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Mother hired Dieter to instruct you in "dancing".
That, of course, was a euphemism. The women of Throne would be scandalized to hear that a girl was learning the use of a sword, for it is not Throne's way. For upon Throne a woman's beauty was her shield, her silver tongue her sword, and the finest silks and jewelries made for armor just as impenetrable as magos smithed plate. To take up arms was to lower herself to a lesser status, for such things were the realm of men, and outside of the High Lords who held the strength to rule, menfolk were disposable and interchangeable creatures to the ladies of the court.
To act like a man was a humiliating thing. To learn how to fight as a man does was not a sign of strength, but rather weakness and poverty, for if a Lady of the Court had to fight her own battles... she must have truly fallen. Yet that is just how your mother carved her path to prominence before the sickness took her, for while the sword might not be Throne's way, it was the way of the Outer Planetes.
How could a woman call herself a mother if she could not defend her children with steel? How could a lady call herself graceful if she did not know the silver dance of the dueling sword? How could a woman call herself beautiful if she had no scars that told her story?
The softness of the Throne's Women disturbed your mother greatly.
The bloody path she carved through the courts, repaying grave insults with injury and death, earned her the moniker of <span class="mu-s">Bloody Snow</span>. Some day, you might do the same, but at your age you still have much to learn. Footwork, stances, how to put your whole body into each and every stroke and cut, they must become second memory to you. Dieter taught you subtly, through strange tasks that rarely had anything to do with sword work... all to keep it hidden from your enemies.
Today's, however, you couldn't help but complain. Anke forced you out of your shift and into some terrible and constricting gown, and now she follows dutifully behind Dieter as he leads you to your doom. You give the dwarf a pleading look, and beg to know: "Do I <span class="mu-i">have</span> to?"
"You'll be learning the steps of King Karl's Waltz, which itself is rooted in the sword-forms that form the foundation of-" Dieter begins to ramble about the storied and honored history of the Outer Heron school of swordplay. All the information flows in one ear and out the other, never taking root in your mind. By the time your eyes are no longer glazed over, you've arrived at the dancing hall. "-in short, this will teach your feet how to move through each step in Form 1, 3, and 7."
"Kaaaaay..." you tell him, your mind absent. "But who's gonna be helping me learn, anyway?"
a) Caleb. You like him the most.
b) Gregor. You barely know him, but he's okay.
c) Hektor. Your biggest rival for the throne!
d) Robar. He's easily manipulated.
e) Sieghardt. The skirt-flipping JERK.
