quartzhearted

[quartzhearted]

♡ blinks cutely

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he doesn't know a lot about her despite her always, somehow, being around him. she's friends with her boys but has never introduced herself; she brings him presents on his birthday and fusses over his health despite, well... everything.

she has to be a brodian because why else would she know so much? about himself, about his habits? and why would she care so much about him? one could blame it on keeping the sanity of diamant and alcryst, but they know he's capable on his own. ...mostly.

he can't help but feel like she wants something from him. he could be wrong, but...

[quartzhearted]

♡

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●●● | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST

that's quite possibly one of the most fascinating boys on the planet. of course, right below his kids... but only by a small margin, because only one of them is a divine dragon. and that's pretty cool.

alear is a kind child. his kindness is vast like brodia herself. like diamant's. morion knows from experience that it's hard to keep such a loving heart through as many storms as the world likes to give, so it's commendable that he can.

still waiting on that spar, btw.

[quartzhearted]

♡ :]

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

he hasn't spoken to this boy probably at all---and if he had, it wasn't impactful enough for him to remember. ( he's long past caring about whether he can remember who he's spoken to; blame it on the old age, thank you ).

however, morion would like to change that and soon, if only because he has seen how this kid can throw a sword around and he really likes how it looks. sure, there are plenty of promising swordsmen at the academy, but he in particular has caught morion's fancy. it's no-nonsense, not meant to impress or show off; it's the kind of swing from someone who means business. morion likes kids like that.

[quartzhearted]

♡

●●●○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●○○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

he's always been in morion's sights since the day he'd arrived. two barge-sized men with an affinity for the axe will find each other always.

since then, he has learned that it is a mistake to assume he is " gentler than he seems " ( as morion had initially thought once getting to know him a little better ). he is, to put it the morion way, a huge asshole that's really funny about it. their ongoing spar aside, matthias refuses to let up on something should he deem it important enough, and any attempts are met with surprisingly dry response.

it's refreshing, to say the least. not to mention that he's one of the only people to know about morion's condition outside of the people who witnessed it happen. it takes a lot to get there, really, given that morion isn't so open to that discussion among the many he is. matthias is a good friend, that's for certain.

[quartzhearted]

♡ Hiii

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he's fun to bother, full stop. there were never many people in the palace that morion could just play around with---always ' your highness, do you not have a meeting today? ' ' your highness, the soldiers do not have all day to spend waiting for you. ' and other obnoxious set-phrases. it's nice to be able to fuck around with another guy, especially when he's as crazy ripped as seteth is.

( he, of course, does not stop to think whether his actions will ever see consequence. apologies, poor seteth. )

[quartzhearted]

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ○○○○○ | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

[quartzhearted]

idk you tell me

[quartzhearted]

butch hartman hire me

[quartzhearted]

" wish what? that y'had more common sense gettin' off the bus? can't help ya with that one. "

morion would be shaking his head if he wasn't assuming the form of a large beach towel. with one of his corners he drags cynthia from the toilet before drying her off. " i tell ya again and again, it's like throwin' sand at a brick wall, " he sighs. " y'ain't doin' nothin' to that boy unless you start trainin' up, cynthia. it ain't by magic that i got these muscles. " and he flexes as best as a towel can. it's creepy to see a piece of cloth with huge biceps.

it was sweet of her to make the attempt for chester's sake, but morion is troubled that nobody else bothered to help. was it because francis just terrorizes everyone, or... or was it because people think she's the weird girl that talks to her pencil...?

well, he doesn't have time to think about it now. the bell rings and morion's got to go back to his pencilly self. " alright, that's enough drinkin' from the toilet bowl. c'mon, kid, it's time for class. "

This Could Only Be The Work Of... FAIRY GOD PARENTS!!!!

