“I’m aware of that, and though they no doubt should, they don’t seem to have a fear of you, either. Combined with the irrational animosity so many of them seem to feel toward you I’d rather not needlessly provoke any altercation, especially now. I need you too much, Taru.”

It’s that last admission that seems to quell Taru more than anything.

“Very well. I will remain right outside the doors.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

Lexi briefly clasps a hand around Taru’s gauntleted wrist before drawing up the hem of her wrap to ascend the front steps of the Kodo.

She returns a few minutes later, much to Taru’s relief.

“Thankfully,” she says, “our man is training in the dojo today.”

She is thankful for the sole reason they won’t be required to spend any length of time inside the Kodo. Its dojo is housed on a patio detached from the corner of the building at the end of the block. Slender columns and a sturdy roof are all that obscure the dojo from the outside; Crache likes the citizens of its cities to watch their Aegins in training, feeling it inspires potential recruits and instills reverence in everyone else.

Lexi and Taru walk the length of the building’s exterior until they reach the edge of the open-air dojo. A small crowd, mostly children, has gathered on the sidewalk, looking in on the class with interest. The duo can hear the collective kiai of dozens of young voices before they look upon its source.

A group of thirty acolytes are spaced an arm’s length apart in rows of six atop a straw practice mat. The edges of their daggers are all blunted for training purposes. Over their keikogi they wear a series of straps connected to strategically placed leather pads protecting their most sensitive and commonly struck areas: the heart, collar, crotch, thighs, and the middle of the abdomen.

Beyond the mat, at the head of the class, Daian leads the trainees with a practice dagger of his own.

“One, five, three!” he calls out, then performs a series of slashes and thrusts with his dagger at different angles and different levels.

The acolytes filling the mat mimic Daian’s expert movements to the best of their abilities. Two other Aegin instructors, meanwhile, pace up and down their ranks, barking corrections at anyone failing to match the form to their satisfaction.

Daian calls out a different series of numbers in no order Lexi can follow and performs another sequence of strikes with the training blade.

“Are you familiar with this form of knife play?” Lexi asks her retainer, quietly.

“The dagger was the first weapon Brio’s father taught me, because I was so small.”

Lexi grins. “When were you ever small?”

Taru stiffens self-consciously. “Comparatively, I mean.”

“What do the numbers mean, then?” Lexi asks.