The weaponmaster was such an obvious stereotype it was almost comical. The whispy white facial hair, the steely gaze, the willowy but steel-tendon build, the sandals and robe. It was almost too much. “I am Mako” he announced in a subtly grand tone that was only accentuated by his low volume. “I will be your master.”

“Your pardon sir” Emokha gave a graceful half-bow, made somewhat alien by the differences in where her joints were. “I respect your obvious knowledge and exhperience and look forward to learning from you. However I cannot call you master. I remain a pupil of another.”

The air of mystery and high-mindedness flickered a bit at that. “Young lady, I am the most skilled weaponsmaster in the entire duchy. Everyone who sets foot into my dojo calls me master. No exceptions.”

“Mother of Weapons Khokhonas is not from the duchy sir. And I am not attempting to compare your skhill to hers, merely stating that I have a prior relationship that prevents me from using this specifikh honorifikh.”

“Hmph. Quite the arrogant pupil you’ve brought me.” The attendant who had escorted them there shrugged helplessly. “Young lady, I would not tolerate this attitude from one of our own. However as you are a foreigner and have recently been through something of an ordeal I will overlook it. For now. That said, attitude will not suffice in my dojo. You will quickly learn there is a reason the most promising youth of the duchy are entrusted to me.”

“For now let us test your skills so I know what class to put you in. Choose from the wooden training weapons along the wall.” Emokha gave another half bow and began sorting through them. After careful perusal she returned with two nearly identical sabers. “Dual-wielding is a common mistake of the inexperienced. It serves merely to split your focus” he scoffed. “The young always want to run before they can walk. First show that you can use one weapon well.”

“Sir, this is how I was trained. Our style has very limited single-weapon tekhniqhues, so I would not be able to show you my best.”

Mako threw his hands in the air. “I see.” He turned angrily to the attendant. “Tell the headmaster I will be having a serious discussion about this with him later. He knows I do not approve of divas.” Turning to the student body he shouted “Jate! Front and center!”

A young man confidently strode forward. “Yes master?” he asked expectantly. The students began to murmur to each other.

“Spar with this young lady! She knows better than me, so she must be prepared to face anything our academy has to offer!”

“Of course master!” Jate seemed earnest and attentive, but as he headed over to collect training weapons he smirked at Emokha. His confidence was clearly not without some foundation. He was a large strong young man without running to bulk, and he moved with a grace and precision that spoke of natural ability and a great deal of training.

When he returned with two similar sabers Mako didn’t seem inclined to admonish him. “You will spar. I will call strikes and hit consequences. Do not leave the dojo. This a fight assessment, not a chase. Understood?” As soon as Jate nodded Mako started the fight. “Begin!”

Immediately Jate lashed out with a series of rapid alternating strikes, slashing out left and right, high and low. Emokha stood her ground, parrying them all without making any effort to counter-attack. For two minutes the blows rained in, gradually becoming faster and more furious. Still she stayed on the defense, brushing every one aside.

Although both were using styles obviously designed for dual-wielding it was clear that the contest was not even. Emokha’s style was simply more efficient, with less wasted effort and less predictable movement angles. She was alert and working, but she clearly was not cornered.

This became even more evident when she fluidly switched to offense. Her swords slipped in at odd angles, catching Jate off-guard and forcing him to rush his parries and dodges. On top of that she had edges in reach and speed, and didn’t give anything to him in terms of strength. He was continually forced to give ground and was harried. He was one slip-up from a telling touch. Unless something changed he was going to lose, and in short order.

A fierce smile stretched across his face. “My heart is burning” he suddenly announced to no one in particular. The crowd of students reacted with shouts and cheers. “Dragon Soul” Jate yelled.

A moment later his style completely changed. It was a mirror image of Emokha’s. He wasn’t just imitating, he somehow was actually using it. The students went wild. The noise covered the click of Emokha’s mandibles, so it went almost unnoticed. Those who did see the movement probably thought it was an expression of shock. Only Gloe and Oresus saw the suppressed laugh, and they were in no hurry to enlighten anyone.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Not that they had to. Jate had a mere twenty seconds or so to experience the new style. Then Emokha swatted one of his blades aside with a claw and slashed a saber through the created opening, opening up a notional long diagonal wound across his chest.

“Hit! Hit! Stop!” Mako shouted. Both combatants took a step back and lowered their weapons. Mako’s subsequent comments started out at remarkably low volume. “Young lady, I will admit your technique is a bit more advanced than I initially thought.” His voice grew louder and stronger. “However, although you managed to score a telling blow you also demonstrated how green you are.” Gloe clapped both hands over his mouth to keep from interjecting. “Sacrificing a hand in order land a strike is a tactic you can only use once.”

