I walk up to the training sword I dropped and slip my foot under the pommel. I flip it up and catch the hilt with a backhanded grip. Rowland tenses and takes a half step towards me.

I advance very slowly inside his wooden two-handed axe's range, advancing little by little. He suddenly launches a probing swipe that I dodge by crouching and raising my hand to deflect the weapon with my own.

The impact is hard but manageable because it wasn't a head-on block. Rowland is much stronger than I am, especially in bursts. I would beat him in sustainability as well if my body wasn't falling apart.

I step further in his range before he can launch a second blow but he moves away to keep me in the zone that his axe's head can strike. I don't mind too much and maintain my slow advance, parrying an overhead blow with the minimum amount of contact.

“Too predictable.” I criticize.

Teaching him is helpful, although I would have preferred he use a liangi or greatsword. Rowland ignores me and keeps swiping with the likely aim of tiring me out. I let him because this is good training.

I take a large step forward to try to stab his front leg's thigh or knee but he slides his right hand up his wooden weapon's handle to launch a quick and vicious jab at my throat that could very well kill me.

I hurriedly raise my weapon, blocking his blow. The impact smashes my sword against my forearm and twists my wrist a bit but not much because I loosened my finger's grip. I let the pain sweep through me without resisting it.

He angles his axe's head from a horizontal inclination to a vertical one and leans in from above, making use of his weight and strength to try to break my adapting guard.

I bend along with the pressure, dispersing it by guiding his axe to my right side while preparing to counter-attack when his arms cross and he loses leverage.

Rowland immediately pulls his weapon back and retreats but I take two quick steps forward to enter his range with my wooden sword raised above my head for a downward stab.

Unable to kick or slash at me anymore, he punches forward with both hands to strike at my chest with the weapon-handle. I stagger back but it doesn't stop me from bringing my training sword down at his chest.

“My loss.” Rowland mutters.

“You sure you don't want to try a greatsword?” I ask, likely for the hundredth time.

“Those are less maneuverable, I couldn't switch to close-combat as easily.” He gives me the same reply as always.

“But balanced which makes them faster.” I note. “And greatswords have more reach, it isn't as easy to use the point of an axe's head to cut.”

“But I can't aim very well.” Rowland denies.

I nod silently, throwing an impolite glance at the scar going from his forehead to his left eye and down to his chin. A few silver nodes appear at the corner of my sight so I jump backward. His swipe flashes past me, disturbing strands of curly hair.

Whoosh. I grin at the sound of his training axe slashing into thin air, even though he could very well have murdered me right there and then if that wooden weapon hit anywhere above my shoulders and a few places below.

As I dodge a return strike, he decides to launch a flurry of quick, wide, and powerful swings while stomping ever closer. I dance away from the battleaxe, maintaining the distance between us without retreating so far he'll give up.

“Are you a windmill?” I ask sharply. “It's useless to go wide unless you're trying to buy some space! Swift and heavy blows are the way to break through.”

“I'm making you sweat.” He replies with a mean smile.

I nod briefly while I keep sliding back left and right to avoid being cornered as I dodge. He suddenly increases the speed of his blows so I narrow my eyes and stare at his axe.

As I predicted, he inclines it and suddenly strikes down at my front left thigh. I slide it back. As the sole of my boot scrapes the dust on the pavement, I launch a quick backhanded swipe that passes over his weapon's head to catch his right elbow.

“Stop.” I speak up. Rowland pulls his battleaxe close to his chest. “We both know you can defeat me that way, what's the point?” I ask.

“I wanted to see if I could catch you unawares.” He replies with a shrug.

“Good try, but it would only work on a battlefield.” I tell him. “Without ranks of people blocking my retreat, I can always run away or do what I just did if you try to aim for a leg.”

“Most don't have your reflexes or precision, it worked on Nahl.” He tells me.

“I suppose.” I admit halfheartedly. “But Leomi wouldn't even need to retreat. Try again, I'll show you.”

Rowland nods and starts swiping at me again. I resume dancing away, waiting for just the right moment. I catch his biceps tensing before the fourth strike. I flick my training sword inside my palm, changing my grip to a standard one.

