Pel had regretfully sent me on my way, lamenting that he had business to handle. Not something I minded. I was emotionally exhausted and needed to process everything. Before we parted ways, he did let me know that, while I didn't have to speak to Maeve, doing so before her grandmother took too much of an interest was the smarter option.

I tried to think about what to do as I walked. The Artoss estate was vast. It took a good twenty minutes to walk over to the building our group was being housed in. I left behind the palatial grandeur of the main building and was directed to the lesser majesty of a refined manor house hidden among low hills and trees.

The building, an older structure, was made of heavy grey stone and had a sort of no-nonsense look to it, halfway between a hunting lodge and a guardhouse. It would've been quite ugly if not for the ivy that grew over it. With spring in full force and us no longer in the mountains, the leaves were lush and gave the building a feel like it had been raised directly from the earth itself.

As I neared, I could hear the sounds of clashing steel and cheering. Following another servant, who'd taken over from Robertson when I'd left the main house, I was directed to another structure out the back. Cut into a small hill with earthen stands and contained by powerful runes, it was an arena. The fighting space, carefully controlled and supported by powers which would help ensure combatants weren't slain, protected the spectators, and would help heal the earthen floor after the battle was completed.

I was not surprised to find them sparring, but the participants did give me pause.

Kay and Tristan were dancing around each other. Tendrils of vines spread out around them. The ground was a mess of tangled roots. The two nature-gifted used training blades to batter at each other, all the while trying to cancel out each other's advantage by shifting roots or using the questing vines to try and trip their opponent. I saw Sephy and walked round beside her, leaning against the fence that marked the edge of the runic protections that kept the spectators safe.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Sephy grinned, welcoming me but not taking her eyes off the fight. She seemed well and looked fuller in the face than she had when we'd first reunited in the fae realm. The wonder of a good night's sleep and a lot of food. I joined her in watching the fight, trying to think like a Knight.

It wasn't the same as the fight between Astor and Sephy, as neither seemed able to claim any root or vine permanently. Instead, it was a constant battle of setting and evading traps. The roots in particular moved sluggishly, and a couple of times I saw one of the fighters stumble over a root that hadn't quite moved out of the way fast enough.

Tristan was better at setting traps, and any time his traps staggered Kay, he closed the distance, using a pair of knives to slash out at the other Knight, aiming for the joints in her armour. His style reminded me more of witches than of knights, and given what Pel had mentioned, I supposed that he could very well follow the witches' path.

The attacks might've surprised a lesser Knight, but Kay was no pushover. Her style was defined by her cultivation. Her left arm was wrapped in bark, and she used it as part shield, part mace. It also formed an anchor for her vines, all of which struck out like snakes, helping to foil the faster knives.

The fight looked to be moving in Kay's favour. Tristan made an error and got a knife knocked from his hand. Forced back, his attempts to rush and retrieve his dagger were foiled. Tristan was about to be forced from the arena.

The group went wild. Everyone was here cheering and hollering. The only faces missing were Tiffany and Ursul. Elaine and Rensliegh were watching, though they were more reserved. Especially Rensliegh, who stood on the referee's dais.

"Oh, that smart bastard. This is going to be good." Bors was grinning. Following his gaze led me to an otherwise unremarkable patch of ground between the two fighters.

Kay charged, and then, to most of our group's surprise, she disappeared as a layer of earth crumbled into dust before her. As she fell, Tristan exploded in a burst of levity. His technique was intriguing. It felt like a bow firing, stored power flinging him across the battlefield.

Kay, following the natural human desire to not fall into dark, unknown pits, threw out her arms to catch herself. Her armpit, and the weak armour within, were exposed. Tristan's knife smacked into it.

"Lethal injury. Fight goes to Tristan," Rensliegh called out.

"What? That was cheating! The battle was limited to nature gifts only!" Arthur called out. Rensliegh turned her steely gaze upon him, and the man quietened.

The governess looked about to explain but then pointed to Bors. "Explain. I know you noticed it."

"It wasn't earth gift, or anything. Tristan spent half the fight using the roots to make that pit."

