Days flew by like pages on a book as the blademaster did what he loved with people that he loved. The number of squires Zander trained had grown from hundreds to thousands and his only responsibility was conducting their training from sun up to sun down. He loved how it pushed his body, his mind, and filled his soul with purpose. Unlike Iceheart's cold leadership, he did his best to meld challenge and compassion in his training philosophy. In return, he felt beloved by his squires. This approval on such a grand scale felt like patches for the tears in his soul.

But the most rewarding aspect of all was that he witnessed Kenneth stepping into his potential. His squire was with him all day, every day working harder than anyone else. They had a private training before sun up, shared their brief meals together with Asa, and spent their evenings together as a trio laughing or having heart-to-hearts beneath the summer stars or within the confines of Zander's tent.

His connection with Asa did little to quell the rumors that they were in love. Well, the rumors weren't wrong, in a sense. Zander and Asa loved each other as much as any brother and sister could, both avoiding the massive gulf between them named Alexia Bluerose. Zander didn't speak about his life's mate enough to give away her identity, often leaving Kenneth to make easy japes that his intended-in-the-next-town-over-that-nobody-has-ever-seen was certainly a real, living person and not pretend.

All things considered, life was good. But it wasn't perfect or easy. But Zander was learning that facing challenges together can be the glue that adheres people's bonds.

Iceheart, in a fashion, brought them together. Asa was relegated to supervising the camp's medicans and potioneering, Zander wasn't allowed in his strategy meetings, Kenneth was invisible to him. Each encounter with Iceheart was bitter and cold, full to the brim with condescension and threats. He was even meaner to Asa, seeking her out to offer any criticism he could to tear her down.

Asa would qualify her mistreatment by noting that he treated the other women in the camp just as poorly, that he'd coerced one of them to share his bed after sending her husband to an outpost across the Cardian. Every day he spat vitriol about how the Peacewatch would claim Mirrevar and slay the Monster of Ferrickton and every day they spread deeper into Sapphire territory with reports of skirmishes. Werner Bearbreaker bastardized the vows of Wayn the First and would bring Mirrevar to ruin.

Zander promised himself every night that he would kill the man, but woke up each day and served his role in Iceheart's encampment, entrusting that someday justice would be done but that today Zander had to be here to watch for peace.

And he found peace in surprising places. Being outside of Werner's council, he was kept in the dark as much as possible. But one could never truly be in the dark when Asa was around to shine the light. She gathered information, piecing together the larger story. The Sapphire weren't crossing the Cardian. Zander attributed their pacifism to Alexia, but kept that belief to himself after the first time he shared it and Asa spent the night in the medican tent. Nor could he tell Kenneth the truth because the little bastard ran toward Asa like a lovesick puppy with everything. The pressure of living up to Alexia's example was his alone to deal with even as he worried about her having to face Gideon Sapphire and all the warmongers of the Sapphire Kingdom without him.

But he wasn't alone in watching for peace. Kenneth and Asa were his colluders. He spoke of the Peacewatch vows and humanized the Sapphire soldiers as blademaster, trying to remedy whatever poison Iceheart fed them. As the trio ventured through the encampment most nights, they spread sentiments that denounced war and Iceheart. They were careful to never cross the lines of insubordination or treason, working in hypotheticals and hopes that battle would be avoided and peace restored to Leveria. Often, other Peacewatch would lift their cups to their words.

Zander would rather duel, murder, and supplant Werner Bearbreaker, but if all he could do was rally his squires and the other knights to fulfill their oaths of peace, then he would do it as best as he could. He'd often clutch his locket on nights where he got Peacewatch to toast to peace, hoping that his mother and Alexia would be proud of him.

Though Zander never sought out Iceheart, the reverse wasn't true. Zander finished a late morning lesson on using sidestep and step-forward counters—driving in the importance of constant mobility and deflecting with the flat of the blade—when Werner cursed him with his dreaded appearance.

The commander wore a gray long-sleeved tunic and breeches rather than his meladonite plate. The man only wore gray, lest it be tainted by Bearbreaker blue. Meladonite longsword sheathed at his waist, the scabbard as dull as the weapon itself was extraordinary, he sneered at Zander.

Zander himself wore a sleeveless blue tunic bearing the man wrestling the bear, being some level of allergic to sleeves, and red breeches that had been cut off at the knees. He towered over Iceheart, his sleevelessness showing that his muscles were also more defined, even if the commander was built wider in the fashion of his family.

