That limitless feeling of possibility carried Farha through the rest of the day. Mostly, she rested in the quiet tent. Pacing around its small interior when she had energy and when there was none, she stared up at the fabric ceiling from the bed. Those few hours of peace were needed after the last several days, they were a soothing balm for her strained mental stability. The swells of wind swept through small slits in the tent, keeping it cool throughout the day. Billowing and waving, the moving cloth was mesmerizing in its random patterns. She watched it when her eyes were open, and when not, she just listened. How she wished this could last forever.

Just like the wind, the day swept along. Thankfully, she was left alone until early evening. That was when Perol came by with a light supper, followed shortly after by Edgar. He had been with Ahven most of the day, but there had been no change to the patient's condition. Once Perol excused himself, an awkward atmosphere hung over their heads. Neither said much as Farha ate, and even less afterward. Wishing her well, Edgar soon copied Perol's exit. Alone again with her thoughts.

By this point, she had exhausted every idea she could come up with for mixing essence with dueling. The implications were fascinating, but that energy could only carry her so far. As light faded, so too did her good mood. All the feelings of panic and helplessness came rushing back. She dodged and weaved, but they continued to press on. Finally, she found an escape in sleep. The next morning came quickly. She felt like herself again, well, at least enough to venture outside the safety of the tent.

Here and there, her eyes jumped to movement. Two workers carried a large crate towards the pit, an older man strode by in elegant robes, Perol gave her a nod from across the way, and milling about everywhere were the students. Or so she presumed. All were young, but that's where most similarities ended. Many styles of clothing, hair colors, and complexions, however, they all shared a certain intense alacrity. What could have been a step was taken with a leap, an evasive movement to avoid the workers showcased perfect footwork, even the postures themselves were perfect. Ahven would be proud.

A sharp whistle rang out, heads turned. Over by the pit, Farha made out a few more figures standing in a line, unmoving amidst the chaos. Everyone except the students resumed their work after only a quick glance. Farha's peers appeared tense. They rushed towards the pit with quick strides, only barely avoiding any accusation of running. Should she go after them? Even Perol was hurrying towards the line of figures. All the young nobles were getting farther and farther away. With a sinking dread, she jogged after them. Better to potentially be scolded than outright berated.

As she drew nearer, the figures became distinct. Three stoic faces, rather, four. Perol had joined the line. The students were lining up in staggered rows in front of them, standing stiffly with their eyes forward. As the movement slowed, those four stoic faces turned her way. They didn't lose their stoicism entirely, but each one now contained a trace of annoyance. The one at the end of the line, a weathered face framed with graying hair, spoke.

"I shall let it pass as you have just arrived, but take care going forward. There will be absolutely no running allowed while you are here at this camp, outside of direct commands to do so. You are all here to learn decorum, Astelia will make sure of it, along with dueling and combat skills. Everything taught here will be instrumental for your future lives as nobility. Make sure you learn it well. What is your name girl?"

She was standing on the edge of the walkway surrounding the pit, still unsure if she should join the others. If she did, where would she stand? There were no empty spots in the pattern. With a start, she realized the old man was still waiting for an answer, impatiently.

"Farha"

"Well then, Farha." He gestured with an open hand toward those arrayed before him, expectant.

With a quick nod, Farha jumped down from the walkway. A foot slipped on the loose sand, filling one shoe with the gritty substance. Groaning mentally, she did her best to ignore the discomfort. There really was no place she could stand that wouldn't look out of place. Deciding the last row was as good as any, she aligned herself with the nearest student. Surely the asymmetry bothered everyone else too. If it did, they didn't show it. In fact, Perol gave her the tiniest of smiles...so small, she doubted her own perception.

"Now that we are all present, we can begin. Today marks a new beginning for you. It doesn't matter if you were more skilled than anyone else in your cities, or how long you have trained. All seventeen of you can make the same boasts. None of it matters. What does matter is the future. You have an opportunity here, one given to very few. The five of us have much to teach, but we can not force you to listen. However, there will be consequences for those who do not."

The man paused and locked eyes with each of them in turn. When they came to her, Farha could feel a chill spread through her body. The cold persisted as he held her gaze longer than anyone else. Finally, he focused on the group as a whole.

"My name is Chellt, and I shall be instructing you in all things pertaining to essence."

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Stifled whispers broke out, that cold expression silenced all. Chellt turned to the woman standing next to him and gave a slight bow. Her face was severe, yet there was kindness hidden in those eyes. She returned Chellt's bow with a flourish.