Fairly Odd Parents AU

[quartzhearted]

" hey, hey! watch the merchandise! " the big pencil crows as he's swung around like a baseball bat ( which, at his size, probably wouldn't be an impossible thing to use him as ). " this is as small as i get! an' i thought kids your age liked fun novelty stuff. remember when everyone asked you if they could use your big eraser? "

that wasn't fun. morion nearly lost half of his head for that.

ah, but now she's trashing Da Rules. nope! that ain't good. " listen, squirt, you gotta get used to the fact that there's rules everywhere. fairies gotta follow 'em as much as anyone else! " has he tried talking jorgen von strangle out of some of the more restrictive ones? yep. has he ever succeeded? nope, but that last arm-wrestling match got him pretty close! " i think we can get pretty big already. you just gotta stretch that imagination of yours a bit, that's all. "

the bus arrives at its final destination: dimmsdale elementary school. morion looks out the window as a preliminary, stroking his beard with a small pencil-hand. " hmm... speakin' of big, it looks like francis is outside, " he muses, un-amused. he's probably looking to spread some extra monday cheer to the youngers... as usual.

" you want the usual hook-his-pants-to-the-flagpole wish? or y'wanna do somethin' different? "

This Could Only Be The Work Of... FAIRY GOD PARENTS!!!!

Fairly Odd Parents AU

[quartzhearted]

good morning, fish tank. good morning, world.

morion g. glitterstein awakens, ready to start the day like usual. he cracks his fins, swims a lap or two, then flops right out of his 130-gallon tank and POOF!s to his normal fairy self. it's a bit large, but, well, fairies come in different shapes and sizes. HIS so happens to be square.

another day of his precious godkid at school.

i wish my clothes were clean and dry. POOF! done.

and i wish i was on the bus! POOF! ( of course, he can't be on the bus as a fairy... and besides, he wouldn't fit. he takes on his normal school disguise: a giant novelty pencil. ) done.

" aw, c'mon, now, kid, that's only two wishes! " morion laughs. " i'm a veteran. i can do more than that! "

This Could Only Be The Work Of... FAIRY GOD PARENTS!!!!

Fairly Odd Parents AU

[quartzhearted]

a moment of silence. and then,

" BWA-HAH! HA HA HA! s'pose you got me there!! "

morion's chest heaves as he laughs, slapping his knee in good humor. it's a damn nice thing hearing this kid take to their conversation, rickety as it started. add that to the list of nuts he can still crack.

he wonders if shinon really will take him up on the offer---standoffishness aside, he smacks of the lone-wolf type... not to mention how barbed he gets when there's history involved. morion would love nothing more than to sit down and talk weapons, hell, maybe even go fishing, if that's something he's interested in doing, but he knows better than to push when there's discomfort. he's done it enough times to learn. he supposes that's as good as he can get it. " if you want to, " he eases, " then y'can come get me whenever you like. but i won't force it if there's no interest. "

he hauls his axe up and stands, admiring the metal's clarity and sharp edges. " now this is a fine lookin' tomahawk. can't wait to start puttin' her to use. " turning to shinon, he extends a warm hand and equally warm smile. " and thank you for helpin' with it. couldn't have gotten it done as fast as we did without ya. "

spitshine

[quartzhearted]

∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . (A little AU moment, as a treat)

Larimar hits the ground roughly. Her arm ends up pinned beneath her. She feels the pain shoot up to her shoulder and immediately knows something is wrong. She grits her teeth against any scream or sob or sound that fights to burst free. Don't let them see when you're hurt. Her master has drilled this lesson into her head again and again with his own hands. You lose the advantage as soon as they know you're hurt.

Her good hand scrambles blindly to pick up her knife again. She was going to die here. It was a simple fact, even as she forced herself back up to her feet. A small, underfed, pathetic child like her was never really going to succeed with the task of killing the king.

She was a message, nothing more. And she was going to die here so others could make their point.

