Chapter 31. The first lesson
The east wing of the estate wasn't a prison, but it wasn't a luxury apartment either. Two adjoining rooms with bare stone walls, rough but sturdy furniture and a fireplace that had already been lit by our arrival. Nothing superfluous. No hint of hospitality. A clear signal: you are here on bird rights. On probation.
Yuki, stunned by the grandeur and gloomy might of the castle, clung to me like a frightened kitten. Her eyes popped out of her head with every creak of the floorboard behind the door, with every distant voice.
"Nothing,— I told her, shrugging off my tattered raincoat. "You'll get used to it. This is our home now. For a while.
She looked at me with a mute question: "How long?"
"Until I get tired of it," I answered her silent question and began to explore the rooms. The windows were heavily barred, but the view was good, overlooking the courtyard. One door leads to the hallway. One is adjacent, between the rooms. Minimalistic. Safely.
Soon the food arrived. Simple, but plentiful and hot. Stewed meat, coarse bread, some kind of root vegetable. Nothing poisonous — I tested it with my "Killer Skill", which accurately identified threats. We ate in silence. Yuki was eating her fill for the first time in a long time.
After eating, I put her to bed. She fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the day she had been through, hiding in a huge, strange bed.
I sat by the fireplace, my sword in my lap, and waited. Wait for morning. Wait for the first lesson.
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The morning came gloomy, with a piercing wind beating against the window bars. I was awakened by a knock on the door. Not rude, but persistent. Quinn was standing in the doorway. One.
She was wearing a practical workout uniform, and her long black hair was tightly braided. His face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, but his compressed lips and burning gaze betrayed determination mixed with the remnants of yesterday's humiliation.
"Ready?" She blurted out without greeting me.
I slowly got up from my chair. "Always." Yuki," I turned to the door of the adjoining room. The girl immediately stuck out her worried face. "Stay here. Don't go anywhere. Don't talk to anyone.
She nodded and immediately disappeared, closing the door.
I went out into the hallway, closing the door behind me. Quinn was already walking in front, not looking back, her back straight and unapproachable.
She took me to the training ground, a huge high—ceilinged gym where the air trembled from recent classes and smelled of sweat, steel, and dust. There were mannequins, shields, and weapons of all kinds around the edges. It was empty —obviously, it had been cleared for us.
Quinn stopped in the center of the room and turned to me, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well?" There was a challenge in her voice. — Where do we start, Teacher? Will you show your tricks with speed?
—No," I replied calmly. — To begin with, you will do ten laps around the hall. Run.
She looked at me, not understanding. - what? What for? I already…
—Ten laps,— I repeated, and there was steel in my voice. "Right now." Or the lesson is over.
She pursed her lips. I could see pride and curiosity fighting in her eyes. Curiosity won out. She snorted, turned around, and ran. Fast, technical, with perfect posture. A strong, hardy fighter.
I was watching. Not for her feet, but for her gaze. He was staring straight ahead, at the finish line she had set for herself. She ran to carry out the order. To do my military service.
After the fifth lap, her breathing became louder. Sweat broke out on his forehead after the seventh. After the tenth, she stopped in front of me, breathing heavily, but trying not to show it.
"Well?" "I'm sorry," she gasped. "What's the point?"
"Because," I said, coming up close to her, "you were looking at your feet. You only saw the path in front of you. You didn't see the shadow on the wall to the left, which wasn't moving in time with the wind from the window. You didn't hear any small object fall on the second floor. You didn't feel the humidity change when the maid walked down the hall with a bucket of water.
She looked at me, first with bewilderment, then with growing irritation. "Is this a lesson in paranoia?"
"It's a mindfulness lesson,— I corrected. "You're strong, Quinn. But your power is blind. You crush everything in your path, but you don't see what's going on around you. Real combat isn't just about blades and aura. This is information. Every sound, every shadow movement, every change in enemy behavior is data. You have to accept everything. Always.
I took a step back. — Now, twenty push—ups. Gradually. And tell me what you hear while you're making them.
She was looking at me, and I could see her thoughts spinning in her head. It wasn't what she expected. She was waiting for secret techniques, deadly techniques. And I made her crawl on the floor and listen to the creaking of the floorboards.
But something in her gaze had changed. Bitterness began to give way to interest. —Twenty push—ups," she muttered, and took a prone stance.
And her first real lesson began. Not how to destroy, but how to see. How to hear. How to feel.
And I watched her and saw in her not the heiress of a powerful Clan, but just a student. Gifted, proud, but blind. And I suddenly became interested. I wonder if she can learn to see the world through my eyes.
And if she can... what will she see in this world?