We'd travelled for most of the day, other than a small meal in the middle to break up the journey. No sparring or weapons-work given the intensity of the last two days in the Iona Chasm, and besides, Jorge had concerns with the weather. It was monsoon season in the Wandering States, and he was keen to put some miles under our metaphorical belt before our pace would drastically slow once the rains hit.

That evening, we setup our camp and went through the now-normal process of wilderness living. Setup and cleaning were done as standard, but with Nathlan's new class – or rather, with the loss of Nathlan's old class – we were obliged to set a watch rather than rely on perimeter wards. We also took some precautions for weather – essentially a large tarpaulin rigged up over each bedroll at an angle, made from some sort of canvas that repelled water.

The process was quick and simple when led by those with experience, and the storage devices that Jorge and Vera boasted meant that space was not much of a limiting factor and the equipment could be stored without bundling it up into the tiniest possible construction. This was another side of Jorge's teachings; as Nathlan had said, he wasn't creating soldiers.

I learned how to make and set camp, how to cook and clean, how to carry out the hundred and one small tasks that living off the land required, and learned of a hundred more I'd never even considered. It wasn't just hunting and tracking and fighting that I was taught, but self-sufficiency. Of course, I was very much part of a group at the moment but were I to become lost in the wilds again, I'd have a much better time of it, I was sure of it.

Before the most important task of the night could be attempted, and by that I of course meant the cooking, I sought out Vera. We were overdue a conversation, and while it was one I wasn't too keen to have, my burgeoning moral sense wouldn't let me avoid it for much longer. I needed to know who I was journeying with, and I'd shied away from direct questions about difficult topics for far too long.

She looked up from her bedroll as I approached, needle and thread in hand as she worked away at one of her shirts. Her smile was kind on her blocky face, and I felt my stomach flip a little with nerves. I didn't want to know, really. She was an intimidating woman, but one I respected, and the kindness she had shown in quiet moments meant more to me than I wanted to admit. I didn't want to learn of anything that might change that.

"Can I help you, Lamb?" she asked pleasantly.

"Aye," I said, unconsciously mirroring Jorge for a moment. "We need to talk."

That had come off a little more brusque and serious than I'd intended, but it would have to do. Vera didn't seem to mind, though.

"About what?"

"Your past," I replied bluntly. "I'm not trying to judge you or your decisions, Vera. I don't know what you went through or why you did what you did. I don't really know exactly what you did, being honest. And that's the point. I'd like to hear from your own mouth what happened back in the Sunsets, and why they're still chasing you now."

Her face didn't exactly close off, but a wariness crept in at the edges; a tightening of the faint lines around her eyes, a twitch of her mouth and a slight crease in her forehead all speaking of a subtle change in demeanour.

"Why do you want to know?"

I noticed that her hands didn't still in their task, and she flicked her gaze down to the garment in her lap on occasion while we spoke. I had thought hard about it for most of the day, and so I had no trouble finding an answer to her question.

"I'm still trying to discover who I am," I said quietly. "I know I'm susceptible to influence right now. Hells, I've already started talking like the old git sometimes, and I know that I've been picking up more that I don't realise. When I was in the wilds surrounded by blood and death all day, I became a bit of a savage. Still struggling with reigning that side of me back in now, honestly."

I sighed, blowing out a breath and holding her gaze for a moment. "Point is, I've always thought you are who you surround yourself with. I'm with you three all day, every day, and I want to know who each of you are. No point trying to figure out myself if I don't understand my companions, right?"

She nodded, as if conceding a fair point, but her gaze was piercing, a strange intensity there. "You've heard a little of my story, and know some of the broad strokes. I won't guarantee I'll answer all your questions, and I also don't particularly feel like explaining myself to someone who already has a sack full of preconceived notions with no grounding in reality. If I speak, will you listen?"

It was a simple question, but I took the time to consider it, to turn over what she was saying, and what she might mean, before replying. "Aye, I can do that."

"Well then!" she said, putting down her tools and standing to her not inconsiderable height. "Let's make it a training exercise, shall we?"

I narrowed my eyes, but Vera had such an aura of implacability when she got moving that I was forced to simply follow along as she led me out of the smattering of bedrolls that made up the camp and towards some relatively flat grass nearby.

"You've got questions you want answering, and a new weapons Skill that needs testing. I'm about to relive some memories I'd rather not, so it would help to have someone to beat up while I'm going through it. There's also a deeper lesson that I need you to understand before you can really comprehend my actions, and I'm not sure you get it yet."

