"A Cassiline..." Carrick mused. "Some of the best single combatants in history, for all that they're servants in all but name." He crossed to the table where he had left the twin daggers he intended to train with after he had finished drilling with the spear. His finger traced lightly over the well-worn leather wrapped around the hilts. It had moulded to his grip over the years, growing thinner and softer where the pressure of his fingers had been most acute.
His pale gaze flickered to Alcuin as the boy's voice sharpened, watching him with unwavering stillness. "Then perhaps your gods were wise in leading you here," he stated.
"I've studied almost all the western forms of combat over the years, but never the Cassiline style." Carrick remarked. "I'd be interested to see it." He picked up both daggers and proffered them to Alcuin, hilt first.