The midday sun beat down on the training grounds, casting long shadows across the sand-strewn arena. Dust swirled in the hot air, kicked up by the occasional breeze. These grounds belonged to the city guard, but during their months in Abernat, Birghir had befriended many guards while working as an innkeeper and bartender at the Whispering Dune. With their permission, he used the grounds to train his companions and stay in shape, under the guise of being a former soldier who left service after taking an arrow to the shoulder. His skill with a blade and the ingrained mannerisms of a trained warrior, coupled with his easy laughter and charm, were enough to keep anyone from questioning the authenticity of his story.

Riona stood poised with a sword in hand, her muscles tense and ready. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she focused on her mentor. Birghir circled her like a predatory hawk, his own blade gleaming in the sunlight.

"You're leaning too much on your left foot, Riona," Birghir admonished, his voice a low growl. "It makes you easy to knock off balance."

Riona adjusted her stance, shifting her weight evenly between both feet. She could feel the strain in her muscles as she tried to remember everything Birghir had taught her. He moved swiftly, testing her defenses with quick, probing strikes.

"Better," Birghir said, nodding approvingly. "But remember to keep your guard up. Anticipate my moves."

He lunged at her, and Riona parried, their swords clashing with a metallic ring. She tried to follow his movements, but he was fast—too fast. Her breath came in quick, sharp bursts as she struggled to keep up, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You're focusing too much on my sword," Birghir chastised, sidestepping her thrust and tapping her shoulder with the flat of his blade. "Watch my body. My eyes. They will tell you where I'm going next."

Riona nodded, frustration and determination battling in her expression. She adjusted her grip on the hilt, eyes locking onto Birghir's. She could see the calm intensity in his gaze, the slight shift in his stance, and she knew he was about to strike again. She steeled herself, ready to react.

"Good. Now, circle your opponent," Birghir instructed, moving around her in a wide arc. "Keep them within your best striking range while forcing them into an awkward angle."

Riona mirrored his movements, circling him as he had taught her. She could feel the shift in control as she forced Birghir to adjust his footing. He smiled, a fierce glint in his eyes.

"That's it. Make them uncomfortable. Make them react to you," Birghir said, his voice carrying an edge of approval. "Now, strike!"

Riona lunged, her blade aimed at his midsection. Birghir parried effortlessly, but she was ready for his counterattack. She stepped to the side, using her momentum to swing her sword in a wide arc. Birghir blocked her strike, but she felt the force of their clash reverberate through her arms.

"Much better," Birghir said, a rare smile breaking across his stern face. "You're learning."

He came at her with renewed vigor, their swords dancing in a blur of steel. Riona's mind raced as she tried to anticipate his moves, her body reacting instinctively. She parried a blow aimed at her shoulder, then ducked under a sweeping strike.

"Stay light on your feet," Birghir urged, his breath coming in steady, controlled bursts. "Don't plant yourself unless you're ready to deliver a killing blow."

Riona nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a surge of determination, pushing herself to move faster, strike harder. She could see the challenge in Birghir's eyes, the unspoken demand for more.

With a burst of speed, she closed the distance between them, her sword aimed at his chest. Birghir sidestepped, but she anticipated his move, shifting her weight and swinging her blade upward. Their swords met with a resounding clash, and for a moment, they were locked in a battle of strength and will.

"Excellent," Birghir said, his voice strained but pleased. "You've improved, Riona. But remember, the true test of a warrior is not just in their skill, but in their mind. Stay focused. Stay aware."

Birghir shoved Riona back, forcing a few feet of separation, and then charged, his movements a blur of speed and power. Her instincts screamed at her to react, and she did—lunging backward to evade his strike. Or so she thought. A sharp pull anchored her foot to the ground, preventing her escape. The sly old bastard was standing on her foot, a triumphant smile broadening on his face.

Riona tried to pull away with all her might, but as soon as she tugged, Birghir lifted his foot. She instantly lost her balance, flailing wildly, trying to turn and catch herself before hitting the ground. With her back to her master, she heard a resounding smack, accompanied by what she could only describe as hellfire on her backside.

Riona yelped and turned to face Birghir, sitting on the ground and feverishly rubbing her bottom in an effort to make the sting abate. "Was that really necessary? The flat of your sword? Gods be damned, that stings."

Birghir chuckled, his stern demeanor softened by the warmth of a fatherly figure. In the months since their arrival, he had become more than just her teacher and swordmaster. He had taken on the role of a friend and a father figure, something Riona cherished deeply, having no living parents herself—like all of Terrenholdt's cadets.

"Keep your ass out of the air, Ri," Birghir chided, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. "I've told you a hundred times to ALWAYS keep your eyes on your opponent."

Riona glared up at him, still rubbing her sore backside. "And I've told you a hundred times to stop using my ASS as a target."

Birghir offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet with surprising gentleness. "Your ass wouldn’t be a target if you didn’t make it one. Your footwork is improving, but you still react without thinking. You need to anticipate, not just respond."

She sighed, brushing the dust off her clothes. "I know, I know. It's just—you're so damned fast."

He nodded, his eyes serious. "Speed is important, but it's not everything. Use your mind as well as your body. Analyze, predict, and then act."

Riona took a deep breath, centering herself. She raised her sword again, meeting Birghir's gaze with renewed determination. "Alright, let's go again. I won’t fall for the same trick twice."

Birghir's smile was approving, a rare sight. "That's the spirit. Now, remember, keep your weight balanced, eyes on me, and think before you move."

They resumed their positions, and Birghir came at her again. This time, Riona was ready. She kept her eyes locked on his, noting the subtle shifts in his stance. When he feinted, she didn't react immediately. Instead, she held her ground, waiting for the real attack.

