“Are you sure it is not a problem that General Arthur knows who you are?” Charly asked.

I looked over at the general as he organized the surrounding troops into prearranged groups. He looked up and our eyes met for a brief moment. As if electrocuted, General Arthur jumped and he quickly diverted his eyes towards anything else.

“It is fine.” I replied with a grin, “The church is a branch of the Fourth Division and has existed for nearly a thousand years. They are far more powerful and influential than they will ever publicly admit. The General will not risk their wrath over my identity.”

My dad frowned as he spoke, “I have seen the general stare down an invading army armed with nothing more than a fruit knife. He was never once afraid like this. I should go talk to him, explain things a bit, see if I can calm him down. In the meantime, you kids go bring these supplies to your mother.”

My dad handed Charly, Donte, and me a large sack each. I nearly lost my balance from the sudden weight and stumbled to right myself. I was amazed, my dad had been holding three of these like it was nothing. Was he always so strong? I struggled just holding one sack. It felt like someone had filled it with rocks.

My legs shook and my arms burned with each step, but I managed to carry my large sack out of the tower without anyone’s help and without dragging it on the ground. A short way from the tower, our wagon had become a hub for dozens of soldiers. I sat the sack of, what I could only assume was dirt disguised as food, down at the base of the wagon. One of the nearby soldiers helped me load it into the storage compartments.

I took a moment to pet the two stallions, Mordere and Mitis, before running around to the back of the wagon. My mom, and six other injured, were packed inside. I carefully squeezed past the other injured so I could see how she was doing.

In the corner of the wagon, I saw Nox and Sylvie fighting over a ration one of the soldiers must have given them. I had not spent much time watching Nox since we entered the mist, but nothing seemed to have changed. He was still constantly hungry and completely devoured anything he found that was edible. Meanwhile, Sylvie just seemed to enjoy teasing the small kitten by stealing his food.

My mom smiled weakly as I approached. She still looked pale even after a night’s rest. “You should really keep those two under control better,” she said, gesturing towards the two small animals with her one good arm.

I scowled at them, but only Sylvie listened. Nox took her moment of distraction to quickly gulp down the entirety of the ration they had been fighting over.

“How are you feeling mom?” I asked, deciding to ignore the animals for now.

“Like I was trampled by a stampede of horses, but I will be fine. Do not worry about me.”

I nodded, gently hugging her neck. I was careful not to touch her anywhere that might be injured, before leaving her to rest. Once I got out of the way, Charly squeezed past me and started criticizing my mom for not changing her bandages. The two bickered about whether or not it was necessary, bringing a smile to my face.

Stepping out of the wagon, I saw Donte fidgeting uncomfortably. “Is your mum ok?” he whispered.

“Worse than she is willing to admit, but I think she will recover fine once the healer gets the chance to look at her,” I replied with a sigh.

Donte let out a breath of relief. “That is good.”

I nodded silently, before moving to the side of the wagon where the wooden training blades hung. I pulled one out for myself as tossed another for Donte

He caught the blade out of habit but looked at me with uncertainty. “What… what did I do wrong this time?”

“Nothing, but I need a training partner. I am tired of always being so useless when my undead are not around. It is time I took things seriously. I need to get stronger, but I cannot increase my innate talent’s strength very quickly, so that leaves physical skills. It is about time I got used to fighting in this body, and you are going to help me. We should have an hour or so before the army marches out of here.”

Donte nodded nervously as he pointed the wooden sword towards me. I lowered my stance and raised my own blade. I kept my muscles loose as I tried to remember the lectures Kora, the Blade Calamity, used to give. I had never cared much since I almost always had an army at my disposal, but a few of her lessons had been literally beaten into me. There was a style she enjoyed using that might work for my current circumstances. I just had to figure out the best way to integrate what I remembered with my current diminutive size and strength.

Donte attacked first. He gripped his sword with two hands and swung straight downwards with all his might.

I shifted my body to the side. Holding the blade with only one hand, I raised my sword to meet his. The tip of my sword was facing down at an angle, and when the two blades collided, his sword slid down mine before sailing harmlessly past my body.

Donte blinked a few times in confusion but did not hesitate to strike at me again with a sweeping blow from the side. Rather than step back and block, I took a large step forward. I was so close to him that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Donte had to stop his swing and leap backward to avoid getting stabbed by my own blade. He grit his teeth, and I could see the determination in his eyes as he stabbed his blade forward.

Once again, I raised my sword to meet his, but there was no clank of wood as the two swords met. Instead, my sword moved along with his, gently pushing. It was only a small nudge, but it was enough to make his stab fly harmlessly past my side. Before he could pull his blade back to strike again, my sword snaked past his arms before lightly resting against his throat.

