It was with a heady mix of emotions that Alicia went to her first lesson in swordsmanship. First there was the familiar anxiety that came with trying anything new, especially something with which she had little experience. She had seen her brother practice, and she had Christine’s memories of watching sword fights on television, but she had doubts about how well any of that would carry over. Underneath that anxious feeling, however, there was a bubbling mass of excitement and curiosity, the desire to learn how to defend herself. There was also some shame, since after all she was well aware that proper ladies were not supposed to want to know how to fight, much less actually learn. Finally, there was the deep fear she had lived with ever since she Bloomed; the fear that even this would not be enough, that she would be unable to change her destiny.

Taken together, it left her almost shaking, although she was able to control herself well enough to keep from revealing her emotions to any outward observer. She made her way down the path from the estate, toward the small training field beside the lower lake where she practiced magic with Miss Hartwright. Alicia was wearing a riding habit, with a tailored jacket and a long skirt that still left her with room to move. A part of her had wanted to wear trousers, but she was well aware that it would be far too scandalous.

Her instructor was already there, and she watched as he twisted a large log back and forth vertically, drilling it into the ground. As she got nearer, she could see that there were countless nicks and scratches on the log; clearly it was used as some sort of training tool. He turned as soon as she made her approach, even though Alicia had tried to make no noise. The similarities to Miss Hartwright were immediately obvious; there was the sharp chin, and there was the harsh slant of his eyes. He was taller than the governess, although of average height for a man, but he filled out the simple coat and trousers that he wore with steel-chord muscles that reminded her of a predatory beast. Even from where she was standing, she could feel magnolic power coming from one side of his coat. She felt several different types, although only one felt somewhat familiar. It was hard to make out, though, being both distant and shielded by leather and glass. Perhaps most startling of all, he looked at her with eyes that held no respect, only guarded calculation.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said at last. “My name is Jack Hartwright. I’m here because my sister has asked me to instruct you in the art of defense.”

“Alicia Senius,” the girl replied. If he thought his lack of manners would throw her off, he had another thing coming. “Miss Hartwright holds you in high regards.” Mr. Hartwright just nodded, as if that was only natural.

“Here,” he said, and from a bag on the ground he pulled out a wooden sword, handing it to her hilt first. She took it, and almost immediately dropped it to the ground; it was far heavier than it ought to be, and she suspected it had been cored out and filled with lead or some other dense metal. However, she quickly brought it under control, and held it up in front of her as best she could.

Jack studied her grip and then shook his head. He pulled an identical wooden blade from the bag, handling this one with such ease that it seemed to weigh no more than a feather. “Like this,” he said, and he turned to let her see his grip on the weapon. Right hand in front, left hand at the back with his pinky curled around the bottom of the hilt.

He seemed to be sizing her up for a moment, and she felt inexplicably small beneath his gaze. She held the sword out in front of her in the best imitation of his own grip, trying not to let the tip waver. Even with the moderate amount of strength training she had done in these past few weeks, waiting for the man to arrive, she still felt the muscles in her upper arms start to protest. First it was a small burning sensation, but it was quickly becoming more painful. Under that judging gaze, however, she refused to let the blade drop. Whether from a sense of noble pride, a desire to impress, or just plain stubbornness, she did her best to push all the pain to the back of her mind, focusing all her willpower on keeping the tip of the blade in front of her at eye level.

“Good,” he said at last, and she let the blade start to fall with a small sigh of relief.

Then he seemed to vanish into a blur of motion. Alicia started moving in response before she consciously registered his action. She leapt to the side, and his own wooden sword split the air where she had just been. In an instant, she raised her blade back up into position, any pain in her arms forgotten in the rush of adrenaline. His blade came toward her again and she met it with her own, a clumsy parry that reverberated down her arms and left them feeling practically numb. He disengaged and stepped back as the analytical side of her mind began to catch up with her instinct.

Then he was on her again, this time with a sideways strike that was whipping toward her head. She ducked beneath it, twisting her own blade up to deflect his blow upward. It worked, although the impact once more deadened her arms, sending his blade skittering over her head. In a split second she realized he had left himself open to a counter-attack and she began to shift her blade to stab forward. By that point he had already reset himself, however, and with the slightest flick of his blade he met her blade and pushed it to the side.

Now she had overextended, and she braced herself for a blow in return. A half second went by and it didn’t come, allowing her to pull herself back into position. Her breath was coming in staccato bursts and her arms were somehow both numb and on fire. She had been acting on instinct, but now she could see that he wasn’t actually trying to hurt her. Clearly he outmatched her as a fighter, and if he had wanted her dead or injured he could have made it happen. No, this sudden match had a different purpose—he was testing her, although for what she couldn’t say. Now that she knew, though, she decided that she wasn’t going to fail his test.

He came at her again, and this time she pushed forward as well, blocking as close as she could. The impact almost knocked the blade out of her hands and she felt a sting as several of her fingers pushed back the wrong way, but it had the desired effect. She was close enough now to not just feel but access the magnolic energy from his waistcoat. There were three different aspects that she could feel; two were closed off from her, but the last was very familiar. With a concerted effort, she pulled the Motion-aspected energy from the vial inside his coat. Alicia had only just begun to practice this with Miss Hartwright, but she was confident enough that she wouldn’t injure herself to try. Still, it was more difficult than she expected, both due to the distance and the layers of cloth and glass between her and the actual oil, but nonetheless she felt the power leap into her and begin to course through her cardiothaumic system. Suddenly she felt light on her toes, and with a mana-empowered push on their crossed blades she danced backwards and raised the blade back into position.

