Fiske gulped at Alfhild’s hearty response to his rhetoric, eyes lowering into concerned slits. “This ‘time of peace’ doesn’t last long around here,” he said before finally breaking into a smile, remembering that the strong, tough, determined nature of this ship was why he had wanted to join in the first place. Fiske had always been the weakling of his family, left to practise child drills at the Village while the stronger Osmonds fled the ship, seeking lands to colonise. Upon meeting the Hrið, they became his strength as he provided them with the resources to be strong. It gave him a newfound independence that made him realise that yes, he wasn’t just a timid good-for-nothing.<br/><br/>He was Norse, and the Norse were fighters.<br/><br/>He decided to treat this training session with an open mind, but that didn’t mean he was eager to exactly fight. He huffed a laugh at the shield joke, offering Alfhild an appreciate expression as she explained the details of today’s training session. Although she could be scary and tough, it was apparent that she cared for her crew as though they were just a part of the ship as the actual materials that built it.<br/><br/>Though the more she explained what they had to do, the further Fiske took slow steps to sink to the very back of the room. He stood there, silent with brooding eyes towards the training equipment. This brought back a lot of anxious memories… When was the last time he even had to hold a shield? He was used to sitting in the back lines of defence; even in the Village he would rather sit and learn the medicinal practise of the elder women, watching others fight more than actually participate himself. He could still see his father’s disappointed face as clear as day, sympathetically patting him on the back as they sailed away. It’s okay, Fiske thought to himself reassuringly, just pretend that this is how you’re to earn your keep on this ship. What’ll happen if this flying piece of metal and wood crashes into a meteorite or gets invaded by an unknown force? Then I’ll be cornered and I’ll have no-one but myself to bla-<br/><br/>Isa tugged onto Fiske’s sleeve, which he realised covered unknowingly tensed up arms. He slowly breathed in and out. This wasn’t the same as back then. “Mm, good idea… Or is it…” he mumbled with slightly more-widened-than-normal eyes, letting her take them to an inconspicuous yet more hidden corner of the room, away from too much direct attention. Picking a shield off of the wall, he settled it onto his arm. Naturally, Alfhild ensured they were of the finest quality. Light, yet with a weight that felt strong and protective, Fiske wondered if he could hide underneath it like a turtle submitting to its shell if the circumstances led to it. It certainly sounded like a defence strategy<span style="font-style: italic">he</span>would use. After all, he<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>superb at log roll-level skills.<br/><br/>He breathed out a worried laugh, hoping Isa wouldn’t be too rough at tackling. With a war cry that eloquently said; ‘This is what I get for caring about you lot too much!’, the battle, if you could call it one, initiated as he unenthusiastically ran, or awkwardly jogged, towards the opposing training partner.