Duty typically muted Raphame's pleasure; work and play were so intertwined for him that it was easy to forget one could exist without the other. His fencing class was no exception.
Today had been busier than usual, as Summer drew nearer more children became interested in taking classes to learn about fighting. It was a fun lesson, and Rafe was only too happy to oblige those who wished to learn. He only actively sparred with the higher tier students and paired the rest with people in their skill level. He was a fan of fencing, though not as much as he enjoyed actual sword fights.
The class was drawing to an end by three in the afternoon, but the children didn't leave until Raphame dismissed them. He treated his students like he did his men in the army, firm but direct. It was comical to think that Rafe could belt out a command as loud as any sergeant, seeing as normally the Dragon was quite reserved. Behind that formality was the heart of a fighter. A man bred for war and battle. That gave a man a particular set of values and perspectives.
"Wrap it up," Raphame called out once he'd glanced at the clock. Two fifty-five.
Most of the advanced members were disappointed, but the beginners were relieved to stop. They'd be sore in the morning, the beginners always were. Raphame hid a grin; there was just something fulfilling about training people.