Sergeant Vane took a few steps back but he did not assume a stance.
That was the first thing Nero noticed.
The old man simply stood there like an immovable pillar of stone, his feet and toes planted deeply in the sand with both arms relaxed at his sides and his posture loose enough that it looked almost careless. If Nero had not already been knocked flat a dozen times already that morning, he might have mistaken lackadaisical stance for complacency.
"This," Vane said, tapping the center of his own chest with two fingers, "is where your problem starts, Nero."
Nero wiped sweat from his brow and squinted at him. "My chest?"
"Your weight," Vane corrected. "The center of your balance. It's all off and flimsy."
His expression turned serious,
"A man is an immovable pillar. A warrior is an immovable pillar with fangs and a three meter long sword."
