As Alena made her way into the city outskirts, her horse began to toss its head, whinnying at anyone who ventured too close. Leaning close to his ear, Alena whispered gently, "easy Tibere," And nudged the horse to the right. Glancing back to make sure her dog was close behind Alena steered the stallion to the edge of the road toward an inn, slipping off easily at the posts outside. She strode inside the inn, every face and several daggers turning toward her. Alena kept her chin high and shoulders back when she stopped at the bar. "My horse is outside your inn. He is an all-black war-horse, eighteen hands tall, with the Crown emblem etched into each of his shoes. If he is not here when I return, I will hold you," she paused to point at the bartender, who stared at her with wide eyes, "personally accountable." After a moment of consideration, she went on to add, "However, I believe anyone stupid enough to attempt to pull anything with my stallion will find themselves short a few fingers and in grave need of a medic."

Without waiting for a reply, Alena turned on a heel and strode back out into the open, her hound close beside her. She touched a hand to Tibere's nose, then the tree in front of him, and began walking away toward the marketplace.

Finally in the marketplace proper, Alena kept her left hand on her dog's head and her right hand on her sword hilt, though nobody even dared bump into her. The crowds parted immediately, speaking only in hushed murmurs as civilians quickly bowed and curtsied and soldiers gave respectful and proper salutes. While it was true many of her people respected or feared her, in some cases both, she had spent a large part of her life training alongside the soldiers and many of them would put their lives on the line for her out of loyalty to her more than duty to the crown.

Before she even realized where she was going, her feet had carried her down the familiar path toward the garrisons, and she could already hear the men and few women inside laughing, yelling, and sparring. The sound of steel on steel hurried her along, until she stood in front of the massive double doors and the two guards outside. Alena smiled at the pair, one a tall older man with a thick black-and-gray mustache and beard and the typical short cut of the military, the other a much younger boy barely out of his twenties with fair blonde hair and a face balder than a newborn baby's. Looking up at the older soldier, Alena asked politely, "Tarin, how is your family? Is Yuta faring any better?"

The man's heavy brows furrowed together as he answered in a troubled voice, "No, Your Highness, I'm afraid not. She still has the cough and nothing in the market has done anything for it. No matter what that medic says she swears it isn't in her throat, she says her chest hurts, but he just says she doesn't know because she's only six years."

Alena shook her head lightly. "I truly am sorry Tarin. I will poke around the libraries and ask my tutor if he knows of any other medics available or other treatments that might help." Walking through the door as the men opened it for her, Alena heard the young man exhale deeply, a breath he had likely been holding since she had walked up.

Finally inside the doorway of the training room, Alena's fingers twitched with anticipation, flitting over the hilt of her sword. Scratching between her dog's ears, Alena led her into the massive room, glancing over the multiple pairs sparring and individuals practicing with dummies. Alena strode across the room to where two dummies stood, visibly larger and better-maintained than the rest. "Ready, Na'ta?" Alena slowly lifted her greatsword from its sheath at her hip, the dog settling into a low crouch.

Only ten minutes into warming up, a loud, deep laugh boomed from behind Alena. Alena straightened her back and turned around, still gripping her sword. "Hello, General Revlin," Alena said with a forced smile and narrowed eyes, looking up at the large man.

"Ah, hello Princess, I see you and your... pet... are here. Again." The giant man raised one bright red eyebrow, looking down at the pair with disdain in his pale gray eyes. His steel helmet dangled from a strap at his hip, his red hair in a short crop. Next to him stood a lanky, long-limbed boy with ink-black hair slicked back against his head and a sleazy grin plastered across his too-pale lips. "I'm surprised you bring it with you, considering how fond your father is of boasting about your supposed combat prowess. Might sully your reputation." When Alena and Na'ta both began to bristle, the man added with a shrug, "granted, it may do more damage to your reputation to lose your fights, hm?"