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It was a common misconception that using the power of Motion Blooms resulted in a feeling like the rest of the world was slowing down. Rather, it was that she could now move and respond to movements at the speed of her thoughts, rather than the speed of her body. This time, when Mr. Hartwright began his swing, she could tell exactly where it was headed—into her abdomen—and instead of trying to block the blow, she took two small steps backwards. The blade swung past her torso, only barely missing her, and in its wake she leapt forward. The wooden sword still felt just as heavy and unwieldy in her hands, but now it was easier to accelerate it into a thrust toward his mid-section.

Even with the Motion-aspected mana, she knew that she had no chance of defeating him or even landing the blow. He swiped the blade away with a parry that was strong enough to knock it from her hands, and then launched a counterattack that swung the sword toward her neck. At the last moment, she darted towards him, reaching out and grabbing the hand that was holding the sword, stopping the blow. This proved to be a mistake.

Mr. Hartwright immediately dropped his own sword and clasped her own wrist with another hand. Then he moved into a fluid twisting motion, faster than she could process even with her magnolic enhanced senses, and she found herself bent backwards, the man behind her, and her hand contorted so that it was just on the edge of being painful. He held her there for a few seconds, letting her try to wriggle out only to realize each time that any motion brought sharp pain to her hand, before he dropped her arm.

She stumbled forward and fell to her knees, panting hard. She wiped away the tears that had formed at the edge of her eyes. The magnolic energy burned out all at once, and the toll of the fight hit her like a carriage. Her arms burned fiercely from the strain, her legs hurt from the sudden exertion, and her knees and palms were slightly skinned from falling on the ground.

When she got her breath back, she said, “You attacked me.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation, just an incredulous statement of fact.

“I did,” Mr. Hartwright replied from behind her, his voice as calm and even as the still water in the lake beside them.

She processed this for a moment. “Did I pass?” she asked, getting back up to her feet and turning to face the man.

He looked at her with an expression of shock. “Pardon?”

“You were testing me, yes? Did I pass?” As she spoke, she began to brush off the dirt that had collected on her skirt when she fell.

He started to laugh then, a loud guffaw that made her blush with embarrassment. After a few moments, he just shook his head and said, “Tell me what you did wrong, my lady.”

“Clearly I should not have grabbed your wrist,” she said, begrudgingly. “It would have been better if I had moved backward to avoid your strike, rather than bringing myself into range of a grapple.”

He nodded, and there was a faint smile still on his face. “Indeed. What else?”

“I should not have let go of my weapon,” she replied. “My grip was weak, which was why you could knock it away.”

“That is true as well,” he said. “However, there was one mistake you made that was far greater than any other. Do you know what it was?”

She wracked her brain to figure out what he was looking for. “Was it trying to siphon off your magnolium?”

The man just shook his head, arms crossed in front of him. “No, that was very well done, although somewhat of a risky maneuver. I will charge your father for the cost of the slick, though. Your mistake, my lady, was in engaging with me at all. Once you realized that you could not win the battle, you should have begun to figure out how to flee. Instead, you chose to fight back, even knowing you could not win.”

His words struck a chord with her. Mr. Hartwright could not possibly have known how much her own situation resonated with what he said. Perhaps she was in a fight she could not win, against the prince, against society, against the very trappings of destiny. Maybe it would be better for all if she left, disappeared from everyone’s lives and hopped on the first ship to Francouis or the Jatibon Islands. She had been plagued with those thoughts, ever since she had returned home from Ludestre. However, Alicia refused to run. She would not flee from her fate, no matter how dire or immutable it seemed; and if she was doomed, she would be sure to fight every step of the way.

“No,” she said suddenly. “That was not a mistake.” She looked up and fixed the man with a glare. “Perhaps you are right to some extent, but I do not think it was right to run. You had motion-aspected magnolium in your pocket, which I felt as soon as I arrived; you could have easily caught up to me no matter how I tried to flee. Besides, sometimes you are not able to run. Sometimes there are things worth fighting to protect, no matter the cost.”

He looked at her with those calculating eyes, and then his face softened. “I can see why my sister likes you. You are spirited and clever, just as she is.”

Alicia felt herself warm at the comparison. “You flatter me, Mr. Hartwright,” she replied.

Mr. Hartwright laughed once more. “I have been hired to teach you how to protect yourself, Lady Senius, to give you simple self-defence techniques for you to use against untrained ruffians and thugs that might see you as an easy target. However, I suspect that you might find such lessons both dull and inadequate. As such, I will offer you a choice.”

Stepping forward, he held out his hand and lifted up one finger. “The first option is this: I instruct you in such matters as I have been hired to do, and no more. You learn a few grapples and some tricks with a knife, and any uncouth people who try to accost you will have a nasty surprise.”

Alicia tilted her head. “And the second option?” she asked.

He grinned wolfishly. “I believe you might find it far more intriguing. Should you desire, I can teach you how to fight. Not merely defend yourself, but to wield a blade, to throw and pin someone twice your size, and to wield the magnolic power that is your birthright into a weapon stronger than any sword or pistol. It will be far more difficult, and there will be demands on your body more strenuous than any you have faced before, but at the end of my training you will be able to protect whatever you desire.”

Alicia made as if she was considering the options, but there was never any real choice. She wanted to ask the man why he would offer her this, but there was a chance he would take it away if she did, and that was a risk she would not take. Instead, she looked at the man and said, “Please teach me to protect those I hold dear, Mr. Hartwright.”

“Good,” he said simply, still with that wolfish grin. “Now pick up your sword; we have much work to do.”