I am so sorry to let you wait so long. But as I already wrote, school kept me busy. I hope you can forgive me for the late update of the story!
But now, it's finally here, and I hope you enjoy reading this chapter!
Chapter Ten:
The Lady, First Training
"Even prodigies need training."
RISE OF THE WATCHDOG ARC
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities
Countryside, England, United Kingdom ‒ April 1836
Two years ago, Earl Simon Phantomhive had died ‒ changing our lives forever.
On the day he had died, the Royal family and the whole country, the whole kingdom, lost a crucial member of their society: the monarch's Watchdog, who executed special tasks for the Royal family of the United Kingdom.
Without him, the Watchdog who oversaw the Underworld and kept the light safe from the darkness, the order in the Underworld started to crumble. In the last two years, the crime rate had visibly increased ‒ and Scotland Yard was simply not enough to fight back the evil powers of the Underworld.
However, nobody knew about this face of Earl Simon Phantomhive. For the nobility he had once belonged to, he had been just a friendly, but slightly strange Earl of a renowned noble family.
Nobody knew about the fact that Earl Simon Phantomhive had risked his own life to protect the kingdom – that he had died while protecting it.
For the public, a story had been created: In 1834, Simon Phantomhive had gone hunting. However, his horse had been suddenly startled by another animal, and unhorsed Simon. Right after falling to the ground, some wild animal had attacked, and ultimately killed him. Due to the suddenness of the attack and the lack of weapons, Simon had not been able to defend himself.
Only the Royal family, some of their trusted advisers and servants, the Police Commissioner of Scotland Yard, my mother, my mother's family, our own servants, the last Aristocrats of Evil and me knew about the true nature of Simon Phantomhive and his death.
That he had lived for the kingdom – and he had died for the kingdom.
The duty of the Watchdog had been passed down to the head of the Phantomhive family for centuries. But only males could inherit. And Simon Phantomhive had died without leaving a male heir behind.
He had left behind a heartbroken, grief-stricken widow who refused to leave her chambers ever since his funeral.
And he had left behind a child – a female child, a child who could never inherit any title or any duty.
But then, the Phantomhive family had always been special.
The Phantomhives worked directly under the monarch and reigned over the Underworld. With Simon gone and only a female Phantomhive left, the advisers of King William IV had advised him to appoint a new family as the "Watchdog family."
But to everyone's surprise, King William IV had persisted to leave the Watchdog duty to the Phantomhive family, making me the next one to become the Watchdog.
Me, Cloudia Phantomhive, the last Phantomhive left.
Me, Cloudia Phantomhive, who would someday become the very first female Watchdog in the long history of the kingdom.
Of course, the advisers weren't pleased with His Majesty's decision, but a king's decision was final, and they had no possibility to overthrow it. Therefore, the best teachers of the country were sent to the Phantomhive Manor to teach me, and prepare me for my future position as the Watchdog.
The Watchdogs before me had enjoyed a magnificent education – but they had never been besieged with teachers, or governesses, or maids, or tailors, or whatever annoying people walked around in the mansion like they owned it. But then, I was an exception. But I wasn't only an exception. I was some special kind of exception, because I only became one due to my gender. Because I was a girl.
The King's advisers were quite anxious about my capability as the future Watchdog, so they kept sending all these people. Because I was a girl.
Bloody Zounderkites.
It was two o'clock and I should actually be in my specially "created" schoolroom‒ they had actually turned a unused room into a schoolroom by decorating it with horrible "school things" like dreadful posters saying "It always seems impossible until it is done" – and listen to my governess, Agatha Bolton, telling me something which I had already taught myself.
Naturally, I had bunked it off, and was now hiding in a cupboard with a candle to read in the dark. Since 1833, a great man named Charles Dickens published a story in various newspapers. One day, I had come across it ‒ and collected all newspapers containing the story Sketches by "Boz," Illustrative of Every-day Life and Every-day People. I loved Dickens' work and hoped, even prayed although I wasn't religious, that he would never stop writing until taking his very last breath. And that I would get the opportunity to read all of his stories.
