Illnyea had ridden with Arnold the next day, listening intently to the enchanter as he explained the complicated notation in her book. Her handwriting was small and cramped as she tried to fit as much information as possible onto a single page. Priscilla offered the use of her sketchbook, but Illnyea was insistent on doing it that way, and a stubborn Illnyea wasn't one Priscilla was going to argue with.

Watching Illnyea learn how to enchant from Arnold after dinner was fascinating.

It was something that Priscilla was never going to be able to do, so she could experience it vicariously through Illnyea. Enchanting seemed to be all about maintaining a delicate balance between the innate magic of the materials and your own magic as you attempted to entwine them together to achieve your desired result.

Arnold had a strip of leather in his hands and the ink he had put powder horn from horned hairs in on his temporary desk.

"First thing you have to learn," Arnold said, picking up a pen with a wicked sharp nib and gesturing at Illnyea, "is that before you even think about enchanting something, you need to have a clear picture in your mind of what you're attempting to make. If you're all wishy-washy, then the magic will come out muddled and you'll have wasted time, magic, and resources for nothing, got it, brat?"

"I do, sir," Illnyea said earnestly.

Arnold made a face at the title. "If you insist on being so damn formal, call me Master Cihlar, though really kid, I'd prefer you just call me Arnold."

"Understood, Master Cihlar," Illnyea said promptly.

Arnold sighed as he rolled his eyes, totally missing the slight smirk Illnyea quickly wiped off her face.

"Since you know shit about enchanting," Arnold said, "we're not going to start with anything too complicated. We're going to make this piece of leather into a pouch that'll be resistant to getting slashed open by pickpockets by using this ink infused with the essence of horned hare horns."

"What type of leather is it?" Illnyea asked, cocking her head at the material. "I don't think I recognize it."

Arnold smiled like Illnyea had unknowingly passed a test. "A Dusk Ox, bovines that walk around during twilight and twist shadows to hide themselves."

Illnyea frowned, glancing between the leather and Arnold.

"Would…" Illnyea glanced at her notes. "Would the type of leather mean that you could potentially make the pouch harder to notice?"

"Good instincts, brat," Arnold said and tapped the leather with the dull side of his pen. "That aspect of the material will be enhanced by the horns, but that's not our main focus — what we want is to make it so that even if pick-pockets can see it on your belt, they can't slice through it and make a clean getaway."

Priscilla was drawn out of watching the duo by a bump to her shoulder. It was Kavil and he was holding up a deck of cards with a smile.

"Up to a game of drake's hoard?" Kavil asked, his expression so hopeful that the instinctual refusal didn't make its way past Priscilla's throat.

Resigned, Priscilla said, "I refuse to sit next to Sulaiman."

Mr. Ordan sat between her and Sulaiman, and ended up winning by going out first and Kavil went out second, so Priscilla was subjected to Sulaiman's smug torment. She took joy in the fact that Sulaiman was just as bad as her, especially when she refocused her efforts entirely onto making sure he never won.

Arnold and Illnyea ended up joining for the last two games. Illnyea gave Mr. Ordan a run for his money, and Arnold wasn't actually trying to win as he was focused on providing dry commentary on how much Sulaiman and Priscilla were sucking.

Though Priscilla never got to experience the sweet taste of victory, she ensured that Sulaiman never tasted it either, and that was far more satisfying.

The next day, Sulaiman had his revenge after Kavil declared Priscilla fully recovered from the near drowning.

"Let us resume your training," Sulaiman said, pulling out two swords.

Priscilla didn't groan only because Sulaiman tossed a sword at her face and she had to scramble so she didn't get a broken nose. She glared at him, but he completely ignored it as he did a few test thrusts of his own blade.

"Oh good idea!" Illnyea said, rubbing the ink off her palms as she bounded up to Kavil. "We need to work on your stamina, Kavil!"

Kavil looked nervously to the side. "I, uh, I have to go make dinner."

"I can handle it by myself tonight, Kavil," Mr. Ordan said so neutrally that it had to be unnatural — and when Priscilla glanced at the former butler, she saw there was a spark of mischief in his eyes.

Illnyea brightened, wrapping an arm around Kavil's shoulders.

"This is going to be so much fun!" Illnyea said.

Priscilla and Kavil said a commiserating look as their fates were sealed.

And thus, the hellish training began anew. Sulaiman and Illnyea teamed up and fed into each other's delight at forcing their students to find their limits by offering up new torture methods whenever Kavil or Priscilla finished an exercise.

Priscilla was sweaty and exhausted by the time they finished, running so hot she took off all her outer layers despite the chilly air, clad in a short-sleeved shirt. Sulaiman was unaffected by the exertion, the bastard, and watched her struggle to walk to the fire with smugness.

