Another hard day of training.

Though, not an uncomfortable one. See, a while ago, I'd asked Tiff if she could make me a specific piece of clothing, and I described a sports bra to her as best I could. Something I could wear when working up a sweat, that covered my chest, and sat comfortably under my wings. It still needed a clasp on the back as getting anything over my neck and past my wings is impossible, but it has worked wonders. I can get as sweaty as I want and not worry about staining any of my three white shirts, as I have three now. All white. Most clothes here are whitish or brown, as clothing dyes are difficult to procure here, unless you want something in red.

I did draw a few looks the first time I wore it to training, but no one had an issue with it. Heck, Arshiya asked Tiff if she could get one too. Then again, it's not uncommon to see someone like Ingrid walking around town wearing just pants and her thick leather apron and gloves, and nothing else, much to the Chief's annoyance.

Marco seems to be the only one struggling to process it, but he's new here. He'll get used to Haven's ways soon enough.

If anything, it draws attention to the fact that I'm in pretty great shape. I've never seen my muscles so defined, so that's neat. I don't have a six pack or anything, It's just the fact that I have an extra set of pectorals below my breasts that kinda stand out and looks… odd.

Speaking of Marco, one of his uses is as a sparring partner for weapons training and wrestling. He is a decently skilled combatant after all, and the Chief is determined to get as much use out of him as possible.

Which is why I'm matched against him in sword training, with Johnny as… the referee or something, but really he just watches. Just wooden sword training, no wings this time, so I'm wearing my cloak over my sports bra top, and gloves to protect my fingers.

Well. We're supposed to be sparring, but his attacks are half-hearted as he keeps getting… distracted.

"Marco…" I sigh, lowering my sword. "I thought you were past the age that you'd get so distracted by a woman showing any more skin than just her face."

"I have never known a woman with a… build… such as yours. Your chest, did…" He points, confusion written all over his face. "Was that an injury or something? Were you born like that…?"

"Oh, this?" I point to the second pectorals on my lower ribcage. "It's connected to my wings. Helps me move them."

"You got any other weird extra muscles on ya, Feathers?" Johnny raises an eyebrow, leaning on the fence post.

"I don't… do I?" I look down over myself. Arza mentioned I do have extra muscles down around my hips, but thankfully those don't really show through. "Nothing visible, I think…"

"I guess… extra limbs would require extra muscles…" Marco mutters, struggling to keep his eyes on me.

"Visible? So ya do got more than what's on ya chest, Feathers?" Johnny asks.

"Well, Arza said that Azorii have extra muscles in their chest, shoulders, and hips, and she did… confirm I have extra muscles down there, too. Thankfully, it's only the chest ones that really show through like this."

"I'd say." Johnny chuckles. "You're lucky you didn't grow an extra pair of tits, Feathers."

I just laugh awkwardly. Marco breaks into a coughing fit at hearing Johnny say that.

"I'd definitely… take my wings over that."

"At least you eventually learned to fly with 'em. Can't do that with an extra pair of tits. Unless they're like, real saggy!" Johnny laughs, and I have to stifle a laugh at that absurd idea, while Marco just grimaces at the thought.

"Can we… Get on with this, please…" Marco sighs, wiping his brow.

"Ah, ease up on 'im, Feathers. Poor kid's turned redder than the trees." Johnny grins, leaning over the fence.

"I ease up on him?! You're the one talking about extra pairs of tits!"

"So're you, now!" He jabs.

"Please…" Marco sighs again with a slight growl. Poor kid, his face is red.

"We can. But being part of Haven is getting used to Johnny… being Johnny."

"Ya make it sound like that's a bad thing." Johnny squints at me.

"I just think this poor Sovranan noble's sensibilities will take a while to adjust to your Newport charm." I grin.

"Gods!" Marco yells, taking a half-hearted swing at me to get my attention, which I easily parry away.

"Alright, alright!"

We exchange a few more blows, parrying one after the other. Marco's gotten a little worked up, so his hits are a bit sloppy, but at least we're getting some training in.

Given all the hard work he's been doing, Marco is surprisingly slim. A lot of noble sons of Sovrana tend to grow… somewhat pudgy off the notoriously rich and hearty food of the region. I get it. I could get a little pudgy too as a kid. Bigoli pasta is just too good.

"Oi…" He stops, standing up straight. "You chastise me for staring, but now you are staring at me, Marina."

"Just imagining you with a pudgy little belly after gorging yourself on bigoli." I tease.

"You!" He growls, taking another wide swing at me that I backstep.