I was halfway through The Tuggses at Ramsgate, the latest of the sketches, when suddenly the cupboard's door flew open and I was roughly hurled out of my hiding place.
"We have searched the whole mansion for you, Young Lady!" Miss Agatha Bolton scolded her, her pale eyes shining furiously. Like always, she wore the dark costume of a governess, and her brown hair was kept in a tight bun. She was only eighteen, but possessed the aura of a fifty-year-old hag.
Cloudia Phantomhive's maid, Jonalyn Haynes, was standing right behind her. She was a jumpy young woman in her early twenties who was afraid of everything in the manor, whose greatest wish was to be thrown out in the foreseeable future. That Jonalyn knew about the Phantomhive family's secret, didn't make her any calmer.
"Jonalyn! Put out this candle before everything burns down! And hide these gruesome, old newspapers better this time!" Agatha yelled at Jonalyn, who flinched and bowed quickly.
"Yes, Madam!" she said, and did what she had been assigned to.
"And now back to you, Young Lady," Agatha said, turning her attention back towards Cloudia. "You will never become a fine lady if you do not learn to behave yourself, Lady Phantomhive! Your inappropriate behaviour makes you absolutely unsuitable for the job of the Watchdog! Someday you will serve the Royal family, Young Lady. Therefore, you need to learn how to listen to other people, and obey their orders like any other well-behaved girl."
I scowled at her ‒ or at least I did in my mind. I was of nobility, the heir to the Phantomhive family, and thus I could not let her notice that she was actually hitting a nerve with her words. I needed to remain stoic and calm like I had been taught in the last two years.
No matter how angry I got in the inside, I could not let it get to the outside ‒ I needed to keep my composure, otherwise she would memorise what could upset, what could hurt me and use this information deliberately against me.
Showing even the faintest bit of weakness was the worst thing I could ever do, I had been taught.
And so, I tried to obey this rule as best as I could. Or at least, when I was facing Agatha or any other shady, unpleasant or evil person.
Agatha Bolton was a miserable woman ‒ I had checked her background just after my sixth birthday two weeks ago. She had been born to middle-class parents who had been incredibly happy when someone had come to them, and told them that their daughter could attend their school for free. Without Agatha, they only had to think about feeding themselves. Joyfully, they had agreed to send Agatha to this free school, where she would spend the rest of her life ‒ and her parents were just relieved that her brick of a daughter was now gone. They didn't even visit her once after she had started school.
Even in school, nobody had liked Agatha. Even the teachers and the director had been thankful when she graduated, and left to be a governess and annoy little children. At least she wouldn't annoy them anymore.
They were so lucky.
"I spent a lot of time in the library," Cloudia Phantomhive said with a very collected and very calm voice. She stood in front of her governess with a straight back, and looked directly into Agatha's evil, pale eyes. And her body shook only a tiny little bit while doing so. "My father, the last Earl of Phantomhive, taught me how to read when I was just three years old. I do not only read novels, but also nonfictional books ‒ schoolbooks if you want to call them that. Most of the things you want to teach me, Miss Bolton, I have already taught myself by reading these books in the manor's library. We have a very large library. Even universities envy us for it.
"I have told you these words many times now, Miss Bolton: I would attend your classes if you could really teach me something entirely new. Instead, you insist on letting me read novels for toddlers. Picture books for little, toothless babies. With my father dead, and my mother locked up in her own room, I am the head of this household. I could throw you out in the blink of an eye, Miss Bolton. I hope that, this time, my words will finally be able to reach you, and may the slow brain of yours process them properly."
Agatha narrowed her eyes at Cloudia. "We will speak about this later, Young Lady," the governess said bitterly, almost hissed the words. "But due to your actions, we already wasted too much time."
Cloudia frowned. "I already told you that I will not enter the classroom until you agree to teach me something new, Miss Bolton. I told you this only a few seconds ago."
