the sum of its parts // opio blitz, Dars

Every drag of the thin, unfiltered cigarette that smoulders gently between my dry lips sends a thrill through me. It’s not the tobacco itself, although that does have a satisfying soothing effect, but the disapproving look each puff receives from the teenage fighters around me. Stupid little shits. They purse their lips and frown at me, but they know as well as I do that they’re untouchable. I either have their prized possessions in the cabinets behind my counter, waiting there until they can pay off whatever petty debt they owe to whichever petty master they obey, or I’ve had their father’s prized possessions between the sheets at one point or another. It’s no secret to the children who watch me leave in the morning, but they all know the poor husbands can’t find out. I chuckle and tap cinders onto the padded floor of the Training Centre, waiting for my student to arrive. Around me, groups of young children, all younger than Ondine’s living youngest, all older than my oldest, alive or dead, Thinking that any of these children could end up like Learna or Penelope should fill me with sorrow, I know, but all I feel is a slight disappointment, like anyone in the District, that we missed out on a Victor for another year.

I stretch, and my hand instinctively reaches for my saber, which I wear in a swordbelt across my hips. It’s the weapon that saw me through eight years of training, that allowed me to be top of my field, to win glory and to get the woman of my dreams. And now, I think, it will allow me to pass that on to another hopeful. It’s not like the glory or the woman were ever any use to me.