Lenny followed the instructions on the back of the timetable to a tucked away corner of the campus. When he arrived at a rundown porta cabin, he wondered if he had found the right place, or perhaps some kind of storage facility. Unlike the Great Hall, which had been used for the Melee Arms class, this location was not only unassuming, but fairly small in size, roughly the area of six personal transport vehicles tightly packed in two rows of three. It was nestled in the snow with a dug-out trench creating a narrow pathway to the door. On entering, the lights were dim and both master and apprentice were in the room. A fan was on, blowing hot air from a furnace that was trying and failing to even out the temperature in the poorly insulated room. "Homely," Lenny thought.
"Lenny!" said Apprentice Karelin. "It's good to see you could make it."
He was the first there, by design, wanting to arrive early after missing the first lesson. He figured this might make up, at least partially for his absence.
"You missed the session on how to fall correctly," said Master Berg. "But if you have time after the session, we will gladly demonstrate."
"How to fall?" Lenny asked.
"Without knowing how to break your fall, the risk of injury greatly increases." Karelin said. "While injuries sustained in practice can be healed, it's not so easy on the battlefield."
"Was that… the whole session?" Lenny asked curiously.
"Well, we went through side break falls, back break falls, a few rolls too…"
Lenny nodded, and, not knowing what else to say, began to do a few stretches.
The next student to enter the room was the red sash girl from his assessment. He did not say anything, but figured he would have an opportunity to speak with her eventually, as they shared the same class and the same form. The other students gradually filtered in, till there were nine of them in the room.
When the clock hit five past, Karelin turned to Master Berg: "We lost a couple."
Berg nodded. "Listen up," he said. "Today, we will be covering footwork. Not only will this be useful defensively, but also in putting you in the best position to attack. Think of it as the foundation upon which all strikes are built."
There was a single green sash in the room. This was surprising, as they were technically the second largest group and would normally be well represented, but the other who had attended the first session had dropped out, deciding to switch classes. His hand was raised.
"When do we learn strikes?" he asked.
"After we have practiced some footwork drills, we will introduce the jab today."
There was some grumbling among the group. In other sessions, they had been quite attack focused, learning many cool new techniques, but for whatever reason, this had not been the approach taken by the Hand-to-Hand Combat class. Everyone in the room knew how to throw a jab. Or thought they did anyway.
Berg began to assume the stance, talking through each step. "Today, we will be focusing on the stance from Western boxing. It has a high guard." He raised his fists. "The hands protect the face and we keep the elbows tight, covering the midsection. This may feel odd at first and tire your shoulders, but it is important we maintain this guard to fully comprehend the trade-offs of this style. It is tight, technical, and offers good protection against brawlers." He paused for a moment. "Now, the key to today's session is footwork. If you are right-handed, put your left foot forward and right foot back, like so. Else, it's the other way round. Leading with the non-dominant side—this sets up speed, then power. Now, rest on the balls of your feet, with the knees slightly bent."
Lenny did so. The position felt slightly awkward, like he was having to concentrate too much on the position of his various limbs in relation to one another. "Don't squat down," said Master Berg, looking at Lenny and a couple of the other. By legs bent, I just mean keep them loose. Better."
Apprentice Karelin went around the room, adjusting the position of various students' hands or feet. He asked one student to raise his chest and another to turn his body slightly further to the side, reducing the exposed area. Finally, he helped the single left-handed fighter assume a southpaw stance.
"Now," Master Berg said. "We're going to practice our movement. We're going to lead with the foot in the direction we're travelling. So, if we go forward, it's front foot first, then back. Backwards, backfoot first. Left, left foot. Right, right foot. You get the picture."
The nine students travelled around the room, feeling a little awkward, trying not to bump into one another.
"Throw in a pivot on the lead foot every now and then. Mix up the angles."
This went on for about ten minutes, till everyone's calves were burning.
The green sash, who went by the name of Sam, finally said: "This is stupid. We're never gonna catch up with the other groups." He'd only meant to vent, but his voice had carried, and everyone was now staring at him.