"You always say that you are an intelligent girl. If you truly are one, Lady Phantomhive, should you not have figured out by now, that I am not speaking about my classes?" Agatha countered.
"You are not supposed to speak to me like that, Miss Bolton," Cloudia said, her voice trembling a little bit even though she had tried so hard to sound as calm and collected as she had before.
Ignoring her words, Agatha took her by the arm, and dragged her angrily out of the room. "Our guest has waited for you for over half an hour now. Fortunately, he possesses a large amount of patience, and was so kind to wait in the Great Hall until we found you. Every other teacher, or every other person, would have already left ‒ and gone to tell everybody what a brat Earl Phantomhive's daughter is. So, for once, behave yourself, Young Lady, and greet our guest in a fine manner."
New teacher? I frowned. I already had so many different teachers ‒ why should I get a new one? And what should he teach me?
I wanted to ask Agatha all these questions, but she ignored me, and dragged me furiously down to the Great Hall.
At happier times, when Simon Phantomhive had still been alive and his wife not locked up in her own room to mourn and mourn every day for his loss, he had thrown one or two parties a year in this hall. Not because he had wanted to, but because he had been obliged to by his noble status.
Aside from these obligatory parties for the public, birthday parties, and other family feasts like Christmas had been held in the Great Hall. But now, the hall stood mostly empty. From time to time, however, I sneaked into it to hide myself in a corner, when Agatha wanted me to learn the alphabet ‒ something my dead father taught me years ago.
I nearly started to cry when I thought about him and the emptiness of the Great Hall ‒ what had once been a place of laughter, was now a place of sorrow.
Two years ago, Earl Simon Phantomhive had died ‒ changing our lives forever, and taking all the happiness of the Phantomhive Manor with him. On some days, I only wanted to hide myself and sob and cry, and on others, I only wanted to tear open Mother's door and lock myself up there too.
But I could not. I was the one who had been left behind. I was the one who had to go on living.
And I had to do my best of it. For both of them.
Thus, I held back my tears.
But, sometimes, on the worst of days when grief got the best of me, I still cried all to myself ‒ when no one watched, hidden somewhere where nobody would look. Where nobody could judge me over it. Then, I cried over Father's death, over the fact that Mother withdrew herself from me, over all that had been lost.
And over the fact that I was still not strong enough to face every day with a stoic, calm expression as if nothing had happened.
Agatha let go of my arm when we finally arrived in front of the hall's gigantic door. She straightened her dress, and checked my hair and clothing. When Jonalyn ‒ who was done hiding my beloved newspapers – pushed open the door, and we entered the Great Hall, a smile appeared on Agatha's lips when she greeted a man who had been waiting in the Great Hall with Theodore Clifford – Father's former butler.
"I am terribly sorry for the delay," Agatha said to the man, who approached her and Cloudia, and curtsied in front of him. Clifford followed him discreetly, and Jonalyn stood in front of the closed door, trying not to look too distressed.
The man, the guest who would apparently become one of Cloudia's teachers, was very tall with combed back brown hair, and shining light green eyes. He didn't look scary or unfriendly – but that did not mean that he looked particularly pleasant. Besides, he looked somehow... familiar, but Cloudia wasn't able to classify this strange familiar feeling properly.
The man's moustache moved slightly when a smirk sneaked on his lips. "No need to apologise, dear governess..."
"Miss Agatha Bolton," Agatha told him, but he ignored her interjection and continued talking – something which highly amused Cloudia.
"... but I am fairly aware of the nature of a Phantomhive. I am grateful that you and the other servants managed to find her, and bring her here, but may you be so kind and leave the two of us alone now?"
"I do not think...," Agatha begun, but the man harshly cut her off. His pale green eyes glared at her.
"I said: May you be so kind and leave the two of us alone now, governess?" he said with impressive insistence. Cloudia blinked up at the man who had not introduced himself to her yet.
Agatha pressed her lips together, and quickly walked out of the hall, followed by a frightened Jonalyn, without saying another word. Clifford bowed in front of Cloudia, and the look on his face told her that she did not have to be afraid of their guest. Then, the old butler left too, leaving Cloudia all alone with their guest in the Great Hall.