Blinking away the tears as her arm refuses to hold her weight as she tries to stay upright on the ground, she still meets his eyes again as she raises her knife to him. She has to force herself to breathe heavily through the urge to cry. If she is going to finally die, she'll do it with her head held high.

nonverbal prompts | accepting!

something has touched the back of morion's neck.

he has lived a long enough life, a life fraught enough with danger, to know when things should and should not be touching parts of his body. hands are for handshakes and holding weapons for killing, arms are for cradling his children and holding his shield up to deflect a blow, and necks are, under no circumstances, meant to be targeted. ever.

if something has touched the back of morion's neck, then it means he is being threatened.

there is a very short moment between the time he notices to when his arm flies behind himself, grabbing whatever he possibly can to rip it into view. he puts it down to the ground first, before even seeing it, pressing his weight down to ensure captivity.

and then he stops.

because out of all of the things he could have expected---thieves, assassins, hell, even a mutinying knight---nothing that ever crossed his mind looked like the little child he now has pinned beneath his hand. she's so small that morion actually takes weight off of her; any more and he might just break a bone on accident.

she's got to be his boys' age. even with her frailty, even with how underfed she is, morion can tell just by looking, and a cold forgiveness marches into his soul where it was normally strictly kept out. there has to be a reason for this. how could she have even gotten into this castle? was she put up to this?

why would she do this?

he doesn't even want to say he hasn't seen this before. he has heard stories of children raised as cannon fodder against the crown, but their little bodies never made it past the gates. something always stopped them. morion always hated it. there is a darkness that is cast across the crags of brodia, but this is not something that can be fixed in a day. nor can it be fixed in a week, or a moon, or a year. he has been trying, but his net has not been cast wide enough.

or perhaps this net should not be used at all?

as this little thing in his hand tries to hold the knife towards him again, morion knows that this cannot continue. there are two options present, and he shall choose neither of them.

he grabs the knife and throws it to one of his guards, disarming the child. then, morion picks her up, gentle but strong enough to keep her restrained. to his men he turns and barks:

" get a healer an' somethin' for this kid to eat. i'm keepin' her with me for the time being. "

[quartzhearted]

92﹕ sender  silently  and  angrily  points  receiver  towards  the  door .

"We're stuck." He knew there were sell some repairs left but he questioned if all had been built back like it should've been. For now, the handle of the door sat snapped off on the ground. What was left standing had no leverage to be pulled. "Unless we can manage to break it."

nonverbal prompts | accepting!

morion has noted that some parts of the monastery are, to be frank, more well-maintained than others. his classroom is pretty nice, his office even nicer ( if one ignores all of his papers thrown everywhere )... but some of these general-purpose rooms are just not all there.

today morion was possessed with the need to thoroughly discuss knight tactics; all of this teaching makes him extremely itchy for battle, so the next best thing besides throwing hands with randoms is to talk one of the knights' ears off about what they've been doing lately. he's done this to the point that some regulars know when and why he approaches. a bit of a local legend, he is. the man he's pulled aside today is not someone he is familiar with, however---he doesn't recognize the hair nor his sullen face. is he new? he'll have to ask alcryst about it.

" c'mere, " he'd said, waving into a meeting room. " i got some stuff i wanna ask about. "

***

a good hour and a half of morion-led gabbing later, it's just about time for him to get back to his classroom. " thanks for lettin' me yap, " he says, laughing, as his hand grips the door handle. " i'll let'cha get on your way. "

and then the door handle came off. pretty sure it's not supposed to do that.

morion blinks and drops the handle, listening to it clatter stupidly against the floor. a preliminary look-over tells him that yup, that door sure did break. and there sure is no other way to open it. looking around tells him that there are no other doors. juuuuust great.

his compatriot states the obvious: " we're stuck. " morion grunts in agreement. worse still, this isn't exactly a place a lot of people frequent---it's in some corridor down a lesser-used hall. this isn't really an ideal place to have a door handle break.

well, morion's got class soon and he hates being late ( mostly because he gives his students shit if they're late, so if he's late, then that's a whole ordeal ). also, this poor knight guy's probably got something he needs to do, too. so while his fellow captive grouses about the door, pointing to the busted handle, morion simply winds his fist back and delivers a punch to it so hard that it splinters a perfect hole straight through the middle. thank the dragons that there weren't any students in the way.

