Andy headed to the fighting guild master, the tall woman clad in armor. Arlene had finished up her bow training and had moved on to another teacher, a rogue judging by the looks of her.

"Here to learn fightin, eh?" the woman said in a thick accent. "Name's Bertha," she said, extending her hand.

Andy shook it. She had the grip strength of a hydraulic press.

"What kinda weapon are ye lookin' fer?" she said as she released Andy's hand.

Blood rushed back to his fingers in a mixture of pain and relief.

"Great sword," Andy responded.

"Egad!" Bertha exclaimed. "A great sword… classic weapon. Fierce weapon. Beautiful weapon…" she continued rambling as she turned her back and began shuffling around on the table of equipment behind her.

She pulled out a short sword, about two feet long.

"Not this'n then," she said. "May as well be a dagger if its a great sword yer lookin' fer…"

"She continued rummaging around until, finally, she produced a massive great sword. It was covered in scratches, notches, and blemishes, but it nonetheless inspired awe.

The great sword's hilt alone was the size of the short sword. It had broad cross-guards, and the blade was so wide, almost as wide as Andy's shoulders. It could very well double as a shield.

That's the one, Andy thought. That is the sword I want.

Bertha hoisted the weapon over her shoulder and approached Andy before turning it upside down and resting it on the ground beside him, holding the hilt. It was taller than him by almost a foot.

"Is this'n big enough for ye?" She asked in a halfway mocking tone.

"That will do just fine," Andy said.

"I see the look in yer eye," she said. "Ye men are all the same. All want a big sword."

There was a brief pause before Bertha threw her head back in laughter.

"I'm not implyin' anythin' else! Don't ya worry. Yer not havin yer manhood questioned!"

She slapped him heartily on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

"Here, take up yer weapon," she said.

Andy grasped the hilt of the sword. He attempted to lift it, but it was too heavy to wield with any semblance of ease.

"Don't worry," said Bertha, "we'll get ya all feated up so's ye can take it up properly. Yer takin' the Favored Weapon, Great sword feat, correct?"

"Yes, please," Andy nodded.

Bertha smiled widely. "Very good."

You learned Favored Weapon, Great sword!

Andy equipped the feat as he had with Fluid Strike.

"Now, see how it feels," said Bertha. "Give it a few swings."

To his surprise, Andy lifted the sword with ease. It felt like an extension of his own body, perfectly balanced and intuitive.

He held his sword before him in a defensive posture.

"Would ye look at that!" Bertha exclaimed, "Ye've already got great form. Amazin' how these feats work, no?"

It was amazing, actually. Andy felt at home with the great sword already, as if he had been training with it for years.

"That's the magic of Favored Weapon," she said. "Let's run some drills, eh?"

"Sure," said Andy.

Bertha drew her sword from the scabbard at her side. It was a longsword that she wielded one-handed.

"See if you can block my attacks," she said.

Bertha lunged forward with a direct attack.

Andy moved to the side and brought his great sword down on top of her weapon, driving it into the sand.

"Not bad," Bertha said as she dislodged her sword, "Now let's try something tricky."

She began an overhead strike, raising her blade high and bringing down toward Andy's shoulder.

Andy immediately reacted by raising his great sword, intercepting her blow.

Her blade bounced off, and she used the momentum to feed a spin attack. She connected with his side more nimbly than he could manage.

A sharp pain shot through him as the sword cut his skin, but it did not dig any deeper than that. Bertha jumped back.

"Ok, relax, eh?" she said, sheathing her weapon.

"You got me," he said.

"Oh, great sword fighters always fall for that one," she said. "Here's the lesson: a big sword is a powerful sword, but it's difficult to keep up with a smaller weapon in the hands of a nimble enemy."

Andy nodded. It made sense, every weapon had to have its limitations.

"What about Fluid Strike?" Andy asked.

"Not gonna help your defense," said Bertha. "Though I will say, Fluid Strike is a fearsome offensive combination with the great sword."

"Ok, so my big weakness is in parrying and defending against quicker enemies with my great sword?"

"That's 'bout right," said Bertha. "But if ya finish em quickly then you'll have nothin' to worry 'bout."

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"How about we try some of those offensive maneuvers, eh?" Bertha added.

Andy readied himself.

"Oh heavens no, not on me. I don't much feel like takin' a beatin' today. Nosiree not at all. Important fightin' guild business to attend to in the morrow, I'll let ya practice on this'n."

She climbed behind the table and erected a fighting dummy, a wooden mannequin with some kind of sackcloth covering.

Andy hoisted his sword over his shoulder and positioned himself in front of the dummy.

"Let's do a few simple attacks," said Bertha. "First, overhead. Let's try to split 'im down the middle, eh?"

Andy dropped his stance and brought his sword over his head, bringing it down on the dummy. To his surprise, the sword cut through it like butter. The dummy fell in two halves, splitting down the middle with a loud crack.

"Oh, sorry about your dummy," Andy said. He hadn't meant to utterly destroy it.

"Wowee, nice werk there!" Bertha said with a hearty chuckle. "No care about the dummy," she said.

Bertha clapped her hands twice and the dummy reconstructed itself, becoming whole once again.

"Had the enchanters make me some dummies we could break as much as we want."

She approached the dummy, ensuring it was properly reconstructed.

"Good as new," she said. "Now let's try a spin attack."

Bertha drew her sword and demonstrated.

