Both Master and Mateo were well on their way out of Adeluna City, their blacksmith's shop all packed up in crates and loaded onto their cart. As the afternoon began to set, Master was currently away, having spotted something of interest to him off the road and had
sternly instructed him to remain with the Aeglos the sturdy draft horse, Imp, the impetuous mule, and the cart. Master had glared, threatened, and even slyly insinuated that he'd take away his beautiful new blade if Mateo decided to wander, so Mateo, clinging to the long wooden box in which his new sword was held, promised to stay put.
It had been a few days since they'd left, and Master had already given him some advice on how to practice with the sword. With nothing else to do, he tied both Aeglos and Imp to a nearby tree a little ways off the main road and set up his training dummy, eyeing it with his blunt, cheap broadsword in hand. Sword fighting took dedication and years of hard work, something Mateo was no stranger to in the forge, but as he practiced…..it was clear to anyone who passed them by on the road that Mateo's form was
awful. The sword slipped from his terrible grip more often than not, his posture was completely wrong, his footwork was abominable, and every hit he got in jarred his entire body due to his terrible form, among many other things, and all of it combined made it more liable for the boy to injure himself than get any decent practice in.
The worst part about it all was that Mateo looked, for all intents and purposes, utterly dedicated to his practice. He threw himself into the practice with zealous devotion, cementing bad habits as time passed by.