After Bunny released him from her bear hug, Croy found himself lying on his back. Bunny had climbed onto him and was sitting on his stomach, wearing a radiant smile.
"You've grown so much!"
"We've only not seen each other for five days!"
But even as he said these words, he was incredibly happy to see the little bundle of energy. Bunny was a valued teammate and one of his closest friends.
Even though she sometimes acted childish - and even looked a bit that way - the young woman was extremely strong, something she had proven multiple times during their time in the war.
Professor Aerav joined them, shaking her head.
"Let him go, Melinda. The other students are already looking jealous."
Indeed, the two were receiving some curious glances.
Bunny grinned.
"Let them! Then they'll at least stay away from my little baby!"
"Alright, that's enough now, Bunny," said Croy, pushing her off him. Both stood up and looked at each other, smiling, with Croy having to look down a bit.
"Did Professor Aerav summon you too? What debt did she call in? The dinner? The tunnel? Or perhaps the thing with the bomb?"
"The underwear incident," said Bunny proudly.
Croy nodded.
"Ah, right, there was that too."
Professor Aerav blushed slightly.
"Don't mention it, Melinda!"
Bunny laughed and patted her embarrassed friend on the back.
"Don't worry, Croy's as innocent as it gets." Then she turned back to him and scanned him from top to bottom with her gaze.
"You look really good in the uniform. Even if it's a bit odd."
Croy smirked.
"Don't say anything. When I saw Cooko- I mean, Professor Aerav here teaching, I almost saluted."
Professor Cookoff shook her head one last time with a smile before turning away from the two.
"Good to see you guys getting along like usual. I'll be with the other students then."
Bunny waved her friend goodbye, then tilted her head as she looked at the Spellsword in its sheath.
"You've replaced the pistol?" she asked, surprised.
Croy also looked at the sword.
"Yeah. Even if it's no better than a stick in my hands," he grumbled grimly.
Bunny nodded understandingly, then looked at Inera with a pouting expression, who had been curiously observing the interaction.
"Apparently, you've replaced me too," the pouting disappeared and turned into a grin, "your girlfriend?"
Inera blinked innocently and looked around. Then she pointed at herself in surprise.
"Me? Oh please no, Croy is a friend."
Croy just shrugged and gave an agreeing sound. Somehow, he could only see Inera as a friend; there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
Bunny seemed to notice the reaction and then nodded contentedly.
"You've even made friends already... my little baby has grown up so much!"
"Say, uh, Bunny?" Inera asked uncertainly.
Bunny shook her head.
"You can call me Melinda. 'Bunny' already belongs to others," she said, and her tone was by no means mean, just factual.
Inera seemed to understand.
"Melinda, were you also a teammate of Croy's?"
"Yes," she said, smiling, "for several years. I practically raised the boy."
"Thank goodness you weren't alone in that," quipped Croy. He had missed joking with his friend.
But Inera looked at Bunny with an extremely serious expression, as if she were assessing how strong the small woman was. When Croy saw her determination, his smile also disappeared.
'That's right. Bunny isn't here just to see me again.'
Inera had already sensed the opportunity. It would also be a shame for Croy not to take advantage of it.
"Bunny," he said more seriously now.
"Hmm?"
"Teach me how to handle the sword. You can do that, right? The Sword and battle-axe were always your favorite weapons."
Bunny tilted her head, a slight smile still on her lips, but her eyes now held the seriousness of a veteran.
"That's why I'm here."
***
"You're standing completely wrong again!" Bunny shouted into his ear, her voice having lost all its previous sweetness.
Croy flinched, felt frustration rising but swallowed it down. For a good thirty minutes, he'd been trying to stand "correctly" - or rather, to stand as Bunny wanted him to.
It wasn't as if he had no idea about fighting. In close combat, he was trained and practiced, could block and deliver punches and kicks with precision. But apparently, none of that applied once he held a sword in his hand.
"Your leg is still too far forward. You'll land a quick leg kick like that, but you have no rhythm," explained Bunny with a reproachful look.
"Rhythm?" Croy asked, throwing her a skeptical glance.
