kensen to an extent: fighting among themselves for supremacy weakened their people for a time as warriors were inevitably taken on the fields of battle. But with their numbers smaller than any other race in Adelon they needed that strength for a time, power enough to force outsiders to seriously consider trying to attack them. But the age of warfare was passing and, as her father argued, time had come to pass for a change. 

And perhaps that was the issue with their people, Nymira would admit. There was a clear divide on those who wished to keep things the way they had been and those who wished to move forward - she herself was stuck somewhere in between, forced to choose between what was new, and what their people knew. On her father's behalf she'd forge alliances but she couldn't deny some small part was always questioning if the effort would even be worth it. "If we're to be stuck in Mutebo then I suppose it can't be helped, I'll need to speak with the common peoples..." not terribly thrilled Nymira conceded with a frown, "And I suppose you speak of our fight with the beasts? A fight with something that we've never encountered? You may as well tell a child they're a worse warrior than you for all the good your logic does. I don't think myself so powerful that I can triumph over any foe, known or otherwise." Accepting her meal from the vendor she reached for her coin pouch and simply handed it over, instructing the man to take whatever was needed for their food. Nymira noted curiously how unlike so many merchants before the sum of coin that was taken seemed paltry by comparison: perhaps she had been a little [i]too[/i] generous with her givings. 

Ethan could scarcely keep himself from salivating as they walked, his eyes fixated on the lamb like a hungry wolf. Wanting to be polite however he had waited for everyone to have their meal, stopping himself twice from taking a first bite. By the time he'd finally sank his teeth into his meal he happened a glance up front and saw Nymira, half through with her meal, and his eyes widened as he stammered out a weak protest. And he'd tried so hard to express patience too! His complaints fell on deaf ears as the Dimuran ignored him and continued to speak with Kensen on the finer points of their training regiment. "That's so not fair... And here I've been drooling over mine the whole time..." a whimper and a sigh accompanied the words as Ethan slumped his shoulder slightly, smiling slightly as he looked at his meal, "Oh well... Time to dig in!" With how hungry he was he'd have sank his teeth into a wooden plank, though this was a [i]much[/i] tastier alternative. How had he never had venison before? There were loads of deer around Kinsgrove and yet he'd never tried it, not once. Or maybe he'd had it and simply forgotten which was entirely plausible. 

After their meal they were going to get right to training at last. There was a tentative excitement bubbling up inside of Ethan as he wondered just what Kensen had in store for them. They had been told their magic was lacking - and after fighting the beasts earlier he'd be inclined to agree - but he hadn't the foggiest idea of how they'd improve that. His speed magic while perhaps crude was his bread and butter, and while he could use wind as a means of attack it was by no means effective normally, or efficient for that matter. "Hey... Did you run into much trouble while traveling? Like... People from the Church, monsters, that sort of thing?" Either they had terribly unfortunate luck or their situation was just one of many similar cases. Ethan took another sizable bite from his meal and hastily wiped his chin as juice slid down it, smiling at the flavors assailing his taste buds. "Mmmph... Cuz... We've been running into all sorts of things while traveling and I don't really get why. It's like we've got a target on our backs or something," he mentioned before giving Adrianna a curious look, "Uh... You know... How do you fight? Not that you'll have to, just... Well you're a healer right? So your magic isn't exactly for fighting... I think."

----------

Norman was unable to keep himself in check as his enthusiasm bubbled to the surface. It was a rare chance nowadays he had an opportunity to actually upgrade anything, most works were either commissions - usually fixing a broken Machina or tool - or personal hobbies of his, like his bike. Upgrading things had its own unique flair to it, trying to push a technology to its limits was exciting. Cecil was in need of many things and they had a limited time to work with, he'd have to be fast if they wanted to get this work done. What took priority though? Power consumption? Defensive upgrades? Offensive capabilities? Perhaps they should try and remodel Cecil so he didn't stand out quite so much. The latter would take far too much time and, as Cecil revealed, his power consumption wasn't terribly pressing. That left the choice of offense and defense. Considering he'd fixed Cecil twice now for damage perhaps it was best to think of defense first and foremost.