"There ya go! Now you're properly fightin!" Johnny calls. "Don't aim for the head, though! We're not tryin' ta kill each other!"

"I am!" Marco yells. His strikes are more focused now, and a few hits almost get through my block.

It is nostalgic, in a way, to be sparring with another Sovranan. While my father was the primary instructor of my sisters and I in how to swordfight, our tests often involved sparring with our mother. While my father had book smarts, she had a natural talent that would put the greatest swordfighting schools in the Sovranan Republic to shame… if they could ever stomach enrolling a woman in their number. Many of them have a "boy's club" aura. Marco probably learned from one such school, as did my father.

There's a certain familiarity to his sword fighting. The way he times his swings, his stance; it reminds me of the by-the-book approach my father took. My mother, meanwhile, had her own style entirely, which is what made sparring with her so daunting because nothing she did was "by the book". Not that she ever seriously wanted to hurt her daughters, especially me given I was the youngest, but she never let us just win for the sake of it, either. You don't learn if your opponent just lets you win. Carina in particular got heated whenever she sparred with our mother, and she was absolutely determined to best her, one day.

She never got the chance to.

The sudden clang of metal on metal, and a dull shock of pain in my sword arms reminds me that I am also still sparring Marco right now. Taunting him and then spacing out wasn't the best idea as he actually has me on the back foot now, until he abruptly stops mid-swing, causing my attempt to block to instead hit him right on the fingers.

"Kh–" Marco drops his wooden sword, but his eyes stay fixed behind me. I turn, and see.

"... Ingrid?"

"Sorry for interrupting." Ingrid, wearing the exact apron-and-pants outfit I thought of earlier, nods in apology. "Please continue hitting Marco."

I give Marco a look, who's rubbing his sore fingers. "I think we can take a break. What brings you here, Ingrid?"

She gives me a blank look. "Your sword is ready. What else?"

"Finally! It's not every day Ingrid makes somethin' that isn't a nail." Johnny calls as he walks over from the fence.

"Aren't you keeping an eye on him?" Ingrid stops him, throwing a quick glare at Marco. "He's not allowed near my forge."

"Ah… well… just bring it here to show us afterwards, won't ya Marina?" Johnny backtracks.

"Yes. I recommend you test it on Marco." Ingrid nods.

"There'll be none of that." Rann appears behind Ingrid, his arms crossed.

"... Tch." Ingrid sighs, turning and leaving for her forge immediately.

"W-wait, Ingrid!" I call, hurrying after her as she disappears around the corner.

She can move shockingly fast when she wants to, which would make finding her a problem if she didn't spend nearly every waking hour in her forge.

Not even a moment after I walk around the back of her forge do I find her in front of me, holding the hilt of a sword towards me.

"Here. The scabbard isn't finished yet, but the sword is. I used your metal to make the crossguard. It took longer than I expected to as the metal was too flexible to protect your hand, so I decided to coil it to make it sturdier, which took some time. Naturally, this meant I'd do something similar with the pommel for visual consistency, though that is made from the metal I had laying around, not the higher-quality flexible metals from your wings." She word-dumps on me before I can even get a word out.

"I-I see…" I take the sword in one hand, though the grip is long enough to comfortably hold it with both hands.

It doesn't take an expert to recognise that this is a fine sword. In one hand or two, it's very well balanced, and near-effortless to wield. I might have struggled a little with the weight a few months back, but I can handle it with ease now. Ingrid steps back to give me some space, and as I hold the sword out as far as I can, my wings instinctively stretch out forwards to their full length. The reach is almost identical, which is perfect.

A sword of this length is probably the best fit for someone like me. I need something with reach, but not something so big it'll get in the way of my wings. A polearm, as useful as it would be, is out of the question. It has great reach, but it's still a big stick at the end of the day. I need something I can hang around my waist, and a…

"What would you call this type of sword? A longsword?"

"It's a longsword. Or a bastard sword. Or an anderthalbhänder. Or a hand-and-a-half sword. You pick. Just don't call it a shortsword." She shrugs.

"Hand-and-a-half sword is sure a mouthful…"

"It's a newer term, since it can be used in one hand or two. I guess people didn't like using the term bastard so much." She explains.

"This is the perfect sword for me, Ingrid. You've done a great job-"

"Don't call it perfect yet." She cuts me off, pushing me out of her forge. "You haven't properly tested it yet. No weapon is finished until it's thoroughly tested. Go test it."

I go along with her suggestion, as I know she's going to push me all the way back to the training field herself if I don't move.

