The Hatharen behind Tahrean barked out a laugh, causing Ferene to look at him more closely. Shorter than any other Hatharen she had seen, barely taller than Linara, the man was nonetheless wide-shouldered and built to the point where he looked to have more mass than the members of his people. He was the first Hatharen she had ever thought of as stocky.

“Sword and armor. Come back here.” When he spoke, his words were soft, but his voice deep. He crossed his arms and frowned at Ferene. She looked to Tahrean, who raised an eyebrow and gave her a half-grin. Nodding to the shorter one, Ferene ran off.

At her squad’s residence, Ilraghen now sat shoulder to shoulder with Rilya, the two of them whispering to each other, while Telhrian and Alri sat across from them. All four turned to look at Ferene when she arrived. Giving a small wave towards Rilya, she entered their shared dwelling, grabbing her gear. When she came out, her friend was standing, waiting for her.

“Ferene loves Rilya.” Raising a gauntleted hand to Rilya’s face, Ferene traced the line of her jaw, smiling. “Love.” Rilya’s concerned frown slowly vanished as she smiled back, nodding.

“Rilya loves Ferene.”

Ferene nodded to her, then turned to Telhrian. She tried to think of something to say to him, but couldn’t. She found herself unable to put her anger at him into words. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and then Ferene left.

Tahrean was not at the training area when she returned, but she found the other Hatharen standing towards the back wall. He waved her over, and she trotted up to him.

“Sword up.” Ferene slid into her fighting stance, and he frowned her at her. “Hold.” As she stayed still, he slowly walked around her. “Wrong.” Stepping up to her, he pushed her hands slightly, making a small adjustment to the angle she held her blade, tapped her elbows to have her pull her arms inwards ever so slightly. With his foot he pushed at her knees and feet, adjusting her stance, forcing repeated tiny adjustments as she overcompensated trying to do what he wanted. When he finally stepped back and nodded, she wasn’t sure how different it was from where she started. It didn’t feel any different.

“Sword down.” Ferene stood up straight, relaxing, only for a moment before he made another demand. “Sword up! Wrong!” He immediately stepped forward again, making the same adjustments as before.

“It doesn’t feel different.” Ferene said when he finished again.

“Don’t talk. Focus. Sword down.” This time he waited, watching her expression for a moment before making her assume the stance again. “Sword up!”

This time, she tried to remember the adjustments, taking a little longer to fall into her stance.

“Better, but wrong.” He shoved her into the form he wanted again. “Hold. Stay.” He walked behind her, out of her sight. She heard his footsteps get further and further away from her. It was embarrassing, but she did as she was told, standing still for several minutes before he came back. “Good.” Stepping in front of her again, he nodded at her. In one hand he held a muffin, and in the other a metal short sword. The blade caught Ferene’s eye - rather than steel, the blade was made out of something darker, almost black. “Fight.” For a moment, Ferene hesitated. He wore no armor, and still held the muffin in one hand. “Fight!” He said, louder, and haphazardly, lazily swung his sword into hers.

Ferene swatted the blow away, then moved to attack, poking at him experimentally. He easily parried the attack while taking a bite out of the muffin, crumbs falling to the ground.

Annoyed, Ferene attacked again, swinging faster, only to have it blocked just as easily. The worry of attacking an unarmored opponent quickly vanished, and she threw herself into her offense, attacking repeatedly, from multiple angles, weaving in feints before committing fully to a swing, attempting to overpower him. Her sword slid along the shorter length of his blade as he lazily redirected all of her strength to the side, taking another bite of his snack as he did so.

Ferene got angry. She knew she couldn’t beat Linara, and never got the chance to even try. The other Hatharen here had tested her, had beaten her down, establishing they were better, but pushing her to her limits at the same time. This one fought to humiliate her, he did not push her, but taunted her. She had to push herself. She fell back into her stance, took a deep breath, and adjusted. He raised one eyebrow at her, but gave no hint if she was holding it properly or not, aside from shoving the rest of the bread into his mouth. Once he started chewing, Ferene struck, a single, quick blow, focusing on speed rather than power.

