The First Lesson

"Strength isn’t about force. It’s about control. And control is earned, not given."

Maria had barely finished celebrating her tenth birthday when her father decided it was time for her to be trained.

She hadn’t known what to expect when he announced that a mentor had been chosen for her. A tutor? A court instructor? A retired soldier?

She had expected anyone "anyone" but Sebastian Vale.

At seventeen, Sebastian was already spoken of with admiration among noblemen. The son of a prominent general, he had trained with some of the finest warriors and tacticians in the kingdom. He was calm, calculating, and worst of all clearly uninterested in this assignment.

The moment his eyes landed on her, Maria could tell exactly what he thought of her.

Unimpressive. Too young. Too small.

She bristled under his scrutiny but forced herself to keep still.

"You’re younger than I expected," Sebastian said, his voice even, almost bored.

Maria lifted her chin. "I turned ten a few days ago."

Sebastian barely reacted. He turned to her father instead.

"I assume this is to build her discipline and endurance?" His tone was polite, but there was a subtle edge to it as if he were asking why he had been given such an unworthy student.

Maria clenched her fists.

Charles Thomson, her father, gave a slow nod. "She will not be coddled."

Sebastian considered this for a moment, then finally turned back to Maria. "Very well," he said. "Let's begin."

Thrown Into the Fire

Sebastian led Maria outside to the training courtyard.

The stone ground was worn smooth from years of use, and training dummies stood lined up against the far wall. The morning sun cast long shadows across the space, making the area feel colder than it was.

Sebastian pulled a wooden practice sword from a nearby rack and tossed it toward Maria without warning.

She barely caught it, stumbling back a step. It was heavier than she expected, the rough wood awkward in her hands.

Sebastian crossed his arms, watching her struggle. "Hold it properly," he said.

Maria adjusted her grip, but the moment she did, Sebastian shook his head.

"Wrong."

He stepped forward and without asking, he took hold of her wrist. His fingers were firm, but impersonal, adjusting the way she held the weapon.

"If you grip it like this" he loosened her fingers slightly "you won’t lose it the moment someone strikes. Your hands are too tense. Strength isn’t about force. It’s about control."

His tone was measured, but Maria didn’t miss the faint condescension. He made it sound as if she were a child playing at war, not someone truly trying to learn.

Sebastian stepped back. "Show me your stance."

Maria quickly moved into position. She had watched warriors train before, had seen their movements. She knew where to place her feet, how to hold herself.

Or at least, she thought she did.

Sebastian sighed. "Your feet are too close together."

Maria bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping at him.

"Like this." He took a step beside her, demonstrating the proper stance. "A strong base is everything. If you lose your footing, you lose the fight."

Maria mirrored his movements, adjusting herself.

Sebastian studied her, then gave a single nod. "Better."

Then, without warning, he lifted his sword and swung at her.

Maria barely reacted in time. She raised her weapon, but it was clumsy, and in an instant, Sebastian's wooden sword struck hers and sent it flying from her hands.

The impact sent a sharp sting through her arms. She gasped, taking a step back as her sword clattered to the ground.

Sebastian didn’t even flinch. He simply looked at her.

"You're dead."

Maria’s face burned. Humiliation coiled in her chest like a flame.

She bent down and snatched the sword off the ground, gripping it tightly.

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. "Again?"

Maria met his gaze, defiance burning in her eyes.

"Again."

A Test of Willpower

Sebastian struck again.

This time, Maria managed to block it barely but the impact still sent a jolt through her arms. She struggled to hold on, her feet skidding slightly against the stone ground.

Sebastian didn’t stop. He moved again, faster, his sword coming down at her side.

Maria tried to dodge.

She failed.

Sebastian’s wooden blade hit her ribs not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to knock the wind out of her. She stumbled, falling to one knee.

"You’re slow," Sebastian said. "And predictable."

Maria clenched her jaw. She could feel the sting of frustration crawling up her throat, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She pushed herself to her feet.

Sebastian studied her for a moment, then said, "Why do you want to do this?"

Maria frowned. "What?"

"This training. This fight." Sebastian gestured toward her. "You’re noble-born. You could spend your life at court, learning diplomacy. Why fight?"

Maria hated that question.

Why? Because she had no choice. Because this world had never been kind to her. Because no matter how much she played by their rules, she would always be seen as lesser.

She met his gaze, her voice steady, unwavering.

"Because no one will fight for me."

Sebastian was silent for a moment.

Then, he gave a small smirk. It was barely there, just a flicker of amusement in his expression, but Maria caught it.

"You’ll need to do better than that," he said.

Maria tightened her grip on her sword. "Then let’s keep going."

Sebastian chuckled softly. This time, it wasn’t mocking.

"Very well," he said. "Again."

And so, they continued.

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