The Fan and the Flame III

"Your feet move too slow, and your eyes betray them," my instructor told me. I huffed, remembering how my previous instructors had all praised my footwork.   "Sorry," I muttered. I raised my daggers again. As before, my instructor easily knocked the blades away. A few more strikes and I slammed into the ground.   "That's enough for today," she said. "Go eat before you faint."   I pushed myself to my feet and glared at her, then stomped back into the house.   "No stomping!" my mother called immediately. "It's unbefitting."   I stopped in the front room, arms crossed. Bruises were starting to form from the training session, and there was blood trickling from new cuts.   "Is bleeding out on the carpet 'befitting'?" I grumbled.   My mother sighed and looked up from her book. "This is necessary, Sanctity. You must build the proper strength and technique. Now, go back to your room."   "Alet told me to eat."   My mother set down the book. "Did you manage to hit her?"   I looked to the side. "... No."   "Then go back to your room. There will be breakfast in the morning."   I didn't move for a while, expression unchanging, then looked down. "Yes, Mother." I turned and headed up to my room.

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