Ian comes into the Training Center with his head down, watching his own footsteps. He has his bag with him, hanging across his body on its long strap, with some weapon attached to the outside. His coat seems to be elsewhere, leaving him effectively in his shirtsleeves. His loose fitting linen shirt has yet to start looking like it's been sweated in, but it's only a matter of time.

Raymesin is already here, clad in neat black leathers marked with a spider-and-knife sigil. He seems to be discussing something with one of the workers, although that conversation ends a few moments after Ian's arrival, and Raymesin starts the journey down the seating towards the sands.

Ian sets his bag down near one of the benches, and then scans the place. Noticing Ray coming towards him, he nods.

Raymesin returns that nod on his way down, arriving near Ian soon after. "'Ey," he greets the other man. "'Ow're things?"

"Alright. You?" Ian eases himself down to sit next to his bag so he can open it up and sort through the contents.

"Ain't bad, thanks." Raymesin settles into a seat on the bench, a polite conversational distance from Ian. Tall and slender, clad in neat black leathers marked with a spider-and-knife sigil, he moves with smooth precision.

Ian is sitting on a bench, looking like he's only recently arrived. Which is to say that he's still sorting through the bits and bobs of armor in the leather bag that he brought with him. "It's weird how quiet it's been," he says after a moment. "I think it's starting to drive people a little crazy."

All come to the training center for one reason or another. Some come go gawk and admire. Others to train and work out. Aksel is definately in the later camp. He is not a watcher. He's a doer. "Most have never been a true soldier," Aksel says making his presence known as he suddenly seemingly coming from thin air, sits on the bench next to Ian. "Hurry up and wait and all that." He says with an amused sort of smirk on his lips. "But, yes. This calm before the storm is even too much even for me."

"Well, I ain't never been a soldier neither," says Raymesin to Aksel, offering the new arrival a nod as he does so. "But then I figure most folks don't need much 'elp when it comes ter goin' a little crazy."

There's a weariness in Ian's eyes when he looks over at Aksel, following the observation that most people have never actually been soldiers. In that look is a world of exhausting experience with exactly that sort of person. "I worry about how many people want to be doing something just to be doing something."

"But, what are you going to do? Can't lock everyone in there homes and let real soliders do what needs to be done." Aksel says with a mirthless laugh. "Best we can do is hope it doesn't get so fucked that all we are doing is running around saving all the people." He nods his head to Raymesin. "Throw a crisis at people and they rally, but sit around inactive and it all goes to shit."

"Yer sayin' that like yer think as it's real soldiers as is gonna sort it all out," says Raymesin drily, before levering himself to his feet. "Try an' lock me in my 'ome. Go on. Dare yer."

Ian looks up (and up, and up) at Raymesin, raises his eyebrows, and then just gives Aksel a shrug.

Aksel tilts his head to look at Raymesin curiously. "You do know there is a big fucking difference in fighting alone and fighting as apart of a group. I could care less if you can kill a hundred enemies, if you don't know how to take an order you're going to get that many or more killed." He shakes his head slowly rising to his feat. "But if you want to fight, I'm down. Fists? Or weapon of choice?"

Raymesin's eyebrows lift. "I'm well an' truly fuckin' aware as there's a big fuckin' difference in fightin' alone an' fightin' as part of a group, thanks," he says drily, taking the couple of steps needed to lean against the rail. "An' I'm also fuckin' aware as I ain't a soldier an' never will be, an' anyone as tries ter put me in th'shieldwall needs a new brain 'cause the one they got ain't workin'. If yer want ter do some sparrin' I can do that, but Ian an' me, we're 'ere in case anyone wants ter learn somethin' on fightin' as we can teach."

In a milder voice, Ian adds to Aksel: "That's about the best I can think to do for people who haven't seen a lot of combat but are about to get in the middle of it. Train them, and hope the training's enough to keep them alive."

"And don't you think that's why I am here?" Aksel asks looking towards Raymesin his arms crossing his chest. "To help those who seek it. If the reports are true, we'll be pitching battle in the North. I have spent years trapsing through the snow around Stonesdeep and Farhaven. Like you, I want to help." He shakes his head and looks to Ian and nods. "Admirable plan. Wish you all the luck with that." And with that he turns and heads towards the door.

