Fault
There wasn’t a cycle of the Pocket’s fickle daylight thereafter when I didn’t practice from breakfast until lunch, and then usually from lunch until dinner, with the Scorn Sisters.
Joshua watched every lesson, lightening the mood with a playfully crass observation whenever the Sisters got too solemn, cheering triumphantly whenever I perfected a new technique.
In spite of my pinioned coordination, I was improving quickly, both unarmed and with a foil. I was even learning decent accuracy with an energy rifle, in the calm safety of the gym Joshua had made for me under Castle Dragonbriar.
If Joshua had done nothing but ogle and encourage, few things could have made me happier, but a good half of my lessons had also become strategy sessions for Joshua and Baard, occasionally with a sm