"You're a horrible teacher, Sulaiman," Priscilla wheezed as she leaned against Kavil, who looked as tired as she felt, "to take pleasure in your student's suffering. I have to ride a horse tomorrow and every moment is going to suck."

"I have the muscle salve in my pack," Kavil said, though he made no move to get closer to it.

Priscilla sighed, plopping her sweaty head onto Kavil's shoulder. She stared up at Illnyea with wide pleading eyes, hoping she might look pathetic enough the marginally nicer drill instructor might take pity upon her.

"Please?" Priscilla asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

Illnyea looked amused but nodded, fetching the jar and bringing it closer. She helped slather the cool salve onto both of their backs and arms. Priscilla sighed at the relief it brought and found the energy to rub it shamelessly onto her abs. Sulaiman had made her do an ungodly amount of crunches because, "Core strength is the key to success."

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"We'll have to keep working on both of your stamina," Sulaiman said, opening up a book in his lap, "as we can't have you faltering during a battle. Tomorrow we'll work more on sword movements, and the next we'll focus on agility, then repeat the process. We'll adjust the training regime as needed."

Priscilla idly noticed the book wasn't the biography, it was one he had bought at the harvest festival, but didn't have the energy to ask him about it right now.

Instead, she groaned, slumping further against Kavil. Intellectually, she understood it was a good plan and it was much needed, but on an emotional level, she was sure that Sulaiman was a devil from hell specifically to torture her.

"Yay," Kavil said, dead-pan as he stared into the fire.

"You won't regret putting in the hard work," Illnyea said, patting Kavil's knee. "Despite enjoying his student's pain, Sulaiman knows how to push you right to the edge of your limits so you feel like you want to die but you probably won't."

Priscilla and Kavil both stared at Illnyea.

"Was that supposed to be reassuring?" Kavil asked.

Illnyea just smiled in response and patted Kavil's knee once more before going to sit by Arnold and pester him about enchanting since there was still some time before they went to sleep. The enchanter looked peeved at being bothered, but didn't shoo her away immediately, so Illnyea pushed the book into his line of sight with wide, expectant eyes.

"We're gonna fucking die, Kavil," Priscilla complained, fake sobbing into his shoulder, "killed in our prime by evil taskmasters."

"At least we die together," Kavil said, ever the optimist. "Maybe the Shade Father will take pity on us and let us haunt them so no other poor souls are worked to death."

"I'll give you both a beautiful eulogy at your funerals," Mr. Ordan said as he held out two bowls of thick, hearty stew. Priscilla stared at Mr. Ordan with betrayal even though she took the bowl because she needed the energy. Kavil just snorted as he began to eat his own food.

They established a routine after that, as they were traveling through a relatively peaceful section of Kavendash on their way to the village plagued by blights.

In the morning, Kavil and Mr. Ordan would briefly forage around where they set up camp, hanging herbs to dry in the carriage as they traveled. They would stop briefly for lunch, and they would forage more while Illnyea wheedled a lesson out of Arnold. Priscilla would sew as Sulaiman read more of his book, and when they were finished eating, they got back on the road. They traveled alongside a river for a while, so they were able to wipe themselves down with a cold, damp towel daily and wash their clothes so they didn't stink too badly.

In the evenings, Priscilla and Sulaiman would warm up with a spar, with Kavil trading off going over how to use his hook with Illnyea and helping Mr. Ordan with cooking. After dinner, they would train, and if they weren't dead after training (which was a near thing according to Priscilla's muscles), they would play a few games of Drake's Hoard before going to bed.

Priscilla still hadn't won one fucking game, but devoted her efforts into ensuring Sulaiman didn't win either. It was a sort of mutually assured destruction, as Sulaiman responded to her challenge with a glare, so it was really a race between Mr. Ordan, Kavil, and Illnyea as Arnold declared it was more fun to watch than play. Illnyea was in the lead for most games won, and though Mr. Ordan was close behind her, Kavil had won enough that he wasn't out of the running.

It was an easy routine to fall into, leaving Priscilla feeling tired but satisfied each day as she tucked into her tent with Illnyea to sleep. The training was working and Priscilla could feel her body growing stronger underneath all the aching, lasting a little longer each time Sulaiman had her drill the sword movements.

The salve dealt with most of the aches, and Priscilla knew there was no way to turn your body into a weapon without pain, so she didn't complain.

That much.