The man turned towards Cloudia and smirked. "Skipped classes and hid somewhere in this huge manor, didn't you, missy?"
He patted her head lovingly. "You have grown quite a lot – and you look more and more like your mother. Did anybody tell you that, missy?"
Cloudia glared up at him. "I am sorry, but shouldn't people introduce themselves first before starting a conversation?"
The man blinked at her in surprise, but then, he laughed loudly. "I am sorry, Little One! You were so little when we last met, but I still thought that you would be able to recognise me." He grinned widely. "I am Sir Barrington Weaselton, the former Head of the British Knights."
Cloudia's eyes widened, realisation coming over her. "You were a friend of my father – Barry."
Sir Barrington Weaselton laughed. "Only Simon was allowed to call me that." He smiled. "I am glad that you remembered me after all, little Dia."
Upon hearing her old nickname, Cloudia scowled at him, and Barrington patted her head with a chuckle. "Grumpy as always, aren't you, Dee?" He pointed to a laid table with two chairs surrounding it. "Old Ted was so kind to prepare some tea and sweets for us." Barrington offered her his arm. "May I escort you, Lady Phantomhive?"
"Tell me, little Dia, how were you doing after Simon's funeral? We last met there, but we did not speak. Penelope held your hand all the time and secured that nobody would approach you."
Barrington and Cloudia were sitting around the table, but none of them touched the tea or the lovely little cakes Clifford had prepared.
"Mother locked herself up in her chambers, and I only got to see her around five to ten times in the last two years," Cloudia answered him, trying not to sound too bitterly. "King William IV sent me a million teachers and trainers to prepare me for my duty as the Watchdog. I left the manor only twice after Father's death. I only left it because my cousin Constantia wanted me to accompany her and her parents to some trips. One to Brighton, and one to Edinburgh."
"So you are... more or less imprisoned in here, right?" Barrington asked with a serious look on his face.
"To be honest – yes, I am. Agatha, my governess, is horrible, and so are my other teachers. They restrict me in everything. In the food I eat, in the clothes I wear... where I am and who I meet. I celebrated my last two birthdays only with Clifford in my own rooms. They didn't allow my aunts to come with their husbands and children. They say that I 'need to stay focused.'" Cloudia looked down on her lap, clenching her fists and telling herself in her mind not to cry. "They may be afraid of me, a girl, becoming the next Watchdog, but that doesn't mean that they can restrict me in everything, and trap me in my own mansion."
"I am sorry, Dia," Barrington said, and she knew that he truly meant it. "But everything will change when you become the Watchdog after turning sixteen."
"That is ten years away, Sir Weaselton," Cloudia replied with a scowl. "I don't know if I can survive ten more years like that. I don't know if I can keep my sanity with Agatha and the others around."
"Just call me 'Barrington.' You do not need to be so formal with me."
Cloudia lifted her head and her face suddenly beamed up, a mischievous grin appearing on her lips. "Unless Agatha is in the same room."
The former knight laughed. "Unless Agatha is in the same room," he agreed with a smile. "Even though I am not happy about your current situation, I am glad that they still didn't manage to break you. Keep fighting, little Dia. You are a Phantomhive. And Phantomhives fight until the very end."
He patted her head over the table. "And you are as much of a fighter as your father and your predecessors were. You will endure it, Dia. I have hope." He winked at her. "And if you need any help, you can always come to me."
Cloudia smiled. "Thank you, Barrington."
"'Uncle Barrington' for old time's sake, please."
"I am afraid, but I cannot remember ever calling you that," she replied, and he laughed. "But I remember something else... weren't you still a knight and Head of the British Knights the last time we met? Two years ago?"
Suddenly, Barrington's gaze turned cold and hard. "That I am not a knight anymore," he said slowly with a deep, terrifying voice. "is nothing you need to bother yourself with, Cloudia."
