The corner of Piotr's mouth twitches just slightly. That attitude -- not quite swagger, not quite bravado -- it's a soldier's attitude, through and through. He's seen plenty of young officers with that same look about them, reaching out for some opportunity to prove themselves. And most of them didn't have half the experience Carolina claims to.

"I'm afraid you'll be hard-pressed to find such an officer in my camp," he says, raising an eyebrow at Carolina. "At least at the moment."

He turns the sword in his hand, the low lamplight catching along its edge. "This is a Barrayaran broadsword. Folded steel. Some of the finest on Barrayar. Obsolete though it may be, you can kill a man in one blow. If you know how to handle it." With a deft movement, Piotr flips the sword in his hand and holds it out to Carolina, hilt first. "Drills start at dawn. I expect to see you there."