As always, Werner's voice was ice. "Blademaster."

The eyes of several hundred squires lingered on the two knights at the head of the training pasture, all of them privy to the antipathy between their compassionate blademaster and the brutal commander.

"It has been too long since I had a good spar," Werner said, his lip curling up a distorted smirk.

Zander ignored him, addressing his students. "A soldier needs to stay as sharp as his sword. Never take your training for granted. Even when you can command others to do your bidding, you must be ready to watch for peace and deliver justice." Zander grinned, already imagining his triumph. To Werner he offered, "Shall I be your whetstone, Sir Werner?"

Werner folded his arms over his broad chest. "These squires do not fear you, Sir Zander. I would worry that whatever respect that have for you would be lost were they to see you be made a fool."

Zander chuckled, grinning to cover up his hatred. "I rather expect their morale would be uplifted to see their commander in action."

Werner's teeth flashed in his mouth, as he noted the subtlety in Zander's phrasing. They both knew this battle had less to do with who was better with the sword, and more to do with who commanded the heart of this encampment. Iceheart wasn't just an arsehole. He was a renowned warrior, a man who'd broken a bear in hand-to-hand combat, an elite swordsman. Zander had no doubt that he'd never dueled a more proficient warrior. But he had no doubt in himself either. Nor did Iceheart show any cracks in his confidence.

The trial would reveal which had deluded themselves. Zander smiled, certain it wouldn't be him.

"Kenneth, retrieve a practice sword for Sir Werner."

"Yes, Sir!" Kenneth sprinted toward the nearby armory.

Zander called for his fleetest and mouthiest squires he knew to gather any in the encampment who weren't actively on watch, stressing the wealth of knowledge they could gain observing two blademasters in action. Let Werner be taught humility in front of all. This day would be a dream come true.

Werner smiled, which he wasn't known for. Baring teeth didn't make him look any less cruel. Rather the opposite. The thought of crushing the hopes of Zander's followers made him practically giddy with delight.

Iceheart ripped the blunted sword from Kenneth's hands, sending Zander's squire sprawling to the muddy ground. "What a dirty boy." He sneered at Zander. "A real knight would wipe that muck from their stall."

Asa rushed to Kenneth's side, not caring that helping him up smeared her white robes with mud. The look of vengeful fury on Kenneth mirrored Zander's heart. His knuckles went white on the training sword.

Do not fall prey to this predator's bait, Zander reminded himself. He didn't keep his words as quiet as Werner had. "Kenneth is an excellent squire. Talented, loyal, and true. He makes me a better man. Perhaps if you had a friend like him, you would not be," Zander pressed his lips together, exhaled through his nose, and turned his head as if searching for the right word when he'd known it all along, "Iceheart."

Nobody, except for his older brother Wayn, ever called Werner by that moniker to his face. It just wasn't done. A few thousand gathered to watch the duel, all going silent and holding their breath, as a storm rumbled in the sky overhead—lightning sparking without any rain.

Werner's quiet rebuttal could've been as loud as thunder. "All these adoring eyes, all these giddy fans, all they do is feed your arrogance, boy." Werner pointed his sword at Zander, stepping into a defensive counter stance. "But what else can be expected of a bastard whose father never taught him anything?"

Zander huffed, three times, unable to keep his composure. Such hatred, overwhelming, overpowering, all-consuming, couldn't be held back. Like with Otis in Willet or Aldius on the night of the battle, all that remained was the desire to kill. He charged Iceheart, attempting to drive him into the dirt and hammer him to death with his blunted sword.

Roaring, he slashed at Werner's head.

Werner pivoted, catching it with his blade. He shifted, attempting to displace Zander and catch him off-balance with a counter slash.

Alas, size didn't equal slow. Like most, he underestimated Zander's speed. He was gone long before the counter.

Zander launched forth, delivering a series of rapid cuts, driving Werner back. Iceheart's frenetic footwork marked him as a true blademaster, worthy of respect in this one, single regard.