As Birghir's sword came down, Riona sidestepped gracefully, countering with a swift strike of her own. Their swords clashed, but she stood her ground, balanced and focused.

"Good," Birghir grunted, pushing against her blade. "Much better. Now, stay with me. Don't lose your focus."

"I know, dammit!" Riona shouted, her mounting frustration evident.

"Keep your calm, girl," Birghir responded. "You don't think straight if you're angry."

Deftly dodging out of the way of a strike from Birghir, Riona shouted back, "I fight better when I'm angry!"

A slight grimace of disappointment, unnoticed by Riona, crossed the old knight's face. "You're not good enough to talk like that," he said, delivering a powerful downward strike. The force of the blow jarred her arms all the way to her shoulders.

"Not strong enough!" he barked, following with a firm kick to the gut that took the wind from her lungs. Not giving her time to catch her breath, Birghir struck her shoulder with the pommel of his sword, knocking her to the ground.

"And not nearly smart enough."

Inside, Birghir felt terrible for the harsh lesson, but he had trained many fighters, and it was inevitable. Riona scrambled to find her feet as fast as possible.

"What the fuck was that, Birghir?" she shouted, her eyes filled with rage. He saw it, and he knew it would only fester with time. This sweet girl he looked on as a daughter was so angry. Angry for the loss of her home, her king. Angry they had been forced to flee instead of staying and fighting when so many others did. Angry because she had no idea how many of her friends had died to the Storm Lord's assault.

Birghir's eyes softened, filled with understanding and regret that he would not be able to assuage Riona's anger. "You mustn't fight angry, Ri. You need to think, outsmart your opponent. Or they will use that anger against you."

Riona glared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "I'm sick of running, Birghir. I'm sick of losing. I want to be strong—strong enough to protect the people I love."

Birghir nodded, his expression serious. "I know, Ri. But strength isn't just about muscle. It's about control, about using your mind as well as your body. You have to learn to channel that anger, to use it without letting it consume you."

He extended a hand to her, helping her up once more. "You're not alone in this. We all have our demons to fight. But you can't let them control you. Understand?"

Riona looked into his eyes, seeing the earnest concern and the wisdom that came with age and experience. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart and gave a sharp nod.

Birghir returned the gesture with a firm nod of his own, his expression softening. "Good. Now, let's call it a day. You've earned a rest."

As they sheathed their swords and walked off the training grounds, Riona couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and gratitude. She knew Birghir was right, but the anger and pain still simmered beneath the surface.

Birghir put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her toward the barracks. "Remember, Ri, every warrior has their breaking point. It's not about never breaking—it's about how you put yourself back together."

Still seething, Riona knocked Birghir's hand away. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child or some damsel in need of saving!" she spat.

"I'm only looking out for you, Riona," Birghir said, stopping short of calling her a child. "The world is a dangerous place, and you need to be prepared."

"What, you think I don't know that? You think I don't see the faces of my dying friends every time I close my eyes?" she shouted.

"That's enough, Riona," Birghir snapped.

Riona's eyes filled with tears of rage, her hands shaking and jaw trembling as she screamed at her mentor. "No, you don't get to tell me when it's enough! You don't get to tell me everything is going to be okay. I don't sleep because of the gods-damned nightmares I have every night of the men I killed!"

Birghir's eyes softened with sympathy as he stepped toward her, only to be met with a shove to his broad chest.

"Stop it! Leave me the fuck alone! I am not your daughter, and you sure as hell are not my father!" Riona shouted, instantly regretting the words as they fell from her lips.

Birghir stepped back as if struck. Riona's words had cut him deeper than any blade. He closed his eyes and lowered his head slightly. When he opened them, Riona saw a redness she had never witnessed before. Not knowing what else to do, she threw her sword down and stormed off.

"Fuck this," were the last words Birghir heard as he watched her retreat.

Birghir stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart aching. He had trained many warriors, seen countless students come and go, but Riona was different. He had always seen something special in her—a fierce spirit tempered by a compassionate heart. Seeing her in so much pain and knowing he couldn't ease it tore at him.

After a moment, he picked up her discarded sword, weighing it thoughtfully in his hand. He knew that Riona's anger was a defense mechanism, a way to cope with the unbearable grief and guilt she carried. He had seen it many times before in others, and he knew that pushing her too hard now would only drive her further away.

Birghir sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his own regrets. He would give her space, but he would not give up on her. She needed to come to terms with her past on her own, but she also needed to know that she was not alone.

As he turned to head back to the barracks, Birghir silently vowed to be there for Riona, no matter how long it took. She might not see it now, but he would be a constant, unwavering presence in her life, ready to help her pick up the pieces when she was ready.

Inside the barracks, Birghir placed her sword on a stand, carefully aligning it with the others. He then took a deep breath and steeled himself for the long, difficult journey ahead. For Riona, and for the future they both fought for, he would remain steadfast.

Meanwhile, Riona continued to walk away, her steps heavy with anger and sorrow. The words she had hurled at Birghir echoed in her mind, each one a painful reminder of her outburst. She wanted to scream, to hit something, anything to release the pent-up frustration inside her.

She found herself at the edge of the training grounds, sitting down heavily on a wooden bench. Her tears flowed freely now, the enormity of her emotions overwhelming her. She missed her home, her friends, and the life she once knew. The weight of her losses felt unbearable.

In the distance, she saw the sun beginning to set, casting long shadows over the ground. The world kept moving, indifferent to her pain. But as she sat there, Riona knew that she had to find a way to keep moving too. She didn't know how, but she had to try.

And she would.