he looks back. his face is indifferent but he's trying not to smile. " this, uh... this ain't gonna get me written up, is it? "

[quartzhearted]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 .    (  a  collection  of  100  nonverbal  action  prompts .   mature  and  potentially  triggering  themes  are  present .   add  “ + reverse ”  to  swap  assigned  roles . )

∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face . ∗ o2﹕ sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . ∗ o3﹕ sender  places  their  feet / legs  in  receiver's  lap . ∗ o4﹕ sender  offers  receiver  an  earbud  to  share  their  music . ∗ o5﹕ sender  comforts  receiver  in  the  aftermath  of  a  nightmare . ∗ o6﹕ sender  gives  receiver  company  in  the  hospital . ∗ o7﹕ sender  wraps  their  arms  around  a  hysterical  receiver  to  calm  them . ∗ o8﹕ sender  shows  up  at  receiver’s  home  late  at  night . ∗ o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver . ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . ∗ 11﹕ sender  runs  their  fingers  through  receiver’s  hair . ∗ 12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . ∗ 13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver . ∗ 14﹕ sender  places  their  head  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room . ∗ 16﹕ sender  pushes  receiver  against  a  wall  to  kiss  them . ∗ 17﹕ sender  and  receiver  cook  together . ∗ 18﹕ sender  comes  to  receiver  after  being  injured . ∗ 19﹕ sender  sits  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 2o﹕ sender  lifts  receiver's  chin ,  invoking  eye  contact . ∗ 21﹕ sender  overtakes  receiver  in  combat . ∗ 22﹕ sender  finds  receiver  [ injured / bloodied ] . ∗ 23﹕ sender  straightens  an  article  of  receiver’s  clothes . ∗ 24﹕ sender  crawls  into  bed  with  receiver . ∗ 25﹕ sender  rolls  their  eyes  at  receiver . ∗ 26﹕ sender  lights  receiver’s  [ cigarette / joint ] . ∗ 27﹕ sender  is  caught  wearing  receiver's  clothes . ∗ 28﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  with  a  pillow . ∗ 29﹕ sender  writes  a  note  on  receiver’s  skin :  [ note ] . ∗ 3o﹕ sender  wraps  a  blanket  around  receiver’s  shoulders . ∗ 31﹕ sender  runs  and  jumps  into  receiver’s  arms . ∗ 32﹕ sender  shoves  receiver  out  of  anger . ∗ 33﹕ sender  hovers  over  receiver’s  shoulder  as  they  complete  a  task . ∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be . ∗ 35﹕ sender  curls  up  against  receiver  in  their  sleep . ∗ 36﹕ sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver . ∗ 37﹕ sender  throws  an  item  of  sentiment  bitterly  at  receiver . ∗ 38﹕ sender  joins  receiver  in  the  shower . ∗ 39﹕ sender  is  caught  following  receiver . ∗ 4o﹕ sender  traces  one  of  receiver’s  [ scars / bruises ] . ∗ 41﹕ sender  twines  their  fingers  with  receiver’s . ∗ 42﹕ sender  barges  into  receiver’s  home  unannounced . ∗ 43﹕ sender  kicks  receiver’s  shin  beneath  a  table . ∗ 44﹕ sender  aggressively  shoves  past  receiver . ∗ 45﹕ sender  kisses  receiver’s  [ forehead / cheek ] . ∗ 46﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  out  of  harm’s  way . ∗ 47﹕ sender  is  found  sobbing  by  receiver . ∗ 48﹕ sender  locks  receiver  out  of  their  room . ∗ 49﹕ sender  brings  receiver  [ coffee / tea ]  in  the  morning . ∗ 5o﹕ sender  rests  their  forehead  against  receiver’s . ∗ 51﹕ sender  plays  a  song  for  receiver  that  reminds  them  of  them :  [ song ] . ∗ 52﹕ sender  takes  a  [ punch / stab / bullet ]  meant  for  receiver . ∗ 53﹕ sender  buys  receiver  a  drink  at  a  bar . ∗ 54﹕ sender  needs  receiver’s  help  getting  in  the  bath . ∗ 55﹕ sender  and  receiver  cross  paths  in  the  kitchen  late  at  night . ∗ 56﹕ sender  twists  receiver’s  arm  behind  their  back . ∗ 57﹕ sender  winks  at  receiver . ∗ 58﹕ sender  is  found  collapsed  by  receiver . ∗ 59﹕ sender  prevents  an  injured  receiver  from  getting  up . ∗ 6o﹕ sender  claps  a  hand  over  receiver’s  mouth  to  silence  them . ∗ 61﹕ sender  cages  receiver  against  a  [ wall / the floor ]  with  their  arms . ∗ 62﹕ sender  storms  away  from  receiver  during  an  argument . ∗ 63﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  sleeping  in  receiver’s  bed . ∗ 64﹕ sender  [ applies / touches up ]  receiver’s  makeup . ∗ 65﹕ sender  throws  receiver  into  a  wall  during  combat . ∗ 66﹕ sender  dances  sensually  with  receiver . ∗ 67﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  across  the  face . ∗ 68﹕ sender  places  their  hand  on  receiver’s  leg  while  driving . ∗ 69﹕ sender  pulls  a  chair  out  from  under  receiver . ∗ 7o﹕ sender  catches  receiver’s  wrist  when  they  turn  to  leave . ∗ 71﹕ sender  leaves  an  intimate  mark  on  receiver . ∗ 72﹕ sender  beats  receiver  in  a  video  game . ∗ 73﹕ sender  and  receiver  stand  in  stunned  silence  after  a  fight . ∗ 74﹕ sender  cares  for  receiver  while  they’re  sick . ∗ 75﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  on  a  hike . ∗ 76﹕ sender  is  caught  snooping  in  receiver’s  things . ∗ 77﹕ sender  and  receiver  cuddle  while  watching  television . ∗ 78﹕ sender  throws  something  aggressively  at  receiver . ∗ 79﹕ sender  creeps  up  behind  receiver  to  scare  them . ∗ 8o﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  shopping  together . ∗ 81﹕ sender  helps  receiver  [ dye / style ]  their  hair . ∗ 82﹕ sender  draws  receiver  into  a  kiss  by  the  back  of  their  neck . ∗ 83﹕ sender  is  discovered  having  a  panic  attack  by  receiver . ∗ 84﹕ sender  accidentally  injures  receiver  during  sparring . ∗ 85﹕ sender  grabs  receiver  roughly  by  the  hair . ∗ 86﹕ sender  brings  receiver  to  their  knees  during  combat . ∗ 87﹕ sender  shows  receiver  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ∗ 88﹕ sender  winks  [ seductively / mockingly ]  at  receiver . ∗ 89﹕ sender  yells  at  receiver  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air . ∗ 9o﹕ sender  helps  receiver  patch  up  a  wound . ∗ 91﹕ sender  holds  receiver  as  they  cry . ∗ 92﹕ sender  silently  and  angrily  points  receiver  towards  the  door . ∗ 93﹕ sender  gestures  for  receiver  to  sit  down . ∗ 94﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  into  their  lap . ∗ 95﹕ sender  cradles  receiver’s  face . ∗ 96﹕ sender  tackles  receiver  out  of  the  way  of  danger . ∗ 97﹕ sender  has  hidden  an  injury  from  receiver ,  and  receiver  finds  out . ∗ 98﹕ sender  confronts  receiver  about  their  unhealthy  behavior . ∗ 99﹕ sender  proposes  to  receiver . ∗ 1oo﹕ sender  has  just  died ,  receiver  finds  out .

