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After lunch, Raya and Vincent took to the woods to train together. When they reached the arrival clearing, the tiger and his family appeared to say hi and were offered a large basket of leftovers.

"He's even bigger than you told me," Raya measured the beast with her eyes. "Why don't you take them in town with you? They'd make great guards."

"What if they'd eat people!" A protest vibe assaulted Vincent, very deep and strong.

"Nonsense. This is not a local species. They got lost or ran from their Tamer."

"Tamer, like a class?" Vincent asked, feeling the emphasis on the word.

"Tamers, Beastmasters, Druids, and all sorts of classes can bond or subdue animals for shows, defense, or war."

A mind projection arrived in Vincent's mind, with the tiger advancing toward the group and the bus on the first day to beg for food.

"So you were not attacking us?" Vincent asked. A feeling of regret reached him. "I don't promise anything, but I'll speak with the mayor. Hey! In due time!" Vincent frowned, pushing his furry new friend away. The beast was so enthused by the idea of shelter and food that he licked his face unexpectedly.

"They're cute!" Raya leaned to scratch a cub's head after the young cat started to rub itself on her legs. After a couple of minutes, she sighed and straightened up."OK, enough pampering.Time for work. Shoo, guys, go away," Raya flickered her hands toward the tigers. "We'll have a training session, and being around is dangerous. OK, what can you do?" she asked Vincent after the large cat family left.

"I guess I'm good at hand-to-hand combat, instinctive shooting, infiltration, exfiltration, scouting, a bit of sniping, this kind of stuff."

“Hm…”

“Hm, what?”

“Does the System recognize them?”

“There’s a Menu, common and uncommon proficiencies…”

“Oh… yeah… basic combat training… and there’s a tone of common skills next to it.”

“Forget that. We’re talking about special skills you didn't have before being summoned.”

"OK…" Vincent grimaced because he had ignored most of them. "I have a buff about using axes and light damage in combat… but I have yet to buy the skill for the latter."

"Do it. Any plus damage is important. Anything else?"

"I have a thing called Iron Grip, which—"

"I know it. It's very good at close range. You can rip your enemy's throat with your bare hands."

"And I have a sort of Invisibility, but I never used it. It costs Karma, and I want to spare it. Karma's—"

"Everybody knows what Karma is—”

“Really? I thought it was something unusual.”

“—but few can use it. Show me your hiding ability."

Vincent nodded, went in between two trees to get a bit of shade, and then concentrated on activating his Outsider's Cloak.

"I'm seeing you just fine," Raya said. "You're almost transparent, that's all."

"Shit! And I've spent six tokens for it…"

"What level is it?"

"No level, but says I need to train to get good at it."

"Train it; we'll return on it later. Show me your hand-to-hand skills."

Like when he spared with Thomas, Vincent's lower stats and levels could barely cope with Raya's. He was confident he could take Thomas one-on-one now, but Raya was an order of magnitude stronger.

"Stop!" she raised her hands after five minutes. "You're too strong!"

"What are you talking about? I think I broke my fingers by hitting your chin!" Vincent whimpered.

"Your technique is good; my instincts tell me to hit you for real. We can't continue like this. It's too risky. How do you know to fight like this?"

"We trained… This style is called Krav Maga, and to be fair, I was average at it. It's about attacking relentlessly, hitting the weakest points over and over, creating pain… Actually, I think it would suit you."

He knew he was right. Raya was brutal but economical, awaiting the best opportunity to deliver a devastating strike. Her attacks were ferocious, if rare. It was a good technique for a defensive offense, a true warrior's style, conserving energy. Yet, moments of frenzy were necessary, too. Krav Maga would compliment her well.

"Tell me more," she sat on the grass, patting the place next to her to make him sit.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He did, mostly by talking but also by exemplifying a few tricks at times. After five minutes, they started sparing again, with him as the instructor.

"I gained a point in Mind," she said curtly half an hour later. "It means the style has merit…"

"Of course, it has merit. It's practiced by the most—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You brag like an old hag about the last tooth in her mouth. I still could break you in two with my bare hands. Let's move on. What about you hitting me, and I'll soak your blows?"

"What!" he gasped. "I mean… sure, you're tough, but…"

"Do it," she said, rising up.

At the first hit, Vincent was thrown on his back. Minuscule ants ran through his body. He had never been tased, but imagine it felt like that.

"That's what a Stormrunner is about," she gloated. "We imbue our bodies and weapons with lightning. And I can call lightning inside a storm, but that's next to useless… people don't fight in storms if they have another choice."

"Aren't you something," Vincent nodded.

"I guess I am… You said you're good with axes?"

"Not at all. I have a buff if wielding a shepherd axe. I never trained with it… but I suppose it's not so hard."

"Oh, so mister Crab Maga—"

"Krav."

"—thinks fighting with an axe is easy. It's for the best I brought some weapons, then," Raya unrolled a huge parcel. A regular human would've collapsed under the weight, but she had carried all the way from the town without breaking a sweat. It had swords, halberds, pikes, spears, shields, and axes of many types.

"So, what do you want me to do?" Vincent asked, picking the item that resembled the local shepherd axe most.

"Try to hit me."

"I won't," he protested. "Why don't you have wooden training replicas, like normal people?"

