It took Thorn the better part of a month before realizing his pupil was better with a shield than with any other weapon. Keyna was average with a sword, had trouble aiming her bow and couldn’t figure out the right stance with the spear but with a shield? With a shield, she mowed down all three of the straw puppets Thorn set up in the courtyard of his inn. With a shield, she blocked and attacked during his sparring sessions with her like she’d never done anything else. It almost looked like the shield was an extension of her body. The eight-year-old threw all of her agression in fighting, all of her vengeance and anger. During of their sessions, he tried to explain her the importance of inner peace. ‘I see you know how to fight. Great. But you can’t fight like that for hours. It’s all in here.’ Thorn tapped his head. ‘Fighting is won by technique as much as it is by keeping your mind at peace. You have to think while you fight. No use in just attacking without inner focus.’ The girl looked at him as if his mutant arm had suddenly grown back. ‘Why should I meditate? I fight well with the shield, right? I don’t understand.’ She glanced at the three straw dummies, each floored in a matter of seconds using the rim of her shield. ‘You will understand. Now it might just be some dolls or this old innkeeper but there will come a time when you fight with someone who’s not playing any games, who’s out to hurt you. You won’t survive if you don’t know how to keep calm in combat situations. Wait, I have something for you.’ He handed Keyna an old book. ‘What is this?’ Thorn smiled, thinking back on his old career. ‘That contains everything I know about battle. You won’t find any techniques in there. It’s a collection of diary entries, statements, anecdotes and interviews I made during my time in the army. Keeps you grounded, and reminds you of always keeping your inner peace, no matter what happens. Good luck with it.’ Keyna looked at it sceptically but during the evening, Thorn saw her reading the book like the world around her had ceased to exist.

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They were training when the soldiers came. A small squad of men, bearing the Royal crown on their tunics and dressed in blue liveries, rode into town a couple of weeks after Thorn had given Keyna his book. The man who rode in front, the captain, looked at Bellrun like noblemen would sneer at a pile of shit. His bald head was ornamented with big red scars and he was a bear of a man, physically imposing on anyone he’d stand opposite of. The captain climbed from his horse and watched the innkeeper and the girl as they trained on blocking arrows with her shield. Thorn had one of the local hunters shoot a bow at her. He was just about to give feedback on her latest attempts when his eyes caught the captain, watching them from a distance. An old familiar fear suddenly strangled his ability to think. Ashes. He found me. How? Fuck. The captain displayed a dramatic display of faked interest in their training. Then he grinned. ‘From warrior to innkeeper and even teacher, I see! Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Thorn, let’s make this easy: come with us or we burn your village down.’