She stared at him; and even though she wanted to know why he wasn't a knight anymore; even though she wanted her curiosity to take over and just ask, she remained silent.
There was something wrong. Barrington could have resigned ‒ or been thrown out. Forced to leave his position as the Head of the British Knights.
But whatever it was ‒ he didn't like speaking about it. He didn't want me to know about it.
But I would definitely find it out someday.
"I want to ask you one more thing," Cloudia started. "What was your reason to visit me today? You didn't come to the Phantomhive Manor in nearly two years after all."
Barrington leaned back. "Well, little Dia, there is indeed a reason. May I ask you how much you know about Simon's will?"
She frowned as she hadn't expected him to ask such a question. "Well... I haven't read it until now. They won't allow me to read it until I officially succeed Father as the Watchdog. But I can guess that I will inherit everything when I reach a certain age. I was and still am his only blood-relative after all."
"These bloodsuckers," Barrington swore. "You cannot even read your own father's will. King William IV should try to oversee the actions of his advisers. But you are lucky, Dia ‒ you do not have to wait until you're sixteen to get a sneak peek of Si's will!" He smiled brightly. "I cannot tell you everything, but I am allowed to tell you about a certain part of his will."
"You have read Father's will?" Cloudia asked, utterly surprised. "Aunt Eleanor said that Father always kept his will a secret. That not even Mother knows the exact wording of it."
Barrington chuckled. "Well, missy, your father entrusted me with his will. Good old Simon also instructed me to read some special extract of it ‒ parts of his will which he had copied on an extra sheet of paper – if he passed away. I read this extract two years ago after his funeral. The real will ‒ the whole, complete thing – is still sealed away in a fine envelope. I gave the extract to the King, but Simon's whole will is still in my possession."
Her eyes widened. "Then you could..."
"I know what you want to say, Dia," Barrington interrupted her. "But I cannot do that. The King would let me be hanged if he found out that I have given you Simon's will before the fixed date. Your father would also hate me for it. I should look after you and your mother after all. And I cannot do that when I reside under the ground.
"And please don't sulk, missy. You ruin your lovely appearance."
"I am not sulking," she insisted.
He nodded. "Yes, you are, Dee. But nevertheless ‒ let us speak now about the aspect of Si's will which I can tell you.
"Your father was eighteen years old when he became the Earl of Phantomhive, and thus the Watchdog. However, I met him many years before that: When we were both twelve years old, we met in a tournament we both took part in. It was a fencing tournament ‒ and it is quite embarrassing to admit it as the former Head of the British Knights, but Simon actually beat me during that tournament. We faced each other in the finale, and he won very easily. Your father was a very good swordsman, Dia."
"And why exactly are you telling me this, Barrington? Didn't you want to speak to me about Father's will? Not about his fencing talent?"
"You are right, Dia, but I just wanted to tell you it as an introduction. Also... did you even know about this talent of your father?"
Cloudia shook her head. "I never saw him train when I was still little. Besides, no one informed me about this ability of his."
Barrington ran one finger over the rim of a cup on the table. "So, I guess, you aren't even aware of the Phantomhive family tradition that every member has to learn how to use a sword?"
She shook her head again.
"Just as I thought." He left the cup alone and continued talking. "There have never been many females in the Phantomhive family, because Phantomhives mostly didn't have any other children after having a son who could continue the line. This is something your father told me, Dia. Simon, for example, was also an only child. His father, your grandfather, Percival Phantomhive, died at age 52, making your father the Earl with eighteen. Percival and his wife could have had more children after Simon. However, they decided against it like many other Phantomhives before them. Your great-grandfather, Octavius Phantomhive, however, had four children. Three boys and one girl. Percival was actually the youngest out of Octavius' children, but his two older brothers died in a carriage accident, making Percival the heir. Percival's sister, Baroness Abigail Stafford, born Phantomhive, was the first female Phantomhive after quite a lot of generations."
"Barrington," Cloudia interrupted him. "We were talking about the will."