"Because we're not normal people. Amazons always train with the real stuff. Kids have blunt ones and wear padded armor, but the weight and shape are still real. But you're not a child, Vincent. I expect you to act accordingly."

"Very well," he hissed, his pride ruffled. "I'll go slowly, though."

"If you must," she said, taking an arming sword from the pile. "Stupid manly pride," she mumbled apart, spitting on the ground.

Vincent approached her in a low stance, like a lurking wolf. It was what he had seen in fair demonstrations. Raya's footwork was perfect; her hands or blade were the only spots to hit. The head and the feet were too far and would have put him in her sword's range.

He flourished the axe with a heave, using only one hand for the hit, taking a half step forward, trying to hit her left arm. Mirroring his half-step, she thrusted her weapon at Vincent obliquely while putting her hand in the way of the axe. Vincent gasped, trying to arrest his momentum. He had not put any real force behind the hit, but the axe had weight, enough to maim or cut deeply. Yet the axe didn't find its target. Raya's forearm hit the shaft on the side, diverting the hit away, her sword resting on Vincet's shoulder, an inch from the neck.

"That's the problem with axes," she said. "Small blade. More so on that type. The shaft won't hurt much, and if your enemy has armor…"

"So I have to hit faster…"

"Think in advance. A knight doesn’t want to get hit by your swings. That would be devastating. They'll do what I did, trying to close the distance and get hit with the shaft instead of the head. Most won't dodge because they know the armor is slowing them down. What would you do?"

"Change the trajectory of the axe while in motion?"

"Show me. I'll match your speed."

Vincent tried twice, with caution. The first time, he tried to pull the axe toward him at the end of the arch and missed her arm completely; the second, he pushed the axe forward, and her counter was even more efficient.

"You think too much. Let the swing go on normally, but move your body," she said.

Vincent's mind mind clicked. His moves were predictable. He had to add a surprise element to the equation. Swinging the axe, he let the momentum drag him laterally, almost letting himself fall. Raya's blade went wide, finding only emptiness. He was no longer there. The axe head arched higher, avoiding the arm and continuing toward the woman's neck. Gasping in surprise, he added a twist of both wrist and body at the last moment, making the weapon miss the mark and go over her head, then rolled on the grass, jumping back on his feet. A layer of energy shone over Raya's body, a sign she had taken the hit seriously.

"It's like the dance!" he yelled.

"The dance?" she furrowed her brow, resting the tip of her sword on the ground.

"The shepherd's dance. They use the axe to gain motion, twirl, switch angles!"

"A lot of dances take from fencing," she nodded. "Well done."

They sparred for another hour. Vincent gained a point in Body and learned that every weapon had its own trick: ways to flourish, change direction, parry, feint, gaining multiple dimensions through footwork. Raya taught him to use every part of the axe, hitting with the blunt part of the head or grabbing with the blade's hook. When tiredness grew and they started to lose concentration, they stopped, lying beside each other under the evening sun. It was romantic, but he didn't want to kiss her. The fighting had put him in a 'just comrades' mood.

"You're a great teacher," he said.

"You're a fast learner. And we touched only the basics."

"How…" he stopped and sighed.

"How did I become a Bogomil Amazon?" she turned to look at him, putting an elbow under her head.

"Yes… is it a forbidden subject? I don't want to offend."

"Forbidden? No. Sensitive, maybe… Do you know anything about us, Bogomils?"

"Not really," Vincent tried to appear sincere because there was a vague 'Middle-Age Heretics' memory from some history book read long ago.

"We follow the teachings of Brindabella, the archetype of—"

"I heard about her… she made a full bunch of Mongol tribes go extinct."

Raya laughed. "That was long ago. She learned from her mistakes. Now, she says that anyone, man or woman, should be free to follow their wishes, indifferent to how others think about them. Women should be warriors if they like so, and men care about the children and the house. She calls that getting over gender roles."

"It's common practice from where I came from… sorry… go on."

"There are three categories of Bogomils. Most live normal lives. The rest are divided into men who choose not to fight and women who do. Both train very hard for their sets of skills and… mate with each other. But the relationship between a Bogomil husband and wife is… open. We're not jealous of each other… It would be impractical. We spend too much time apart."

Vincent bit the tip of his tongue for a second but decided to ask, trying to calm his voice. "Do you have a—"

"I have a husband and twin daughters in Sofia," she said bluntly. "I haven't seen them in months. I plan to visit and spend some time with them next year."

That made Vincent happy and sad at the same time. He was safe from a long-term relationship… the thing that scared him most, but at the same time… he felt a small pang of jealousy inside.

"Don't you miss them?"

"Very much…"

"Why don't you go to visit them now? I don't care about the contract. If you want to—"

"And what about the others? They all have someone back home."

There was nothing to reply to that.

"Do you want to know why I chose to be a warrior?" she asked.

"Please tell me," he looked her in the eyes.

"I didn't want to be the one waiting for the bad news. Somebody has to fight. The Byzantines are assholes… they hate us because of our beliefs and try to conquer us every other summer. I wanted to be the one doing the fighting, not waiting at home for when a letter would come to say my husband has fallen in battle…"

She had tears in her eyes, but so did Vincent. He stretched his hand and fondled hers.