Fandom High School

This week in class, Jaime greeted his students with a shield strapped to his right forearm. It felt clumsy and altogether wrong, but there was little choice else wise.

"It seems that I've missed an entire week, including your class," he told them dryly. "And all without the aid of a goodly amount of wine."

Lannisters/Wine OTP, yo.

"But I hope you learned something with your replacement class." With an archer. Ugh. "Today we become accustomed to the weight of a shield. Your shield and weapon should act as an extension of yourself, moving fluidly as your muscles have become used to it."

Until you have to learn it all over again as a crippled swordsman. Cry more, Jaime.

"Grab a shield and test the weight if you will." They were sturdy, heavy wood. Little nicks and gouges dotting the surfaces, but in perfectly working order.

There were swords waiting for the class this time around, blunted practice swords for each student. That didn't mean they weren't dangerous still. They were heavy slabs of metal that could break a man's arm if someone got careless. And no one wanted a trip to the clinic, right?

Right.

Jaime held one in his left hand, feeling just as awkward as he was certain he looked with it. He almost wished for the sword he'd given to the wench in order to at least look the part of noble warrior once again. "We will be getting a feel for the sword today," he informed the class. "We won't be fighting our classmates, though. I don't have enough patience to muddle through this many of you. Nor would I enjoy screams of pain when one of you undoubtedly hit another."

He smiled, holding up the stump of his right hand. "Let's remember these are not toys, shall we?"

Best blade safety demonstration ever, people!

"You will be striking wooden dummies until I'm certain you won't be stabbing yourself or others." A beat. "Without due cause, that is. Get to it."