The storm raged in the skies above, lightning crackling, thunder booming, even as no rain fell from the clouds of darkness that blocked away sun and the great Mirrevar tree. Duels were often likened to dances in the ballads of the bards who didn't know any better, who'd never lifted a sword and made it sing. But this battle was no dance. An explosion of emotion and motion without rhythm wasn't a dance, no matter how skilled the duelers. It was a struggle, as much a science as an art, as beautiful as it was ugly, as chaotic as it was orchestrated. Zander felt alive, and the only rhythm involved was that they both fought to the tune of Zamael, murder writ in both their glares.

Iceheart tried to keep Zander enraged, miscalculating that manipulating his anger would make him easy to manipulate. Zander was no apprentice to be led into a trap of pride. His anger powered his blows, his hate guided his heart, but it didn't render him stupid or strip away years of practice for a moment just like this. He'd been a sword honed, and he wouldn't crack for this ice-hearted demon.

But Werner was a well-formed weapon, balanced in nimbleness and strength and wielded by a true blademaster. His stance and footwork were impeccable. Zander scanned for faults and found none. Iceheart deflected and parried Zander's blows, showing no vulnerabilities in his technique. When he launched counter assaults, he didn't leave himself exposed and quickly stepped or parried away Zander's attacks.

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After the initial assault from Zander had been weathered, Werner launched counter assaults. Back and forth they battled across the barren pasture. Wood chips pirouetted into the air as sword met shield. Sparks leapt as blade met blade. Sweat poured and grunts issued from both men as they battled for the soul of the encampment, both blind to the massive crowd but sensing them there.

No matter how often Zander and Werner switched their stances and tried to find their opponent missing a step, they kept up with each other. As the duel continued, Zander found his confidence tested, and doubts began to fester. Then, Kenneth or Asa would shout encouragement at him, vanquishing doubts like starlight and lightning breaking through clouds lit the darkest of nights.

He didn't hear the others, too afraid they were to speak against Iceheart, but he felt them in his corner. The majority hoped his sword would triumph over the cruel commandant they didn't love. Even those who backed Iceheart—spineless sycophants or similarly sadistic arseholes—would know that Werner Bearbreaker couldn't intimidate Zander of Mirrevar. For as long as the blademaster was in Mirrevar, Iceheart could be resisted.

Powered forth by their love, their hope, their devotion, Zander adopted a defensive strategy, letting Werner exhaust himself. This was a man twice his age; he couldn't possibly stay as conditioned as Zander with his cozy castle or command center lifestyle.

Yet, Werner was wise to Zander's plan. Smirking, he slowed down his step and didn't spend himself. He sent testing blows, refusing to expose himself to counters, baiting Zander into making a mistake.

"Why so scared, boy?" Iceheart goaded. "Surely a young stud like yourself doesn't need to slow down against a man twice your age?"

Zander grinned. "Patience is the swordsman's ally." He caught Werner's testing blow, knocking it aside, then stepped into his counter stance. "I wouldn't want my squires to learn that rushing in for glory is the way to finish strong. Heart, mind, and body must be one. Surely a man twice my age would know this had he a heart and not a chunk of ice in his chest?"

Werner's hateful smirk warned him of the next attack, but goading didn't make him sever mind from heart either. Zander's next assault was deflected, parried, sidestepped, and dodged as deftly as all the others. Both men fought as if receiving a blow would be lethal. The duel dragged on, the encampment bating its breath.

Lady medicans leaned on fences praying for Zander's triumph. The encampment's priestess moved among the crowd providing blessings. Squires stood in the training grounds or watched from the battlements and towers, letting out gasps when Werner struck forth or exclamations of joy when Zander turned the tide. The knights, mostly Iceheart loyalists, watched with apprehension as their commander couldn't gain the upper hand against the young knight who wouldn't be broken as they had been. Asa held Kenneth's arm, her aura flaring with hope as she shouted encouragement. Above her, sunlight dispersed the storm, placing a heavenly spotlight on the duel. Zander's squire cheered him on too, his thunderous voice filling the vacancy left behind by the absence of the storm.

Zander circled around Werner, testing his speed and endurance. Werner made smaller steps, his footwork appeared tired and sloppy. Zander wasn't a fool, however, reading through Werner's attempt to feign losing a step.

He grinned. "Time to end this, Iceheart."

Werner's grin showed his move before he even announced it. "For once, we agree, bastard."

Long ago, Zander had complained to Alfread's family that folk thought him stupid because he was big. Rather than tell him he wasn't stupid, as Alfread or Mirielda did, Evan instructed him to play into it. The best way to trick the trickster was to make them think they'd already succeeded. He cited stories Zander couldn't remember, but didn't need to.