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Alena held her chin high and jabbed one finger at the man's barrel chest. "You are just upset that I have beat every single soldier you have pitted me against. I would battle, and best, any man or woman you send my way, yourself included, with or without Na'ta." She held her sword in her right hand and planted her left fist on her hip. Her lips pulled back slightly in a silent snarl and her thick, dark eyebrows knitted close, more warrior than princess in that instant.

Smothering down the fear that flashed through his eyes, Revlin scoffed loudly. "Oh, no, little girl. You will not battle me." Glancing quickly at the crowd that had begun to gather around them, he drew himself up taller. "No, today you can battle my prodigy, Athrin." He set one heavy hand on the blonde boys shoulder, dwarfing him even further.

Athrin opened his mouth for the first time, his voice as slimy as his greased hair. "Good afternoon, m'lady." He gave an overdone bow, gesturing widely to the arena. He rose and, leaning in closer, said with a smirk, "don't worry, Princess, I won't hurt you." He turned and proceeded to the arena, picking up a pair of swords.

Alena gestured for Na'ta to stay, then crossed the floor to the arena. Athrin stood across from her, brandishing his swords. Taking a deep breath, she readied her own greatsword in front of her, glaring into his cool gray eyes. "Call it," she commanded the General, never taking her eyes off of Athrin. After several long heartbeats, the man's deep voice boomed, "Begin!"

Athrin feigned left, laughed, and dove right, aiming a blow at Alena's stomach. She shifted her body and sword slightly, deflecting the swipe while watching the other sword. The two went on for a few minutes, Athrin giving half-hearted attacks and Alena blocking them and watching how he moved.

"Ancestors damn it, somebody fight!" The general roared at them, stomping his boot on the hard ground.

Then, Athrin sprang awake, lunging quickly at Alena's left side. Determined not to be caught off guard, Alena darted to her right, followed immediately by both of Athrin's blades. He swung high, one sword level with her throat and the other with her eyes. Alena dropped to the ground, kicking out and tripping Athrin. She jumped up as he fell backwards, holding the point of her sword close to his throat.

She didn't see the General rush her from behind, but she heard the whoosh of his blade coming toward her, and the thud of his sword meeting something she had not known was there but was confident wasn't her body. After a few frozen seconds, when she was pretty sure her head wasn't about to be lopped off, she glanced over her shoulder.

General Revlin stood behind her, his face as red as his hair, sword in the air. Between them, though, stood a young man Alena had never met before. His shield held the General's sword in place, lodged into the hard wood. She could make out the shape of Na'ta's broad head and shoulders behind Revlin and hear her deep growl.

"Well, General, good to know we had a fair fight," Alena's voice dripped venom for the man she had never liked. "It seems this would be of great interest to my father, one of his favored generals attempting a dishonest attack on his only daughter during an honest training bout. Not even a blood-duel."

"Only daughter, but not only heir," The man snarled. "House Revlin does not support you, a little girl with a big stick. Your brother holds our resources, our loyalty, and our signet."

Alena only blinked in surprise, stepping out of the middle of the frozen fight. For a family to give their signet meant a great deal, and was a deal until the head of the House died. "I see. Well, I suppose it is good, then, that I don't need your resources, nor your signet. I do not wish for the help of a general who should be hanged for war crimes." She narrowed her eyes at the man, facing him fully now. "A babe is not a weapon, nor an invalid a soldier." She turned her attention to the man who had saved her life. "You. Soldier. What is your name."

The young man, only a couple years older than the princess, jerked his shield away, dislodging the sword, and turned to face her. He squared his shoulders and brought his fist to his chest, "Mulius Lercari, Captain of the Youth Soldiers."

Alena nodded lightly, "At ease. Captain, come with me." Without waiting for an answer, she turned on a heel and strode across the room, Na'ta at her side and Mulius following behind her. As she walked out the doors into the open air, she found herself face to face with her mother, a soft smile on the woman's lips.