“Beg your pardon sir, but I did not sakhrifice anything. You did not say I should regard his sword as having any special magical properties, and I can easily parry swords without special penetration khapabilities. Our khlaws are the hardest part of us.”

An anonymous male voice drifted out of the crowd, “maybe I should show her my hardest part.” Juvenile laughter erupted and Mako whirled to suppress it.

While he was doing so Jate began to mutter in incomprehension “but I used my ability to replicate your technique. How could I be beaten?”

Emokha cocked her head in bewilderment. “Our style is designed for the Viluota. We have more eyes and limbs than you do, and a brain that allows us to essentially qhuad-wield. Why would you try to khopy that? It put you at an instant disadvantage.”

Mako had caught that and was visibly formulating a response when Emokha continued. “And pardon, you used your ability? Were we supposed to use our abilities? I apologize, I misunderstood.”

“You mean you didn’t even use your ability?” Jate half-whined, shock at having been beaten conventionally leaking into his voice. Some of the other students had heard bits and pieces of the exchange and the whispering and murmuring increased. Mako hurried to usher everyone out.

As they were leaving there was a sudden male shout, the pitch rising sharply before cutting off. It sounded oddly familiar. Not terribly so, just as if it had been heard recently. As Emokha left she shook her head resignedly. She had momentarily lost sight of one of her associates, and sure enough, there he was. “What did you do Zekhow?” she asked, one hand already on her forehead.

“I was just checking for his hardest part.” Gloe looked down at the fallen student, writhing on the ground clutching his nether regions. “I guess that wasn’t it.”

...

Piestro had learned from Mako’s discomfiture. “Alright young lady, no pressure. This is not a test, I’m merely looking to see what we need to work on.”

“Alright. What are the khonditions for this obstakhle khourse?”

“Ahhh…please don’t break the course, ha ha.”

“So do not simply breakh through. What else?”

“Ahhh…no flying of course. It’s an obstacle course, not a flight course.” He laughed again.

“I see. What other khriteria are there?”

“Nothing else springs to mind. Move through it safely, quick as you like.”

Emokha blinked. “Very well. I will begin on your signal.” His hand dropped and she was off, a burst from her wings accelerating her without taking her feet off the ground. She didn’t stay there for long though.

A prodigious leap took her over the first wall, but rather than fall back to earth she landed on a tree limb. All four arms lashed out to steady herself, then she began moving forward again, running along the trees. Occasionally her wings flashed out to steady herself as she leapt forward or kicked off a tree trunk, but for the most part they stayed tucked back. Her arboreal route allowed her to bypass the most onerous of the obstacles and she was done rather quickly.

“Alright young lady. Well right off the bat I can see we’ll need to work on ground movement techniques.”

Emokha cocked her head. “Why?” she asked flatly.

“Well, you didn’t actually run the course, did you? Just fluttered up and skipped most of it.”

“I specifikhally inqhuired what the rules were. I did not fly, nor did I breakh the course.” She stared at him.

“Well be that as it may, you certainly didn’t adhere to the spirit of the exercise, did you?”

Her stare did not abate. “As the instrukhtor is it not your duty to khommuikhate the ‘spirit of the exhercise’ to those who are unfamiliar with it? What specifikh purpose does this khourse serve? Why would I go through these obstakhles when I khan easily go around them?”

“Yes, well…” he coughed nervously, “…what if your wings are injured? For example.”

“You failed to specify such a scenario” Emokha said coldly.

“More to the point, more to the point” he broke in before she could continue. “We also need work on situational awareness.” He pointed to three spots on the course. “You tripped detection spells there, there and there. The demons link these to alarms and spells. In the real world you would either have been blasted or quickly surrounded by demon reinforcements.”

“So when I inqhuired as to the khoncept of this khourse you deliberately withheld information. I see. Thankh you. This has been very edukhational.” She stalked off.

“H-her claws are twitching” Oresus muttered. “That’s n-never a good sign.”

“She should be. This is bullshit. They’re not even being subtle about screwing her over.”

“Yeah. We l-learned about those traps in army training. Apparently they are used b-by most demons.”

“Really? Odd we’ve never encountered any on the border then.”

“N-not really. When I g-got to Tranche they told me to forget all my training. It’s all out of d-date. Laukis threw out all sort of t-tactics when Tojas perfected his modified demonlings. They h-haven’t used these traps in over a decade.”

“Shit. Do you think we should tell her?”

Oresus took another quick look across the field. “Yes, b-but not as long as her claws are still twitching.”