"You hold your sword in front of ya like this, then ya step into it, swing around, and…"

Bertha spun three-hundred and sixty degrees, bringing her sword around at an incredible velocity and cutting through the dummy, sending the top half spinning into the air.

"Like so," she said, clapping her hands and chuckling with glee as the dummy reassembled.

Andy held his sword before him and stepped in, bringing his sword around, allowing its momentum to guide him. He rotated his body and his head came back around. He locked his eyes on the target and guided the momentum of his massive sword into the dummy's chest.

But it didn't cut. Andy's sword bounced right off the dummy's side, as if the dummy had suddenly become steel.

Why didn't it cut through? The first one had been so easy, it had felt so smooth.

"Yeah the other thing," said Bertha, "I had the enchanter make it so its only damageable if ya have great form. Yer form's off then, eh?"

"What should I do differently?" Andy asked. He thought he had imitated her perfectly, but apparently not.

"Sometimes, with a great sword, ya gotta put a little more umph in it. It helps if ya have a little yell when ya do it, eh?"

"So I should yell?"

"Yeah, ya should yell but ya should know when to do it. Right before your last burst of energy, that's when ya yell. Put everything ya have inta it."

Andy tried again, spinning his sword. His eyes came around first, locking onto the target again. As he brought his sword in for the final thrust, he let out a yell.

Not the loudest yell.

It didn't cut.

"You call that a yell?" Bertha said. "Ya need ta mean it."

She walked over to Andy and looked him up and down silently, standing just a bit too close for comfort.

Andy tried his best to remain stoic.

Suddenly, Bertha smacked him in the face with her armored hand.

Andy stumbled back a little and stood, frozen, staring at Bertha in disbelief.

Andy was completely caught off guard. He froze, unsure of how to respond. He had thought things were going well, he even liked Bertha. She seemed cheery, well-meaning and like a good teacher. What had he done to offend her? Why did he deserve that?

"What did you do that for?" He said. He stood frozen.

"Ah ok," she said. "Yer a freezer, that makes sense. Lots of otherworlders are freezers when they first get here."

"A freezer?" he asked.

"Yeah, a freezer, one who freezes," she said. "There are a few common responses ta danger. Fightin, flightin, freezin, and arse-kissin. I think that's them anyways."

"So you just slapped me to prove a point?" Andy asked, still rubbing his cheek.

"I slapped ya to see what kinda fighter ye are," Bertha said matter-of-factly. "Now if you're gonna be a fighter, ya gotta change yer response. Nothin' wrong with flight if that's what needs ta happen. When you're outpowered or outnumbered, it's always better ta avoid a battle. Arse-kissin', well, I like that a lot less than flight, but some people do it. Especially the bards and charlatans. As a fighter, though, ya gotta learn to fight. That should be your default, if the situation calls fer it at least. But whatever you do, don't freeze. Ya can't freeze."

"I see," Andy said.

"Now," Bertha continued. "I want you to fight, fight like yer life depends on it. When you yell, I want it to come from a place of combat, from a place of glory. That's the greatest joy of a fighter, glory in battle. Come on, try again. Let's hear it. Fight fer somethin."

Andy stood in front of the dummy, his face still smarting.

"I… I don't know how," he said.

"Hmmm, ye really are stuck aren't ye," said Bertha.

She was a bit taller than him.

"When I was a young lass, I'd freeze up too, sames as you. But if yer gonna be a fighter, then that's gotta change."

"And how did you change it?"

"Simple," Bertha said. "I realized that no one was going to rescue me but me."

She walked back.

"Now let's hear it," she said.

Her words were cryptic. No one is going to rescue me… what did it mean?

Was Andy waiting to be rescued? He thought about it for a moment.

"Come on," Bertha said, "We don't have all day."

Andy nodded. But he needed more time. He concentrated on his nose and pulled up his display, which slowed down time so that he could mull it over.

No one was going to rescue him. And this thought would make him a fighter?

Had he been waiting his whole life to be rescued? Maybe he had.

He thought back to his life on earth. He saw a resigned and powerless boy struggling to make a bad situation tolerable. He saw a boy who had learned not to fight, who had learned that fighting wasn't worth it.

It was a sad life that had tempted him to the brink of despair only yesterday. But he had resisted it. How? Because he found compassion for himself.

His 12-year-old self, scribbling on a sheet of paper in the library, appeared before him in his mind's eye.

He viewed this boy with compassion. He watched this boy with love. He had been doing the best he could, but he hadn't been a fighter. In fact, he had been told that he couldn't be a fighter.

"What do I do?" The 12-year old asked, looking up toward Andy in his imagination.

You fight, Andy thought. You fight like hell even when they say you can't… even when you believe you can't. You do it anyway.

The boy nodded, seeming to understand.

I know you can do it, Andy said to him.

He felt something snap into place.

He came back to reality and lunged toward the dummy with fierce focus, spinning and finding his eyes locked onto his target once again. He felt the fibers of his muscles strain as he guided the sword to the dummy.

Then, he engaged his entire musculature as he let out a scream. It erupted from him from out of the depths, from somewhere beneath his very self. He felt his spirit reverberate, and he felt the sword respond with swift, powerful action.

The dummy's torso spun in the air as Andy pushed the sword through his target without a lick of resistance.

Bertha stood, jaw wide.

Andy's barbaric yawp hung in the air as he felt all the guild masters' eyes, as well as those of Kermit and Arlene.

He stood up, his chest heaving, not so much from exhaustion as from invigoration. From empowerment.

"That'll do just fine," Bertha said. "Yes, that'll do just fine."