Sulaiman deserved all the shit she gave him because he was far too pleased with himself as he smacked her with the blunt side of his sword when she made a mistake, and she did her best to get back at him in their unarmed spars. He was, unfortunately, wising up to a lot of her tricks, but it didn't discourage her because that'd just lull him into a false sense of security. He didn't even realize that by making her suffer with training that he was providing her the opportunity to get strong enough to take him down.

All of which Priscilla said as she gloated when she finally pinned him to the ground, sitting on his ass to make sure he couldn't get his legs under him to stand. She kept a tight grip on his wrist as she pressed into the small of his back, and pinned his other wrist above his head.

Sulaiman struggled briefly, but Priscilla kept him trapped under her body weight.

"You forged the very instrument that led to your defeat," Priscilla chuckled, rather enjoying the villainous monologue. "Yield, and perhaps I'll pity upon you and release you from my clutches."

Sulaiman turned his head just enough to glare at Priscilla.

"Think you're stuck unless you want to use magic, Sulaiman," Illnyea said from where she was sitting on Kavil's back. They had sparred as well, as Kavil said he wanted to test his skills, and Illnyea had defeated him handily, yanking the staff out of his hands almost immediately, which forced Kavil to use his fists, and he wasn't very good at that. Illnyea tripped the healer and Kavil ate shit.

Illnyea added insult to injury by simply sitting on Kavil and saying he should do some push ups with her weight in case he ever got squished by an enemy. Kavil seemed to have accepted his fate as Illnyea's cushion and had watched Priscilla and Sulaiman's fight as he leaned his head against his palm.

Sulaiman struggled one last time but sighed, clearly not willing to use magic to win in a simple spar.

"I yield," Sulaiman said through gritted teeth.

"Good boy," Priscilla crooned, letting go of his wrists to pat his head patronizingly. His hair was soft even though it was so short, and she wondered if it'd be even softer if he'd grow it out to the length he had in TDE so it brushed against his shoulders.

With a growl, Sulaiman launched himself up, knocking Priscilla off and they began to wrestle again. She threw several elbows and Sulaiman grunted as they connected, but he wasn't backing down, insistent on making sure Priscilla had grass all tangled up in her hair.

("Two copper Sulaiman pins her within a minute," Kavil said idly.

"No bet," Illnyea said. "Priscilla knows just how to push his buttons, and Sulaiman's never been one to back down when he's riled up."

They both watched the two of them tussle with amusement, as neither were showing their usual deadly grace during combat. This was like a squabble between children, full of low blows in an attempt to get the other to submit.)

Priscilla refused to acknowledge Sulaiman's pin of her as an actual win because he cheated. He had pulled out her hair ribbon so that her hair fell into her face and blinded her, and then he pushed her down, strong arms locking her in place as he held her against his chest.

"Yield," Sulaiman had whispered harshly, and though Priscilla struggled, she couldn't get out of it and had to reluctantly yield.

"Good girl," Sulaiman repeated mockingly as he let her go.

Priscilla was seething, glaring at Sulaiman as she aggressively ate her dinner. Her irritation was so strong she barely tasted it, which was a shame, but her mind was totally focused on revenge. Mark her words — Priscilla was going to get back at Sulaiman the moment he let his guard down.

As if sensing what she was thinking, the motherfucker looked up and smirked.

Hey, goddess of luck, Priscilla prayed as she took a bite of a hard bread smothered in butter, Priscilla Sunscarre here. I know I haven't prayed to you much, but I need your help to do something funny. It's just a small favor, I'm not looking for a miracle, buuuuuut if you help out, I swear you'll be my second favorite God and I'll visit your temple to give you an offering. Sorry I can't promise first, but Gaelea is pretty sweet and I'm sure you understand.

Priscilla finished the prayer with the broad outline of her plan as she finished eating, and then began to get ready for bed.

If gods were going to be fucking with Priscilla's life, she felt like she had a right to ask them for favors. The goddess of luck and sky Fortulum was a whimsical being who was said to have a mischievous personality, and Priscilla thought she'd have a better chance appealing to her instead of the god of gambling, who'd probably make Priscilla fail out of spite.

Priscilla wasn't immediately smited for the prayer, nor did she get the feeling that the goddess actually heard her, but she'd give it a few days. Fortulum was a popular god in Kavendash, and likely got hundreds of prayers everyday. Hopefully Priscilla's request was odd enough it caught Fortulum's attention, and she'd pray a few more times when she had a moment to spare because there was always the chance it'd annoy the god of cowards into popping into her dreams so she could shake them down for answers.

Even if Priscilla didn't have the power of gods on her side, she was stubborn and resourceful and she refused to give up.

It may not be tomorrow, the next day, or even this week, but Priscilla would have her revenge against Sulaiman, achieved in a way he never saw coming.

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