"Bad? No, not at all. Though it depends on the style of shield we employ for you," Norman noted, placing a beneath his chin as he examined the array of parts before him, "We can opt for a solid, expanding sheet of metal for you to use. It would work well against deflecting projectiles and melee attacks but it would suffer against magical strikes. There's the option of a magic-imbued shield as well. We could use Demacite as a core and with two conduits create an arc of magical energy, and since it would have its own power supply it wouldn't drain your energy at all. Of course that shield wouldn't be as effective against weaponry, given it would be intangible. So what do we do then..." That was a pressing matter wasn't it? Each option had its benefits and yet neither was foolproof, Cecil would need an absolute shield in order to ensure his best chances of survival. For a short while Norman went silent as he began to examine and work with several items, muttering to himself and shaking his head as he threw aside a few he deemed lacking. It was both in his own best interest as well as that of the group that he got this right the first time but what should he do?

"Ah, of course! Why didn't I see it earlier! We simply use a tempered steel allow imbued with Demacite dust, make a double-plated shield from the metals, use conductors to pass a magical signature through the weapon thus inducing a reaction that would ignite the crystal dust, creating a magical coating on a physical surface! It would not only nullify magical blasts but the physical shell would help to absorb and redirect physical strikes as well!" Brilliant and simplistic! The only issue with that was grinding up Demacite crystals and having the shards retain their properties was no small matter - very specific machines had been designed to do such a task, machines he lacked - and the steel he had in mind was of high grade and terribly difficult to acquire outside of major cities. Nonetheless it was the best option, he needed only to pull a few strings for the materials. "Cecil! Tell me, if I were to forge a retractable shield for you what would be the best place to put it? We could... NO WAIT, I HAVE A BETTER IDEA!" Grabbing a small container from the table Norman circled around Cecil and pressed it to his back, adjusting it a few times before smiling and nodding to himself. "A barrier that forms around you! Demacite can act as the energy source and you control the power used, thus influencing the size of the barrier. It would allow you to move while maintaining a constant shield around yourself and it would take no power on your part to use, how's that sound?"

Teaching this child was going to be impossible. Why did she have to be so insufferably difficult? And why in the hells was she afraid of him? He wasn't the enemy! So maybe he wasn't quite as "soft spoken" as those who she kept company but she'd just have to learn to deal with him and his language. Saints above he really was being turned into a damned babysitter wasn't he? Picturing Taliya's smug face and her biting laughter in his mind Gage growled under his breath and folded his arms, his foot tapping against the dirt as he watched Amuné even try to find a stance. Unbelievable, she'd traveled with these people under attack and she didn't even understand how to wield a weapon? A bleedin' crossbow of all things! 

"Listen pup, you're doing it completely wrong. If you try holding it like that you're gonna lose yer grip on the damn thing." Finding a rusted pipe in a pile of scrap Gage held it up to his shoulder, resting the end against his upper pectoral as he aimed the imaginary weapon at a tree. "See? You need a steady base to fire from or you're going to stagger, though I doubt that puny thing has any kick to it. And you'll want to hold the weapon steady, place one hand under the barrel," he explained as a hand cupped the middle of the pipe, "And your other will rest around the grip. If you ain't moving then that'll be your best bet for firing accurate bolts. 'Course chances are you won't have much time to just stand around takin' aim when someone or something's trying to kill you. But let's get the basics down, ain't gonna do us any good if you can't even aim properly." Live fire exercises were the best way to learn but Gage wasn't sure Amuné could even manage to shoot without killing herself yet. To think he could be on a job right now instead of this. Settling down against a discarded crate he reached into his coat and pulled out a rusted canteen, pulling off the flask and taking a long drink from it, exhaling and shaking his head as the liquid burned down his throat. "Let's see if you can figure out a stance before I finish this," he teased as he shook the container, "Show me you're not just some helpless whelp."