When he had agreed (reluctantly) to teach the boy, Karel had considered Guy's weaknesses.
The youth was too soft, too naïve, too much of a scrap of a man to wield a sword. As honed as his skills had the potential to be, the Sacaean had none of the true fervor that a swordsman should have had. He had not tasted enough blood.
Karel made this particularly clear under his tutelage, resulting in Guy's hands as a mess of calluses and welts from being corrected so often during practice bouts.
Which was not to say that he had no potential to improve, with time and training. Watching the young man that called himself his pupil approach a rough dummy carved of wood, Karel expressionlessly glanced at it.
Before he blinked, the man-shaped oaken lumps bore three clean cuts, made by Guy's blade.
"His vital spots have been hit, albeit roughly. Good." Karel muttered, still fixed to his spot.
He did not realize that it was the first compliment he had given the boy until he heard a soft thump, felt arms around him, and realized his student had given him a hug, in the fast frenzy of success.
A sheepishly grinning and retreating Guy met his chilled gaze.
Karel slid his Wo Dao back into its scabbard.
"We continue. I expect that maneuver repeated, and perfected. You have only begun to learn of the sword, boy."