He slashes out at my center-mass. I lean forward and pull my stomach in while bringing the pommel down on the flat of his axe's head as it brushes past me. The wooden weapons clash with a dull sound.

He struggles to control the arc of his battleaxe for just a moment which gives me the opening I need to extend my arm out in a vicious stab aimed at his rib-cage. Rowland retreats but I step in and the point impacts the right side of his chest.

“Anyone with two hands could have used, a palm strike with their non-dominant hand to, do the same thing but quicker.” I tell him, panting for my breath. “You need to be less predictable, and more flexible.”

“Aren't those the same?” He asks.

“No. Predictability means that your tactics are too rigid and your feints not believable enough. Flexibility means your attacks are too similar, anyone could read the arcs and timings after a while.” I explain, taking the advice for myself as well. “Figure out how to break your own rhythm or die failing.”

“Understood.” Rowland replies. “I'll hunt Nahl down to try it out.”

“Remember, swift and heavy to break a guard. Attack the weaknesses.” I advise him, leaving aside the fact he's trying to be nice by not pushing me to keep going.

He gives me a casual salute with two fingers and grabs his real battleaxe. I grumble internally because I find it stifling not to be able to use my preferred two-handed style or even a more brutal one-handed one because I lack the reach and strength against him.

I grab my jacket and throw it over my right shoulder with the sheaths that the Semplar girl gives me back. I then grab my relatively flat umbrella and hang it on my left shoulder to give Liz her shade before stepping inside the noisy workshop.

The master smith is watching an apprentice screw a metal strip engraved with runes to a plow. I blink in surprise because I didn't know they were this far along. The old man signals me to approach.

I throw looks around and figure out that the rest aren't anywhere near finishing even the heads which means they've been cooperating to finish one as fast as possible. I head over, slipping through the small corridors between the worktables.

“Dame Freepath, we'll be beginning the tests once you do us the honor to power the runic construct to settle it.” He tells me.

I nod and wait for the apprentice to finish putting the pieces together on the central beam. He doesn't completely finalize it to save time because it isn't necessary to add the handles or the clevis to attach it to a horse harness yet.

Once the apprentice is done, I place my hand on the plow's head. I carefully power the core and the segments one by one while keeping the functions in mind to settle the construct, admiring my own work in streamlining the runes.

There is no need to activate the runic construct but it only becomes complete once powered because otherwise the runes remain as meaningless scribbles. I step back and watch them run their tests of the plowing construct.

They activate each segment to make sure they made no mistakes and then activate the construct with various levels of energy. I don't stick around very long because I know it'll take a few days before they take a hammer to it in order to assess how resistant it is and whether it is dangerous when damaged.

The Templars insisted we be thorough in exchange for authorizing us to sell the plow without constraint. I leave the master smith and step in my workroom. I pick up the armor the Templars gave me and spread it over the table.

Ruined my morning. It might be fun. Still. I engrave a defensive construct in two parts on the inside of the cuirass, one for steel while the other is for the hardened and stubbed leather.

It gets a bit tricky to ensure the targeting segment affects every piece because the armor is made of several components but I solve the issue by making separate targeting segment runes on each armor piece, including the riveted chain-mail and my black hard leather armor.

Just as I finish the helmet's rune, someone knocks on the door. I open it and receive thirty portions of energy from a sweating courier of the flow merchants. I quickly store it inside my bloodstream and muscles before returning to my work.

I grab my single-edged broadsword and inscribe a plowing construct on the blade with a mean smile on my face at the thought of the damage it can do to exposed flesh for only a small cost in energy.

If I really need to fight, it would take me very little time to assemble an armor-sundering construct. Once I'm done, I grab the intricate Vuskyt mail-shirt the Rykz made for me and fit it under my hard leather armor. I then put the riveted chain-mail on and equip every piece of the scout armor, which takes me a good half-hour.

I admire the stubbed leather bands for how they protect my thighs and biceps without hindering my freedom of movement. I tighten the armor straps around my chest a bit even though it further restricts my breast and then loosen them just a bit.

