Dishonored: The Corroded Man p. 57

He'd trained her well, though, even if he said so himself. There was no mistaking it. In Emily he had the perfect pupil, willing not to just learn, but to be pushed. Nearly fifteen years they'd been training - fifteen years of study and practice in the subtle arts of stealth, of hand-to-hand combat. Of protection and defense. They'd come a long, long way since the old days, when Jessamine was on the throne. When he and Emily, so young, had dueled with wooden sticks in those long, glorious Dunwall summers.