Equipped
By Snare-chan
Pairings: Bakura/Yami
Ratings: T
Category(ies): General
Warning(s): None
Status: One-shot, complete
Summary: (Duelist of the Roses verse) Rumors say the prince has yet to choose a weapon, which is just unacceptable.
Notes: Equipped, a fic in which the Snare attempts to play pretend and act like she knows everything there is to know about weapons when in fact the only tool of destruction and dismemberment she's ever wielded is a ballpoint pen – and by destruction and dismemberment she of course means via the written word. All misconceptions and blatant mistakes are of my own doing due to horrible research, and I apologize in advance if a retina or brain cell is burned out. Still, was damn good practice.
This started off as a really awesome idea gone (mushy) bad. I'm pretty sure you can tell where I'd started writing and gone with it to where it filtered off into death, but I thought this still came out reasonably enough to be presented. Not to mention this was a gift to the ever lovable, ever amazing, ever constant and vigilant beta reader of mine Cassandra Cassidy, and if she and her ever critical ways can enjoy something then of course there's some merit.
Disclaimer: I don't own YuGiOh! Duelist of the Roses; wish I did like everybody else. They should put YGO: DotR in stock, then I'd buy it all!
The armory in Brest, France was admirable, which is a lot like saying the Notre-Dame de Paris is simply refined. By its lonesome, the establishment took up one-third of the castle and easily differentiated itself by several-inch-thick stone walls with no windows or outside entrances. Internally, the walls, floors, and ceiling were covered with every piece of equipment necessary for physical combat – from shields, weapons, basic enchanted cards, ammunition, and anything else of use in a war. Some articles were even stationed atop one another or hanging up to be showcased.
It was the fact that it held such an array of useful tools for fighting that had drawn Henry 'Yami' Tudor there. He was currently meandering through its many halls and storage facilities – or more precisely, he and his Secretary of Defense, Bakura, were. The red-suited knight had managed beyond all reasoning to catch wind that their monarch, though trained in the most basic forms of combat, had never taken up a favorable weapon to carry with him into battle, and Bakura would have none of that.
The prince had tried pointing out that he'd already been equipped with the finest personal set of full body armor; Bakura rebutted that the single time he'd worn it was to test that it fit, his horror and disgust obvious at the notion. Despite his obvious bias on the subject, his final say on the argument remained that if Yami's magic, for whatever reason, were to fail in the middle of battle, he needed to be able to protect himself in case there wasn't a soul left to help. Yami conceded that it couldn't hurt to have a backup (or to humor the man), and so to his slight discomfort and amusement, he allowed himself to be led on this hunting expedition, hoping that the trip would be swift and the lessons relatively painless.
He really should have known better than to expect such a thing from his defense artist.
"How about this?"
Yami recognized the weapon as a longsword, having seen Bakura use a similar one in his practices with the troops and on the battlefield, though his was far larger in size. The other turned from his rummaging around in the corner to take in his choice, a scowl instantly crossing his features. Apparently that was a 'no.' Returning it to the place he'd found it, Yami continued his search, throwing out ideas such as daggers ("That's for secondary defense, sire."), clubs ("We're not barbarians!"), bows ("You are hunting men, not pheasants."), axes ("Not unless you plan on butchering someone."), and, as a last ditch effort, whips ("Hardly does enough damage to kill, though I'll gladly demonstrate its other uses if you so desire…).
Setting down a hammer – he could already sense another dismissal coming his way – with a wistful sigh, he finally asked, "Seeing as my suggestions aren't to your liking, what is it that you propose I wield?"
"This."
Rather taken aback by the abrupt response, Yami looked to where he'd heard the other's voice, spotting him holding a black and red object that resembled an elongated spear, ranging approximately six feet with a hilt that curved.
"It looks like a stick who's lost its sense of self."
"The ranseur (1)," he declared pointedly, "Is a hilted polearm specializing in disarmament and piercing those with armor and on horseback." The knight paused, extending it for him to take. "With it, you can block more easily and attack from a longer distance than you could with a mere blade."
Hesitantly, Yami took it, both skeptical and curious that it could possibly suit him due to its sheer magnitude. The end sporting the spear-tip equipped with a cross hilt dipped at first as he underestimated the slight imbalance, his hands quickly mimicking the grip he'd seen Bakura use to keep it from collapsing and scratching up the floor. Due to its metallic end, it would take some practice to keep from striking low, but otherwise it was easy to maneuver.
"And its disadvantages?"
The white-haired man shrugged, "They are few. Spears in general are versatile, easy to use, and effective. If someone were to get in close, it could become difficult to retaliate, but not entirely impossible. Once you get the hang of using it and have designed your own style, there should not be many problems in handling it."
Yami nodded once in acknowledgement, shifting the spear to experiment with its weight. The knight had chosen well; it was light enough to carry but heavy enough that, when wielded correctly, it would cause extensive damage to hamper any assailants – a fine combination.
"Very well; I approve."
"Good, because it's time we got to your preparations."
Setting the curled tip flat on the ground with a sharp clack and wrapping his fingers near the top to keep steady, he said, "Isn't this enough for one day? I do have other duties to attend to, you realize."
The knight's lips twisted into a grin.
"Really now? I could have sworn that just earlier this morning over breakfast you were being critical about your vast boredom at being exiled here."
