Outskirts of New York, 1777.

Captain of artillery Alexander Hamilton was extremely famous for his logical tactics and exceptional fighting skills, both of which had lent a much appreciated hand to the revolution, yet no one had ever seen him train. It had started with a drunk and grumpy Aaron Burr complaining about his never being "in the room where it happens", but now every soldier fighting the revolution in the north colonies, probably even George Washington himself, had realised this and it had become subject of banter for all of them.

Even his best friend John Laurens (there was gossip and banter surrounding their possibly-homoromantic relationship as well, but that's a story for another time) had never even been able to discuss any of Hamilton's practising, which quite annoyed him sometimes, because it was almost as if Hamilton had discovered the ultimate elixir to happiness and was too selfish to share it with the rest of the world.

Laurens was sick of this.

After their usual friendly debate after breakfast they parted ways, like usual, only this time Laurens hid behind the tent that served as a public bathroom, waiting for Hamilton to disappear into his tent (yes, he even had his own tent, Laurens was pretty jealous of that as well: he'd give anything to stop hearing Lafayette and Mulligan giggling together at night, honestly) and hopefully hear some life changing exercises to try. Luckily the sky was relatively dark, so it would hopefully not give Laurens away.

From the tent he heard what he thought were some soft groans of pain, he then decided to get closer and listen; he was now as close as he could to the fabric of the tent without making the whole structure collapse on itself. Now he heard muffled words. Laurens wasn't sure what they were so he decided to take a little peak.

"AHA!" Hamilton barked. Laurens yelped slightly, then continued watching.

"You have no idea what's coming to you, you fucking Tory!" the captain continued.

Laurens could not believe what he was witnessing: Alexander Hamilton, the youngest and bravest captain of artillery possibly in all of history, the genius behind many of the rebels' victories was practicing… by attacking a wooden dummy with a wooden sword? Was this how the legend practised?

"I will cut the SHIT out of you!" Oh.

"Take that! And that!" A gasp was heard "Oh NO you don't!" My. God.

"I told you not to mess with me!" And a scraping sound of wood on wood was heard.

Laurens decided he'd had enough.