The first time Polka had read about Mikhail, it had been a rather fanciful tale and likely quite simplified-- He'd read the same story to Liz not long after.

But the Mikhail of juvenile-safe legend was not quite the same as the man backing him slowly across the dojo with swordwork that Polka could barely follow let alone effectively counter. It was a firm reminder of how far he had to go, as if he wasn't already aware--

"Much better," Mikhail finally said, lowering his rapier.

Polka started to shake his head before he realized--

He'd made Mikhail backstep too.