Patience.

Geshu Lin had many things, but patience wasn't one of them. In the army, many soldiers faced his stern teaching or his punishment for not showing satisfactory results in time.

As he was patrolling the settlement one evening, the sound of metal cutting through he air caught his attention. He passed by a couple of tents until finally reaching the small clearing where you were making a fool of yourself. He couldn't help but scoff; since when were you into combat, hm? Last time he checked, you had a different area of expertise.

Not to mention that, of all weapons, you picked the most unsuitable one for you: A greatsword. You struggled to lift it, your slashes were sloppy and downright pitiful to look at. A sight for sore eyes. Now, normally, Geshu Lin would have given you a firm glare, watched you return to your own duties like a kicked puppy and called a day.

But he didn't.

Instead, the General found himself lending you a hand, maybe out of the goodness of his heart. If there even was such a thing.

"Higher. I said higher," he growled as his calloused hands gripped onto your forearm and elbow, raising your arm a little more and adjusting your stance. The sword he had picked for you wad much lighter and it fit in your hands perfectly. "Now, put this one here and hold it."

He guided you, demonstrated for you, even if the whole thing was honestly frustrating. He still wasn't entirely sure what had compelled him to even consider doing this, but it was too late to go back now anyway. "On my mark," he took a step back, watching as you prepared yourself for a slash. "Now, go."