You'd strike fear into your enemies if you carried a scythe, practicing necromancy in all black. You scoop your broom up from against the wall and start reaping the heads of your enemies (in the form of your straw-stuffed pillow).
Your pretend fight is interrupted by a laugh behind you. Your face grows instantly hot as you realize Fizza's spotted you.
"Be nice to her," Fizza says, nodding to the pillow. "She's your only friend."
"You…shut up!" is all you can manage.
She just laughs again. "You ever going to get ready for the day? Sir Kelton wants us to go into town to buy supplies for next week's tournament, and I'm not gonna wait around for you."