22nd, late morning, Free Company Academy
"Do you have any questions?" Jaques asked as he stretched the kinks out of his neck. Hopefully Lochlan was having an easy time of it with his men...
Armin Schauenburg, rose, bowing slightly, his head tilted which, combined with his thin face, gave him a rodent-like appearance. "Thank you for your concern, and indeed we would prefer to be lodged in this fine academy should you be able to spare the space." He briefly looked at his companions and went on, "Four beds, room for our baggage and a place to tie our horses."
Jaques promised to let the quartermaster know about it, but just to make sure, he also told them where they could seek him out themselves and went on to tick off the names on his list.
Armin and his men had arrived at the academy shortly after the Swiss Keil. Unlike the night before, they were noe clad in their battle armor and had been training since they had arrived there, knowing that soon enough someone would approach them with further information.
Armin's armor was of full plates with nice ornaments, an expensive work of very good quality, to be sure. On his left shoulder and upper arm he wore a shield with his family's crest - black with a red wedge in the middle on whch were three skulls. Below the wedge was a pointed cross, above it three intertwined rings and a harpy. It had been the Schauenburg crest for generations in Hessen, and after the Duke had seized Armin's father's possessions, he had continued carry it. Around his shoulders was a red coat that reached to his waist, partly obstructing his shield. His armor was made complete with a sallet, the visor of which he had currently opened. On his right hung a large hammer of war made of fine steel. On his left hung an empty sheath, for the bastard sword with its serated blade that he normally kept in it was on his knees, and he examined the weapon for any possible flaws it might had suffered during combat or travel.
The other three had armor of good quality, but without the elaborate patterns on them, and here and there a dent had been mended. Their helmest were sallets as Armin's. Pedro Alvarez carried his crossbow on his back. Unlike most crossbows, this one was of steel, not wood, and the bolts were carried in a cartridge on Alvarez' side. For close combat, the Spaniard carried a longsword and a round shield. He had trained with it earlier, but now he was eager to see what the Moors could do with their crossbows. He had watched them earlier, and he found that as a unit of many men they were a formidable force, but he wasn't sure they would be as formidable when faced with a task that they would have to complete alone.
Timothy O'Brien didn't carry a shield, but instead he had two long swords on his left and right. He was equally good with both hands, and had reached a blinding versatility with it.
Kerim sat, a bastard sword hanging on his side, but his favorite tool was on his knees. It was a halberd, in terms of quality matching the sword and crossbow, and it had taken him months to reach the point where the large weapon was as balanced as he would want it, with making slight adjustments after every encounter to keep the perfect balance. Kerim had been watching the Swiss pikemen with great interest the whole morning, but not in amazement like many of the mercenaries and bystanders, but with the eye of a professional who can gauge the performance he saw, looking for flaws, mistakes, and honouring the difficult tasks that went without fail.
Kerim nudged Timothy, smiling. Timothy smiled back, his smile being that of a small boy. "Armin", said the boy with a tone that showed respect for the older German.
Armin just looked up at the young Irishman.
"I think that Kerim would like to show a little trick for the audience." Timothy smiled a bit brighter.
Armin nodded. "The apples?", he asked.
Kerim flashed white teeth in his dark face, joining the smile of Timothy.
"Alright", Armin said. "Pedro, come, Kerim wants to show off to those." He nodded his head in the direction of the Swiss,
Pedro, who had kept an eye out for that unit of crossbowmen, looked up with surprise, "Eh, senor?"
"The apples", Armin said.
Pedro huried to his feet and the four went to a place where they had some room, but where the pikemen could well see what they were doing.
Pedro, Armin, and Timothy formed a triangle around Kerim in the middle. The had taken apples from their baggage, Armin one and Pedro and Timothy two each. At Armin's command, they threw the apples at the same time at Kerim.
The Nubian swirled around in a full circle, his mighty halberd, well one and a half feet longer than himself, the blad, swooshing through the air, twirled around, almost too fast for the eye to see.
Kerim halted his derwish-like movements in a defensive posture, smiling, slightly sweating. Three apples were lying on the ground, cut in half. One was spiked on the upper tip of the halberd, the other one on the steel spike at the bottom of it.
Timothy bursted out, "Oh, how I love it when he does that!"
All of the four laughed and returned to their places where they continued to tend to their weapons. Armin permitted Pedro to seek out the other crossbowmen and watch their training from up close.