“Wrong.” Ferene heard his voice, vaguely, distantly. Most of her focus was on her now-empty hands. She did not see the moment where he disarmed her. It was just like when Tahrean put her on the floor earlier. “Scone?” He pushed a pastry into her hands. Blinking, she took it from his hands. It crumbled as she bit into it. He laughed at her as she tried to catch the crumbs.

After Ferene managed to get most of the bread into her mouth, he picked up her sword and examined it more closely. “Hm.” He made an odd noise as he held the weapon up in front of his face with only one hand, looking at the crossguard and frowning. “Resh.”

“Resh?” Ferene asked, looking at him. She wanted her sword back. Watching him hold it made her feel odd.

“Knights of Resh.” He said, and took a deep breath. “Murderous lunatics. Big group, thousand years ago. Maybe less. Humans, all dead now.”

She held out her hand, and he handed the sword back to her. The weight of it being in her hands again felt good. She tightened her grip on it. Even though she had left it in the hut she shared with Rilya for most of the last few days, she suddenly found herself not wanting to be separated from it. Because he disarmed her so easily, or because of something else, she did not know. “I was told…” She tried to remember what the man she killed had said, before he gave it to her. “It is cursed.”

“Ha! Cursed sword!” He laughed. “Knights of Resh were cursed, but only them, and only by their own stupidity. Swords are just swords.”

“What did they do? What happened to them?”

“Warriors of justice, maybe. Random killers, maybe. Knight of Resh shows up in village, kills man. Says man was criminal. Maybe he stole, maybe he killed, maybe he raped. Maybe he didn’t. You don’t know, man is dead. Knight leaves.” He shrugged, then smiled widely. “Knight of Resh shows up at castle. Says to bring out lord. If lord comes out, lord dies. If lord hides, everyone hiding him dies, or the knight dies. If knight dies, more knights show up. So if knight asks for lord, servants give lord to knight. Knight kills lord, says he stole and cheated other lords, says he beat and killed and raped servants. Did Lord do that? You don’t know. Lord is dead. Knight leaves.” He pulled another muffin out from his pocket and bit into it. “First, people like Knights of Resh, but then fear. Then anger. Knight shows up, says to bring out a person. Nobody moves. Knight is not welcome. What does knight do? Kill everyone? Leave?” He laughed.

Ferene turned the sword in her hands, looking at the crossguard. Nothing about it stood out to her, she had looked at it plenty of times over the years. Her teacher stepped forward, placing his finger on the hilt of the sword, tracing the line of the crossguard to the very end, where it curved away from the hilt and towards the blade, the metal rolling inwards in a way that let her catch opponent’s blades. “Only Resh swords have a quillon like this. Idiots make sword to do many things instead of just being sword.” He patted her on the shoulder and took a step back. “Enough rest. Sword up!”

Ferene fell into her stance again, then quickly adjusted herself. He grinned at her, nodding once before he attacked. She did not let her surprise slow her down - he hadn’t attacked her before, only reacted to her swings. Ferene blocked the blow, following up with her own strike. The movements felt faster to her, more fluid. Deflecting her attack, he struck back. The two of them quickly fell into a rhythm of attack and counterattack, every attack he made from a different angle, at a different speed. Ferene felt the difference now, as she moved in and out of the stance. There was less tension, less focus on that and more on her opponent. He increased the speed of his strikes, but she did not strain herself to keep up, feeling almost as if she was in a trance, moving her much larger, heavier weapon in time with his smaller, lighter one, matching his speed despite her disadvantage. This was not a fight to the death, but one of instruction, somehow the clash of deadly steel turning into something peaceful, tranquil. Ferene smiled.

“Wrong.”

She saw it this time, but was still unable to stop it. His next attack was so much faster than anything before, but with her focus changed she was just barely able to track the movement as he slid his sword under hers and flipped it upwards, wrenching it out of her hands and into the air.