Confident that my chain-mails are secure and won't bundle up under my armors, I fit the helmet on and slide it back on my head, which allows me to easily lower it while also restricting my hair. While the cuirass is made of steel strips and not plate, it should still be very sturdy.

There is a bulge for breasts that doesn't look good but it's practical, the main issue is that the hole for the left arm is a bit of a weak point but the left arm's stubbed leather bands cover it and there are two layers of mail separated by one of hard leather underneath so it's not too bad.

“This is a lot better.” I sigh in satisfaction.

“You want to go at it?” I ask.

“No, I'm resting.” I refuse, peacefully closing my inner eyes.

I smile and secure my belts around my waist and test them one by one, the two daggers, hunting knife, broadsword, and longsword. I hesitate to take my liangi's case but decide against it because it would defeat the point of wearing a relatively light armor considering the weight and size of it.

Liz, do I take your umbrella? No, you'll break it. I nod and head out, locking the room behind myself. Only a handful of apprentices notice me at first but they stop working to stare which triggers a cascade effect as pairs of eyes turn to me one by one.

“Miss Freepath?” Ms Conner calls out from the office. “You're not going after her, are you?”

“No. I'm pretty certain it's a ruse.” I reply. You didn't sleepwalk, did you? Don't think so. “I'm headed for the Keep.”

“In armor?” Ms Conner asks skeptically.

“Ingeld, Rahere, accompany Dame Freepath.” The master smith calls out.

“There is no need.” I speak up, raising my palm to stop the two sturdy apprentices who both have a stubble. “I'm simply going to meet a friend to find out if there is more to the rumor than what I've been told. If there is then I won't be fighting whoever is doing this alone, especially if it's truly Elizabeth Vil.” We're never alone anymore, sister.

“We won't drag you down, Dame.” Rahere speaks up.

“It's Jessica.” I grumble. “And, yes you will.” I utter forcefully. “This isn't a game, you won't be warned before being stabbed in the back or shot at.”

“Then you shouldn't be getting yourself involved either, Miss Freepath.” Ms Conner speaks up, breaking the awkward silence my words provoked.

“It's far too late for me.” I tell the middle-aged woman with a smile.

She frowns at me but I simply lower my hand. I give the crowd a nod before turning to push the double-doors open and depart. The Templars give me looks of concern as I step out, confirming my suspicion they're keeping an ear on the workshop.

Most of the Semplars throw me indifferent gazes, apparently more out of a desire to relieve themselves of boredom than anything else. Three of them stare at me with wide brilliant eyes. I groan inside and leave at double-pace.

The guards at the low wall's gate let me pass without issue and so do those at the Keep's entrance. I make my way through the hall and then upstairs, passing by the occasional representative, scribe, and servant. I receive as many greetings as dark looks.

I find Cecil sitting at her desk as usual but with a courier waiting by her side for her to finish a letter. I pull my sheathes back and sit on the chair to wait, taking the fact she didn't even look up that she's annoyed at me. Yet, there is no sign that she is when the courier leaves and she turns to me.

“I saw Roisia this morning, I didn't tell her anything if that's why you're here.” She tells me with a calm voice.

“On the contrary, from what I gathered, it seems you told her too much.” I tell her with a thin smile. “Otherwise, she probably wouldn't have figured it out.”

“Ah.” Cecil sighs. “Should I activate the soundproofing?” She asks.

“No, I didn't come here to deliver an undeserved tongue-lashing. It shouldn't have surprised me she put things together considering she had details from both Leomi's faction and you.” I tell her. “I'm more concerned about the rumor going around and wondering if you're not playing a game to get back at me for that motion I pushed.”

“Why would I do that? It's good and the other ideas you threw around are gathering support which helps me because people somehow believe you're an agent for me or Lance.” Cecil replies. “I haven't been able to track down the exact locations of the sightings but I do have a curious lead if you're interested.”

“Go on.” I encourage, not surprised in the least she could guess what rumor I'm talking about.

