Taking comfort in one's strength (private)

[Dusky Wing]

A full moon was out, a perfect time for practice. Clashing steel echoed about the Canterlot training grounds, soon to be lunar guards practicing their sword skills on the various training dummies. One recrit in particular was practicing her hardest on the poor stuffed enemy, hay and string littering the floor below her target, Estoc held firmly between her teeth as she danced about her ‘enemy’ as if dodging a flurry of strike and delivering her own counter attacks. She had to get better, her strikes were sloppy, her stance wasn’t firm, all of her mistakes could potentially cause an innocent pony to lose their life. All of this was going through her head while on the outside the areion seemed like quite a capable guard, some of the trainee’s even stopping to watch. Soon it got the point where she just couldn’t practice anymore, not for lack of enthusiasm, just a lack of fulfillment; she needed something more, somepony to really push her limit.

“You there!” She called to one of her watchers, flipping her purple mane over her shoulder as she rested her blade against her side. “How about a sparring match?” She offered the surprised colt, taking a few even breaths to compose herself. He gave a rather hesitant nod and the areion trotted over to the practice weapons set up at various stations of the courtyard, her opponent following to pick up a wooden long sword as she did the same. The poor colt never even stood a chance, a few halfhearted sword strikes and he was disarmed, bowing and stepping away from the ‘arena’. A few hoots and hollers followed after the poor male as another challenger stepped up, a crowd beginning to form of interested areion and ponies alike, some gave her a challenge while others walked away, defeated, the areion still not getting a since of satisfaction in her skill. She dragged her beat up wooden blade back to its stand and slowly began to make her way back to the barracks, maybe when the higher ranking officers returned in a few days she’d have better luck.

[Dio]

Drill, drill, drill. With physical conditioning came mental acuity. The less thinking that needed to be done to keep a pony alive in a crisis, the more thinking that could be devoted to trying to solve the crisis itself. There was a time for aspiration and there was a time for perspiration. The latter was now upon this lot.

Sergeant Acclaim had long since pushed the fresh recruits past the stage of mere inspiration. There was only so much that rousing speeches, team-building exercises, and tactics classes could teach. If there was no muscle behind the hoof, it was useless no matter how badly the soldier believed in it. She watched the commotion from the training yard ramparts as a young areion took on challenger after challenger.

It was like watching a schoolyard slap fight. In the glow of moonlight, Acclaim’s sharp eyes tracked the fighter’s every move. Her technique was effective, but sloppy. Attacks were launched haphazardly and blocks, dodges, and counters were all issued reactively, without any sort of guided intelligence. It was only her lightning quick reflexes that seemed to allow her to stay ahead. At least she had that going for her.

Spreading her bat wings, Acclaim leaped off the ramparts and glided silently into the courtyard. Recruits snuck a peek at the sergeant as she arrived, but quickly went back to their activities when she glared in their direction. She circled around the retreating soldier and touched down in front of her.

“Where are you going, soldier? Conditioning isn’t over yet!”