Arthuin had never considered himself a particularly proud individual. He understood that the reproves and rebukes of Exarch Jolinaar were a part of his Path. She was a harsh teacher, but an excellent one. She had sang to the souls of thousands of enemies, and that alone made her worthy of respect. Arthuin normally had no issue following her instructions, regardless how brutally she made her correction.
Today, however, he felt as though he was close to speaking out for the first time. The squad had been pushed to its limit, running laps through the Arena, practicing assault tactics to exhaustion, leaping and cavorting from the marble blocks that rose and fell from the Arena floor at the whim of Jolinaar. Though the Eldar bodyh was a marvel of endurance and agility, it was still mortal, and had its limits. When Jolinaar had called their acrobatic practice to a halt, stating that their feeble efforts made her ill, Arthuin was almost to that limit. When she paired them up for sparring practice, he had to stifle a groan. He understood that it such training was important, but Jolinaar’s snarling made his blood rise.
He made a salute to his sparring partner, the female Eldar Jae, raising his unactivated power sabre to his forehead and then sweeping it in a downward arch. He stepped forward into Call of The Widowmaker, his feet shoulder width apart, resting lightly on the ground. He slipped seamlessly into Wraith in the Darkness, unleashing a flurry of quick blows that Jae easily deflected. Arthuin pushed off the ground, into Death That Descends, flipping over Jae’s head and striking down with his sabre. His blade met the uncompromising wraithbone of her own, and he was forced to defend himself from a series of well-aimed blows when he landed on his feet.
“Well, I’m exhausted,” he said jokingly, unable to keep the edge of frustration out of his voice. “If Jolinaar says another word to me, I’m going to have to challenge her to a duel myself.”
"In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war, an eternity of slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods. I'm telling you man, this is a really shitty time to be alive." -Primarch Stan Wolkowski, Sons of Stan