"Kindly remind me why I haven't hanged you yet."
"Why, Yami, I'm surprised you'd even ask," he laughed, rather darkly in fact. He didn't bother to watch to see if the prince was following him to the nearest doorway outside, intending for the plot of land where his men practiced for battle.
"Your uncle would never forgive you if you did it and not he."
"No. Try it again."
While Yami got back into his stance, he was making a mental list of things he would have to do if he survived this moment in time. For starters, he'd raise his entire army's pay at least three or four gold coins' worth, if not marginally more. Then, he'd personally oversee improvements in medicinal practices, infirmaries, and funeral costs. Finally, he'd guarantee medals of honor and titles to anyone who lasted longer than half a year – no, a whole month – under their service. That sounded reasonable enough.
A harsh smack on his knuckles had him coming out of his thoughts with a grunt, his weapon knocked cleanly out of one hand and its valuable, deadly tip rendered useless in the ground. To prove the point, Bakura tapped his open shoulder and neck with the tip of his mock blade in show that he'd lost.
"Dead. Now pick it up and try again."
He did so without complaint, though he was growing tired of gaining nothing but bruises and dirtied clothes. The other sighed in an exasperated manner, setting his own weapon aside and coming around.
"You're still holding it incorrectly," he declared, placing his arms atop Yami's and repositioning them, one hand closer to the butt of the spear and the other about a shoulder's width apart.
"This is a defensive exercise. The tip of the ranseur specializes in attacking, so you want to use the middle – here, between your hands – or the opposite tip – this hook at the bottom – to either stop or completely disarm your opponent."
Slowly, Bakura guided him through some simple motions, beginning with straight and pivots. Yami leaned back against him and allowed his limbs to be guided accordingly, memorizing the movements of his hands and the tool they held.
"With swords, you want to avoid using anything but the butt of your weapon, or else you could risk breakage or getting brushed aside. Blades are generally straightforward slashes and jabs, so half circular motions enable you to hook their wrist or bypass their assault altogether. The point of spears is to use the height advantage they give you. Understand?"
"Well enough."
Nodding, he moved away to retrieve his cutter, to Yami's slight disappointment, and returned to his own position across from him. Utilizing what he'd just been told, he gripped his spear tighter in preparation.
"How much longer do you wager this will take?"
"To begin with, how about crippling me, hm? With the way this day is going, offense will have to wait for another time."
"So I take it before dinner?"
"Depends; what's on the menu?"
Without giving him enough time to react, Yami charged and made aim for his heart. Whipping the end around to meet Bakura's retaliation, the young prince snapped it against the other's wrist as he'd been shown to throw off his aim. Dodging slightly to the right, Yami suddenly jutted his spear downward instead of up, as Bakura had assumed he would, to catch his sword, which was why Bakura's yelp was of alarm more than pain as the 'trainee' jutted the butt of his spear into the small, open space above his greave – right behind his left kneecap. He effectively fell backwards at losing his mobility, Yami taking the time to sit on his placard (2) to keep him in place.
"I was thinking of steak with some assorted greens. What do you think?"
"I think you did not learn that move from basic training," Bakura groused, glaring at the fact that his pride had conclusively been wounded and that he'd been converted into a makeshift matt.
Leaning in close and using the white-haired man's breastplate as a good place to rest his arms the heir of Tudor shrugged, unable to contain his grin.
"Your suspicions are correct. My mother exhibited that ploy to me."
Rolling his eyes with a sneer, Bakura let his head fall back against the grass, tempted to throw an arm over his eyes.
"I should have figured as much."
"So, does this mean you're satisfied with my training?"
"I would sorely hope so," a new voice answered for the knight, startling both of them, Bakura in particular cursing softly due to his ill-luck and lack of attentiveness. It was Yami's uncle in the flesh, standing at the edge of the field and looking rather disgruntled about their rather…compromising position, which they remedied, Yami getting up and dislodging his spear from Bakura's person, who followed back to his feet on his own.
"Uncle, is something the matter?"
"Can't a man merely check up on his only nephew?" the older man asked, quickly speaking up before either could add anything, "The kitchens have informed me that our afternoon meal is ready…unless, of course, you two are busy?"
Raising a brow, the monarch looked to his defense captain, who double-taked at his attention. He glared at his avoidance tactic; jaw tightening as he braced himself to reply.
"I suppose we're finish-"
"Splendid! Then come along; we mustn't keep the appetizers waiting!" Yami's uncle said jovially, not patient enough for them to catch up. Pointedly butting in between them, he gave Bakura a couple firm pats on the back as they proceeded towards the castle.
"So tell me, young man: what exactly were you trying to teach our dear Henry?"
-Fin-
(1) Ranseur – a type of spear or polearm used for stopping the enemy more than outright attacking, if you couldn't tell from my in-depth descriptions. I picked this weapon for Yami because I felt that it was the most suiting, since I'd taken his height (or lack thereof -coughs-) and what someone like him would need on the battlefield. Yes, swords are usually most common and popular for royalty, but Yami isn't a normal monarch by any means. :)
(2) Placard – the piece of armor attached below the breastplate as seen. According to (also spelled placate, plackart or placcate) it wasn't actually used until around the 15th-18th century, but full body armor had come about the 14th, so it's still believable and I had him wear it. . ;