Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-768817-20160530212729/@comment-5543592-20160607025233

"What is this?" Ielia asked, looking at the object in her hand. She held up what appeared to be two bands of steel with something made of paper folded between them.

"It's a fan." He said.

"A fan?  Like... for fanning?"

Vestulf just stared at her. "No."

She unfolded it into a wide arc. It was made of a sturdy paper, dyed black, with the sigil of the Blades painted on it.

"This... is a weapon?"

"Yes."

Ielia laughed. "It's a good attempt at a joke, mister, but I don't think so.  Let me see the swords."

"No swords.  You will learn the war-fan."

"The war-fan..." She muttered, exasperated. "The war-fan?!" She repeated. "So I can, what, calm my enemies with a light breeze?"

Vestulf stared at her with a characteristically flat expression. "Give the fan to me." He said, holding out his hand.

She did so. Vestulf held the fan in front of him for a moment, considering it, then swung out with his arm, and smacked the thing clear across her face.

Ielia stumbled backwards, cheek stinging, surprised she wasn't unconscious or her cheekbone broken.

Vestulf pulled a sheathed sword from the wall, a shorter katana--Vestulf called it's kind a 'tanto'--, and tossed it to her. Ielia managed to catch it, and balanced the weapon in her hand. It was light, much lighter than her stupid stick.

"Attack me." He told her.

"It'd be my honor." She grumbled.

Ielia unsheathed the sword, and held it out in her stance. The last hours of training had drilled good technique and style into her, and while she knew she had a while to go before she was anywhere near as skilled as Vestulf was, she was able to perform admirably. Ielia advanced on him wary, Vestulf never moved, still holding the fan, open, in fron of him, and then stabbed powerfully.

With a rush, the fan snapped closed, and glided down to his side and knocked her blow aside. He stepped inside her reach, raised the fan, and attacked her, dashing the war-fan towards her collarbone. Ielia managed to bring her tanto back up and narrowly blocked it. They were in close range now, as both of their weapons were short, and she knew Vestulf could probably kick her off her feet if he had wanted to. Instead, the Blade locked her tanto's hilt into the slight gap that the closed fan made, and twisted her arm out wide. She knew that there he could've taken her out with a punch to the chest or head, but no such thing happen. In the same fluid motion, brought the fan back, and jabbed her in the shoulder with it, the same arm that held the tanto.

Ielia's entire arm went numb and the Tanto clattered to the ground. The limb hung slack in it's socket.

"What was that?" She asked, not in any pain, just disoriented.

"A nerve bundle in your shoulder.  You won't be able to feel that arm for a while." He held up the fan before her, and hunkered over slightly so that they were level. "This is the weapon of an officer.  The grunts, they use swords, clubs, axes.  It doesn't need to kill in order to defeat, and only those with true skill can use it.  The Akaviri had to invent an entirely new form in order to use it properly.  You will learn the war-fan because if you wish to fight, there is no better weapon for you to fight with.  It can injure, imobilize, even kill if need be.  It is a weapon of percission."

"All your weapons are weapons of percission." Ielia said, looking over at the finely tuned, thin blade of a katana that hung on the wall.

"True.  But in the hands of a brute, they would still be weapons, and dangerous ones at that.  Only in the hands of a master does this truely reach it's full potential." He gave the fan back to her. "You will learn it.  Only the Knight-Captains were trained in these, as it was befitting of their station, and held one in each hand."

She canted her head at him. "So you were a Knight-Captain?" She knew the Blades had existed, and that they had been a group of courtly-knight-spies, but had known little beyond that. The Thalmor had pretty much expunged the Blades as an organization from history.

"I was." Vestulf confirmed. "Back when there were Blades."

"Are you the last one?" She had picked up early on that Vestulf didn't talk much, so when she finally got the old man to still what he had to say, she didn't want him to stop. He could be a crumudgeon, but he was an interesting one.

"In Cyrodiil undoubtedly." He said. "The rest were too stupid to lay low.  There's probably one or two in the other provinces as well.  But the order was about two thousand strong in it's time.  All of that, cut down in just a few years.  And now their might be less than twenty of us left in the whole world." He shook his head, looking away, and Ielia saw an odd display of emotion from him, a strong sadness expressed in the corners of his mouth and eyes.

He hasn't ever talked about it before.  She realized''  He just internalized it. And would he have talked about what happened, anywayl? All his friends are dead, after all.''

"I'm sorry." She said.

"It was a long time ago." Vestulf said indifferently, moving across the room to where his armor stood on it's rough manniken.

She nodded in reply, not sure what to say.

"I'm going to head out, night is falling."

Ielia frowned, looking around the room for where light got in or some other way to tell the time. "How do you know?"

"I counted the hours.  I have a spare mattress in the back of the storage room.  Put it where you'd like."

She nodded again.

He turned his attention from her now, and went to work on strapping on his armor, lifting the breastplate up and over his head first.

"Vestulf?" She ventured, not having moved just yet.

"Yes?" He replied, gruffly.

"Thank you.  You didn't have to let me stay."

The Blade snorted, as if amused or surprised, but gave her a nod over his shoulder in recognition. "You're welcome." Was all he said, but she thought he was sincere.

Ielia turned, and headed off to get her mattress. It wasn't much of a downgrade from the beds at the university.