"Well, it was..." Arthur paused, stopping himself before he said any more. He clearly thought there was more to complain about, but he kept it to himself, which was progress. That, or he didn't want to be told off by his crush's teacher. His sourness was also ignored by the two fighters, who were grinning at each other.

"A good fight. You're better with roots than most Knights of the Verdant Grove." Kay clapped her hand round Tristan's and shook it. "Great trap."

"It'd barely have stopped you for a few moments. That technique is interesting. I'd love to receive some instruction." Tristan's voice was delicate, and for a moment, almost flirty. I knew little of him other than some half-remembered unsavoury rumours.

"So, this is a secret of the Grove, but considering they sold me out, I'd be happy to share." It was good to see Kay looking better, even if I could hear the twist in her tone as she mentioned her former order.

"Oi, the bard's here. We'll have to build him onto the board." Bors grabbed everyone's attention, and I looked over to find a long list of suggested fights. I needed to hobble that idea before it could get beyond a trot.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"I've literally just made Iron and startled myself with how fluffy a towel was this morning. I'm not getting into that arena till I've thoroughly tested my limits. I could so some light sparring perhaps, but how could a simple bard compete against such forces as yourselves?"

"If you're a simple bard, then I'm the Kraken itself," Gaz called out.

"Besides, you could do with staying in shape. An accomplice to murder still benefits from knowing how to stab people," Sephy said. She was looking stern, but that was a mere mask.

A mask I quickly shattered as I teased a smile from her by rocking back, miming a mortal wound. "What dark insults do you heap upon my bardic honour?"

“Taliesin has the right of it. I suspect all of you have seen some form of progression in the last few weeks. In these fights, be wary of pushing to the edge. You might find your limits are not what they once were. Take a few minutes. It'll take some time for the runes to reset this arena to its original state. The next fight will be Lancelot and Arthur, blades only, in the courtyard.” Rensliegh then walked back to sit with Elaine at a small table with an array of sweets.

“How was your meeting?” Sephy asked me as the group settled back down.

“It went—alright. I was shown something my mother planted.” I heard my voice quiver as I spoke. The emotions bubbling up.

“You doing okay?” She nudged up against me.

“Difficult to say. Can I get back to you on that?”

“I'm not going anywhere.” Sephy grinned, and it was like the sun cutting through on a stormy day. I felt centred. I could still feel the pressure and twisting winds of, well, everything from the last couple of months—the last few years if I was honest—swirling around me. Yet I wasn't lost, and as Bors yelled something and I heard Lance and Gaz shout back, I could feel more pieces falling into place. More people I was connected with, more friends whose strength I could draw on as I worked out what came next.

Glancing around, there was one burr that snagged my attention on this otherwise perfectly polished moment. Maeve wasn't watching me, but I could feel her awareness on me. It felt like a blade rattling in its sheath. She was tempering her desire to slip back into my shadow, but I could practically feel her straining to hold herself back.

Sephy followed my gaze and chuckled. “Looking at other women when I'm right here?”

“What? No! I…” I spluttered, before catching the look in her eye. I calmed down as her grin grew wider. “What do I do about her? About her grandmother?”

“You need to take full stock of the challenge before you. No point guessing at what she or her Mithril backer wants. Ask her directly. They might just want to say, ‘thank you, here’s some Cultivation resources.’ If it’s more complicated, we can talk about it then. I doubt your Patriarch will be very tolerant of another Mithril trying to yank you away, though.”

“Is it bad I kind of want to make her wait? I don’t really appreciate being strong-armed into this, especially after I saved her life.”

“You need to tell me more about that. Look, she's being pushed around by a Mithril just as much as you are. Besides, it’d be cruel to make her wait. She's trying so hard not to butt in.” Sephy waved as Maeve looked over at us, checking if I was free. She flinched as she was caught and hurriedly turned back to her conversation.

“I suppose it is poor repayment for keeping Arthur distracted.” I groaned.

Sephy got a calculating look. “I hadn't thought of it from that angle. You should go now and set up a time to talk to her later. With a talk secured, I bet she'll keep her distance. If she's at a distance, Arty will follow. Then we can catch up properly.”