"Don't be so impatient, Dia! I have a reason why I am telling you all these things, so please be patient and let me continue! Where did I stop? Oh, right, Abigail Stafford.
"According to an old family tradition, every member of the Phantomhive family is supposed to start learning how to fence after turning six years old. However, the tradition isn't restrained to the male family members. After all, the tradition says that 'every member' should start their sword training at age six. And not 'every male member.' Therefore, Abigail became the first female Phantomhive to follow this tradition after a few generations.
"Simon changed his will millions of times. He always burned his old ones, and wrote a new one when he had to investigate a particularly difficult or deadly case. After your birth, Dia, Simon rewrote his will almost every month. But one aspect never changed: That you, his first and only daughter, would be to follow the tradition I told you about after turning six. No matter if Penelope or anybody else isn't pleased about it. Simon specially emphasized this part of his will."
My life had become grey and boring after my father's death, with annoying teachers and advisers leading it.
But for the first time in forever, I had the change to enlighten my life.
Even though it took me a few seconds to realise it.
Cloudia's eyes widened. "You are going to teach me fencing!" She almost jumped up from her chair and danced joyfully through the Great Hall, but she resisted this childish temptation, and just kept sitting on her chair and staring at Barrington in sheer happiness.
He laughed and nodded. "Exactly, missy."
"When can we start?" she asked, her eyes shining.
"We can start right now, if you want."
For the first time in two years, Cloudia gave an absolutely enthusiastic answer.
"I would love to!"
"I was trained in various combat sports," Barrington told her, while taking one of the little cakes and starting to eat them with fine manners.
After I had asked Barrington if he could give me a sabre or a foil, so we could start, he had just laughed.
Apparently, we didn't start with the practical part of my training today.
I was quite disappointed.
"I am adept in fencing, baritsu and some other combat sports. I was also trained in various stick-fighting styles like quarterstaff, singlestick, and foreign styles like the Japanese Bōjutsu. I travelled to many countries to learn other martial arts. Therefore, I also have knowledge of Pencak Silat, Kendo, Jujutsu and Arnis. But we will focus on fencing. "
"Can you show me these martial arts too?" Cloudia asked with shining eyes. Barrington laughed.
"Perhaps if you're older," he answered her. "But I won't promise anything. Learning martial arts is tough. If you learn fencing, you will have more knowledge to protect yourself than other girls and women in this day and age anyway, Dia."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I want to learn more, though," she insisted. "I can't just learn how to use a sword. Someday, I will surely have to face an opponent without a sword nearby."
Barrington smiled at her. "You're so grumpy," he said. "So grumpy and stubborn. You're definitely Simon's and Penelope's daughter." He finished eating his cake and straightened his back. "Surely you will, but I still won't teach you anything else than fencing for now. Besides, after teaching you how to fence, I have to teach you something else."
Cloudia frowned. "What?"
"I will only answer if you form a proper sentence, Young Lady."
She scowled at him. "What will you teach me after fencing?"
He leaned back. "If you ever manage to become a master in fencing, I will have to teach you how to use handguns. If you were the daughter of anybody else, it would sound strange, but your father insisted on it. It was also part of his will."
Cloudia's eyes widened. "Handguns? You will show me how to use guns?" Her face beamed up in excitement.
He laughed at her behaviour. "It's good to see you so lively. But let us speak about fencing now, Dia.
"Let us start with basic information: Fencing originated in Spain. Many books were written there for fencing, for example Treatise on Arms by Diego de Valera, a Spanish writer and historian who lived from 1412 to 1488. He wrote Treatise on Arms between 1458 and 1471, and it is one of the first known books on fencing..."
Barrington kept telling me a lot about the history of fencing, and never in my life I had such an interesting lesson. Agatha should have been here and learned from Barrington how to teach properly. But then, she would probably make a fuss about "how a young lady shouldn't learn things like fencing."
And before I realised it, it already became late.
Barrington emptied his cup of tea. "It has gotten late, little Dia. Probably we should stop now and prepare ourselves for dinner."