Thus, as thousands watched inside the walls of western Mirrevar, Zander roared. He charged toward Werner, as if provoked into carelessness, raising his sword for an overhead blow.

Werner sprung into stance, shaking away his mock sluggishness, his eyes going feral as he glimpsed his victory on the horizon. Then they went wide as Zander let go of his sword. For it wasn't the sword that protected, that loved. The sword wasn't why his squires respected him, it wasn't how he watched for peace. If Iceheart was a sword on the throat of Mirrevar, Zander would be the shield.

Both hands on his shield, Zander slammed into Iceheart. He battered Werner until his sword grasp was broken. Legs low, arms extended, using his full body to push, drawing on his superior strength, Zander drove Iceheart back. Iceheart's shield was flung into the air as he fought to keep his feet under his trunk. Zander finished strong, propelling Iceheart backwards until he crashed through the pasture's fence, splintering wood and landing in a pile of dung.

Zander threw his shield aside and fell onto Werner. He put his hands to Werner's shoulders and pinned him down, pressing his back deeper into the manure. Werner thrashed, trying to free his arms. He bucked with his hips and legs, hoping to unseat Zander. Alas, after pinning down a bear, Werner Bearbreaker was no challenge. Werner clawed at Zander's forearms. The little pricks into his muscled arms only deepened Zander's focus, letting the man wriggle in shite.

"Yield!"

Werner refused to say the words, even as his thrashing became weaker. His icy eyes pierced into Zander maliciously, and the threat of execution was writ upon his glare.

Zander neither flinched nor relented. He took one of Werner's wrists and pressed the knight's own shite-covered hand against his forehead, using it to bury him deeper into the muck. Zander'd never felt so powerful, hate and love both flowing through him in torrents. This was for Asa, for Kenneth, for everyone soldier scared of this man, for the little daughter he chastised in the halls, for everyone who'd ever sworn the Peacewatch vow and was forced to piss on it by men like Iceheart. It was for Alexia, who dreamt of peace. And, it was for Zander himself, who wouldn't back down for this man.

Werner grunted, the squelching of shite as his head descended deeper into it a tune Zander would gladly dance to. Iceheart pushed out two beautiful words as the shite touched his lips, "I yield."

His mumble wasn't good enough for Zander. He pressed harder, tightening his grip on Werner's self-harming hand and pinioned arm. "What was that?"

Behind him, squires gathered, smiling and patting their neighbor's backs or shaking hands. The whispering grew until it was as loud as the orchestra of bugs who filled nights with their song. Only a single voice emerged clear through the din. "Get 'im!" Kenneth hollered. "Make 'im eat shite!"

"I yield!" Werner gasped as cow shit kissed his lips.

Zander released Iceheart, rumbling to his feet. He lifted an arm and strode toward Asa and Kenneth. "Spray me, sister," he called to Asa, offering the dirty hand that had pressed Werner's shite-covered palm into his own nose, eyes, and forehead.

Smiling, Asa lifted her white staff and pointed those angel wings at Zander. "Sure thing, brother."

Water shot from her staff, washing away the scat. She didn't stop at cleaning him. Asa blasted him in the face with a shining jet of water, Leverith's blue mist rising from him like steam as he was soaked and blinded. Kenneth and several dozen squires laughing as Zander lifted his hands over his head.

Werner clambered to his feet, staggering through the manure as it pulled off him with a loud squelch. He leaned on the pasture fencing, the rail gave way beneath him, spilling him back into the shite pile.

Kenneth, Asa, medicans, squires, and at least one knight, hollered with laughter.

"I told you, seeing their commander in action would boost morale," Zander said, water dripping from his drenched cut-off shirt and breeches. He turned his back on Iceheart as he tried a second time to free himself from the manure. "There are no rules in a fight, my beloved squires. Sometimes, the best move available will be … dirty."

The laughter continued as the great Sir Werner Bearbreaker emerged from the animal pasture covered in dung from hair to heel. His lip twinging, the low-voiced commander shouted, "Dismissed! All of you are dismissed!"

When the encampment lingered, Werner scrambled for his authority. Zander was surprised that the man who always spoke so quiet could make his voice boom so loud. "Now! The last here will be digging latrines the entire moon!"