She looked at me from her position a few feet away, and I cocked my head to one side. "So…?" I asked leadingly.

Her sword appeared in her hand the next moment. "So we're going to fight."

Vera's executioner's blade brushed the tips of the coarse grass from where it hung loosely before her. It was broad and long, its tip flat and without a point, though I knew the corners were edged to provide a lethal cut. Its surface was steel-bright, and it gleamed in the evening sun.

I held my wooden banded shield in my left arm, my spear gripped in my right fist. We'd foregone armour, but the weapons were real. I knew Vera had no intention of seriously hurting me, and despite my new Skill and pretentions of power, I knew I could no more harm her than I could wrestle a cave bear. Perhaps one day, but far out of reach for now.

Jorge had wandered over to spectate, and I could feel Nathlan watching from his bedroll nearby. He had a Skill that might have helped – some sort of domain that let him intuit truth from lies by any who spoke within. I didn't intend to compel answers from Vera that she wasn't comfortable sharing though, despite the nominal rules of the bout, so it wasn't needed or wanted. Besides, the scholar had his nose stuck in some esoteric academic treatise currently, and it was never an easy task to drag him away from that. He seemed to have an unlimited supply of reading material, despite lacking a storage device himself. I wondered for a moment how he kept it all organised, but Vera's voice brought me back to the moment.

"Lamb," she called. "Are you ready?"

"Just to be clear," I said. "I need to land a hit to ask a question?"

"You can ask anything at any time," she replied easily. "But if you want a real answer, you'll need to prove you can command one."

I shrugged my shoulders. She'd answer only what she wanted. Still, I had a creeping suspicion I knew what lesson she wanted me to take away from this, and I was pretty sure it was one I had learned well enough already. Should make things easy then.

"Go on lad," Jorge called. "Show her what you're made of, eh?"

Vera smirked, and I grinned at the challenge. We circled each other for a long while, taking each other's measure, and I tried to prepare myself mentally for the battle to come. It might be a friendly spar, but I was determined to approach it as realistically as possible. You never knew what you could learn from the heat of the moment.

I tried to measure her reach, estimating the distance that her long arms and longer sword could cross, but when the first thrust came, I was far from ready. Like a cobra flaring its hood before a lunge, Vera raised her left arm above her head. The moment my eyes tracked it, her right arm darted out, the sword's flat edge thudding into my shoulder. It was a light blow, unlikely to even leave a bruise and she'd been careful to make sure the sharpened edges didn't cut, but it still hurt enough to shock me.

That had been far too fast. I was familiar enough with a distracting gambit to know what it was, but I'd barely moved my eyes and kept her in view the entire time. It just didn't matter, because she'd moved faster than a viper. One moment I had my shield held loosely before me, the next I was reeling from the surprise strike.

I reset, clanging my shield and spear together and offering her a nod. I struck first this time, spear tip flicking out at her nose, shield dancing to intercept the retaliatory blow. It was slower, more predictable this time, and I suspected she was adjusting more accurately for my own attributes this time.

We spent a couple of minutes circling, exchanging a clamour of blows; sword against shield, spear against air, and very occasionally when I would grow too cocky, steel thudding softly into flesh.

Eventually, she asked her first question. "What do you want to know?"

"Why the Crimson Lions are chasing you. What the rebellion was about, how it happened, what it was fought for. How you came to meet Jorge, and what your plans are once you find the information you're looking for." I listed them off between exchanges.

"That's a lot of questions."

"I've had a lot of time to think."

She smiled, teeth catching the fading sun as it bathed our small camp, turning the waving grasses into a melting pot of amber and emerald.

"How your ambitions have grown, little Lamb," she mocked, but there was no sting to it. She loved this, it was plain to see. Even fighting a much weaker and less skilled opponent like myself was enough to set the fire to her movements again, and I took note of the growing excitement.

'She's made for war, not poetry,' Jorge had said of her, and it now seemed more true than ever. She prowled around the unmarked ring and her sword swished idly near the ground. It let out a little tinkling every time the coarse grass tapped against the bright steel.

She beckoned me forwards with her off-hand. "If you want answers though, you'll have to earn them."

My face stretched into a grin as I let go of any lingering caution and embraced the savagery of a wild animal. Now that I had my new weapons Skill to guide me, I didn't need to consciously reign myself in. I could trust my body to move through technical motions as I focused on the flow of the fight and reading my opponent.

I charged forwards, quick steps letting me slip to one side of her first thrust, and then my shield was battering away her second as my spear shot out at her. Three quick jabs with the steel point, all delivered from different angles in the span of a second or two, kept her from pivoting away.

