2 years ago, the Year of Nero. After Lord Amiran of Syracuse send Chlorus out to Rome…

Six men shouted and waved their staffs and charged towards Arete. The lady swiftly dodged all of them in speed. Arctus made a hand gesture, signal given to Petraeus, attempt to execute their strategy to capture her.

“WEAK! All of you!” Arete shouted at them.

Argh! How I wish Chlorus is still around!

Being the heir of Syracuse, she train hard to become the best among all. She will only marry to a man who is better than her in every way. Offer herself to someone less competent? That was a great risk not just for her personally, also a risk for the sovereign of Syracuse!

These idiots… I can see through their every moves!

She had memorised every strategies recorded in the scrolls, from Egypt to the east, every city-states, she remembers their way of battle. She even written down ways to counter every possible attacks. Before they made their first step, she already knew what will be their next move. Arctus’s gesture had revealed their plan.

“Are you guys intentionally pull that off just because you’re afraid of harming me?” She questioned them angrily.

She had learn that technique before. Arctus was going to attack her from the top while Petraeus and other four men will ambush her with their shield.

Arete clearly knew her own weaknesses, she was small and thin. But that was her advantage which she utilised best, speed, focus and agility. She ducked down, when they ambushed her, rolling out of their shield trap from beneath. She targeted on every single men and took them down with a sharp strike aimed at their critical points, knocking all of them down with her staff.

“N… no… ma’am, no!” They cried while hugging their own plexus in pain as Arete had stabbed them. If her weapon was a spear, she could had killed them.

“Incompetent! You all need to train harder!” She scolded them.

“Mind your words, Lady Arete!” Apollodorus interfered her training.

“You are being arrogant! And your words will diminish their spirit.” The old man continued.

He walked towards Arctus, lowered his hand and attempted to help him raise from the ground. But Arctus was embarrassed. He crawled up by himself, then, lifting Petraeus up, and retreated without looking at Arete’s deprecating stares.

Seeing her expression, Apollodorus turned to her and said:

“No matter how great a warrior is, a battleground is not for a single hero! Arete of Syracuse, you are not Achilles!”

“True! I am no Achilles! But if six couldn’t even handle a lady, how are they going to fight against our enemies and the barbarians?” She argued.

“Teacher! I demand to train with stronger warriors!” said Arete with a commanding tone.

“Perhaps my Lady, if you have a concern that these men do not perform their best in fear of harming you. Will you consider using a prisoner?” Apollodorus replied.

A prisoner?

His idea sparked her interest. A prisoner may not recognised her identity as the daughter of a Lord. A prisoner might have the true intention to harm her regardless of who she is.

Arete dropped the staff on her hand, walking towards the weapon rack, she picked a spear. She do not wish to waste time to fight another weakling. Staring straight toward Apollodorus, she wanted him to know that she was serious about the training.

“Bring it on!” She shouted.

to be continued...