"Right, then. Instructors downstairs?"

"...uh, yeah. Uh, Skills and Stats and basic field first aid and, uh, tactics 101? I think? Oh and elemental theory. ...and, uh, cooking? I'm not sure you need that one."

"I'll keep it in mind, thank you, Bjorn. It was a pleasure bothering you."

He scowls and tries to look for the page he'd been reading before his book got so rudely shut closed in his face. "Now go away."

"Aww, I thought we were building a rapport."

"Leave."

He leaves, but not before grabbing one of those beginners' books.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Annika doesn't look up or miss a beat in her combo against the training dummy. "It's not."

"No?"

"No."

"Is it because you're always here at this time in the morning?"

"Yes." One-two-THREE one-two-THREE one-two-step-FOUR...

"I see. That makes sense."

...he is trying to get some reaction out of her, she's sure of it, but she doesn't know what it could be.

And she doesn't much care.

One-two-THREE one-two-THREE one-two-step-FOUR one-two-THREE...

Mmhm. Anyway, he grabs his two fancy-looking daggers and gets to practising, himself.

In a certain sense, his style couldn't be more different from hers if it tried. Annika's relying on intense perfected physical form, being able to do exactly the correct thing every time; this makes her predictable, of course, but she overcomes this issue by the predictability not mattering, because it really makes no difference if she's fast and precise enough no one can dodge and strong enough she can punch through whatever defences are put in place.

Taharqi, on the other hand, is being unpredictable. No two cuts hit the same place and his stance is constantly shifting, so light on his feet he's almost floating, hit-dodge-hit-hit-dodge-hit-dodge-dodge. It's almost more of a dance than fighting except for the way the training dummy is very much feeling the hurt here.

...huh. Maybe he's more than just talk.

But neither of them would be here if they didn't need the practice; the Academy only takes people starting at age 19 or 20, maybe 18 if they're precocious enough (which she is), so they've had a while of training already if they're worth their salt, but the smart thing to do is to acquire at most one or two Skills before coming here at all. You don't want to lock yourself into something that might be very inefficient or not what you wanted, and then it's very difficult and expensive to lose a learned Skill (or alternatively you don't do that and instead just have a useless Skill taking up space in your head forever which is unthinkable in Annika's opinion). So Annika herself has some minor self-healing not taking up any Skill slots, just the basics anyone tracking for the Church learns in preparatory classes before joining the Academy, and she's not planning on using up her first potential until she's ready to actually leave.

More people arrive at the training grounds to join them, practising with swords and daggers and arrows and guns and hammers and their bare fists and magic. There are not enough training dummies for everyone, but there are enough porings: roughly spherical slime creatures with easily identifiable elemental affinities that aren't permanently killable but which can be temporarily taken down before they reform. They vary a lot in power, and the Academy makes sure they don't merge too much before being killed, but they're great for many types of practice.

Such as, for example, elemental practice. Just before lunch Vallynn walks out of the building, squints at a poring, and calls a lightning bolt onto it.

It explodes with a wet plop like Jell-O being punched really hard, and he smiles to himself, pleased as punch.

(...the boy who'd gotten himself singed last night (Pierre, Bjorn had said?) walks back into the building, looking dejected.)

...yeah, sorry, man. He didn't mean to show off.

(Much.)

Liar.

Taharqi walks up to him, half-smiling. "Is that another non-Skill you got on your own?"

"No, no, that one was a Skill. Lightning Bolt."

"Which you didn't have this morning."

"It's still morning."