"Yes, rhythm," she answered firmly. "A swordfight is a dance. It's not just about striking and parrying - you have to move, find the flow. Here, look."
She came over to him, took his hip with a firm grip, and turned it slightly to the side. She pushed his feet a bit apart, immediately improving his balance. Her hand rested a moment on his shoulder as she assessed his posture, then she finally nodded.
"Alright," she said, "it's a start."
Croy raised his eyebrows slightly.
That was probably the best praise he'd get from her this morning. But before he could further enjoy his small success, Bunny positioned herself opposite him, about two meters away.
She raised her arms and spread her fingers slightly - an inviting gesture that simultaneously challenged him.
"Attack me," she ordered.
"With the sword?" he asked skeptically.
The sword still felt like a foreign object in his hands, and the idea of swinging it at her seemed strange.
He hadn't worried about Jradan, but Bunny was, in his eyes, much more dangerous than that arrogant noble's son. That chin.
"Yes, with the sword, what else?" retorted Bunny, briefly crossing her arms before returning them to a relaxed stance.
Her eyes sparkled with challenge, but also a hint of impatience.
Croy suppressed a loud sigh. Bunny was a sweet and loving friend, but during training, she had a completely different side. If her student didn't immediately understand what she meant, she became impatient and even angry.
Nevertheless, she was skilled in her martial arts.
He prepared to attack, swinging the sword sideways in a wide arc.
Bunny looked unimpressed. She stepped forward, forcing him to twist the blade unnaturally to reach her.
But before he could even land his move, she had grabbed his arm under his armpit and twisted it with such strength that the sword fell from his hand in pain.
Before he knew it, she pulled him down until her face was only a hand's breadth from his.
"Do you want to hug me or attack me?" she asked with an almost angry grin.
"You have a sword now. That means you determine the distance to the opponent. Always. Never give up control over the spacing."
With a slight push, she released him. Croy rubbed his arm and grimaced as she, with a smooth movement of her foot, flipped the sword into the air for him to catch.
For her, a sword was a part of her, while in his hands it still felt heavy and awkward.
"And never, ever, drop your sword," she added. "You're holding it too tightly. Loosen your grip. A hand-and-a-half sword isn't an axe you can just grab and swing."
"A hand-and-a-half sword?" he asked, confused, "I thought this thing was meant for one hand."
Bunny nodded.
"Technically, it is. But the hand-and-a-half sword - my god, what a lame name - is an intermediate form between short sword and long sword. The crossguard is long enough to protect your hand, and the blade makes up about three-quarters of the total length. The rest is the extended grip so you can place the second hand on it if needed."
Croy blinked surprised. She had always been strong in his eyes. But sometimes, with her sweet and childlike demeanor, Croy forgot that she was anything but naive.
He looked at the sword in his hand. Now that she explained it, he saw it in a new light. He had misunderstood the balance of the grip until now, hadn't adjusted to the weight, and had been holding it like a longer club.
"That means you can wield the weapon more flexibly," Bunny continued, raising her own imaginary sword to show him how.
"With one hand, you have more reach and freedom of movement, but you can also grip it with both hands for more power and precision, especially with vertical strikes. It takes a lot of practice, but as a spellcaster, you have more resources than a normal person."
Croy nodded slowly. He was beginning to understand what this weapon was about. He closed his hand around the grip and felt how the balance of the weapon changed as he held it more loosely, shifting the grip a bit higher.
Yes, it did feel better that way.
'Sorry for thinking of you as a simple one-hander. You're at least one and a half times as good.'
Bunny watched him attentively as he tried the first cautious movements, swinging the sword before him.
"Well, understood?" she finally asked with a slight smile.
"Yes," he murmured. "I think I've got it."
"By the way, it's sometimes also called a bastard sword. Was that part of your decision?" she asked, smirking.
'Bastard sword, huh?'
Croy shrugged. Bastard, pervert, what else?
Bunny nodded, then clapped her hands and adopted her strict teacher's expression again.
"Not looking too bad. Now take your stance. And this time, please do it correctly. Now, attack me again," said Bunny, positioning herself opposite him, arms relaxed at her sides, but her eyes sparkled with the same intensity as before.