People scrambled to leave the training grounds. Zander clung to Asa's hand, noting her fear as her aura went from a brilliant silver to a duller gray.

"And they still won't be the shittiest people here!" Kenneth hollered.

Werner charged toward Kenneth, sending him tumbling into a retreating group of squires and causing them to tangle and tumble.

Letting go of Asa's hand, Zander stepped between Iceheart and Kenneth.

The murderous glare on Iceheart's usually constrained face killed all the laughter and mirth. Zander braced for a different type of battle, one where he was far less confident and experienced, where Werner held all the authority.

"You wouldn't have lasted a degree against me had we been dressed for battle," Iceheart said, making excuses like a ten-year-old instead of being a forty-year-old commander of thousands.

Zander pitched his voice for all to hear, even those fleeing from Werner's threat. "May I suggest that we next duel in private and far from manure. I worry the squires might lose their respect for you."

Werner's eyes would've shot icicles into Zander's heart if they could. Zander had no doubts that Werner wanted him dead. For a moment, he feared execution. Alas, execution wasn't the only punishment Iceheart could devise. "Zander of Mirrevar, you are hereby relieved of your blademaster duties. Report to my command center at dusk for reassignment."

Werner called to one of his knights to gather the last ten squires in the training grounds and give them a moon of latrine duty. Then, the disgraced general strode from the grounds.

Clenching his fists, Zander contemplated charging after Iceheart and bludgeoning him to death with his bare hands. He already knew where he was headed. Iceheart couldn't execute Zander for beating him and retain his dignity or respect, but he could send Zander into the field under the explanation that the best swordsman ought to be winning the fight.

Asa was attuned to his wrath. Her hand reached for his, sharing a steady trickle of Leverith's divine energy to keep him pointed toward love. It worked. Largely, because he did love her.

Kenneth spat. "You put him in his place and now he's pulling you out of yers. Yours!" Kenneth corrected.

"I'll be going where he puts everyone that is inconvenient to his authority. Where he sent that medican's husband, where he put the Hometown Heroes. The man even sent his own brother to the northern encampment because he has a mind of his own. Pack your sack, Kenneth. We're headed into the thick of the fight."

"He can't separate us," Asa said.

Zander's heart ached at the uncertainty in her voice. He took her hand. "He has to respect our oaths."

"You think he respects anything but his own ego?" Kenneth said, spitting. "I wager he's got the tiniest little stub and this is how he makes himself feel big. His villain origin story was some tavern maid laughing at his little nub and now nobody's allowed to laugh."

"If he's anything like his nephew, you might be right," Asa said. "You don't have to be the biggest snake in the garden to put a smile on a lady's face, but I've heard Werner is neither big nor putting smiles on faces."

"Shiny, Shiny, Shiny." Kenneth shook his head as if he were the archlord and Asa was the maid who hung out the wrong doublet for the day. "Werner's kisses put a smile on my face," Kenneth paused and sucked in the air as if it were the freshest breath of his life, "when his partner is a steaming pile of pig shite."

Zander snorted and Asa hollered with laughter. Flipping her hair out of her eyes, she beamed at Kenneth. They'd both been true to their promises to him. Zander would've never believed it last moon when they first agreed to be nice to each other that they'd end up enjoying each other's company. But if these two had taught him anything, it was that first impressions weren't set in stone nor did they do a great job of capturing who a person was. Asa hid so much behind her confident façade and Kenneth was full of shocking surprises and potential. Given the chance, they saw each other and now Zander couldn't get them to stay away from each other.

This is good, he thought watching the two of them. He forgot about Iceheart for a moment. Kenneth was often good for these distractions.

Asa walked between Zander and Kenneth, putting a hand on both their backs. "Never before and never again shall he make so many smile with a kiss." Asa mimed Werner's look of disgust and fury, and how he tried, and failed to shield his face from the manure. "I yield!"

Zander's joy could've towered over the tallest castle. He put Asa in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles along the top of her head. Kenneth shoved him, freeing a giggling Asa. Asa made a pout face at Zander before blowing raspberries at him. Zander shook his head, hoping his life was full of these moments, knowing that Iceheart would try to shatter that future.

He exhaled. "If Iceheart asserts that I leave, we will go together. If he tries to break us apart," Zander leaned in until all three of their heads were pressed together, and whispered, "We'll kill him."

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