Lisbeth had spent the last few hours on some of the more tedious tasks of her career as a soldier. She had volunteered for duty with the Stormbreak Dragoons with the hopes of one day joining her ranks. Being so young and inexperienced, she wasn't yet qualified to be anything more than a common footsoldier. But if she proved herself through valor and victory in the war, and showed that she was as tough, strong, and honorable as the Dragoons, then she might one day hope to join their ranks.
Unfortunately, that meant she had to start off at the bottom: tending to the dragon stalls. She'd spent more time than she cared to think about mucking the stalls; dragons were many things, but fresh and fragrant wasn't among them. When she'd first showed up for the duty, one of the other soldiers had offered her an ointment to rub under her nose. It had smelled horrendous, but the other soldier had assured her it would help, and he'd been right. The ointment had helped drown out the much fouler scents while she mucked the stalls.
After the manual labor, she had been about ready to collapse. She was out of breath, her face paler than usual, sweat running down her brow. But the work wasn't done yet. She'd spent the next hour learning how to properly fasten and adjust the dragon saddles. She had some experience with saddling a horse, so the process wasn't completely foreign to her. But a dragon's saddle was configured completely differently to fit the shape of the dragon's body, including ensuring that the saddle fit comfortable around the wings without interfering with their movement. And it was extra important to make sure the saddle was safe and secure, lest one of the Dragoons fall off mid-flight and meet an unsavory end.
Finally, when the manual labor was complete, she'd been handed a spear and told to begin training. Lisbeth had never held a spear before. It felt like it weighed almost as much as she did. Dragon spears in particular were bigger than a normal spear, with large bladed heads designed to pierce the hides of dragons and other monstrous creatures from all around Caido. She could barely hold the massive thing with both hands, even though the bigger, stronger Dragoons and trainees could wield them in a single meaty fist.
After fumbling with the spear, the other soldiers training in the nest had given up on her, finding other training partners who could actually hold a spear properly. This had left Lisbeth alone, holding the spear like a walking stick, leaning her full weight against it as she struggled to catch her breath.
She was still wheezing when the strange man approached her. She struggled to raise her head, surprised to see that someone actually wanted to spar with her.
She was worn out from the long day of work. But despite that, she nodded her head firmly. "Sure," she said. "I'm always ready for more."
She stood up straight and hauled the spear up, holding it horizontally in front of her. Her small hands barely hit around the thick shaft of the spear. Her arms shook a bit bearing the weight of it. But she squared off in a defensive posture, ready to spar, even as the sweat poured from her brow.
Unfortunately, that meant she had to start off at the bottom: tending to the dragon stalls. She'd spent more time than she cared to think about mucking the stalls; dragons were many things, but fresh and fragrant wasn't among them. When she'd first showed up for the duty, one of the other soldiers had offered her an ointment to rub under her nose. It had smelled horrendous, but the other soldier had assured her it would help, and he'd been right. The ointment had helped drown out the much fouler scents while she mucked the stalls.
After the manual labor, she had been about ready to collapse. She was out of breath, her face paler than usual, sweat running down her brow. But the work wasn't done yet. She'd spent the next hour learning how to properly fasten and adjust the dragon saddles. She had some experience with saddling a horse, so the process wasn't completely foreign to her. But a dragon's saddle was configured completely differently to fit the shape of the dragon's body, including ensuring that the saddle fit comfortable around the wings without interfering with their movement. And it was extra important to make sure the saddle was safe and secure, lest one of the Dragoons fall off mid-flight and meet an unsavory end.
Finally, when the manual labor was complete, she'd been handed a spear and told to begin training. Lisbeth had never held a spear before. It felt like it weighed almost as much as she did. Dragon spears in particular were bigger than a normal spear, with large bladed heads designed to pierce the hides of dragons and other monstrous creatures from all around Caido. She could barely hold the massive thing with both hands, even though the bigger, stronger Dragoons and trainees could wield them in a single meaty fist.
After fumbling with the spear, the other soldiers training in the nest had given up on her, finding other training partners who could actually hold a spear properly. This had left Lisbeth alone, holding the spear like a walking stick, leaning her full weight against it as she struggled to catch her breath.
She was still wheezing when the strange man approached her. She struggled to raise her head, surprised to see that someone actually wanted to spar with her.
She was worn out from the long day of work. But despite that, she nodded her head firmly. "Sure," she said. "I'm always ready for more."
She stood up straight and hauled the spear up, holding it horizontally in front of her. Her small hands barely hit around the thick shaft of the spear. Her arms shook a bit bearing the weight of it. But she squared off in a defensive posture, ready to spar, even as the sweat poured from her brow.
