The Blademasters of the Folk are renowned for their extraordinary skill with their weapons of choice. Their reputation is such that it exceeds that of even the golgari Stoneswords, whose techniques were forged in the Dungeon during the Rending.

Their extraordinary methods are beheld with some trepidation, as the tension between the Old and New races is such that none can ever be comfortable with the achievements of the other. Not monsters, though originating in the Dungeon, the Folk are always held in some suspicion wherever they go.

The exact nature of their mastery, and how they have achieved it, remains a closely guarded secret among their enclaves. What combination of Classes and Skills is required to produce these fearsome warriors? Or is there some innate property to their people that makes it possible to achieve these feats? There are many who would sacrifice much to know, though to our knowledge, none have succeeded in replicating it.

Several outside the Folk have claimed to have achieved the status of Blademaster, but quickly found themselves challenged by the real thing. Since Blademasters only fight duels to the death, these false positives quickly dried up.

- Excerpt from ‘The Reclusive Masters: Warriors of the Folk’ by Xinci

Titus took a deep breath, hesitated, then let it out in a long sigh. Minerva caught onto his mood in an instant.

“You’ve gone soft, husband,” she grinned, “I can remember when the whiff of mana in the air was enough to get the fire burning in your eyes. What’s changed?”

The commander turned to the former Consul, almost exasperated at how little she’d changed over the years.

“I would’ve thought the responsibility of leading the entire Legion would have tempered your own hunger for battle, my love. I can see now that it hasn’t been the case.”

Minerva threw back her head and laughed.

“You can’t be serious. If you actually expected that to happen, even for a single second, then you don’t know me as well as you should. I’ve been suppressing my rage for over a decade, and now I can finally let it loose.”

A living legend, the walking disaster, she would never be kept from the fighting for long. That was exactly why Titus felt that slight melancholy.

“It’s been nice, though, hasn’t it?” he asked.

His wife stood from where she lounged on the other side of their pod and approached to wrap her arms around him.

“It’s been wonderful. She’s grown so well, Titus. You did an incredible job.”

“Nothing I did,” the commander snorted, “she practically raised herself after you left. Ran away as fast as she could.”

“You brought her back.”

“Aye. I did.”

“That’s all that matters.”

She squeezed him hard, hard enough he thought he heard a rib crack before she let him go.

“Come on then, you big softie. Let’s go tell her.”

Titus nodded.

“Let’s.”

They left their pod, opening the bulkhead, waiting for the filter to sweep them, then stepping into the corridor of the residential area they stayed in. Resources were tight in any Legion base within the fifth, and it was largely due to Minerva that they’d been able to stay here at all.

Navigating the narrow corridors, the two endured the awe-struck gaze of the Legionaries deployed for training, and from more than a few of the instructors. It didn’t bother the pair overmuch, they were used to attention.

Eventually, they strode up to their daughter’s door and knocked heavily. Even through the reinforced and enchanted metal, they heard her scrambling to tidy up and they both smiled.

Then Titus frowned.

It occurred to him that there might be a boy in there. Perhaps that sound was Morrelia trying to stuff some fool into the closet or under the bed. No matter, he decided, regardless of where he was, he would die.

“Relax, would you?” Minerva whispered. “You look like you’re going to commit murder. There’s nobody else in there.”

“You’re sure?”

She shot him an offended glance and he nodded. She had the Skills to sense a rat, let alone another person. After another minute, the door was pulled open to reveal a harried looking Morrellia, her dark hair a jumbled mess shooting off in all directions.

“Mum, Dad?” she said. “What’s the problem?”

“Wave’s coming,” Minerva said as she stepped forward and wrapped her daughter up in a hug. “Your father and I can’t hold it off any longer, we need to get deployed. No more lazing about for us.”

“A wave? Already?” Morrelia was stunned. “Is that even faster than before?”

“Yes,” Titus confirmed, his face grim. “They’re getting larger and closer together. Unless something changes, we may see a repeat of the Rending.”

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder as he stared into her eyes.

“Make sure you take care of yourself. It’s going to be dangerous here. The fifth during a wave is… tough.”

Less interested in thinking about herself, Morrelia turned to her mother.

“But what about you two? Where are you going? Where will you be?”

“Hah! Don’t worry about us. I’ve been enrolled back into my old unit. Fourth Praetorian. I’ll be wearing the armour before you do, daughter. Tough luck.”

“I’ll be back with my Legion,” Titus said. “We’ll be deployed to the third under Liria. There are some assets there to take care of, and I think the brass wants to try and contact the survivors of the Garralosh incident.”

Morrelia’s eyes widened.

“Does that mean you’ll be fighting the ants again?”

Titus shook his head.

“Unfortunately not. Information gathering only. From the reports we have, the ants have grown far too strong for a single Legion to handle.”

Minerva tsked and shook her head a little.

“You’re not going back to your Legion,” she said.

Titus blinked.

“What?” he rumbled.

She grinned at him.

“You’re coming with me!” she announced. “Time to get back to the big leagues, husband of mine. Don’t forget to bring your axe.”