Chương 597: Day Five Hundred And Ninety-Five

Dear Diary, I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing with Citron and Hildegarde, and I really kinda wish I had duBois available to discuss it with. Like, I'm getting pretty desperate for some indication that I'm either doing the right thing and just need to double down on what I've been doing, or fucking up and need to apologize to them for my inexperience and adjust my lesson plans and shit. Seriously, losing either one of them would be a shame, losing both of them would be an absolute failure of an epic scale.

Losing any Cadet, either from training accidents, expulsion, or them quitting is a tragedy. Seriously, these are our best and brightest. If there's somebody smarter, faster, tougher, stronger out there, they don't have the desire or motivation to be a Hero, because that's basically what all the aptitude entrance testing is at the Academy. It's why they don't base it on some kind of a arbitrary minimum Attributes, but based on who shows up as better than the others.

I guess if a class had few enough people tryna get in, they'd all get in, because as I've noted before, there's a casualty rate. I can't be everywhere, no matter how much I'd really like to be sometimes. Shit. I really hope One-Eye, Lightning Bro, and his family can't get their brains on my Diary, because sure as shit that one little slip up would tell them my absolute biggest weakness. Yeah, in tactical terms I can be in a lot of places at once.

Strategically even, in the sense that I can show up in multiple theaters, for a primitive enough definition of 'theater'. But I cannot be everywhere at once, and if what Marie has shown me means anything, the older, more Glorious Gods might be able to do something like that. Shit, they don't even have to. They just have to be in more places than me.

Fuckity fuck fuckballs on fucktoast, but I hope that none of them realize that and get their act together enough to fuck with me that way, because I do not know how I'd be able to respond to that. Yeah, so far I've been able to yank all the avatars of any God I get my hands on back to me, but I'm not sure if that's, like, something they can defend themselves against, or something they can resist, or... fuck. So much I don't know, and it could bite me in the ass at any time.

Shit, it could bite the ones I love in the ass, and that would be so much fuckin' worse. And the only answer I have right now is to climb on shit pyramid and start slaughtering Gods arbitrarily, and that... would wind up with me sitting atop Shit Pyramid beginning my career in fertilizer production. I'm sure of it, and I don't even know why.

Back to shit I may have some ability to control, maybe, if I squint and pretend real hard, losing any Cadet is a tragedy, but Citron and Hildegarde really are two of the top three in their class, in my opinion. Which one is number two and which is number three is up in the air at any given moment, but that's only because they really have started pushing each other to improve. Sort of.

Vickerson still has a big fuckin' lead on both of them, because she's been doing shit like organizing study groups and shit like that since day one. Yeah, I'm pretty sure either one of them can kick her ass. If that's all being a Hero took, maybe that'd be enough to knock her off that top spot, but... it's not. Killing one percent of New Amsterdam wasn't what made me feel like I might deserve the title Hero eventually. Curing it maybe did. Organizing the relief for Lancaster sure as shit did.

Speaking of, definitely glad I did that now. So fuckin' Cadets Citron and Hildegarde still hadn't managed to properly shift who was leading and who was following all fuckin' day yesterday. So today, after leading everyone through a nice hour long warmup run, not to mention some serious stretching and calisthenics, because I'd remembered something I'd told my two problem Cadets after their first spar.

I called everybody around the notional ring with the two of them in, then said, "okay, you two, I told you I'd show you some holds and escapes, then totally forgot about that shit. My bad, my apologies, but I'mma make that jawns up to you today. Citron, Hildegarde, for your exceptional performance yesterday, you get to be my demonstration dummies. Citron, you're up first." Right on the edge of hearing, Vickerson muttered, "exceptional?"

"Hey, exceptionally bad is still exceptional." I stepped up to Citron, just out of arms reach.

"Okay, you ready?" He nodded, hands coming up like I'm sure he'd seen the luchadores do at the Autumn Equinox festival. I smiled, nodded, then dropped to my palms, kicking my legs forward and scissoring them sideways, taking his legs out from under him and pulling them toward me. I kipped up, grabbed his legs, and sat on his ass as he barely kept his head from smashing into the pavement.

"I taught this move in Advanced Combat Training. Found it in an old manual. Not even duBois knew about it. As you can see," Citron tried to buck me off, but didn't have the leverage, because muscle is dense and your girl has a lot of that shit now. He reached for me, and I took the opportunity to grab his hands and secure the pin.

"Fuck, now I can't even surrender." When Hildegarde snorted, without even looking I said, "you're next." Then I looked around.

"As you can see, once you've got somebody secured like this, unless they outmass you significantly, they're not getting away. Even if they do, you've got some serious advantages over them. Also, and I'll give him credit for not letting this totally overwhelm his good sense, it's embarrassing as shit. Which is why this is the kind of thing you're encouraged to learn for dealing with civilians.

Some carpenter gets drunk and disorderly, or just full of piss and vinegar for some reason, you got no cause to kill his ass, but you can't let him go fucking shit up either, so... less than lethal holds where you can maybe apply some minor pain and shame until they agree to cut that shit out." I looked back at Citron.

"Now, you want to know the best way to get out?" This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

"That would be nice, Instructor." I laughed.