[quartzhearted]

morion sits back and listens with pride as diamant doles out commands to the soldiers. this is one of those special moments, he thinks, that he never could have experienced were it not for his odd revival---doing drills and mock-battles were one thing, but to hear his son enact his duties as a true king! ahh, he's going to be giddy about this for weeks.

he does have to stop himself from smacking a back-talking soldier on the back of the head. it's not in his hands anymore.

his focus turns to where diamant points: a forested area to the east of their group. he'd noticed a steady stream of bandits pouring from behind the trees but had said nothing; hey, he's just a teacher. that's none of his business. theoretically. really, he'd just wanted to see diamant do it. it's the perfect place to make others do your bidding from! it's a no-brainer... but it's for that exact reason that it's a terrible place to pitch camp. morion grins.

and grins wider, because even during all this his son's got the audacity to sass him. " boy, " he growls, clenching the metal handle of his axe, " you'd better watch that tongue. "

morion springs back to the front lines per his commander's instruction, beginning his assault with a brutal slice that takes down three men in a line. damnation, these brigands are completely useless! any smart man would know not to group up when the giant man comes with his axe... or maybe they're just not good enough to coordinate themselves. either way, morion win, badguy lose.

he fights to clear a path towards the forest---as any good knight ought for their king. or father for their son, really. he keeps a keen eye out, watching, waiting for whatever it is that diamant orders him to do next.

a brodian line of thinking

mission board: distress [ no point ]

[quartzhearted]

red wolf moon, year xx.

[ THIRD CORRESPONDENCE W. KINGDOM OF BRODIA. ]

Hey, honey,

So it's been a year.

I haven't been writing very often, and I'm sorry about that. Here I am, begging all sad and pathetic for you to send a letter or two, and then I go and disappear for a bunch of moons. I'm alive, rest assured. Just suddenly very, very busy.

It's still a little hard to accept all of what's happened. I'm alive. I shouldn't be. But I am. And I've gotten to talk with Diamant and Alcryst, I've gotten to meet friends I never thought I'd make, and I've got an armful of new weapons just for being here and teaching a bunch of kids. It's sort of like how things used to be when the boys were young---you know, with those academy parent-teacher meetings and what-have-you. Not going to lie, I'm really glad we don't have to go to those anymore.

I still haven't figured out exactly why I'm here, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe I don't need to know. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to know why me of all people, but it isn't like we're born knowing what we're supposed to do with ourselves anyways. I wasn't supposed to be king of Brodia, and look how that turned out. I try to remember that, and sometimes it helps, but other times I feel like that's not enough. I don't know. Being alive again isn't usually something humans have to consider a lot, right? Or there'd be way more silver spoon-assholes shitting themselves about inheritances.

But if there's one thing I can thank this whole fiasco for, it's being able to keep watching Diamant and Alcryst grow up. I can remember how bad it hurt, acknowledging that I'd be losing that. It was a weird feeling for sure---it hurt worse than dying. I felt so stupid when I threw myself into danger but it was too late to fix it. On top of that, I could have killed them with my own hands. I wasn't in control, but that doesn't matter. It still would have been me. Okay, I think the topic got away from me. What I mean is that it's really nice that I can keep watching the boys grow. I know you're probably worrying about them a whole lot since they're not home. I've got my eye on them, so don't worry.

I really miss you. I'm running out of flowery and pretty-pose ways to say it (not that I really had that many to begin with). Alcryst took a group of folks back home to Brodia, I remember, and he'd asked me to come. I told him I couldn't and it crushed him. It crushed me, too. I miss being home. I miss seeing you. I miss pissing you off in bed until you kick me in the back and I fall out. I hope you're doing okay after everything.

I hope someone is helping you. I've learned that getting help isn't such a terrible thing. Telling someone the things that worry you can feel really, really good.

My chest doesn't bug me as much as it used to. I think that's good. Maybe it means I'm healing, or maybe it means I'm getting closer to the end. I like to think it's the former, but if it's the latter, that'll be okay, too. I'm starting to be okay with a lot more stuff now.

There's a year's worth of things I still want to tell you, but they're about to send the mail out and I want to get this to you ASAP. Guess you'll just need to look forward to more letters from yours truly. I love you, bug. I'll write again soon.

Signed,

Morion, Professor of Axe, Sword, and Authority at the Officers Academy