Dime woke me up a few minutes before sunrise, pecking on my window shutters. I woke up refreshed and sat up on the bed. Some straw from the mattress was poking out from the bedsheet. I really wanted a foam mattress, but I'd have to level up my chemistry quite a bit to get there. I could barely make lye out of salt. I stored the bedsheet back for repairs and went through the boring task of packing the straw back in the burlap bag and arranging the furs over the straw mattress.

At least my animal friendship boon kept bedbugs away from me. No mosquitoes either.

Dime was insistent on pecking at the shutters. I removed the bar and threw the window open, only to be greeted by the dim orange of the sunrise... and a dead rat on my lap.

The damn eagle chirped a 'you're welcome' feeling through our bond and rebounded back to the balcony of the master bedroom.

I had. A dead rat. On my lap.

Bleeding.

So I did what any sensible girl would do in my place. I tossed the rat through the window and screamed.

After I felt my throat sore, I leaned on the windowsill and cursed. "Dime you stupid bird-brain! I do not eat rat! You come here so I can make chicken soup out of you!"

He looked at me, looked at the rat on the inner courtyard, dove to pick it up and bring it back to the balcony with a nonchalant shrill that said 'why are you wasting perfectly good food?'

Our morning antics had the side effect of waking up everyone else. You can't believe how well sound carries when the noise pollution of all the engines of modern civilization, tiny and large, do not exist. Ananu came running from the barracks and immediately averted his eyes.

"Milady! I'm sorry, your... your..." He bashfully mumbled.

I was screaming from the window right after getting off the bed. In my lace nightgown because it was so damn hot, dangling the family jewels for all to see.

"Ananu, there's nothing wrong here! You are dismissed!"

I retreated inside and made myself presentable in my training clothes before going out for breakfast. Cooked breakfast. Downstairs, the children were peeking through a gap in the door. I try to smile at them but I am not confident it set them at ease. It didn't.

Arwia came from her room, still disheveled and with a bad case of bed hair. "Sandra. What happened?"

"That a..." I remembered the children were there, watching and shoved my anger down my throat. "Dime decided to share his catch of the morning with me, and I vehemently refused. Raw rat is not good for breakfast."

She squinted. "I see. Well, it is understandable. Any girl would scream if a giant bird tossed a dead rat on her. Hey you there," She addressed the children, "Where are your manners? Say good morning to the Lady!"

"Good morning, milady!" They say with a bit of delay between each other.

I could see in their eyes they were afraid of me. It hurt. What Brandon asked me yesterday came back to me as if he was right next to me. Why was I going through all this trouble of raising these children, when I couldn't even gain their trust. Something was stopping me from getting to know them, forging these bonds. I didn't know at the time but I was afraid of having to sever these bonds. In self-defense, I was putting this distance between me and them.

I was powerless to fix a problem I wasn't aware of at that time. It just caused me anguish to not notice it. These children were born and raised in another culture. One where they were worth almost nothing, where their survival until the age of fourteen was not invested in heavily. At the age of fourteen or even earlier depending on how fast puberty came, the girls would be sold in marriage, and the father would use the money any way he wanted, saving some to buy wives for his sons. Men married much later, between twenty-three and twenty-seven years old.

But there I stood, with a sharp pain in my heart as I watched the children follow Arwia to wash their faces and hands. I fled.

At the kitchen, I saw Belle dressing what seemed like a turkey. Shoots of basil and rosemary were laid over the breast and it seemed ready to bake in the oven.

"Oh, Sandra. I'm almost done here, I need to put this in now or it won't be ready for lunch. This meat takes forever to cook. I'll get your breakfast soon, can you wait?"

I was salivating at the thought of eating what she was making. "Is that a turkey?"

"This? No. It is one of the rarest meats ever. Sky-lord. I already cleaned and separated the feathers, beak, and talons in a bag for you, they fetch a huge price."

Sky-lord. Dime's mate. Belle is nonchalantly cooking Dime's mate. Out in the open, she deplumed, dressed, and seasoned the carcass. I turn around and see Dime still engorging himself with the rats. Our eyes meet and he scoffs. At least I think he scoffed. There's no way he didn't notice what Belle was doing, did he even care? I don't think so. I was split between my own absentmindedness, Dime's lack of humanity, and some notion that I shouldn't do anything.

But what if sky-lord is really a delicacy? I was divided. It felt like something I shouldn't do. People usually don't eat their pets. Dime's mate wasn't exactly my pet and the eagle only seems to care right now with stuffing its belly.

"Belle, I don't know if we can eat Dime's mate. It doesn't feel right."

She glanced back at the big eagle and shrugged, "I can't see why. Bloodstone doesn't care, and it is perfectly edible. I'm worried you won't be able to resist eating the other one after you taste this."

Yeah, me too. I really don't need guilty pleasures to tempt me. But something she said doesn't fit in the current conversation.

"Excuse me? Did you say something about a gemstone? What does it have to do with the current problem?"

Belle just seemed confused. "You mean Bloodstone? Wasn't it the name you gave your bird? I think your accent is somewhat strange, but it had already happened from time to time. But I think it is a fitting name. After all, the sky-lord has that bright green neck and is almost always covered in bloodstains."