"Good attitude." I let go of his hands, then said, "roll backwards." He did, and I wound up slipping out of the optimal position to hold him. I could have struggled against it, but I wanted to show him how to get out, and that meant not countering the counter this time. He wound up kinda flat on his face, but behind me. I spun as he kipped up.

"Okay, so you see how if you'd done that right at the beginning, you might have gotten out?"

"Is there a way to prevent that counter?" I nodded.

"There is. And ways to counter that, and so on. But to start with, most of the best ways to avoid holds is to flow through them. That's if you can't just overpower them or do some sneaky shit like," I stepped behind him, tapped him on one shoulder, then stepped around him as he spun.

"This."

"That's... patently unfair, Ma'am." I nodded.

"It is. I'm not doing it to show off, though. I'm tryna get you guys to realize that at this point in your training, while you may be able to manhandle street thugs and noncombatants, a solid combat Veteran or a Soldier with a little experience and training will be able to beat you if you're not paying attention. A Hero from somewhere outside the Alliance, or some other opponent at that level? They're gonna fuck you up, with one possible exception."

Hildegarde chuckled, and I stepped behind her and put her in one of the holds I'd cribbed from duBois way back during my first spar. As she kinda writhed there, I said, "you're not the exception, twinkle toes. Everyone see this hold?" They all nodded as Hildegarde seethed.

"Yeah, this one would only work for like the top ten percent of you, Strength wise. But if you're in that top ten percent, where you're maybe at least half as strong as your opponent, this will keep them more or less contained." I think the hold was called an 'arm bar' or something like that. Definitely risking a broken arm if she got pissed enough, but broken arms could be fixed.

"No, the one exception to you lot being so much dead meat if you're up against an enemy Hero is the same thing that killed half a dozen Heroes way before the Battle of the Walls." That got everyone's attention, especially Citron's.

"Teamwork. Before she was Imperator, before she became an Archmage, long before she was an official Phileo Hero, Cadet Saffron Aetos-Diaz took out a series of New Amsterdam Heroes who had engaged in a frankly very well done night raid on the Phileo encampment. Because I don't give a shit how badass you are, a dozen Crossbow bolts hitting you from ambush, with four big guys with tower shields protecting those Crossbows from retaliation while they reloaded? Will fuck your shit up." I winced.

"Literally. Do not get shot in the ass by a Crossbow bolt. Not fun. Goin' in or comin' out." I let that sink in, then said, "so yeah, Cadet Vickerson really does have the right idea, what with her putting the Cadets working with her through more teamwork exercises. Citron?" He lowered the hand he'd had up since I talked about an ambush.

"That doesn't sound very honorable, Ma'am." I nodded.

"If you're doing some diplomatic shit, and you're avoiding a battle by fighting a duel, especially one judged on points and shit like that? Honor's probably not a bad consideration. On the other hand, if you're in a duel to the death? Or on a battlefield, which is even messier? You fight to win. Period. People behind you aren't gonna care that you 'died honorably' when the fucker that killed you is raping little girls.

On the other hand, if you kill that fucker dead as fuck by running that sword you're so fond of into his brain via his asshole? For every stuck up prig who's gonna tut tut you, you'll have a shit ton of grateful non combatants willing to buy you a drink afterward to wash the taste of it out of your mouth." I stared at him for a five count, then said, "you understand?" That rectal kumquat look is definitely a Dan genetic trait. Gotta see if Siobhan can do it. Then again, I'm not sure I want to know if she can.

"Yes, Ma'am." I nodded again.

"Look, man, honor's got it's place. Dealing in good faith and shit. Treating surrendered captives right. Lots of places it belongs. But in the middle of a fight to the death really isn't one of them." That mollified him a little bit.

"Okay, Hildegarde. You ready to get out?" She nodded.

"Okay. Remember what I told Citron?" She got it immediately, rolling her whole fuckin body forward. Slamming into the pavers had to hurt, but she managed to break her arm free of my hands. She also kept rolling until she was well out of my reach.

"Well done!" I spent another ten minutes demonstrating a few more holds. Mostly shit from the marital arts book on Citron, mostly duBois' stuff on Hildegarde. Once I'd gone over half a dozen holds and escapes, I said, "Okay everybody. Get with your three person groups for sparring. Citron, Hildegarde, you're with me." They both looked just the right mix of eager and worried, because they knew the three person groups had been rotating the refs in to spar as well.

That melted into disbelief and borderline outrage when I said, "okay, you two. Since neither of you really is what I'd call sub par in terms of melee combat, but your coordination sucks shit through a tube, we three will be working on our dancing today." So I spent the rest of the day first Mimicking Hildegarde while she watched me dance, both leading and following, with Citron, then Mimicking Citron while dancing with Hildegarde. Back and forth, over and over, two hours before lunch, another two after.

Sadly, by the end of the day their coordination still sucked. Not as hard as before. But just to prove my point I brought Vickerson over and had her run through five minutes with each of them right before the end of class. At the end of that both of them looked... I dunno. Not chastened. But at least nominally aware that they both had some serious flaws they needed to work on. Really wish duBois was available to consult with regarding Combat Training, Kitten. You could ask our other combat instructor, love.

Lachlan? That got me a fuzzy chuckle in my brain. No, love. His father. So help me, I'm seriously considering it.