At seven, Tristan gave her a wooden practice sword and declared he was going to train her.
Tristan's training method consisted of swinging at her and expecting her to figure out the rest. This approach had the pedagogical rigor of throwing a child into a lake and calling it swimming lessons.
The cycle repeated four times before Lucian stepped in, because someone had to, and Tristan's teaching method was just cheerful encouragement from a safe distance.
"Your grip is wrong." He crouched beside her and repositioned her hands on the wooden hilt. "Here. Three fingers around the base. Thumb on top. Your other hand guides beneath the pommel."
"Like this?"
"Closer. Rotate your wrist. Now your elbow stays tucked. If your elbow flares, your swing follows your shoulder instead of your core and you will hit nothing except the ground, which you have already demonstrated."
"I hit Tristan once."
