I gave one of my rare smiles as Sabrina blocked a hit directed at the her head. Sabrina was becoming an adequate swordswoman and I was quite pleased by the girls progress. I was finding that I enjoyed these sparing sessions with Sabrina. Though I expected much from the girl, requiring that Sabrina learn from her mistakes, I was quick to give praise when it was due. Part of me wondered if I wasn’t teaching Sabrina how to fight just to spite my father. Dalt would not mind my giving lessons but he would of disapproved of the method I was using. Not once in my entire life could I remember Dalt ever telling me that I had done something right or that I was doing well. No, praise was never given by Dalt though he was quick to doll out criticism. I could well remember my first sword lesson with Dalt.
I was no more than 13 at the time and was quite excited by the fact that my Father was going to spar with me. I could remember smiling as we took our fighting stances and could still hear my fathers words. "Wipe that smile of your face, this is not a game. This is serious business." Dalt did not go easy on His daughter. In fact he gave me a royal thrashing. For every blow I dealt…he blocked it telling me what I did wrong. Most of his thrusts got through (I could recount each one by the bruises on my body that night) and if I managed to block one he told me how I could of done better or should of pressed the advantage. I made sure not to cry though my body and spirit were in tatters. No my father would not appreciate tears and they would only make him mad. Improvement was what he wanted and I, Larissa, vowed he would see it.
He left after that and said he hoped I would be better by the next time we met. I had no idea when that would be….his visits were too sporadic. I decided I would get better come hell or high water. For months I practiced every day till my muscles were swore and I could barely lift my sword. By the time Dalt returned, almost a year later, I felt that I was becoming quite good at handling a sword. Dalt relieved me of that misconception as we practiced. I lasted longer and actually dealt some blows but Dalt’s criticism was worse than the last time. "Haven’t you learned anything? That was a sissy hit. Put some muscle behind it if you can find any. Your too slow, move faster." These and other taunts were thrown in my direction. By the end of the day I began to wonder if I had improved at all. In reality I had but I was simply no match for Dalt’s skill, something that would take me a while to learn. Instead I just decided to buckle down more, to practice harder and to improve. I would not give up. I decided that some day I would hear my father finally say that I had done well. I would have a long time to wait. To this day Dalt still has not praised anything I have ever done or accomplished. I am beginning to believe he never will.
A slice on my arm brought me out of my revere. Not wise to daydream while fighting even if it is just a practice. Sabrina was quick to apologize but I just gave her a wink and said, "Don’t apologize for doing your job. It’s your job to get through my defenses, my job to keep you out. It was my mistake, nice shot." I called a halt to the practice telling Sabrina I was pleased by her improvement and looked forward to sparing with her later in the week. She seemed a little disappointed that our time was up but I just had to many things on my mind right now. My past and my future seemed to be crowding in on me and there were things I needed to work out alone. A voice called my name and as I turned in that direction I saw one of my least favorite people in the world . It just was not my day, first a cut on my arm and now a run in with Asteria. Things could just not get any worse.