I mostly exist throughout the day, in no small part because of the drowsiness from Morgana's tea and my resolve to keep my mouth shut until it wears off. I swear that healer is going to be the end of me.

The blade strapped to my back is also eating a hole in my shirt as I speculate.

I get weird looks and odd glances from the men I'm training, but overall, they keep going as if it's just another day.

I suppose they expect a little weirdness from the Kursk.

"Do you think yourself better than us because of your strength?" Until that, the blade took the majority of my thought process, but now I must deal with people. Wonderful.

I believe I know who that comment came from, but I can't call Bob the Bully out for it since he shouted it from the back of the crowd.

Can't we show these pups who's boss yet?

And where exactly would that get us?

With a few less ungrateful brats?

Humor alights in my heart and makes the problem before me a bit easier to deal with.

"Tell me, who is the best among you?" I ask, throwing my voice to the soldiers and farmers who finally came together to fight a common enemy.

I just wish they would've found something other than me to find a common ground on.

"Leo!" a man shouts.

"Leo!" another says.

A man is brought to the forefront of the group.

I salute the man with a fist to my heart.

He stands there, watching me.

He's much shorter than I and stocky as a krisour. I imagine he has dwarf somewhere in his lineage.

"Leo. You are smaller than I expected." The man bristles, and I realize I said that aloud. Stupid tea. I clear my throat before asking what is truly on my mind. "What makes a man a warrior?"

He snarls at me. "I thought I came here to learn to fight, not to have a philosophical debate."

I like him.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I ignore my inner voice.

Some in the crowd behind the man laughs.

"What makes a warrior?" I ask again.

"His ability to kill," someone shouts.

"Swords and armor!"

"Luck!"

More snickers.

I shake my head. "What makes a warrior is not the weapons he wields, nor his abilities. Luck does have some to do with it," I concede, much to their amusement. "But what truly makes a warrior different? His heart."

That goes over about as well as I expect.

"Heart? What daggum worm is nestled in your skull?" Leo scoffs, arms folded across his chest.

I pace in front of the men gathered, the ones who assembled after it came to a head over a discussion about how one man looked like a cat doing the stretches... and then the rest decided they would not continue, not for me and not for themselves. It made them look too... odd. Humans are strange creatures.

"Heart," I shout above the clammer, regaining some of the attention. "Heart makes a man. Makes a warrior. Why are you here today? Did you join for blood? Did you join to protect your families? Did you join for your babe at home or for your friends by your side?"

"All of them," Leo answers, his eyes narrowed, but a thoughtful gleam within the hardness.

"That is your heart. That is your reason. That wins battles. That is why you are here today to learn from a Shifter who knows. A Shifter who's been there and wouldn't be here today without the heart of the people in this city. The compassion and honor and bravery HERE. WHERE DID THAT GO?"

"It's here," Leo whispers.

"Where?" I ask, looking him dead in the eye and challenging him as one wolf would another.

"Here!" he says, louder.

"WHERE?" I yell, turning my voice to encapsulate the many around me and leaning on the lessons a young boy found interesting from his tutors at a castle. A boy meant to lead... in another life.

"HERE!" the soldiers, farmers, and natives yell, shaking the ground at our feet and bringing silence from the market beyond the wall.

I hold up a hand to still the soldiers and farmers. "That is what Videlia is. She is the heart of her people, who fight for blood, love, honor, hope, and peace. This is why I'm here. This is what I will protect to my dying breath, here or elsewhere. This is why you fight. Heart."

"Heart," Leo echoes. "Heart," he says again, louder.

Then the men and women behind him take it up, shouting it to the heavens and making it a chant. Boots stomp and the foundations of the city are shaken by the cry of her people. Her warriors.

"Heart, heart, heart!"

I nod with a smile.

The chant eases as I hold up my hand. "Now, heart is not an easy mistress, but she is worth it. Do you want my help with her, or do you not?"

Leo holds his fist to his heart and bows.

"Yes, Sir Kursk," he says, eyes on the dirt at my feet.

I return the salute.

"I will join you all in the stretches this time. These old bones need it," I say, my grin wry and self-deprecating, earning a few chuckles. I didn't win them over fully, but it's more than what was.

Leo salutes again, and the crowd disperses into their normal groupings.

When I bend to touch my toes, my entire side flames and I get caught on the way back up.

"So, Sir Kursk isn't as healed as he's letting on, eh?" Jace says with a grin as he helps me up.

"Don't tell anyone!" I wheeze past my smarting side.

"You're less limber than I expected," Leo says from where he's stretching a few men down the line.

I growl at him, but that only makes the smaller man grin and salute me from where he's touching his own toes.

Laughter and good-natured teasing erupts from the soldiers and farmers, coating me in a cloud of humor.

They still haven't fully accepted me, but somehow, they respect me. And that, I hope, is all I need to shape them up into warriors that can kick some jingoist hiney—as Morgana would say.