Donte looked down at my blade in befuddlement. “What was that?”

“It is a style the Blade Calamity created. I am not sure if she ever named it, but she described it like a leaf in the wind. Never meet force with force. Instead, you move with the opponent. It is meant to be a soft, flowing, and extremely mobile style. It is especially effective against opponents that are physically stronger than you, but slower. The problem is that it is also an extremely demanding style. You have to be able to accurately predict your opponent’s moves and react without any delay. If I tried to use it against someone with as much combat experience as my dad, it probably would not work with my current level of skill. That is why I need you to help me practice.”

Donte nodded as he raised his sword. his eyes burned with determination. For the next hour, he and I sparred without rest. By the time General Arthur was ready to begin the march, we were both dripping with sweat and panting heavily. At first, I had been able to trounce Donte easily, but as my stamina wore thin it became harder for me to move fast enough to redirect his blows. It was only once I was completely exhausted that I began to see the flaws in my own movements. I tried to correct them, but I knew I would need a lot more practice with this style before I could use it in a life and death situation.

“Fighting you is infuriating!” Donte shouted as he collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, “More than half my swings only hit air, and the other half feels like I am trying to swing my sword underwater.”

I forced myself to keep standing, even though my muscles screamed at me for rest. I leaned against the wooden blade as I struggled to catch my breath. My mouth was dry and tasted like dirt. I had not been this physically exhausted since the day I forced this body to sense chaotic energy when I first became Wren.

I took a few deep breaths as I tried to get my breathing under control before I spoke, “Your way of fighting is too direct. You never use any feints or misdirects. It is too easy to predict. If you ever want to beat my dad or me, you need to learn to strike in ways your enemy does not expect. Do not always put your full force behind every blow. Mix light, quick movements into your swordsmanship. Only fully commit with all your strength when there is an opening or you need to force an enemy back. If you can learn how to do that, you will have a much easier time.”

“Feints and misdirect?” Donte mumbled as he collapsed into the dirt, sprawled out as he watched the ever-changing faces in the mist above.

While the two of us tried to recover our strength, my dad walked over with General Arthur in tow. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the two of us disheveled and exhausted. “You know we still have an entire day’s march ahead of us, right? General Arthur wants to catch up with the civilians before they get out of the mist. It will not be a leisurely walk.”

I grimaced, realizing my already exhausted muscles still had more abuse to suffer before the day was through. I hated physical training like this. I much preferred to just use my innate talent to increase my body’s strength, but after my little stunt back in Téves, Aurielle’s flames were at an all-time low. I could not afford to waste them on repairing my body anytime soon.

My dad sighed as he looked down at me. “If it is too much, you can ride on top of the wagon’s roof for a while. Just remember, there are actual injured that have trouble walking still. Do not take a place where they can sit just because you did not plan ahead.”

“I can manage. It is just a bit of walking,” I replied firmly.

My dad nodded. “Good. Now, General Arthur wanted to talk to you… alone. Be nice. Understand?”

“Yes dad,” I said, not quite able to look him in the eye. I forced my tired muscles to move as I followed General Arthur further away from prying eyes and ears.

“Should I congratulate ye on your rebirth?” the General said, still looking nervous, “Renald explained your circumstances to me… I wish ye had not chosen the body of his daughter.”

“Would you rather I died?” I replied, placing my hands on my hips, “We are both in here, it is not like I am a corpse running around with Wren’s face. I can bleed and cry the same as anyone else, and honestly, it is getting harder and harder to tell which of us is actually talking most of the time.”

“That is… interestin'," General Arther said, shaking his head, "I have known Renald since he was barely older than you are now. I don’t want him gettin’ hurt.”

“They are my family. I will never hurt them.”

General Arthur looked deeply into my eyes for a long moment, examining me. I did not shrink back despite the discomfort I felt from his attention.

“Either you really mean it, or you are one of the best liars I have ever seen,” the general said with a smile, “Ye do not look anythin’ like the stories say, so I am going to choose to believe the former. If ye really are Renald’s daughter, we might really be able to become friends. Just call me uncle Arthur.”

“Absolutely not.”

General Arthur laughed loudly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “All jokin’ aside, I am glad ye are here. The church has been in a complete state of panic ever since they learned Envy is returnin'.”

“Can I expect anything from the Fourth Division?”

General Arthur shrugged. “I may still be a part of the church, but I left before becoming a full initiate. I am not privy to information like that. I am, however, the one they put in charge of their regular forces. When Envy invades, I will lead them to the fight. You bein’ here makes my life easier. The more I know about Envy the better I can respond to his attack. I would like to know your plans, and anythin’ ye can tell me about this monster.”

“If it helps us win the war, I will tell you everything I know.”