It is another of those translation glitches. 'Diim-me' is their word for the green jasper with hematite stains. The 'i' is spoken as in 'finish' and not 'final', that's why she was thinking my accent was strange.

"I see. Well, in my world is the name of a coin, but I think 'Bloodstone' is a fitting name for him. What do you think, Bloodstone?"

The bird tweets, seemingly happy at the abundance of food. It couldn't care less about how I call him.

"And speaking of eating your friends," Belle said in jest, "I was thinking of baking Penny-gu for dessert. What do you think?"

I froze and turned around to face her. "You are going to cook my horse too? How cruel can you be, woman?"

"I knew it," She chuckled. "I am going to bake a cake that takes a lot of honey in the dough. 'Honey cakes'," She spoke very slowly.

Penny-gu meant 'honey cakes' in modern Akkadian. I mostly ignored the '-gu' part, hearing only what I wanted. My horse was named 'honey cake'. That was... cute.

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Belle left me to my musings and went back to spread seasonings around the bird while she happily hummed some tune. She put fig and apricot halves on the tray and I was wondering if all that mix of flavors wouldn't just become overwhelming. But I knew she was skilled after all the former owner of this place wouldn't have hired - bought - her to cook for him.

I gave up on the idea of refusing to eat sky-lord. I mean, I knew girls who raised piglets and ate bacon too. But if that was such a delicacy, maybe I should use it to build some social capital.

"Belle, how many people does that bird serves?"

She "Four or five, Sandra."

"Can you hold it for dinner? I might want to invite some people to partake on the feast."

She glanced at the coal stove and tapped her cheek with a finger, leaving specks of powdered nutmeg on her skin. "I think so, yes. I'll lower down the heat and let it slow cook, it will be okay to be served for dinner."

"Good. I'll invite Abil-Kisu and the master smiths Samus and Aran. Maybe the captain too."

She nodded.

After that, I ate breakfast and rode to the garrison. It was time to train. And I really didn't want to linger there.

Tiwatura was my escort. I mounted Penny and we left for the training grounds. I heard a screech and Dime flew past us. I felt he wanted to follow us. I raised my arm and he landed. The incident with the children remained in my mind. I wanted to create real bonds with them. I wanted them to like me. But we were worlds apart. I didn't know what to do. How I could befriend them. I was too afraid of the worst possible outcome that my mind insisted on presenting to me and that paralyzed me.

I reached the training grounds. Brandon was there with some soldiers but I wasn't late. I dismounted with Dime still clinging to my arm. There were fifteen guardsmen.

"Tiwatura, is there any shop that sells falconry gear? I need a glove, a cowl, a perch for this guy here. I can't have his talons digging into my skin all the time."

"Yes, I know of a leatherworker that has such items," He answered. "I guess a nice set of falconry equipment will cost around two silver shekels."

"Take a silver mina and get two sets."

He left, leading Penny to the garrison stables and Dime flew away to land on an empty weapon rack.

"It's true!" One of the soldiers gasped.

"Hey, captain, did she really tame a sky-lord?" Another asked Brandon.

"Yes, she did." The captain had a smug smile like some guys when showing their new car around. I... had no idea why that analogy came up but it fits like a glove. I approached the group.

"What are we training today?"

Brandon finally seems to take notice that I was a person. He wiped his smug grin and pointed at the wooden weapons. Maybe I should keep away from people today. I was too salty.

"I was thinking of doing a sparring training. Could you use that kendo of yours against these men?"

My evaluation of him was dropping and dropping. I went to the weapons rack and took the bokken. I couldn't claim even one year of kendo. It was considered by my grandfather to be part of the aikido training. Along with the bo staff. I really wanted to go back home. I felt like I should stay home and do something to settle this unease. But it was training time and I had to give my best.

Always.

Be a good girl. Study hard. Get top grades in your class. Get that scholarship. I could get an integral scholarship, but my family could pay the tuition. I only got a scholarship because it would look good on my CV. Get that accelerated program. Get professor Andrews as an advisor even as an undergrad. Get murdered because you did your job too well.

Yeah, that sucked. Even now, what was I doing? Living my second life in autopilot? Who could I call friends in this world? Brandon? Nanna? Where the heck is the witch? I could've used some snarky advice. Not the guards, not the children, not even Belle and Arwia.

I bet some of them still considered themselves my slaves.

I was at my limit. Again. Or not. I had no idea.

While I mused, I sparred with the guards, one on one. The sparring was to first blow and to be honest, I was taking a collective beating. My skills were not good, even though my physique had improved these last few days, these men trained to fight their whole lives. Even though I had a boon to learn five times faster, I hadn't even one week of proper training. The silver lining was that they were taking it easy with me, focusing on speed and precision to avoid hurting me too much. That added to the fact that I only took half the damage from any attack meant I was doing perfectly fine.

Oh, add a side of 'I heal faster so it stops hurting faster too' to go before you close my order.