Thankfully, Rann is still at the training field, along with Johnny and Marco. We weren't gone longer than five minutes, I guess.

"Let me guess." Rann grins, crossing his arms. "Ingrid insisted you test it right away?"

"... I take it this has happened before."

"Every time she makes a new weapon." He sighs. "Which isn't often, so we deal with it."

Stolen story; please report.

"I see…"

"Before ya start swingin' it, come show it off, Feathers!" Johnny calls, walking over with Marco cautiously following a few steps behind him.

"Here it is~" I grin, holding it out in both hands. It is a fine sword, it deserves some admiration.

"Hmm. Good length. Looks solid. Fine work, Ingrid." Rann nods, rubbing his chin as he appreciates the hard work Ingrid put in.

"Of course it's fine work, I made it." Ingrid bluntly responds. "I used her metal for the crossguard. Twisted it for more rigidity, as it was too flexible. It's strange. Its main metal is obviously iron, but it must have other metals to give it its flexibility and strength."

"Yeah, it looks good and all. But the worth of a weapon is how good it is at hittin' stuff. Try not to go too hard on the trainin' dummies with that, will ya?" Johnny calls, moving a training dummy to the middle of the field.

"Don't waste my sword on that." Ingrid frowns, stepping forward. "Weapons are made for fighting, not hacking at immobile targets."

"Then how do you suggest I test it, Ingrid?"

"I get it." Rann sighs, stepping into the ring and drawing his heavy flat-tipped sword over his shoulder. "Alright, Marina. Ingrid wants to see how her sword will fare in combat, so let's give it a few goes. I trust you won't actually try to hit me."

"So I brought this over for nothin'..." Johnny grumbles, moving the dummy aside.

I step forward into the ring, giving my sword a few practice swings. While it does feel good to wield, how it feels in combat… Well, there's only one way to find out.

"Whenever you're ready." Rann smiles, holding his far larger sword at the ready.

I am suddenly reminded of how intimidating an opponent Rann can be, but this is just training. Not actually fighting. Just… okay let's get this over with.

I swing wide with a two-handed grip, but Rann blocks with astounding speed, with the loud clang of metal-on-metal sounding out. Unlike the last time I faced him, though, I have a surer grip on my blade, and we exchange a few more blows before my hands start to hurt from being blocked so abruptly each time.

"You've got a good handle on that sword, Marina. How does it feel?" Rann plants his sword in the dirt, leaning against it.

"Good. Comfortable, just the right weight and reach. It feels like a natural extension of my body."

"More natural than most, I'd assume. Most people don't have swords attached to them." He grins. "All you need is a scabbard, and you'll be ready for anything the Abyss can throw at you."

"I do need the sword back for that." Ingrid adds, appearing beside me with her hands outstretched.

"Here. Can I say it's perfect now that I've tested it, Ingrid?"

"Hmm…" She frowns, staring down at the sword in her hands. "It's good. Nothing is ever perfect."

"Can you take it as a compliment, at least…?"

"I don't need compliments for doing my job." She shrugs, turning to leave without another word.

"... I'm still no closer to understanding her." I mumble as she vanishes around the corner once more.

"No one does. I am not surprised she spends all day hiding in her forge. She acted the same in the Old Keep." Marco sighs. "She is a fine smith. That is the only good thing anyone can say about her."

"She does her job, and does it well." Rann comments, slinging his sword over his back. "That's all we ask for."

"What, you have never asked her to be less… prickly?" Marco turns to Rann in surprise.

"Oh, we have." Rann frowns. "She just doesn't listen to that."

"If we're all done here." Johnny says, clapping his hands. "I'm pretty sure it's lunchtime, and watching you lot take swings at each other sure works up a hunger."

"Food would be nice…" Marco adds, stretching his arms. "Given I was the one getting swung at."

"You two go on ahead. I need Marina for a moment." Rann nods.

"We'll save a spot for ya!" Johnny calls, already halfway towards the tavern with Marco in tow.

"So what am I needed for, exactly?"

"Follow me." Rann nods towards the northern exit of the training field, heading off.

I thought we were just going to talk somewhere quiet, but instead he led me all the way to the foot of the Crystalfall, standing before it quietly with his arms crossed, looking deep in thought.

"You think you're ready?" He finally asks, breaking a long silence.

"For combat?"

"Man-on-man combat, yes." His gaze remains fixed on the clear water as he speaks.

"As ready as I can be. I won't know until… until I face someone looking to end my life."

"You'll be fine." He answers after a long pause. "It's not that hard when it comes down to it."