She was far more skilled than I, and her stature and weapon gave her a solid reach. But I was of a similar length to her, if not width, and my spear was longer. I danced around her, just out of range, spear darting in and out like a wolf harrying a herd.

It didn't take long for the approach to bear fruit, and I soon caught a swing against my shield, leaving her torso undefended. I wouldn't have been able to seize the moment without The Forgotten Spear sharpening my technique. My strikes were already coming crisper and cleaner as I internalised the instincts the Skill granted, and I was now able to take advantage of openings in a new way.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I stabbed out with the spear, and she swayed aside at the last moment as expected, but instead of resetting for another strike, I raked the blade sideways in a cutting rather than stabbing motion. It wouldn't do much against an armoured foe unless I had pinpoint precision and timing, but Vera was unarmed. Plus, I only needed to score a hit, not debilitate.

Her movements sped up dramatically as she batted the blade away from her arm, and she took a step back with a smile. "Good enough."

She continued to circle and probe odd strikes at me, but the pace definitely faded, allowing me to catch my breath while she spoke. "You already know the big picture – myself and a few others from the Western Marchlands took part in a rebellion against the newly installed Duke Ryonic – so I'll give you the why for that hit."

"Essentially, it can all be boiled down to more rights. We had it good, for the Sunsets at least, back when the previous ruler of the Marchlands was in power. The new duke came in and clamped down though, and we lost a century of progress overnight. Of course, we didn't like that, so we made some simple demands; more rights over the land we worked, more agency for the worker and village councils. The guilds wanted cross-border legitimacy and the right to negotiate with neighbouring kingdoms directly rather than through the duke, so we needed freedom of movement for that, too. We wanted our own justice legitimised, and some protection – legal or otherwise – from the predations of the duke's enforcers."

She sighed, leaning casually out of range of one of my half-hearted lunges. "Many reasons, at least to begin with. By the end though, we simply wanted revenge."

"I'm sorry," I replied after a moment of silence. "I don't want you to relive painful memories, but I don't yet understand why that would cause them to chase you half way across the continent."

"And you won't, Lamb. Not unless you score another touch."

So saying, she launched back into a flurry of savage blows, keeping me on the backfoot and unable to regain the momentum. We fought back and forth across the grass, our strikes clanging with the sounds of iron and steel. I felt stinging welts appearing on my arms and legs from where she slapped me with the flat of her sword, but I was too focused to acknowledge them.

I was learning with each exchange, footwork more precise, breathing even and true. I moved across the arena, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, and my spear led the dance. It thrust and cut, weaved and struck, and I started to include more complex manoeuvres with time.

I scored a second hit by swinging the spear out wide, then using the momentum of Vera's parry to wrap the haft back around my head and thrust behind my back, shield propped to support and obscure the strike simultaneously. It was weaker and slower than a normal thrust, but it was also unexpected. Unconventional moves were not ideal in most scenarios – the classics were classics for a reason, after all – but they did help mix things up and gave my fighting a note of unpredictability.

"Why did you leave?" I asked, though Vera didn't let up at all this time, and I was forced to choke the words out around my heavy breathing as I defended once more.

"Like my last answer; many reasons. The rebellion lasted over two years, and we spent much of the first one winning."

She battered my spear aside and kicked my shield, sending me staggering backwards.

"You know the problem with fighting a stronger opponent though, Lamb?" she asked, blocking my feeble return strike and spinning her blade down the haft of my weapon until I was forced to let go or lose fingers. "When you start winning, they just flip the fucking board."

She tripped me, turning away and stalking back to her position while I grabbed my spear and hauled myself to my feet, panting heavily. She had been getting both stronger and faster as we spoke, and it was a struggle to keep up now.

"We kept fighting, losing more people every battle. But we could run, and we could hide. The duke's men didn't fancy trudging through the swamps after we ambushed a few of them, and so we got some breathing room. And then the duke sent in the Lions."

Her face grew wrathful, eyes wide and blazing with fury, and while I knew it wasn't directed at me, it was still difficult to behold.

"They started patrolling the roads and settlements in the Marchlands, and soon it turned to killing and beating where they pleased. Not us, mind you, just the people who lived there. All in an attempt to draw us out. We were all combat classers by then, though, and a few dozen fighters grown strong from a year of bloodshed are a lethal force. We started reaping a bloody harvest of the Lions, and soon the fucking cowards escalated. They burned an entire village, people and all, just for supplying us."

