“So, where is Alyx?” Cass asked when they got up to the empty training yard. It was on the top of the Spire the manor had been built into. It was simultaneously natural stone and the manor’s roof.

“The lady’ll be along in a bit,” the old guard said. He walked up to the rack of wooden training weapons, selecting a short sword and giving it a test twirl. “I thought it’d be best if the two of us had a chat first though, so I figured I’d invite you up a touch early, is all.”

“A chat?”

The man nodded. He jerked his head toward the weapon rack. “Take your pick.”

“Is a weapon needed for a chat?”

The man nodded.

“Why?”

Marco lowered his sword. “Are you a Martial or a Merchant, girl?”

“I’m sorry?” That was the strangest dichotomy Cass had ever heard. “I don’t think I’m either.”

“Everyone’s got a role in this world. Nothing wrong with being someone who’s protected rather than one who protects. Just ask Telis, yeah? Just don’t pretend to be one when you’re the other.”

“I don’t think I’m pretending to be anything.” That wasn’t wholly true, but it was true enough in this context. The things she was pretending had more to do with her status as Human and her nature as Cass of Earth.

The man grunted. “You survived Uvana. Saved my lady the way she tells it. No merchant or craftsman could do such a thing. You ran into the fires in that village, bloodthirsty as the best of us. Not the actions of a craftsman.

“Yet that body of yours has never experienced a day of training. That body isn’t a martial’s body. The way your eyes shirk away from bloodshed, those aren’t a martial’s eyes. The knees knocking together before death,” he shook his head, “Not a martial’s reaction, not by a long shot.”

“I’m sure Alyx mentioned I’m not from around here,” Cass said.

He nodded. “Says you’re from another world. That’s why I got to know. Are you someone who can and will protect my lady or someone she needs to protect?” He raised his sword. “So let’s chat, me and you. Let’s see which is pretend and which is true.”

Cass shook her head. “I’ve fought to survive, but I’m not a ‘martial’, whatever that means.”

He lowered his sword and raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

Cass nodded.

“Hm. I’d like to see how you handle yourself all the same.”

Why?

“If you stick around my lady, it’ll be good to know how well you survive without help. She’d be upset with me if you got yourself into trouble that I couldn’t get you out of.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Not that she was any happier about it.

She approached the wall of weapons anyway. She’d only taken up a staff in the wilderness because that’s what was available. But with all these weapons in front of her, she was still looking for a staff because it was the only one she knew the first thing about fighting with.

Staff Mastery spotted one on the edge of the wall. It was about a hand longer than the stick she usually used, but the weight was familiar in her hands.

Marco had found himself a shield while she’d equipped herself with the staff and waited for her in the open sand training yard. He waved her over impatiently.

“Shouldn’t we wear armor or something?” Cass asked as she joined him.

“What’s your Fortitude?” he asked.

Cass’s eyes widened and shot toward Salos. You said people didn’t just—

“Rough range, girl, no need to panic,” Marco assured her.

“Um, it’s in the teens?”

He made a grumbling noise. “I can work with that. You’ll be okay.”

That did not fill Cass with confidence. “And should you wear something?”

He laughed. “If you hurt me with that stick, you can boast to any who’ll listen about it.”

Cass’s confidence continued to plummet. “O-okay then?”

He nodded. “Basic sparrin’ rules, yeah?” He must have noticed the lack of recognition in Cass’s eyes because he elaborated, “We’re just looking at weapon skill first. No magics, no active effects, just mastery and movement skills. And any Concepts you got.

“You should go all out. Don’t worry about hurting me. If you have enough Strength to give me bruises, I’ll eat my shoes. I’ll be pulling my strikes, but still expect them to smart a touch.”

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Cass nodded. Her hands fell into comfortable places along her staff, her feet spreading to a steady stance.

“Let’s begin.” The guard gestured her forward with his sword.

Cass swung down with her staff. Marco knocked it to the side effortlessly with his sword.

“Hit me harder. Like you mean to kill.”

But Cass didn’t mean to kill. Cass didn’t even want to hurt the man. She swung the staff again all the same.

He knocked it wide with the same effortless ease as the first, his eyes dead and bored with the affair. “Is this all you have?”

Cass shrugged. “Yes?”

He shook his head. “This was not how you attacked the bartiang. Show me that ferocity.”

That fight was all a blurred panic now. Just smoke and heat and pain. A desperate need to hit faster and harder. To save one more person. How could he compare now to that?

“Fine, I’ll go. See what you can deflect.” That was all the warning he gave before he leapt forward, his sword snaking past her staff to her ribs. The wood rapped hard against her. Air fled her lungs and Cass doubled over in pain.

He pulled back again, shaking his head. “Come on. Make this a little interesting.”

