[i]"Oh. My. Gosh."

Alexa is so busy goggling over the thrown training spear that she nearly gets beaned by the follow-up shield. But can you blame her? It's her first spear! She's finally allowed to train for real! She's seen the soldiers with them before, in between the furious lessons and books, but up until now she's been forced to learn things like strategy and theory and logistics and [i]eugh.[/i]

It's just a spear like any of the dozens in the barracks, probably mass-produced by a factory somewhere. But it lodges in her hand like it's a part of her that she didn't know was missing. It feels right, feels natural, and almost without thinking the spear leads her through the drills she's seen the soldiers perform. This... this is what she's for!

"Wrong."

She winces, and shoots a tentative grin at the sergeant.  He's one of the nicer soldiers, she thinks--one of the officers that pretends he doesn't see her, so long as she doesn't force his hand by being too obvious about it.

The sergeant doesn't return the smile, but there's a twinkle in the corner of his eyes that keeps Alexa from giving up too quickly. He strides across and quickly adjusts her stance--kicks her ankles into being further apart, shoves the speartip further up, straightens her back, shoves the shield into place.

"You've got the right motions," he grudgingly admits. "Or at least, a not hopeless start at 'em. But you haven't got the right mindset. Now listen close."[/i]

***

Even now, picking up a spear feels like the most correct thing in the world. 

She closes her eyes and lets the warmth of the spear radiate out through her. Lets it center her, complete her, carry her through the motions of the drill. Allows the words--long buried, but not forgotten--to rise up in memory.

[i]"This is as close as it is possible to come to a perfect war."[/i]

Step. Swish. Crack. The impact of spear on spear rattles down to her fingertips and, without opening her eyes, Alexa smiles. Isty has some good instincts.

[i]"Two champions, alone in an arena, with no intention to kill or harm."[/i]

Faster now. Test her reflexes. See how far instinct takes her. Hold back for now. You've hurt people without meaning to before. Let her get warmed up.

[i]"I wish that all wars could be so fought."[/i]

In practice, of course, that just means that whichever side fields the strongest champion has free reign to do as they like until someone comes to dethrone them. Was that Molech's plan? Make the strongest warrior ever to rule eternally? Was she the backup or--

Alexa grunts as the distraction earns her a thrust in the gut.

"Are you--"

"Fine. I am fine."

And yet, she's smiling. It's been a while since she could simply relax into this. Could trust someone else not to get hurt. But Isty managed a touch on her! That's incredible! Can you imagine what she could be with proper training?

But, she has a point to make.  And here, she admits she's paraphrasing on Sergeant Ridder's shpiel. [i]Isty, wars are not fought alone.[/i]

Isty's spearthrust is poorly aimed, but Alexa steps into it, catches it on a forearm. It lets her thrust past Isty, into the space to her left. An imaginary phalanx member gurgles, clutching a gash in her neck, which gives the imaginary

It's an imperfect illustration, she knows. And somehow, Isty doesn't get it. Doesn't understand why Alexa is making these boneheaded mistakes, one after another, and stabbing at nothing.  But if she doesn't take the blows, then who will? The people behind her, of course. She is their shield, their protector, and shields don't complain about scratches.

She wishes shields could complain about not making their point clearly.