I cringed back from a heavy blow, my shield nearly splintering beneath the force. It would have taken my head if I wasn't faster, but then I supposed that if I wasn't faster, she would have pulled the blow. Or so I hoped, at least. It was getting hard to know.

"Of course, we couldn't stand for that. We all knew there was no winning by that point, I think. We could have defeated the duke and his men – we had the support of the people, and it was only a matter of time. But once he brought in outsiders, and tolerated their killing of his people, it was clear that things were never going to go our way. And so, we thought we'd at least kill a few of the crimson bastards on the way out. There was a great battle near a place called Sternsbridge…"

She trailed off, staring off behind me and somewhere into the past. Her sword was gripped loosely, dangling amongst the grasses, but I had no thoughts of attacking now. Her eyes swung back to my own, and rather than rage I saw a deep well of grief there. Regret, pain, sadness. Nothing good.

"I awoke my 3rd tier class during the battle, and it all went… wrong. I was the only survivor from the rebellion's side, as far as I know. Some of the younger ones had never joined the battle, and they might still live, but I'm not sure. The Lions retreated, and I left that same day."

I didn't know what to say. I could read between the lines, with the hints dropped by Jorge about Vera's old class, and the guilt I could see plain on her face. She was staring off over my shoulder again, and I could only imagine the pain of the memories she swam in.

I didn't like it, didn't like that I was partly causing this, and so I poked her. My spear tapped her lightly on the leg, and she startled.

"That's another one for me," I said softly. "How did you meet Jorge?"

The surprise melted from her face, and she laughed. "Oh, that was cheating!"

"Not technically."

She snorted, sending a few feints at my face and then kicking my leg out from beneath me. "I met Jorge… by accident," she replied.

"That's not an answer!" I cried.

"Sure it is," she disagreed. "Technically."

I harrumphed, and Jorge laughed at me. "She's got you there, lad," he called from the sidelines.

I refocused, determined to make her answer for real, and so began a more desperate struggle, where I darted in and out, harrying the larger woman with blows that could crush a skeleton with the force of them. Had crushed skeletons, actually. She stood there like a mountain in a storm though; unmoved, enduring and completely unfazed.

Her blade wove a stunning defence, blocking and parrying, intercepting and disrupting my strikes before I could build momentum. Still though, it was dangerous to let an opponent dictate the tempo of battle for a reason, and soon I found an opening.

She slipped aside from my spear strike, but I dropped the weapon the moment that was true, and leapt forwards in a tackle. She might be stronger, but I had the advantage of surprise and ferocity on my–

Her straight punch rocked my head back, and I sprawled to the ground bonelessly.

She squatted down next to me. "You're getting better, and that weapons Skill is a miracle. But by the gods, Lamb! You need to work on holding back a little."

I coughed and accepted her hand up, rising to a seated position. I groaned as I rolled my neck. She'd hit me in the cheek, and while the blow had been hard enough to knock me down, I couldn't feel anything broken. Thankfully, she'd left my nose intact.

"I… may have gotten a little caught up in the moment," I replied, testing the inside of my mouth gingerly with my tongue. No loose teeth either.

She grinned. "No shame in it. I know a little something about losing yourself in a fight."

"Hard to believe there's much out there capable of making you lose your cool."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she responded.

"Show me." At her raised eyebrow, I elaborated. "I want to see what losing control looks like. Show me why they fear you."

She stared down at me, then wheeled away to look at Jorge. They conferred with looks alone, and then she returned.

She was different now though.

The air around Vera burned, twisting in on itself in a haze. Her features had hardened, and I felt I was looking at a giant carved from granite. No give in that face, no mercy. She loomed over me, the fires in her eyes dancing wildly, contempt written across her face.

I could see her teeth, strangely sharp in the evening sun as her lip pulled back in a sneer. I could feel the blood rushing in my veins, my breath once so loud in my ears now receding before the pounding of my heart. Like drums in the deep, I felt each beat within my chest, and the longer I held that burning gaze, the louder the drums beat.

She kicked my foot.

"Get up."

Her words fell into the space between us, and I could feel the challenge settle upon me. The hair on my arms rose in response, and I shivered, feeling a new heat burning within to match the one outside.

I was on my feet before I knew it, my own lips pulled back in a snarl. She opened her mouth to speak but my spear darted out just as she did so. I heard the clack of her teeth as she slammed her mouth shut and slipped her head to the side of my thrust. My shield dropped a few inches to intercept a swing of her sword, a keening filling the air before cutting off with a clang of metal on metal.