This time, Croy was more confident. His movements with the sword felt smoother and more precise. He took a deep breath and focused.
He would do it right this time.
Croy began with a targeted strike from the right, just as Bunny had taught him. His stance was wider and more stable, weight shifted to his back heel to quickly retreat if necessary.
This time, he held the sword more loosely and used the momentum of the blade to increase the force of the blow, instead of relying solely on his arms.
Bunny observed his posture keenly, but instead of stepping directly toward him as before, she now made a skillful sidestep, evading his strike.
"Don't stop!" she called out.
Croy followed her instruction, instinctively grabbing the grip with his second hand and drawing the blade upward in a flowing arc.
He felt the sword stabilize in motion and sensed the power gained through the two-handed grip.
"Good!" said Bunny approvingly, but before he could enjoy the smile on her face, she made another sidestep and gave him a light kick to the side.
It was just a shove, strong enough to throw him off balance but not hard enough to make him fall.
Croy managed to stay upright but gritted his teeth.
'So much for doing it better,' he thought, feeling frustration rise again.
But he knew, it had been better. Now he understood how the sword was supposed to be wielded at least.
"You've somewhat understood," said Bunny, nodding appreciatively, "but you still don't know how to strike properly."
She stepped closer and slightly raised the sword to show him the basics of striking technique.
"In sword fighting, it's about controlling and directing the force of the strike. Here, watch."
She let the sword glide down in a gentle swing, showing him how she held it.
"A simple strike goes like this: You draw the blade downward, using the weight of the weapon and the rotation of your hips to amplify the force. You have to initiate the movement from your center, not just your arm. And pay attention to your hand position - especially when holding the sword with both hands; it shouldn't feel cramped."
She demonstrated another strike, using only her wrist to guide the blade in a flowing movement from left to right.
"This strike is quick and good for short distances. Depending on the situation, you can switch . sometimes with both hands, sometimes with just one. In the end, your stance and rhythm determine how you combine the strikes."
Croy nodded in understanding. The theory made sense so far.
"And only when your body can execute every blow in your sleep should you even think about blending them together. Try it now," Bunny urged him, and Croy adopted a focused expression.
He raised the sword again and executed the strike, this time focusing more on his hips and the flowing movements Bunny had shown him.
She nodded as he made the first attempts, repeatedly performing the strike and trying to find the rhythm.
"Repeat that," she finally ordered. "Until lunchtime today."
Croy squinted. Lunchtime? That was in four hours! He suppressed a sigh and nodded silently. No objections.
If Bunny said so, he would swing the sword until it became second nature.
He set to work, repeating the strike over and over, concentrating on his posture, the rotation of his hips, the fluid movement.
Even though his body was still exhausted from yesterday, he could feel the energy returning.
He was getting better. Stronger.
He couldn't allow himself to be distracted now. To keep up with the others at the Academy, much more of such training lay ahead.
The thought filled him with both joy and motivation.
Bunny watched him for a moment longer, satisfied with his determination.
Then she turned to Inera, who had been standing a few meters away, attentively following everything.
"You mentioned you needed my help too?" Bunny asked now in her sweet, cheerful voice.
The contrast to her strict tone from earlier was almost shocking.
Even if Croy didn't directly see the interaction between the two because he was fully focused on his exercise, he could hear the conversation well.
"My Spellweapon is a whip," Inera explained cautiously.
"A whip?" Bunny asked, her voice now sounding surprised yet interested.
"Yes... can you teach me that too?"
Bunny seemed to think for a moment.
"Hmm... I've never used a whip myself. But I know some basic techniques."
Inera didn't sound disappointed.
"I already know the basics, but I've never had the opportunity to really fight someone with it."
Suddenly, Bunny's voice sounded excited.
"Oh, we can arrange that! Come on, hit me - I was a naughty girl!"
Croy felt his thoughts briefly drift toward the two women and had to immediately call himself to order.
'Focus!' he told himself, pushing aside all distracting thoughts.
He raised the sword again and let it slash down with more precise force.
Another strike. And another.
'Again.'