"So it seems like we're two fighters lookin' at two diff'rent angles'a th'fight," says Raymesin to Aksel, his own voice a lot calmer than it was a few moments ago. "Yer lookin' at it like a soldier an' seein' battles ahead. I'm lookin' at it like what I am, an' seein' things comin' as ain't battles. I figure as we're both right, really. Just you ain't never gonna make me a soldier, an' I ain't gonna bother tryin' ter make you anythin' but. Doesn't mean we can't learn from each other, though."

Ian seems to have decided to stay out of this conversation, for the time being.

Aksel stops near the entrance and he lets out a breath looking over his shoulder. "I know the types of battles you speak of. I have been in those many times. But I will tlll you right now, if you don't have an army at your back and you face the Mor'ral you'll be dead quicker then you can say what the fuck." He hitches a thumb towards Ian. "Ask him. He knows." And with that he exits.

Raymesin eyes the departing Aksel, then shakes his head. "Nnngk," he says helpfully, then stalks back over to retake his seat. "'E says that like I don't a'ready know it."

Ian watches Aksel go, and then observes in a dry voice, while rubbing his left arm: "If we face the Mor'ral, I don't think an army's going to help. I saw what happened to the Valardin cavalry when they took on Marin's dogs." Then he looks over at Ray. "Normally, I'd roll my eyes at the way everyone seems convinced that the fight is going to center on wherever it is they call home, but in this case, everyone might be right. Eventually, anyway."

Raymesin nods. "I might survive th'Mor'ral if I 'ad an army at my back 'cause I'd be runnin' away faster than th'army," he says drily, then shrugs. "Sooner or later it will be right, yeah. Th'Wanker ain't just after one thing."

Ian angles his head. "And he's got a bunch of lieutenants working for him who're dangerous in their own right," he adds.

Raymesin nods. "Yup," he agrees. "Which, again. Ain't really somethin' as we've seen afore. Far as I know, at least."

Ian starts to nod his agreement, then stops. "Well. I don't know what was going on during the Silent War. I was sent off to Arx as soon as word got back to Stormward that the siege had ended, so I missed all of that. But talking to Lady Eirene, I gather that a lot was going on in the gray forest beyond just the siege."

"Yeah, I were still in Lenosia then," says Raymesin. "Didn't get back ter Arx after all that Gyre stuff 'appened, neither."

The corners of Ian's mouth twitch. "Everyone had been convinced that Arx would be a target in that war, too. Even though we knew where his forces were, and none of them were pointed at Arx. Same with the Eurus stuff. There were a lot of people who thought they'd skip Pieros and come straight here."

"I think I mentioned as I got th'Lowers ready in case Skal'daja came," says Raymesin drily. "An', well, I still ain't sure why they didn't. We was small, gold, an' right by an open window on th'street."

Ian shakes his head. "They didn't want Arx, Ray. They wanted to take back the territory Pravus had taken from them. Those mines were probably pretty valuable. They might have gone after Setarco if they'd succeeded, and if they'd taken Setarco, we'd probably have been at risk of the Dune Emperor coming to Arx, but it wasn't all going to start here."

"I weren't thinkin' as they wanted Arx," Raymesin points out. "I was figurin' as they wanted as much'a the Lowers as they could load onter their ships, as slaves. That's what I were worried on, a land-an'-grab, not invasion."

Ian angles his head slightly. "Which probably would have been worth worrying about if Pieros and Setarco had been taken, but not before. It's a long way from Eurus to Arx, and slave ships aren't exactly nimble in the water."

Raymesin nods. "But th'Eurusi're better sailors'n we are, an' once they 'ad a few thousand folks they'd likely not take 'em all th'way ter Skal'daja when there were a fight much closer as they needed warm bodies for." He grimaces. "Can't stop thinkin' about what I saw at 'Elianthus, Ian."

An Islesman to the end, Ian looks distinctly dubious (and maybe even a little bit irritated) about the statement that the Eurusi are better sailors than Islesmen are. "I'm pretty sure there was a lot more at play at Sungreet than just the Eurusi invasion," he says, instead of openly arguing the point. "Duchess Delilah and I did a lot of poking around in the months leading up to that whole mess, and after what we found out, we both did our best to keep people off that damned island. Prince Victus listened. Sir Preston didn't."

"Mmm," says Raymesin, then shakes his head. "Either ways, we ain't gotta worry about th'Eurusi right now, an' if we ever 'ave ter worry again it's 'cause there ain't no 'Orned Wanker no more."

Ian nods with a sigh. "It's true. We've got enough problems just in the gray forest, right now."

"Yup," says Raymesin. "An' other'n a soldier as a'ready knows 'ow ter fight - ain't no-one else showed up."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Jan before departing.