I staggered to the side, but my spear lashed out again nevertheless, as if it had a mind of its own. She once again slipped the thrust, but it was closer this time. Her next strike was caught at an angle on my shield and slid past without staggering me. I felt an urge to lunge forwards, to close the distance and sink my teeth into her flesh, to rend and tear and rip her apart with my bare hands.

I took a blow to the arm below my shield, and the pain was enough to startle me. I activated Heart of the Hills in response, and it gave me just enough clarity to understand I was under the effect of some sort of aura Skill. It didn't allow me to ignore the urges though, only notice their strangeness.

I backed off, and spat blood to the side from a wound I hadn't even realised I had taken. My heart continued to beat a staccato rhythm within me, and I felt drawn to the tall, broad figure striding towards me. The very air shuddered around her, and I caught the smell of burning trees.

She pulled back her arm and swung a lazy sweep of her blade at my chest, and I almost found myself stepping into the strike purely to close the distance between us. I blasted Heart of the Hills again, trying to push the urges from my mind, but it did little to help. My spear intercepted the strike but left me wide open on my right hand side, and a powerful kick sent me reeling.

I was too close to use my spear easily, and my shield arm was heavy and slow from repeated blows to the muscle. I couldn't find the breath to even speak with the way my heart was hammering and chest heaving. I was snared, desperate to get away but unable to think past my instincts and base urges to form a coherent plan to do so.

Like an animal in a trap.

Like prey.

The thought touched something deep within my soul and I felt mana rush from my core into the constellation of Indomitable Prey. My senses shifted.

The air was no longer crackling with heat; I could smell soft grass and the remains of mint tea, but no burning. Vera was striding towards me but rather than a boiling, hazy silhouette, she was simply the large, indomitable woman I had previously known. Her sneer was still in place, but looked forced somehow, teeth even and no sharper than my own.

She stepped forwards again, her blade rising, and I met it head on with my shield. Roaring, I slammed the blade to the side and stepped back, whipping my spearpoint up to slam into her leading leg. She stumbled and I advanced, weapons gripped so tightly in my fists I could feel the blood pumping through my veins.

I knocked her blade aside again, stabbing out at the exposed throat backing away before me, but she dodged. I followed doggedly, breath gushing from my own throat with each step before I greedily dragged the air back in to fuel each subsequent strike. I felt like I was growling, though I couldn't hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing in my ears.

Suddenly, she dropped her sword and tackled me to the ground, and I thrashed, frantically trying to create space enough to slip out from beneath the suffocating pressure. She had my arms and legs locked tight though, and soon a comforting aura descended, soothing the raging fire in my heart and bringing me back to reality.

Vera sensed the turn and released me. I was still blinking the stars from my vision as Jorge crouched down to help me sit, and Vera abruptly stood and walked off. I felt the need to apologise for getting carried away, but Jorge held me back with a soft hand.

"Leave her, lad. She needs a moment to calm after using her berserking Skill. You did nothing wrong." His soft voice helped further soothe the pounding of my heart, and I relaxed again. The worry that had started to build as I realised I'd actually been trying to kill her at the end easing. "We were both expecting that sort of reaction – it's what happens when you fight a berserker. Nothing to worry about, just give her a minute."

I stayed seated, letting my breath slow and my skin cool. The light had already been fading from the world during our duel, and in the wake of the intense emotions it had provoked, I now felt like everything lacked colour. The strange grey of dusk descended and brushed away the vibrancy of the scene, leaving everything washed out.

"She's a terror, aye?" he asked after a moment.

"Oh, I don't know. She's not that scary," I said with a shaky grin. "Like a baby bear. Scary killing machine, sure, but have you seen those ears?"

"Oh lamb, you've seen nothing yet," Jorge replied. "When Vera gets going, and I mean really gets going-"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You don't want to be in her way."

"No. You don't get it, lad. You don't want to be anywhere nearby." Jorge held my gaze, only looking away once he was sure I understood him.

I watched the large woman sitting cross-legged next to her bedroll, needle gripped between her teeth and a slight scrunch to her nose as she worked the thread through an old shirt. Hard to imagine her as terrifying as Jorge described right now. But I'd felt her aura for just a moment. Not her true aura, simply a glimmer, but that had been enough. The flames, the roaring heat, and the burning light in her eyes, like portals to the nine hells themselves.

I shivered. Perhaps I could understand why the Sunsets might want to stamp out a threat like Vera – I hadn't wanted the Tarkenzi pack at my back all those weeks ago, after all. I just couldn't figure out why anyone would think it would be a good idea to target her given the slither of her true power I'd just seen.

Gods save us from suicidal mercenaries.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.