Cass grit her teeth. Why was she doing this? She wasn’t a fighter. She didn’t enjoy it. Why would she do this in her free time? Why was this something civilized people did?

“Is that all?” He leaned over her, a heavy scowl on his lips.

“What do you want from me?” Cass shouted back.

“Effort,” he growled.

Cass pushed herself back to her feet. Effort he said. What? Effort to kill him? To hurt him?

He was swinging at her again. Dodge was ready this time. It whispered directions. She followed them, slipping around the sword strike. Staff Mastery suggested a follow up strike. She followed through, jabbing the staff forward with all her weight behind it.

He deflected with his shield. “Better.”

Cass swung again, her staff whipping around to his sword side, going for his shoulder. He stepped back, out of the way of the strike, before jerking forward again after the blow, his sword slapping at her hands.

Cass hissed in pain, but her hands didn’t let go.

“Good, don’t drop the weapon.” He nodded to himself and blocked Cass’s next strike and the next.

He was better than her. Much better. His sword was always where it needed to be to block her next strike. His shield covered his body, yet was never in his way. He was much stronger than her. She could feel it in the reverberations that rang up the staff as their weapons clashed. And this was while he was holding back.

It was to be expected; he was well over her level for one and had a literal lifetime of experience sword fighting for two. It shouldn’t be surprising he could hold her back this easily.

She just needed to hold out until he was satisfied. She had nothing to prove. She wasn’t a fighter. She had no stake in this fight.

And yet, there was a pounding in her ears. Her heart was pounding. Why? She wasn’t in danger. He was more than skilled enough to ensure that much.

But if it wasn’t fear, then what was this that gripped her? The buzzing in her body was just the reverberation of his heavy strikes, right? The burning in her chest was a creeping dread, right?

It couldn’t be excitement, could it?

That was madness. No.

It had to be fear. An association with her weapon eliciting a fear response even though, logically, she knew herself to be in no real danger. That was it.

She couldn’t like this.

And yet, as she dodged another sword strike, she couldn’t help but feel like she could do more than just dodge. As her staff was deflected wide, she could see the path she needed to make another strike before he could pull his sword back to center.

She was faster. She knew it in her heart. The wind whispered it around her. She was faster. Could always be faster if she wished for it.

And she desperately wished for it.

Another sword strike. She dodged to her right, the side Marco held his shield. Faster than she’d moved so far, she kept going, darting around the shield to his back.

Her staff swung down, aiming for his head. His body turned. Fast enough, she missed the back of his head. Not fast enough to avoid her entirely.

Her staff smacked into his shoulder. The sound of the impact reverberated through the training yard.

She froze.

He hissed in surprise, turning to face Cass. “Why’d yah stop?”

Cass stared at him blankly. “I hit you.” Was he okay? He said he would be, but he also hadn’t planned on being hit, had he?

He rolled the shoulder and shrugged. “Smarts a bit. But you could’a done a lot more there if you hadn’t stopped. You move pretty fast when you want to, don’t yah?”

Cass shrugged. “I guess?”

He snorted. “I think I see where you stand, all the same. We’ll spar nightly while we’re both in town. Starting tonight after dinner.”

“Why?” Cass stuttered out. Her hands were still buzzing with that nameless emotion she could only call fear.

“You’re scared of hurting people,” he said. “If you’re gonna fight people, you need to beat out that impulse.”

“Beat out?” Cass repeated dumbly.

“How else you gonna get over it?” He walked back to the racks, hanging up his equipment.

Cass stood dumbly in the center of the training ring. She didn’t want to beat up anyone.

“Besides, you need to work on your weapon mastery skill. Was that a Staff Mastery or a Spear Mastery?” He looked back over his shoulder at Cass.

“Staff.” Cass followed him to the rack and set the staff down.

“Hmm. Self-taught?”

Cass nodded.

“You’ve picked up a number of spear habits, from what I can tell,” he said.

“Oh. Well, sometimes it’s a glaive,” Cass said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Show me.”

Cass picked the staff up again and willed a Wind Blade to the end. “I don’t know if you can see it, but I’ve placed a blade of wind on the end there.”

He squinted. There was no way he could see it. Wind Blade was invisible without Atmospheric Sense or Mana Sight. Cass doubted he had Atmospheric Sense given that was a racial skill she’d gotten for being slyphid. Mana Sense was possible though, she supposed.

“Hold it still,” he said, reaching out along the shaft with a hand. His hand hovered over the length of the staff up to the Wind Blade and past it. He nodded to himself. “How much control do you have over the shape and size?”

“This is default,” Cass said. “But I can change most of the parameters if I need to. I’ve made it pointier for stabbing or more wedge-y for chopping. It’s better at slicing, no matter the shape.”

He nodded to himself. “I’ll find a training glaive for you to practice with too, then. We can practice with both.”

Cass was about to ask why again when the door to the training yard swung open.