“You know, that kind of thinking is why you’re special.” I headed over towards their group. Gawain, Lance, Arthur, and Maeve had a collection of different blades out and were debating the various benefits of each.

“I prefer anything with a hand-and-a-half grip. It’s the best of both worlds. Besides, with armour techniques being what they are, you need that power,” Arthur argued as he moved through some sword forms with an effortless grace. Even in those scant few moments, I could see the quality of his technique. I really had no opportunity to see the Prince in action, but even that teaser was enough to know what I gleaned from Bors wasn’t overstated.

“A good falchion, with a decent curve, has a lot of cutting power though. Sure, you sacrifice some reach, but if you enforce the blade enough, it can even threaten armour.” Maeve was interesting to watch. Anytime she touched a blade, it seemed a natural extension of her. She picked up a heavy, slightly curved blade with a single cutting edge, and it danced at the ends of her fingers.

Lance was painfully ordinary between the two Knights. The sooner she got to Iron and cemented her strength, the better. I doubted she was much worse than either when it came to technical skill, but she lacked that spark that I could sense now I was Iron. I think she could sense it herself, so was louder, demanding their attention, fighting to not be drowned out by the glamour. “Not all of us have blade glamour to make our strikes carve through!”

“I prefer a lighter blade myself. Much better if you want to run away! How are you all?” There were nods and greetings. To my surprise, Arthur kept his tongue in check and gave me a very neutral nod of acknowledgement.

“Impatient to get to Iron! I'm practically there, especially with the treasures,” Lance grumbled.

“Treasures? What treasures?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh right, you weren’t here this morning. Robertson told us that, while we were dining, Mercury retrieved everything the god-botherers had stockpiled on the other side. Apparently, Pellinore told him to collect but otherwise ‘have fun.’” We all shuddered. I didn’t want to imagine what happened to those few members of their forces who remained.

“We’ve all got a share of different treasures to pick from. You also have a room in the manor where you'll find them. We were told this whole manor is ours to use until we decide to move on,” Gawain added.

“That’s generous.”

A flicker of glamour, a cultivators equivalent of a whistle for attention silenced us, and the other conversations.

“Lance, Arthur, come with me. Let’s get you armed. Everyone else, join us in the training yard in five minutes.” Rensliegh called out, standing from her table and heading towards the manor proper. Our group broke up. I only noticed as the others hurried off how the Governess had masterfully given Maeve and me an excuse to be alone. I’d respect her for providing learning opportunities to her student, if the last one hadn’t been sending Maeve to hunt me down after I threw myself out a window.

Maeve didn’t immediately jump down my throat, but I could all but hear the rattle in her aura as she restrained her desire to strike out at the opportunity. She twitched, and I could almost hear her brain cooking up the perfect way to open up a conversation. A little impatient, I decided to help her out. “I don’t know where anything is. Where’s the training yard?”

“We can walk there together.” She offered, her shoulders relaxing the tiniest amount, her aura calming. We began to walk.

“So, I understand you wish to speak with me.”

“I would like to speak with you, but my grandmother is the one who ‘requests your presence’.” Maeve said, a hint of disapproval creeping in as she mentioned her grandmother. I was surprised to hear the dissent. It must’ve shown on my face, as she continued. “We both wish to thank you and reward you. She just forgets she’s a Mithril, and they are very good at making a gift into a burden.”

Nodding, I mulled it over. She wasn’t lying, but then again, how much did I trust her assessment of a Mithril’s motives?

“I sense this is a delicate topic. Not the kind of thing that we’re going to get through in this short walk. Would you mind if we spoke privately tomorrow, after dinner perhaps?” I grimaced as I started to list the many things I’d been putting off. “I’ve got a few other pressing concerns to get through today.”

“I would appreciate that.” She sagged for a moment, the blade finally silent and still. I found myself remembering the last time we’d been alone as she asked, “Where would you like to meet?”

“Somewhere with plenty of windows,” I replied, and to my great surprise, she laughed. Maybe Maeve wasn’t so bad?