Cornelia's gauntlets were thrown on the side of her bed and made a thin chime when they struck the floor. She could not believe how she got all these amenities to begin with. A room of her own, constant supplies of food where she could walk her way to the cafeteria and eat everything her stomach could handle, equipment and weapons made by the finest of smiths with durable and comfortable materials, and the best of it all: she gets to be paid in gold and not lose any of it while enjoying everything the Gray Fox offered.

All that was left on her body was the silken suit that buffered the armor plating and her undergarments. It gave off a cool sensation that circulated throughout her form, which made her keep the garment long after it had served its purpose.

She lay down, wondering what happened to the fallen enemies that they took prisoner. She could hear gunfire and the chimes of blades that erupted into a storm of flame and death. It was still difficult, for she at least had a degree of familiarity with those she and Gerhard attacked. Only the helm stood as a barrier between her job and the feeling that she committed an act of betrayal.

"Not like this. This is all part of the job. Just a job."

Memories of the operation denied her sleep at first. That smell of a burning warehouse nearby, the screams of the Yellow Empire dogs gunned down by the construct squads, and the empty stares of corpses that she either passed by or those who fell to her blade. Why did it have to be them? The swordswoman treasured no friendship with any of them, even during those times they had to get the better of a rival gang. She talked to them, ate with them, and fought with them.

None of those mattered anymore. Most of them were dead, with those that remained may soon join them. Cornelia would have to forget them. Besides, she was fighting under another man's employ - none of them would have bothered to find out who the armored warrior under the helm was, and any one of them would have given her death if she decided to not use her sword that night.

Sleep could not join her yet. She propped her feet against the wall, allowing the air to cool her thighs. This was the life of a sellsword after all - a dance of life and death, where nothing lasted. Those who hired you yesterday could and would become your targets tomorrow. It was too late to regret, she thought; there was no use to even find a sense of doing so either. Cornelia closed her eyes; the image of the magician flashed out of the dark, his voice trailed off in a broken echo saying:

"...there are... other ways to make good use of their services."

Strange man. She respected his words out of loyalty to the employer, but she always wondered what ran inside Gerhard's head when he thinks and speaks to her that way. Her head slacked and leaned to her right. Cornelia's eyes sprung open, wondering at what those means were. Nothing was entering her mind on the fate of the fallen members of the Dragon's Claw. She was too tired to move her arms, even more, to think of what happened after their attack on Altrecht.

"Of all the voices to make me remember, it has to be that man's..."

With her frame relaxed and thoughts turned away from the world, Cornelia eased herself to rest.

††

She jolted off the bed and looked at the silver wall clock above the door. Her sleep made her neither tired nor invigorated; the cavern facility made no distinction of night or day and all she could do was to 'feel' what time it was.

Cornelia started to get ready for a trip by shedding the silver undergarment from last night. She had put on her old swordsman's shirt and pants worn from her first time setting foot on the Gray Fox's lair.

"I'll sweat out of these ones anyway..."

Her wrists were buttoned up, her feet slipped into a pair of brown boots. Cornelia tightened the straps and fixed the pant legs, although her efforts only managed to make her apparel look less crumpled than before. She got out of the room while fixing her hair to a bun and went to the armory just a few doors away from the barracks. Cornelia was inside a gray room where the walls felt cold, yet dry to the touch. Swords, rifles, and handheld cannon were lined up on many racks and wall-mounted cabinets. Something at the far back of the area caught her eyes – an item the woman did not expect to find amongst hundreds of steel-made armaments inside the place. She was about to go near the rack when the door opened; a uniformed man holding a coffee pot and mug looked at her with a narrowed gaze.

"Uh... hey. You must be the man in charge here." Cornelia held an imitation bastard sword with a wooden blade. She waved the weapon around at the partly-stunned clerk. "I'll borrow this, if you won't mind."

She got out of the place right after the man nodded thrice. Cornelia was able to find the exit where Winston Norton first brought her to the Gray Fox's lair. A guard scrunched up after hearing the echoes of her shoes hitting the metal flooring of the stairway platform and checked on her until Cornelia got inside the elevator car that led to the surface entrance. Long droning noises were in the air as the mechanism slowly brought the gondola to the top layer of the facility; Cornelia could smell damp moss even before the elevator reached its destination.

A few fingers of sunlight punched through the Antikwald; her nose was picking up not only the usual scent of earth but also the air made by leaves that rested on top of trees. She found a clearing where the sun entered the woods almost unopposed; a yellow brilliance highlighted the ground that was free from plant growths. On the edges of the clearing were gnarled tree roots and a few rocks where she could sit after her routines were done. Cornelia enjoyed this solitude, where no buzzing machines and the echoes of talking men or puffing mechanisms could disturb her. Her ears welcomed the chirping of birds and the uncommon rustling of leaves done by an animal passing by the woods.