“Some of my people tell me they've spotted ex-Exemplar Vikiana around the north-west quarter of the city, in a street with only manors we've seized, most of the rumors came from there.” She reports.

I pause, rather baffled by the fact Vikiana hasn't sought me out considering she's in Meria. Still, it doesn't seem like an issue so I keep my attention on Cecil because I'm sure she has more to tell me.

“That's really all I could confirm. Could you think of any reason Dame Vikiana would be impersonating Elizabeth Vil?” She asks intently.

“A few, but it doesn't make sense from what I know.” I reply with a frown. “Not unless she's trying to bait me or my enemies.”

“But why wouldn't she come to you if that was the case?” Cecil asks rhetorically.

“Do you have anything unconfirmed?” I question.

“A kid was looking for Elizabeth Vil in that area as well, he was far more vocal than others with the same ambition but far less talkative about the kind of help he sought so I indirectly heard of it but that's the extent of what I know.” She replies.

“Another.” I grumble darkly. “E.Vil shouldn't be sought.”

“Cut the theatrics, Jessica. Do you want me to find him and send some silver again?” Cecil asks with a flat voice.

“Not unless you find out why.” I deny, feeling embarrassed. “I'll go check it out.”

“I figured as much considering the outfit.” She tells me. “Kid is about fifteen or sixteen, about as tall as you with wide shoulders.”

“I meant the rumor.” I tell her honestly.

“Sure you did.” She replies with a gentle smile.

“Don't.” I warn her. “How did they sneak into that quarter of the city anyway?”

“The Hospitaliers reduced the patrols to the minimum because only a few Noble houses still live there and they have their own guards. Besides, we've already begun ferrying people over to Port-Odo so we don't have the manpower for it and there are residential blocks nearby so it isn't difficult to sneak in.” She explains.

“Alright.” I tell her with a nod. “Can you arrange an increase in patrols for the next sixteen hours?”

“You expect a fight?” Cecil asks.

“I'm just going to look around but I'll likely stay overnight even if I don't find anything, I would rather have some back-up to call on.” I argue.

“Well, I suppose it won't hurt to make the Council's presence known but I'll have to ask for the Hospitaliers' help so it might take a while to notice an increase.” She agrees.

“Buy me dinner?” I ask.

“You eat too much.” She complains.

“I'm still growing up, and recovering.” I reply offhandedly.

“You're eighteen.” Cecil grumbles.

I ignore her and reach out to pick at the smallest pile of parchment rolls on her desk which is usually the one with the most important news. Cecil throws me a glare but she gets up and makes her way to the door to ask her guards to bring a meal.

I find a roll with the Order's seal and open it. Inside are news of the Empire's war with the Rykz which is apparently going pretty badly for both sides. The report mentions heavy casualties in both soldiers and equipment despite the fact there have been only skirmishes.

The Rykz have already lost ten thousand scouts at the lowest estimate by setting up thousands of ambushes that the Order believes are designed to slow the advance of the Empire's combined armies. It feels odd to be reassured by the fact no Princesses have fallen.

Cecil returns and says something but I hold my index out so as not to lose my concentration. It makes no sense for the Rykz to be giving ground even if the Empire has more troops than they expected, not after preparing their revenge for years.

“What do you think?” She asks.

“I think the Rykz want to make them use all the vials of pheromones they stockpiled.” I reply. “I'm not sure how ambushing an army would do that but I know that they can't permanently solve the problem unless they replace all their drones which isn't feasible in the short-term.”

“If you read to the end you'll see they're asking when our iron mines will be ready to start delivering ore so I assume they're targeting supplies.” Cecil says.

“How much ground did the Rykz lose?” I ask her, unwilling to go looking for a detailed map because it would be difficult to find one of the eastern borders.

“I don't know but I checked and the ruins mentioned were those of a city conquered about twenty years ago which means they gave up two decades of gains for very little.” Cecil replies.

“Hm.” I ponder. “It wasn't very little if it allowed the Rykz to be successful enough that the Order is taking steps to ensure there is a steady supply of iron ore.” I deny. “If I was in command, I would be nervous right about now.”