Ivy was doing her best to put the feet at the exact same places Pablo had taught her. She danced over the training ground each of the dozens of moves the fencing master did. Her shoulders and arms hold into positions so that the stick pretending to be a sword would be where it was required to be. To her, each stance felt successful, although deep within, she well knew the lack of grace would make her teacher pull his hair out if he were there.

She paused for breath and shuffled to the side, where little Perlisha was relentlessly spying on the guards through the window gap. While filling a glass of water, she looked at the enormous circles engraved on the sandy floor. The lines filling the training rings reminded her somehow of the rhumb lines on a navigation chart. Curiously, the two types of line were ways of following directions: Some with sailing ships, the others with dancing feet.

Now, the drawings were half-erased by her misplaced footsteps. Ivy knew from Ced that learning the art of the sword was not only a question of strength and speed, but she had never imagined that the bases of the skill, mostly based on body position, were so complex and difficult. Pablo was demanding and his teachings were a complete challenge, and for that, she couldn’t be more excited and grateful. To become a decent swordswoman in such a small period of time, she needed a master like him. But that was a dream. The day of the escape was soon to come, and she couldn’t stop thinking it was not enough. The plantation was a terrible place indeed, but all the people around her were wonderful human beings, and somehow, they always managed to make such a horrible place feel welcoming and as a result, from time to time, Ivy forgot about the outside world and wished to stay a little longer.

As she put the glass on the table, She noticed Perlisha’s furtive glance, who, seeing herself discovered, let out a charming giggle. “Eyes on the guards, Per.” growled Mhen, an old curmudgeon who was the person in charge of cleaning the barn. The old man’s sour protest frightened the little girl, who hurried back to her important task. “Uncle Dom is coming, the gua’ds no.” she said in a tiny sweet voice.

Ivy tucked the stick-sword under the arm to rub her calloused hand and returned to the circles. There was no time for breaks. It was something that Pablo would remind her of if she was doing anything but practicing at his return. “He b’ings a box… with cookies!”

Perlisha’s older sister, Cherie, left the basket of eggs in a rush to look through the openings of another of the closed windows. “I don’t see any boxes.”

“I can smell them,” Perlisha said proudly.

“Liar! You cannot smell them from here!” Shouted Cherie.

“Yes, I can! You… you lia’!”

The sisters’ noise made Ivy lose her concentration, but she didn’t mind. Cherie was not much older than Per, but still under ten, she usually behaved like any adult. She was responsible and a hard worker. When Pablo explained to her that Ivy needed to train, she took the responsibility to do all her work without a complaint, but even with such a level of maturity, her little sister always put her back to the age she was supposed to be. The two were adorable, and their company during every single day since she arrived was definetly what she’d miss the most.

She was back to her practice when Mhen’s dog announced Pablos’ arrival with a loud barking. “Is that the ‘Cymet’ defense?” He said, removing a small box from the bag he tossed over the table. “Horrible! Legs further apart, raise your arm and hand over the hilt.” The overseer squatted in front of Perlisha, who was staring with sparkling eyes and a nervous trembling.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Perlisha?” .

“Cookies,” answered the little girl with another cute giggle. Pablo handled the box and taped her head before she rushed to share her newly gained prize with Cherie. Then, the overseer grabbed his own stick-sword and joined Ivy inside the circle.

His guard was simple and loose. “Show me a ‘Dufort’.” Ivy remembered the first stance she learned and straightened her body. Both legs together, weight over the right to dash the left at the side as soon as her stick-sword displaced his. Their moves were slow and heavily pronounced, to be sure all the steps were done perfectly.

His next set of moves was of an attack Ivy remembered, but forgot the name. The Sword master moved his weapon, counting loudly with each strike and parry. His stick was hitting softly and giving enough time for Ivy to follow efficiently and with ease. Pablo finished with a foot forward and the arm half extended. She stepped back, knowing if the tip of her stick was left where it was, with a simple arm move, he’d have full leverage advantage. “Good.” He said as soon as she was in the ‘Ravon’ stance. “Now, watch carefully.”

The sword master made a slight foot move and twisted his wrist enough to position his blade on the other side of Ivy’s. His body turned, leaving his left side closer and vulnerable.

Ivy studied all details thoughtfully. Now Pablo’s sword had a lever advantage, able to deflect her blade easily but, if she mimicked the wrist movement and positioned her weapon at the other side fast enough, he was done. As she did, Pablo grabbed her stick-sword at the forte and his weapon slid slowly until it reached her face. “Now you’re dead,”

Ivy huffed and lost her guard to grab the little blackboard hanging from her waist. The chalk hit the board with frustrated strikes. “I’d cut your hand if you do that!”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Maybe yes. Maybe not. But either way, you’d be dead. Never leave your blade at hand reach. Keep your distance, little devil, keep your distance.”

Mhen’s dog barked and in a blink of an eye, Pablo tossed the sticks and sweep the ground with fast kicks. When the guard entered, there were no signs of the training cycle, and Ivy was already holding a basket of eggs Cherie had previously collected for her.

