#{ btw it feels so stupid to write Ferdinand so cocky when his lance skill is at E because i wanted to give him a battallion LMFLKSDJFLKSJDF

[nobilisseoblige]

"fine form. i take it your studies are faring well, ferdinand?" seteth is there. somehow he always is. hands folded nearly behind his stiff spine, he trods to the center of the training grounds, where he appraises ferdinand and the lance in his grasp after the boy had seemed to lower it. "ah, pay no mind to me. i'm simply passing through to do an inventory count. though, that being said... how are you finding that lance in your hands now? too heavy, too light? the church has undergone a few budget adjustments, but i should hope not to squander your potential with any ill-suited tools."

Professor Seteth is here. somehow, he always is. upon his arrival, Ferdinand stood ten degrees straighter, with his heart (and his pride) slung on his sleeve. a noble must always present himself at his best to his instructors! "Professor." he bowed his head in greeting, with his lance lowered to rightfully meet the man's lovely green eyes. "ah— well you see, I was thinking…" he considered boasting at first, as it was so very easy to elevate himself by saying this or that about his strength. but upon evaluating how it rested in his hand, and how its weight felt like a part of his own, he took pause.

if this lance was an extension of himself, if his soul balanced from point to point… he would consider the weight slightly off balance. a scale tipped just slightly pole-ward. "actually, you've got quite the keen insight, Professor. I was sure with my expertise in lancing, I'd be fine either way, but… the weight feels to be distributed incorrectly." he still managed to tack on a string of praise, anyway.

"you're right! my potential is being squandered with a tool like this." raising his nose to the sky, he was poised with statuesque pride.

"oh but…" and then comes the sense. Ferdinand and his ballooning sense of pride did not come without some kind of proof of concept. "worry not, Professor. I profess a passionate interest in weapons maintanance, so I can see to the adjustments myself. I believe a metalic band around the rim of the lance-head would balance the weight, would it not?"

there would be one day, perhaps soon, where Ferdinand recieves a lance that, upon holding it, has his entire soul pour into it. and the waves of a god's blood would ebb and flow, giving and taking, until his pulse was his lance's pulse. but until then, he stands here with a weapon shaped by man for man, and smiles as he would. to take up a weapon is to be humbled by it. he had to remember as much.