Mwezi sat cross-legged on the floor, stretching his torso forward, arms extended as far as they would reach, then sat up straight and used his arms to lift the rest of his body up, uncrossing his legs in the air and stretching them upwards in a hand stand. Once that was completed, he allowed his body to fall back onto his back, then kipped up, jumping to a standing position.

That was the end of a round of stretching he always did before the real training began. Mwezi pulled a pair of bladed weapons from a rack. The blades were fairly short, about the length of a human forearm and about as wide as two fingers. The shape of the blade was a slight curve, with the inside of the curve being a blunt edge. The very tip of the blade was slightly serrated. The grip area was long enough for one hand and wrapped in rope. Mwezi began to practice a flowing dance with the weapons, movements punctuated with stabs, slashes, and parries. He treated the blades like an extension of his body, feeling the air around him through them. These might not be the same blades he had learned to use in his younger days, but they were of the same kind. Every Laleri who joined the military service in Galdor in his time had learned to master these blades. It wasn’t a requirement anymore, which Mwezi thought was a shame.

Mwezi, XO