"Border province technique," Valeria sneered just loudly enough for me to hear. "Or perhaps something learned in less... reputable circles?"
My blood ran cold, but I kept my face impassive, focusing on the immediate threat of their weapons rather than their words. I feinted toward Lucia, pivoted sharply when Drusilla committed to her attack, and managed to land a solid hit to her side that sent her stumbling back.
"Point to Cantius," Ferris called.
Valeria's eyes narrowed. "Lucky strike," she hissed, pressing forward with a series of attacks that forced me to give ground.
"Nervous, provincial?" Drusilla whispered as our practice swords locked. "Missing your servants to protect you?"
I broke away from her, narrowly avoiding Lucia's thrust from behind. Their mockery was nothing new—they'd been needling me since my arrival at the Academy.
"How is it," Valeria said during our next exchange, her voice pitched for my ears alone, "that such a minor noble as yourself managed to attend the Academy? Special favours for Lord Varin before his unfortunate death?"
My grip tightened on my practice sword. That they would dare mention Varin—after what he had tried to do, after what they had helped him attempt—made my blood boil.
The momentary distraction cost me as Lucia's practice sword caught me hard across the shoulders, sending a jolt of pain down my spine.
"Point to Lucia," Ferris called.
I forced myself to focus, to push away their words and the rage they triggered. These pampered, vicious girls had never faced real consequences for their actions, had never understood what it meant to truly fight for your life or your dignity.
The next exchange was a blur of movement as my anger fuelled each strike. I dropped low, sweeping Lucia's legs from under her, then rolled to avoid Valeria's downward strike. As I came up, I caught Drusilla with a pommel strike to the sternum that left her gasping, then spun to parry Valeria's attack.
We locked blades, her face inches from mine, malice blazing in her eyes.
"Your slaves were quite thorough with Lord Varin, weren't they?" she hissed. "A pity they won't be here to help you when your provincial luck runs out."
The insinuation struck me like a physical blow. That she would dare suggest... I faltered, just for an instant, but it was enough. Valeria's practice sword slipped past my guard, striking my ribs with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. I stumbled backward, fighting to maintain my footing.
"Point to Valeria," Ferris called. "Reset positions."
As I struggled to catch my breath, the fury within me grew. How dare they speak of Varin, how dare they imply I had anything to do with his death when they were the ones who had helped him corner me, who had laughed as he tore at my clothes.
"Continue!" Ferris barked.
The next round began, and I channelled all my rage into every movement. I would not let them see how their words affected me. I would not give them that satisfaction.
When Drusilla lunged, I sidestepped and struck her wrist with precise force, causing her to drop her practice sword with a cry of pain. Before Lucia could react, I was inside her guard, driving my elbow into her solar plexus and sweeping her feet from under her.
Valeria's eyes widened as she suddenly found herself alone against me. Her technique was excellent, her form perfect—but she had never had to fight with real desperation or fury. I disarmed her with a brutal twist that nearly broke her wrist, then swept her legs and followed her down, the tip of my practice sword at her throat before she even hit the ground.
"It's disgusting," I whispered, my voice shaking with barely controlled rage, "that you would help him try to do that to another woman."
Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. "You've always thought yourself above your station," she spat back. "We just thought a good fucking would put you in your place."
For a moment, I pressed the practice sword harder against her throat, imagining what it would feel like to—
"Match to Cantius," Ferris announced, breaking through my dark thoughts. "Three points to two."
I stepped back, allowing Valeria to rise. Her face was flushed with humiliation and rage as she retrieved her practice sword.
"That wasn't Academy technique," she spat.
"No," I agreed coldly. "It was effective."
Legate Ferris approached, his weathered face unreadable. "Unorthodox," he commented, looking me over with new interest. "But undeniably effective. Where did you learn to fight like that, Cadet Cantius?"
I could feel the weight of every gaze in the yard. "My father believed in practical combat training, sir. The southern provinces are less... formal in their methods."