“Excuse me, Dom,” said the guard submissively, in a way they’d never used with the other servants. “The lord Master requires your presence in the Grand House. They can all finish for today.”

“I’ll be right back as soon as I check on my wife. Won’t take long.” The guard nodded, and Pablo clapped his hands. “Let’s go girls, your Da is waiting.”

Mhen was always staying longer than the rest, but he also used to leave the barn first, to drag his dog far away from the door and from the little girls, who were always terrified to walk any close to it. Still, the growls of the annoying beast spooked the two, and they rushed down the slope, stopping halfway to finish devouring the cookies they had left. “Your food work is getting better,’’ added the fencer instructor. “Blade-work is also important. And more difficult to master.

“I have taught you just the tip, but there is much more. You’ll have to ask our mutual friend to continue the training. And of course, practice, practice, practice.”

He had unveiled to her all the secrets of fencing since the first day. Blade leverage, lines of attack, types of parries. The list was huge. But knowing all and mastering it was a journey that would take years.

Pablo continued, as if he could read her mind. “You’ll need to learn it so well that your feet and arms will move without thinking. Your brain needs to always focus on what your opponent does. Then your body must react accordingly, without hesitation or mistake.”

She wanted to write that it was easier to say than to do all that, but her arm and hand were numb and she just nodded and followed.

“That will keep you alive enough to study your enemy. Learn what they will do next and you will win. Let them guess your movements first, you lose. Easy as that.”

Ivy huffed, with her eyes following Perlisha’s clumsy run and Cherie skipping downhill, where Alphonsus, their father, was waiting. Alphonsus was a small man with a face punished by a life of hard labor that could easily mistake him for the girl’s grandfather. He took off his wool hat at the sight of Pablo and bent slightly.

“Bye, bye! See you tomolo!” Shouted Perlisha as they walked away.

As the girls played around the meadows following the dragging footsteps of their dad, the sun painted a canvas of reds and purples over the evening sky. “He looks sad,” wrote Ivy on her board.

Pablo looked behind him from over the shoulder to check the two guards were still at a suitable distance. “Worried. If your escape goes south, blood will be spilled, and he cannot stop worrying about his girls. But I already have a plan for them.”

Peh, who, like every day, was coming to help AhRia, joined them just before reaching the hut. The girl, this time, was carrying not only the water bucket and clean rags, but a heavy bag on her shoulder that made her walk sideways. Ivy hurried to help, getting a shy smile as her reward. Now, with her hands free, Peh took Pablo’s palm and placed it on her forehead as a sign of appreciation.

Ivy couldn’t stop thinking about how that man, a foreigner from the far north, who had a position that should make him the most hated and distrusted amongst the slaves, was so loved by his people.

The overseer opened the door to let Peh enter and raised an eyebrow when Ivy didn’t follow. “What is it?” He asked.

Ivy wrote slowly, doubting if she truly should. “I wonder how you make everyone like you. I wish I could.”

Pablo caressed his mustache while searching for an answer. “Do they? I truly don’t know if that’s true. I am just… me.”

As Ivy crossed the door frame, the overseen spoke again, lowering his voice, trying to not disturb the calm of the inside. “I was a blow-beater in my youth. It’s true. I suppose I changed when I became the target of bigger bullies. What I’m trying to say is, there will always be people that don’t like you, no matter what you do. So aim to be a person you like. Someone you are proud of. Easy as that.”

Peh pulled up a dress by the sleeves and placed it right in front of Ivy under Ria’s watchful eye. “That will do,” Pablo’s wife said. “You have similar height. I will only need to do a few retouches and with one of your cauls, no one will notice.”

Ivy’s frown received a prompt explanation from her sword master, who talked carefully while watching through the window. “Your friends are almost ready. When the night of bells arrives, Peh will come here as usual, but you will leave instead. I sometimes bring the guards some rice wine from the Grand Master and we always chat further from the house so as not to disturb Ria. They won’t notice. Then you will go to Kamalu’s hut, the one closer to the south trail, and wait for me. The rest will be as easy as fencing against a drunkard.”

Ivy took a deep breath, trying her best to show a hint of optimism. To Pablo, everything was as easy as fencing anything that moved. He was one of the best sword masters in the Nor’Wes and to him, the world of the sword was indeed easy. But everything else was just pure optimism. He was a man who had achieved a lot with hard work and persistence and also thanks to believing in himself and in his abilities. Something Ivy wished to emulate. But she was a nobody. An insecure and inexperienced girl that used to blame others for her own mistakes. Someone who few liked. Someone whom she herself didn’t like.

With Pablo’s footsteps receding towards the Grand Mansion and Peh’s hasty hands putting on her the dress, Ivy realized how little it mattered what other people thought. It was she and only she who had to live with herself.

With the little time left, she was going to learn from that man the true skill of the sword, and with the help of him and all those wonderful people around her, she was going to shape a new Ivy. An Ivy to be proud of.