“Do not smile. You smile, you die. You have bad smile, but good frown. Be angry. You are good at being angry.”

Taking a deep breath, Ferene nodded. Something about the Hatharen made her think differently, act differently. Ever since she met Linara. She wanted to live, but she had to live for the same purpose as before. Picking up her sword, she closed her eyes. She thought of the woman Tollond dropped down the well - what was her name? She couldn’t remember. She thought of the soldiers that captured her, the noble man in the city that kept the children in his dungeon. She thought of Telhrian, coldly telling her about traditions. She thought about her mother, her father, and the men that raised her and forced her to fight. Anger filled her, and she fell into her stance again, facing the Hatharen. He looked at her and shook his head.

“Too much anger. Find balance. Fight like that and you die. Enough for today.” Sliding his sword into his belt, he walked away, leaving her standing there.

She went through her own exercises, her other stances feeling wrong, compared to the one that had been corrected. With a sigh, she stopped, her entire body feeling heavy. The other Hatharen were resting, the training area staying empty. Turning, she started walking back to her group’s home, and remembered that not everyone was resting. She wondered if Sathar and Filraehen had finished breeding yet. The thought felt wrong, but in feeling wrong it was right. There should be something wrong in making people do that. There was something wrong with Hatharen society. How could she have not seen it sooner?

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When she arrived, she found five members of the group sitting around lazily. Rilya hopped to her feet, stepping over to Ferene. Looking her over, still wearing her armor, Rilya gave her an odd smile. Ferene nodded to her, looking over the rest of them. Alri and Telrhian still sat together, the latter frowning as the former patted him on the back. Filraehen sat next to Ilraghen, leaning against him with her eyes closed. He looked much more relaxed now.

Ferene stepped towards Telhrian. “Where’s Sathar?” She didn’t let her anger get into her voice, but also neglected to hide it from her face.

“Sleeping. Exhausted.” He said, not looking up at her. “The males do not gain the same amount of energy as the females do.”

Responding only with a grunt of acknowledgment, Ferene turned to Rilya, grabbing her hand and pulling her into their own dwelling. Pulling off her armor, she turned to her friend and kissed her, deeply, on the mouth. “Love.”

“No.” Rilya pushed her - gently - away. “Love. No.” She gave a sad smile. Ferene frowned. Rilya frowned back, looking around the room. “Rilya loves Ferene.”

Nodding, Ferene fell onto the bed, letting out a sigh. Everything that happened made her angry. She wanted more distractions. She wanted Rilya. Maybe it was another stupid tradition, not allowing others to be intimate on their own. Rilya lay down next to her, wrapping her arms around Ferene. Burying her face in her friend’s neck, Ferene quickly found herself falling asleep.

The next morning was disappointingly normal. Filraehen made breakfast for all of them and they ate in silence as usual. Ilraghen sat between Sathar and Filraehen and showed none of his stress from the previous day. Maybe the three of them had worked it out. All of the odd behavior was just gone, forgotten about. Ferene made eye contact with Telhrian and he smiled at her. She glared at him, causing him to look away. He certainly remembered.

As they went about the rest of their morning routine, she realized that she might be treating him unfairly. If she understood things properly, Hatharen, despite being able to live long, rarely got to do so, because of the war they fought. The six members of her family were certainly not a wise and ancient group. How stupid were humans? Her family here couldn’t be more than five times as old as an old human, and even old humans were stupid. Maybe even stupider than younger humans, who were already stupid. She-

She was thinking too much again. Ferene took a deep breath, in then out. Perhaps they weren’t that stupid, if being around them made her think more. A troubling thought, more troubling was that she was still thinking.

She left early, though still making sure she finished her chores, moving laundry and feeding the chickens. She wanted to find her teacher, who she did not know the name of and had not set up another meeting time for, so she instead went to Tahrean. For once, she was not the only the one visiting their cave. Two Hatharen were already there, deep in conversation with the elder. Ferene waited patiently for them to leave before approaching.