"The fighting, or…"

"Taking another life. It's how it goes. It's your life, or theirs." His gaze drops to stare down at the ground. "It's not a situation I want to put any of you in."

"It's the reality we face though, isn't it? Going by what the Wolf Pups' scouts have said, sooner or later, we're going to run into the Bone Breakers on an expedition. Or the Keepsguard will finally give up their hunt and return seeking answers. One way or another, we… need to be able to defend ourselves."

"We've had a lucky streak. Nearly a dozen expeditions without issue. I don't expect our luck to hold out much longer." He sighs, moving to sit on a smooth, knee-high black rock near the water. I head over and sit beside him.

"Well, I can be our surprise trick to get us out of trouble out in the Abyss. No one's going to expect someone with wings with swords in them to jump out at them. Here… I'm sure the Chief could handle anyone trying to bash down our gates, if it came down to it."

"I'd sooner die than let it come to that." Rann abruptly responds. "You've never taken a life. Mia… she has, and any more would set her on a dangerous path."

"I know she says she… blasted away one of her caravan ambushers that made her end up down here, but I know she'd only kill someone as a last resort."

Rann sighs deeply, rubbing his forehead. "That's not what I mean. You've never seen a war mage, Marina. I have. A wild one, way up north. I encountered it on patrol with my unit, and they killed three quarters of us before we could cut them down. There was no reasoning with it. The moment it saw us, it started killing, and didn't stop until we put it down."

"... It…?"

"I'd hardly call the thing we encountered a person, Marina." He looks at me with a twinge of pain in his eyes. "War mages often get abandoned after a war, as they tend to go mad. Not from grief, or stress, or fear, but power. A good war mage is worth a thousand soldiers. A great one is an army all on their own. Those who wield magic as a weapon against their fellow man, sooner or later, they realise how… fragile we all are. How a snap of their fingers and a few muttered words can turn a swathe of men to ash. When they discover firsthand how fleeting life is before their power, many… tend to lose track of the value of it. Not all, but many."

"And you worry, if Mia had to use magic to defend Haven…"

"I trust her." He shakes his head. "But that's a gamble I'd rather not have to make. Yes, she could destroy the Breakers in one fell swoop if they all stood close enough to each other. I have no doubt about that. But that's not the path I want for her. Her greatest strength is her value of life. She has no greater desire than to protect and preserve others. It's what makes her the best Chief Haven's had in its hundred-year history. It's why I put up with following the orders of a woman half my age, no matter the looks it gets me. She isn't a weapon to be wielded against our foes. She's someone to protect, not hide behind. She's our leader."

"I see. So that's why you kept me around. You needed a weapon you had less qualms about using. A trump card whose loss wouldn't impact Haven in the long run." I smile grimly, poking his side.

He just stares down at his feet.

"... Oi. I was joking. You were supposed to respond to that."

"You may be…" He sighs, his shoulders slumping forward. "But you're not entirely wrong. I got so wrapped up in protecting Mia, I grabbed you just to throw you in front of her without a second thought. I'm sorry, Marina."

"I mean… I get it, in a way."

"Get what?" He asks, giving me a sideways glance.

"You're like a dad to her. Fathers will do anything to protect their daughters, no matter the danger it puts others or themselves in."

This makes him go quiet again for a while, but I let him put together his thoughts.

"... You know, I don't think anyone's ever put that into words before." He speaks with a chuckle, rubbing his chin.

"Seriously?" I blink. I thought it was obvious.

"They may have thought it. They'd just never openly voice something so sentimental about their fearsome Chief and her loyal captain." He smiles at the idea.

"I do forget she has that reputation sometimes, given I live with her… I just think of her as someone who cares so much about others it often hurts her."

"That's our Mia." He chuckles, patting my shoulder. "That's why we look out for her."

"I don't think protecting her is the only reason you decided to capture me, though. You're not that callous."

"I did think she'd find you interesting." He admits.

"Really? Before you even found out I had wings?"

"You ran straight into the middle of our group like a madwoman, then ran straight into Einar's club. You looked to be an adult, yet your clothes were in far too nice a state for you to have grown up in the Abyss. Even before your wings popped out, you were just the kind of oddity that'd draw Mia's interest." He has a point. Those would look strange out there.

"So that's why you took me back? Because I was interesting?"

"Well…" He looks up, recalling back to that moment. "It wouldn't sit right with us if we just left you there. You had nothing on you but your clothes."

"Hmmm." I smile. "I told you you're not that callous."

