Carlinedora stalked down the row of students, her heavy boots clacking on the stone floor. She looked over the sweating boys and girls with a critical eye, her muscular arms crossed over her chest. "Tempo, younglings," she barked, glowering. "Keep those elbows in, Fial. Gile, you've a long reach, but you never use it. Put your weight into your stroke. And you - what's your name?" she said, fixing one particularly clumsy boy with a stern eye.

"N-n-nevras, ma'am," the boy stammered. He drew his shoulders up in a vain attempt to make himself less of a target. From the corner of her eye, Carlinedora saw Lisaria suppress a smile.

The armsmaster strode down the line, lecturing a student for holding his sword incorrectly while he sparred with a partner. "Lisaria," she called, stopping in front of the young woman. "You've a good strong arm. You've the best stamina and most agility. But where is your ferocity, girl? You're too soft, you pull your blows."