“There you are. How did your instruction yesterday go?”

“I didn’t get his name, or when we would meet again.”

“Ah, Relgren is like that. A different generation. You’ll have to go hunt him down today, I’m afraid. However, I have an idea of where he should be.” Tahrean pointed, across the chasm and upwards. Ferene tilted her head, following their arm. Far above the other caves, she saw an opening in the cliff she never noticed before in her wanderings. Too high up for any bridges to lead to it, with no ropes hanging down.

“How-“

“’How do I get up there, dear Elder?’” Tahrean laughed. “I have completed half the challenge for you, you can’t expect me to complete all of it, can you? Go, and find your way to that place. Ask whoever will understand you, search wherever you can reach, and seek a way to ascend!” Giving another laugh, they turned and walked back to their hut. Ferene frowned and did not follow.

To start, Ferene crossed to the other cliff, putting her below her destination. Very briefly, she considered attempting to climb upwards, but decided against it, not having any experience in such things. Instead, she went to the back of each cave, looking for any tunnels that might lead upwards. Several of the caves she checked housed families rather than facilities, the groups of Hatharen usually ignoring her as she walked about. She searched from one end of the mountain to the other, and did not find any tunnels leading upwards.

Mildly frustrated, she went to the edge of the cliff, and looked for a way up, even if it did not lead her to the separated cave. Finding a lift basket, she got in and started pulling herself upwards. After a bit more than a minute of hauling, she found herself even with the cave, though it was too far from her to possibly get to, so she kept going until she reached the top of the cliff. She was on the farm side, rather than the flat side, looking up at the tiered rows of potato and various other plants. However, her goal was below her. Looking over the edge, down towards the cave, she saw no ropes leading down to it, either. Ferene walked along the path at the edge of the chasm until she was directly above her goal, and still found no visible way down. She briefly considered trying to climb down to it, but dismissed the thought as just as risky as climbing to it from below.

With no success on accessing it from the outside, she walked up the slope, further from the edge, to look for any tunnels that might lead down, though the sheer distance made it seem less likely. Her search, once again, did not yield results. However, she did find a coil of knotted rope. Collecting it, Ferene returned to the ledge, found a post attached to one of the boxes, and tested her weight against it. A minute of climbing later, and she arrived at her destination.

Relgren and Sathar sat on a bench, both of them watching her - Sathar with curiosity, Relgren with amusement - as she dropped onto the lip of the cave. Multiple benches were arrayed near the opening, and a large stone building dominated the back of the cave. Not only was the building made of stone, it was made of a single stone, seemingly carved directly from the rock, and the style of the building was distinctly military. Narrow, tall windows, reminding her of arrow slits, dotted the face of the structure, and the base curved outward except for the heavy wooden door set into a hole. Looking at this structure, even harder to reach than the other caves and presenting defiant exterior, Ferene finally saw Yonthal as a stronghold.

“You’re here, so we can start.” Sathar said, as the two of them stood up. It was interesting to see two extremes of Hatharen height together - Relgren only a bit taller than her, while Sathar absolutely towered over both of them.

“You were waiting for me?” Ferene asked as she followed them towards the building.

“Meeting.” Relgren didn’t provide any further explanation, and Sathar also fell silent.

Most of the building Ferene saw from the outside was taken up by an entry hall. Raised platforms lined the outer wall, allowing access to the arrow slits. The rest of the structure extended back further, into the mountain. More doors set into stone. Relgren lead them to one of these, and the three entered a large, round chamber with a single other door on the opposite side, lit by several torches. Six Hatharen sat in large chairs - the largest Ferene had seen since coming to the stronghold, far more elaborate than the simple wooden chairs in the caves below. They were arranged in a half-circle, all facing Ferene and her two companions as they walked in.

