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Rodin followed Machivelle as she strode toward the training mats, clapping her hands together sharply. The sound echoed round the training room like a gunshot, bringing the warriors to attention.
“Meet your new trainer,” Machivelle said, pushing Rodin forward.
And that was all the introduction the woman gave.
Rodin understood—throw him in at the deep end, see how he fared. He crossed his arms, planted his feet firmly, and stared hard at each warrior.
“Before I can train you,” he said, “I need to see what I’m working with. Any volunteers?”
A figure pushed through from the back, and Rodin wasn’t surprised to see Ferra. “You want more, maggot? How about I rip your head off.”
Rodin raised his injured arm. “Not me. You need a partner.”
“I could just pummel you. Give you an