I ended my sparring with the last guard of the group with a single win. I could tell he didn't go easy on me because the hazing would start right after Brandon turned around. I could see the dismayed face that guard was making and the smirks of the other ones.

"Sandra, are you okay? Did any of them hurt you?"

I bowed toward him and toward the guards. Some of them even tried to copy me. Back to Brandon, I shrugged.

"Not really and honestly, even if we were with live weapons it would matter little. You know I heal fast. Can we go another round?" He seemed worried. "No, I won't go crazy like when I ran around the garrison. Come on, we are here to spar, let's spar."

"Okay," Brandon clapped his hands to show approval like they usually do. "Get ready guys, another sparring round."

"And don't get easy on me. Or I'm going to start to hurt you for real."

It was his time to shrug as he stepped aside. "You heard the lady."

After the first five painful defeats, I decided what I wanted to do. And it was like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. It was the satisfaction of figuring out a complicated demonstration and getting everything clear. It was like finally understanding that Bruce Willis was dead from the start.

That gave me a second wind to spar. And I started to get wins. The second round ended with me winning two in each five.

"Again!" I shouted.

It also cleared my mind on why I needed to train. This world was one where it could be profitable to pick young girls to raise well. This world was one where I could become a gift to some asshole prince. This world was one where elderly ladies could blow an innkeeper five meters backward from afar while not using their full power.

If I wanted to defend those that I set myself to defend, if I wanted to carve my place here, I needed to know how to defend myself. To go even further, I needed to be known to be able to defend myself. And this guard squad would be the first one to spread word of my ability.

I hoped it would become deterrence.

It is okay if you laugh.

As I sparred them a third time, I could recognize patterns. They used basic strikes most of the time. I started to read them. Predict their blows. My grandfather's lessons also came back to me. It was like a rusted engine that got some WD-40 and came back to life. Shedding the rust scales.

The third session was close to fifty-fifty.

"Do we have time for another round?" I asked looking at the sun. Tiwatura was already back.

"One last round," Brandon answered. "And let's raise the odds. Who among you didn't lose to miss Rinaldi yet?" Five out of fifteen guards raised their hands. "Do you guys want to bet one silver shekel on whether you win the fourth round against her or not?"

The five of them accepted. One of them was very confident, "Captain, I'll double that bet. I'm not holding back this last round."

I looked at him. "Neither will I. And I raise that bet to one silver mina of my own. But I have to get a sidearm, wait a moment."

I would go all out too. And that meant using my powers. That was another thing I wanted to be able to do in a fight. Use Decompose to ruin my opponent's weapons. It brought the problem of ruining my own weapons, armor, and clothes if they were made of the same material.

The training swords were made of wood, cellulose. My dry-fit shirt was synthetic. I grabbed the weapons rack and felt for the cellulose's resonance. Then I pushed it away. The wood didn't flow as the metals did. Instead, the wood flaked and became very fine sawdust. I picked one battered training shortsword and focused Decompose out of my left hand. Then I punched the shortsword. A spray of sawdust blew away and the tip fell to the ground.

That would do.

I returned to the middle of the training arena and saw that only the five that took the bet we're in the middle. The other ten took spots on benches around to watch. I wiggled my fingers on the hilt of the bokken. Using Decompose on weapons required fast reactions. It could be a trump card if I kept it a secret but I had to practice. I was able to do it before but not always. Yesterday when they shot me, I didn't even think of doing that.

The soldier that bet a silver mina came first. I remained on my neutral chudan-no-kamae, ready to react. He came up, aiming at my head. I kept his sword in my sight and let him come. I focused Decompose on cellulose from my forehead. A shower of sawdust turned into a cloud and then I hit him in the forehead just like he tried to do with me.

One down.

"Hey, that's..." He protested.

"That's me going almost all out. You said it, didn't you?"

He looked very sour. He threw the ruined training sword down and walked away, "Cap, she cheated. I won't pay."

I gave Brandon an 'it's your problem' glance and called the second one. He took his place in front of me and came. I tried to Decompose his weapon aimed at my shoulder, frayed the tunic I wore over my dry-fit shirt and then he tapped me on the other side.

Can't win every one.

In the final three matches, I won only one. To make it easy on everyone, we called off the bets. I went to check the falconry gear with Tiwatura. He had a pretty nice decorated bracer for me. The workmanship was superb and it seemed to be just my size. There was a red ribbon tied to the end, near the elbow.

"This is wonderful, Tiwatura. These patterns, do they mean anything?"

I got a hunch it meant something else. Because he was embarrassed to say. "These bracers are for children. Rich children. They cost a little more than what I expected."

I slid it and turned my wrist up to let him tie the straps. "Was the money enough? I really don't care. They are nice and fit very well. Bloodstone!"

Dime flew and landed on my arm. I'd pay gold to have some protection against these talons. Not to mention he could now get a firm grip.

Tiwatura showed me a red bandanna. "You should tie this around Bloodstone's neck. It will show that he's tame."

"Okay. Do you like red, Bloodstone?" I tied the bandanna around the bird's neck.

He felt happy because I was happy. And it was time to return home. I had a shot at upgrading my status from 'household head' to 'family member'. But it meant I had to open up.