Six Hatharen together only meant one thing; this was a family, just like hers. Except these six dressed differently. Not wearing the standard, simple clothes that everyone else wore when not fighting, the six of them dressed in equally simple robes of deep red. One of them, to her left, leaned forward and spoke, “Ferene, you stand before the leadership council of Yonthal, the Northern Mountain Stronghold. After being informed of your circumstances, and your contributions, we took some time to discuss what should be done about you. We have invited two to speak for you; Relgren speaks in the place of Tahrean, who will not participate in this act of governance, but whose opinion we respect, and Sathar will speak as a member of your family, and also be a translator that you can trust. There will be a time for you to speak, but we will first talk to the other two. Do you understand?”

Ferene listened to the Hatharen talk, looking first at her, then at the other five, taking them in. It was impossible to tell the ages of Hatharen by looking at them, but she could only assume this was a council of older Hatharen, though obviously not as old as Tahrean, since she had been told he was the oldest by far. “No.” She said at the end. “Why am I here?”

The speaker paused, looking first at her, then at Sathar, and said something in their own language. Relgren barked out a laugh, causing some of the others to turn to him. Sathar responded, and then turned to Ferene. “By our own laws they are required to accept you into the stronghold. They are not required to let you become part of our family. A seventh member is not normal. You can’t join a different group because you don’t fit the requirements.”

“Because I can’t have children.”

“Yes.” Sathar said. He did not look away from her, did not speak with any awkwardness or hesitation like Telhrian would have.

“I don’t fit in because you all want children, and that’s a problem.” After she spoke, the Hatharen that spoke to her initially was talking, likely relaying her words to the others. Ferene turned to them. “I’m going to save you the time. You are right. I don’t belong here.”

The translator paused, looking at her in shock, and then relayed the message, and the others all frowned at her. One of the others spoke up. “Do you plan on leaving us, then?”

Ferene looked at him, took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.” She could sense Sathar stiffen beside her, a rare reaction. “I came here to learn, however, and I’m not done with that yet.” She turned to Relgren, and saw he wore a large smile on his face. “Will you keep training me? For how long?”

“You die before you learn everything.” His smile did not falter, though Ferene saw some of the others glance at him sharply. Her mortality was also something they did not usually deal with. “You learn fast. Two weeks, I make you beat Sathar.”

Ferene met Sathar’s eye, and he simply shrugged. Turning back to the six seated, she spoke to them again. “In two weeks, I will leave, and you do not have to worry about arguing on how to deal with me. Is that acceptable?”

Even before the translator was done talking, the others started to speak. In orderly fashion, each one spoke in turn, the others nodding or shaking their heads, before the next in line spoke. Sathar did not bother to translate any of it, simply watching with a neutral expression. Relgren’s smile seemed to grow only wider, his face almost glowing in the dim light from the torches in the windowless, featureless room.

The discussion was rather short, as after all six had spoken, the first one talked again, and all of them nodded. The translator stood and addressed Ferene. “We accept this. As long as you leave in two weeks, we will ask nothing more of you. Now go.”

Without any ceremony, the three turned and walked out.

“Why?” Sathar asked once they were outside of the building.

“I do not fit in here. You treat me better than anyone has, but I am too different. The longer I stay the worse it will get.”

“Rilya…” He said, letting the word trail off.

Ferene let out her breath, long and slow. “I need you to explain it to her. I think she already knows, but I’d like you to tell her.” He nodded.

As the three of them reached the edge of the cave, looking down in the cavern, Ferene still saw no way to return to the rest of the stronghold. Relgren knelt down and reached out into the empty air and seemed to grab something. He held a thick, sturdy rope in his hands, the fibers colored the same as the mountain and covered in some kind of dust, hiding it against the wall perfectly. Ferene stared at it as he hopped over the edge, sliding downward.

“All of us know about it.” Sathar said, waiting a moment before following suit.

After giving him enough time to get all the way down, Ferene grabbed the rope and slid down, using her feet against the wall to slow her descent until she dropped a short distance to a wooden scaffold connecting two caves. Looking up, she could not see the rope she had just used.