Rome Must Perish

Dorin, not one to let up after gaining the upper hand, pressed forward relentlessly. Her wooden sword struck out in swift arcs until, finally, Valles failed to dodge in time and took a hit to the shoulder, letting out a pained "Ouch!"

Dorin immediately stopped in her tracks and asked with concern, "Are you okay?"

Valles rubbed his shoulder. Dorin had held back her strength, leaving no serious injury. As the pain subsided slightly, he responded, "I’m fine."

"Shall we keep going?" Dorin blinked at him, a trace of disdain playing across her face.

Unwilling to be looked down upon by a girl, Valles gritted his teeth. "Of course, we’ll keep going!"

"Alright then, let’s go again." Dorin readied her stance instantly.

"Hold up!" Instructor Lufus appeared at some point and was now standing to the side. He stepped forward and asked Valles, "Have you never practiced sword fighting before?"

"No... no, I haven’t," Valles admitted truthfully, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Lufus was surprised. He thought to himself: since this child’s grandfather is the Chief Centurion of the legion, how is it possible that he wasn’t trained in swordsmanship from a young age? That’s a core tradition of Rome! What Lufus didn’t know was that after losing his son and daughter-in-law, Quintus became consumed with revenge, utterly neglecting his grandson’s care and education.