"I think we need a demonstration," said Berg. "Would you like to step forward?"
"I'm sorry," said the student. "I didn't mean anything by it." Although he was frustrated with the session, he did not want to incur the teacher's wrath.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." His voice was calming, so the boy nodded.
Everyone stepped back, creating a large circle around them.
"I want you to try and hit me," said Master Berg. "Don't worry, I won't hit you, or use my ability. I won't active my spirit armour either. All I will do is use my footwork to avoid your strikes."
The green sash wondered if he was being tricked in some way. He doubted the master would lie, or go back on his words, so he raised his hands in an approximation of the stance that they had been practicing. As the exercise progressed, Sam threw out a variety of punches, from quick jabs to wild haymakers, attempting to hit the master, but each time he did, the instructor would simply step back or sideways, or move his head ever so slightly, narrowly avoiding the blow. There was no wasted movement, as if the instructor hardly had to do anything.
Eventually, Sam's shoulders began to tire, but his pride could not accept being beaten in such a way. Being beaten by a master was one thing, but not being able to land a single punch was another. He threw a straight right, and at the last moment, pushed off his backfoot, stepping into the punch. It was a quick transition, completely un-telegraphed, but Berg simply changed from a slip to a more exaggerated roll beneath the blow, then stepped forward quickly.
Sam, feeling smothered, attempted to step back to create some distance, but with the step-in cross, he'd been caught off balance and moving back, had crossed his legs leading with the wrong foot. As he fell, he threw back his arms and landed with an awkwardly performed, but still somewhat effective breakfall.
The point was made. At that moment, everyone understood something they had not done previously. It was fundamentals that made fighters, not flashy techniques. Berg didn't labour the point and they proceeded to add the simple jab to the footwork, throwing a couple then moving. Again, he had gone through the technical details of the technique. Lenny had been surprised that it wasn't just a matter of positioning oneself to maximise force generation, but also how the placement of the shoulder and the tucked chin helped the attacking side stay protected, even while striking. Intellectually, the benefits of the pattern of movements made sense, and yet somehow, these techniques had not been intuitive. It was strange, though, sometimes a small tweak of a few centimetres would close holes in his defence and other minor adjustments to his hip placement or foot position would produce significantly more torque.
After many hundreds of jabs, everyone's lead shoulders felt weak. Their calves were cramping up and the footwork had started to feel less springy. It had produced a sort of bell curve effect, their sloppy jabs getting better and better, cleaner and more technical, till the opposite began to occur. Berg had spotted this and was quick to finish the exercise when it no longer felt productive.
"Okay everyone, we'll call it at that," shouted Berg. "You've all done well today. Keep working on your footwork. Now, I know some of you may feel we have not gone through enough offensive techniques to prepare you fully for the sparring session tomorrow. Just treat it as an opportunity to show us where you're starting at. Remember the jab, and don't get hit. That's all for today."
Lenny felt that the many small pointers given to a class with such a high instructor to student ratio were invaluable. It was incredibly different in both style and content than his Melee Weapons class, and though, again, he hadn't started with a great amount of knowledge in the subject, he felt that this was an area in which he would grow quickly.
As the rest of the class packed up, Lenny waited behind for the Apprentice Karelin to cover breakfalls. He was surprised to see the red sash girl from his section waiting also.
"Erik, you mind if I jump on the bag for a bit?" she asked.
"No problems," said Master Berg smiling.
"Thanks." She proceeded to use the jab technique they had been practicing on one of the punching bags. She threw it out as fast as she could, sometimes doubling it up, then moved around the bag with her footwork. She was a quick learner, and seemed far less tired than the rest of the group. That's when Lenny remembered her strangely high stamina stat.
Master Berg waited for a pause in her striking: "How many times have I told you: you're hitting the bag. Don't hit the bag, hit through the bag."
"So," said Apprentice Karelin putting his hands together. "Let's get started."