"BAWK! BAWK BAWK!!"
"SIR, YES SIR!"
A strange scenery was unfolding in front of Isaac. Far ahead in the training grounds where he had made quick work of the dolls and fixed them back just last night, students taking swordsmanship classes were drawing large arcs in the air.
Their minds as disciplined as their body, their words as loud as their actions, and their swords as firey as their spirits. It was an ideal scene where the metal called a knight was tempered in hot flames and hammered by heavy hammers to form a sharp and splendid blade.
It was even better, actually.
Amateurish as they were, Isaac's eyes were not that bad. He did know to swing a sword now, after all. He had learned from one of the best at that.
With that experience and training under his belt, to his sharp and discerning eyes, the sight ahead looked like something straight out of the workshop of a master knight smith.
But…
"BAWK!!"
"SORRY, SIR!"