"Thank you Chellt. Greetings students, I'm known as Astelia. As was mentioned, I will be providing direction for etiquette and the propriety necessary for those of your station. You would do well to remember that many more wars have been won with a word or a gift than those by the blade."

Next in line was a muscular woman maintaining a constant smirk. It was not kind, neither were her eyes.

"Thank you for that introduction Astelia."

Watching closely, Farha noticed a tiny flash of irritation pass across Astelia's face before placidity resumed its place.

"I'm Estia. I'll be the one making sure your body keeps up with your mind. Victory might not always be achieved with a blade, but your body will always play a part. I'm responsible for building you up by tearing you down, every last inch of you. Slackers will not exist."

Despite herself, Farha stood a little straighter. She knew pain awaited her but it had already become an old friend. Her hands alone bore testament to the many nicks sword practice caused. It sounded like internal ones would begin forming in the days to come.

"Every expert duelist will tell you, more than any skill or knowledge, you must have the strength in your limbs to apply it. Luckily for you, we have one such expert among us, Perol Ateletol!"

With a deeper smirk directed at Astelia, Estia presented Perol with both hands. It was as if to say, 'This, this is how you give an introduction.' Outwardly, it had no effect, but all the same, Farha was sure it had connected. Once again, whispers broke out, a little louder this time. Farha tried to recall if she had ever heard his name before...perhaps in passing? From the muttering around her, he was obviously well-known. It was incredible, she would be trained by a famous duelist! One who was visibly uncomfortable at the praise. Perol closed his eyes for a brief moment, collecting himself. Exhaling, he turned and inclined his head towards Estia.

"While I appreciate the sentiment, 'expert' is a term I dare not claim." He looked out over the young nobles, far into the distance. "As many of you will hear time and time again, the more you learn, the greater the amount still left to discover. A few of you might even come to believe it. I won't deny it, I am skilled, but that matters not. Talent is meaningless, even skill itself. Above all is the willingness and effort to improve. There will always be another hiding in your shadow, waiting for you to become complacent."

He paused, letting the words rest. The silence held, he forced them to ponder the concept, and then ponder it again. With a nod, to nobody in particular, he continued.

"The highest reaches of skill or expertise will never be reached, it is not possible. There will always remain some potential, a taller mountain to climb, deeper caves to explore. There's always more."

Oh, how he smiled. There was no sorrow there, not a spec of regret or shame, it shone forth in pure joy. He was someplace else now, anyone could tell. What did he see? What could he, an expert to all laymen, imagine there was left to discover? Farha couldn't help but smile as well, it was infectious. Still, a part of her doubted, it couldn't be that infinite. This must just be a ploy to raise hopes and inspire dreams. The peaks were high, certainly compared to her, but they could be touched eventually. How she hoped that was an impossibility. Would that the spires reached above the clouds, ever higher. Her heart beat quicker. No matter where the top was, how far could she climb?

"It is my aim to help you on your way. Not to reach some landmark on the way, but to glimpse a peak and have the strength to ascend. Furthermore, once a peak is finally reached, have the courage to look for another one higher up."

He bowed as well. Not to the other instructors, but to the students themselves. Straightening again, his smile faded.

"There is another instructor in the blade as well. Take care you do not ignore his teaching simply because he doesn't have a winning record. True expertise is so much more than that and you can learn much from anyone, no matter their skill. At the very least, he is brave. He was gravely injured while facing down a beast in the Wilds. His health is still in question but it is my hope that he will be standing beside me in the days to come."

Silence returned. Farha was acutely aware of the sand in her shoe, of the sweat running down her back, of her enemies. Oh yes, they were there as well. lecim, Vesalios, and Molnt, all next to one another. She had glanced their way a few times and twice had caught them looking back. It made her skin crawl. It took everything within her to stand there, unmoving. Chellt cleared his throat.

"Thank you Perol. It is time for your training to begin. You will start with Estia first, she shall assess your current levels of fitness and plan out the best course of action in order to start improving. But before that, there was an incident that is in need of addressing."

Farha tensed. Was this it? How strongly would they be punished?

"It has come to my attention that a few of you mistreated another student yesterday. Such actions will not be tolerated. Though you are all from different cities and locations, your goal here is the same. As Perol pointed out, it is to learn. Arguing, fighting, conflicts, none of these will aid you in that endeavor. Quite the contrary! The best structure for an environment of learning is one where you can trust those around you to have your best interests in mind. As such, punishments will be doled out in all cases where that sentiment has been ignored. In this case, your punishment will be as follows..."

Farha held her breath in expectation, hanging on every word. Finally, justice would fall.