"But can't you tell me a little bit more?" Cloudia plead. "It's not that late, and if dinner was already ready or at least would be soon, Clifford would have come and told us it by now."
He chuckled. "I cannot remember having ever seen you so energetic, Dia."
"You would also suddenly turn into an energetic person after having the first decent lesson after years of 'learning' with Agatha Bolton," Cloudia replied.
He nodded firmly. "I'm sure, you're right. But it's still late, so I cannot tell you much anymore."
"I just want a bit! A tiny little fragment!"
Barrington shook his head. "You need to go out more often, Dia. Not even Si would have recognised you if he had seen you behaving like this."
"Please, Barrington!"
"Okay, okay, Little One. How about I tell you about the basic rules of fencing? Oh, no. Please, Dia, don't start sparkling. It hurts my eyes."
Cloudia glared at him. "I am not sparkling!"
"You are, Dia. Denying is useless." He smiled at her. "Fencers have to salute to each other at the beginning and the end of the bout. If you don't do it, you will either lose points or even be suspended. You receive points by hitting your opponent with the specific requirements for the type of weapon you use. If you use a foil, strikes outside the target area stop the contest before resuming anew, but strikes with the blade don't stop the action. The rule with the blade also applies when using an épée. And if you barge your opponent, use your hand to cover the target zone or use your feet, you will receive a penalty, thus you will lose points."
Barrington stood up and offered Cloudia his hand. "Now come, little Dia. We need to change for dinner."
In the following weeks, Barrington came to the manor every single day. In the forenoons, I read through the books in the library while running away from Agatha, and in the afternoons, I listened to Barrington's fencing lessons. April came to an end, and he still hadn't taught me anything practical yet. This changed when May came.
For the next months, Barrington taught me how to actually fence. He explained the moves to me, how I had to stand, how I had to hold the foil, the sabre or the épée. Besides, he showed me various techniques.
In the last two years, I had been permanently bored, but with Barrington teaching me how to fence, I didn't feel bored anymore. Every day, I looked forward to these lessons. At the beginning, I only did dry practice or "fought" with a tailor's dummy. But when July came, Barrington decided that it was time for me to fight actual opponents and leave the tailor's dummies alone. I dressed up as a boy every time Barrington took me to a fencing school, so I could practice with boys my age. It had been his suggestion as he feared that the boys could not take me seriously if I went there in my usual clothing, or could even let me win because they didn't want to "hurt a fragile, little girl."
It didn't take long until I beat all boys in this fencing school who were also six years old. Then, Barrington let me fight with older boys ‒ and to my own surprise, I managed to win against them every single time. I loved seeing their shocked or distressed faces after they had lost against someone who was younger than them, and I imagined how their faces would look like if they knew that they weren't only beaten by a little child, but by a little girl. I often had to fight the urge to reveal myself as a girl after winning.
The months passed, and my fighting style became better and better. I won faster and more easily. And in the end, no one wanted to fight with me anymore. These Fopdoodles ‒ they all started to look so broken and angry. I wondered if they exploded would they get to know that I was actually a girl. I didn't know about the explosion, but I was quite certain that they either would start crying like the little Scobberlotchers they were, or shatter into a million thousand pieces.
This thought amused me quite a lot.
Barrington wasn't a little bit surprised how fast I had learned to fence properly, as he kept saying that my father had seemingly passed down his talent to me. He told the King's advisers about my talent in fencing ‒ something I was very happy about. They always treated me like a useless, little girl who would only be good as a wife and mother. But now, they remained at least a little bit silent about this topic as I was apparently not as useless as they thought I was. I couldn't remember the last time I had been as happy as I was now.
Thanks to Barrington, my life had started to turn bright again.
And thanks to my talent, I was now called a genius, a prodigy ‒ and I really liked the sound of it.
Besides, Barrington didn't only teach me fencing, but also took me out to London or somewhere else. I wasn't trapped in the manor anymore with him looking after me. For the first time in two years, I was free again.
And I hoped that my little freedom would last forever.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter even if Cedric didn't appear in it...