"I get it." He sighs wearily. "You were wrong about one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"Your loss would impact Haven in the long run. Gravely so. Every member of Haven is invaluable… but it wouldn't be a lie to say you were even moreso. And I don't just mean because you happen to have wings." He looks me in the eyes as he speaks, his voice firmer and more determined than any other point in this conversation.

"I get it…" I repeat his words back at him.

I do get it.

Mia. Tiff. Rann himself, Vann, even Anton. Johnny, Arshak and Arshiya, Robb and Einar… maybe. Irie. Rabbit. Crow. All the kids and all the Wolf Pups. Ingrid. Han, Max, and Kazuma. I've become friends with all of them.

All of Haven grieved when Nate died fighting that carrion hawk.

They all grieved when Jorm died of a fever, even though he'd only been in our care for less than a week.

Every loss is felt keenly, no matter who passes. We've all died once already. We know how painful and lonely it can be.

We just don't know if, after death, we'll wake up again, or if we'll find ourselves falling into oblivion.

"If you're asking if I'm ready… I take it we'll be heading out again soon?"

"We will." He nods, standing up again. "Anton's been noting the dwindling supply of substantial meat for a while now. Not everyone likes only having salted bloodbeast and jackhorn on the menu. We'll have to do some proper hunting."

"Which… given the reports of more movement in the western Abyss, means there's a risk of encountering other groups while hunting."

"Yes. Which is why I wanted to sharpen everyone's skills before we launched a full-scale hunting trip." He glances over at the Crystalfall. "We've had plenty of time to prepare. Now it's time to put it to use."

"What is the general plan if we encounter other groups out in the Abyss? Do we fight? Avoid conflict?"

"We do whatever the situation calls for." He looks back at me sternly. "We're not going out there to fight. We get what we need, and we come back. If someone wants to get in our way, we'll just have to deal with them, one way or another."

"I'm sure, whatever happens, we can handle it and make it home in one piece. You're a good teacher, Rann. Your training won't let us down."

"Neither will your new sword. I asked Ingrid to use the best iron she had to make it—though it helps that you donated some metal yourself." He smiles, before a thought crosses his mind. "Say, couldn't we break one of them off to fashion into a sword itself? You can regrow them, after all."

"I fear that would leave me bedridden for a while… and would require me to eat a lot more meat to recover from it. These blades are made from my blood, to put it simply. Regrowing them leaves me a bit weakened."

"So as long as we've got enough meat laying around…" He furrows his brow, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

"Not to mention how much it hurts regrowing them by a small amount, let alone an entire blade-feather!"

"Darn. And here I thought we'd found ourselves a one-girl sword producer…" He sighs at the lost opportunity.

"Rann!" I stamp my foot, and he just laughs. "Besides, they'd probably be too thin and flexible to be that useful on their own. You'd have to melt a dozen of them together just to get something as thick as your sword."

"We don't need more of my sword. The one I have is plenty already." He chuckles.

"What made you use that thing in the first place? It's not the most practical of weapons…"

He glances back over his shoulder, pulling out his flat-tipped greatsword and planting it tip-down on the ground between us. However, we're standing by the Crystalfall, so we're standing on smooth rocks, not mud, and the sword starts to fall towards me the moment he lets it go.

Given its size, I catch it by the grip, only to find out how light it is.

"... Huh." I can even lift it with one hand. I couldn't use it properly doing that, but it's far lighter than it looks.

"Is that reason enough?" He grins, taking it back and lifting it over his shoulder with one hand.

"It sure doesn't feel that light when I'm fighting against it… but that explains how you swing it so fast."

"Ingrid's confounded by it. She'd melt it down just to make sense of it, if she could figure out how to re-cast it. Thankfully, I don't leave it unattended too often." He pats my shoulder as he walks past me. "Lunch?"

"Gladly."

It is surprising how light and easy to wield his sword is. It really does explain a lot about how he swings it like it doesn't weigh anything, which given its size, it really doesn't. It feels effortless to use. The lack of a pointed tip doesn't really matter when it's still a solid hunk of metal to bash people with.

I pity anyone who faces Rann on the battlefield with that weapon. I know how imposing it is even in training, but in real combat… I can't imagine.

Well.

Says the girl who's pioneering the nine swords style. That wild man we encountered a while back nearly died of shock when he saw my wings. I imagine in combat I'll get similar freaked out reactions, that I could use to my advantage. At least until the stories of the crazy winged-sword girl get out around the Abyss.

Not that I want to be considered "crazy", mind you, I just know how these stories usually go.

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