Minutes of arm-stretching, knee-bending, and body-twisting gave way to the real exercise; Cornelia held the false weapon by the hilt, closing her eyes as she began striking and swinging the blade on an imaginary opponent. Her movements had no rhythm, yet it held a playful grace of one who danced with a baton. A jump here, a parry there, and the scraping of her boots from almost everywhere – her body had no loyalty to one nation's sword art. She spun the weapon in front, on her sides, and even overhead, entranced by the air the whooshing wood made with each completed axis. Cornelia moved around the place, deflecting, slashing, and thrusting at the shadows the trees cast on the clearing. Her eyes were reopened when her body was returned to the center of the area. She stopped with her eyes on the flat of the sword when she heard the sound of clapping hands from behind.

"Splendid. I've never seen such a random swordplay practice in my whole life. I'm quite impressed."

"I didn't know magicians are into stalking for a hobby." Cornelia set her wooden weapon to the ground and turned to see her audience with a sweat-polished face. "Have you been watching me all this time Gerhard?"

"The entrance guard called my attention when he asked for the name of a woman in men's clothes armed with a false blade. You were a bore to watch at first, so I decided to get something from inside." Gerhard tossed a canteen her way. "It turned out that you'll be more exciting when I returned."

Cornelia caught the container by the strap; her face had a strange glow that reflected in the sun before she said, "Uhm... thanks."

They went to an outcrop near a large tree that shaded the two from the sun. Cornelia sat on one of the tallest rocks and chugged water down her throat. Gerhard wasn't looking straight at her though; all the sweat made her form more prominent to the man's eyes. She then untied the knot that kept her hair in a clump and let the wind dry it.

"You are aware that we do have a training room for these kinds of activities, Cornelia. The Master wouldn't like it if somebody sees you doing your exercises in this place."

"I see your point, but I don't think anyone would be going around in the middle of the forest looking for a woman swinging a piece of wood. Besides, your training room is nothing but a gray room with lots of mats and props. I prefer my sunlight and fresh air over that drab place of boredom." Cornelia smoothed her locks with her fingers. "Since you're here, I'll ask you this: do you need to practice hand-waving and chanting when you do your fireballs and thunderbolts?"

"Actually I am not required to chant my spells." Gerhard's eyes tried to slip away from Cornelia's sight at first, but he ended up having to stare at her. "Chanting and incantations are for wizards who rely on grimoires and other mystical texts to practice their craft. I was not found to need those; a natural talent as my masters remarked."

"Wow." Cornelia's stare showed an eagerness to listen; her head rested on top of her hands supported by the prop weapon. "Unique among magicians huh? So, how did your masters teach you, being the rare guy that you are?"

"I received the same training as my peers, but I just got past those faster. Most of the instruction I received was far from what the schools teach wizardry hopefuls." Gerhard's voice lost some of its dryness when he continued, "it was fun when it lasted."

"Sounds like I opened something I shouldn't know. I think I'll stop on that part." Cornelia drank the last of the water and sat straight looking at the darkness beyond. "Since we get to perfect our moves by doing the same thing all over, do you have to exercise your hands with all those spells?"

"There's no correct hand movement with my spells," Gerhard answered. "It is a matter of making your mana, your energy, and your thoughts one when shaping the element you desire to form."

"So, you can make a firestorm of sorts if you want to?"

"I could, but that will cost me a lot. I would not be able to cast anything for quite a long time if I do that."

"You gave me an idea." Cornelia stood up; her face in front of Gerhard. "All I can do is to wait until you run out of your... magic juice and then I can take you out."

"That is, if I haven't hit you yet." Gerhard's confidence gathered in a smirk as he looked right back at the swordswoman.

"We could give it a try some other time. I'd like to find out how it is to go up against weird men like you."

"Be reminded that I cannot create false flame spells for us to practice on." Gerhard got out of the outcrop and walked behind Cornelia. "Besides, I do not have any intentions of fighting you for any reason."

"We can never tell." Cornelia handed the canteen back to the wizard. "Anyway, thanks for the water, and also for being good company. You could at least give me a hint that you're watching instead of being spooky and all coming from behind."

"My apologies, Cornelia."

"It's fine." The swordswoman looked back at Gerhard and smiled. "I'm not used to working long terms with employers. I'm more into the 'give me a job, I'll do it and I'll leave you alone' kind of deals. Never mind that, let's go back."

Gerhard smiled and shook his head before resuming the walk back to the lair entrance.