Sare'en watched as Em'brel stabbed her practice dummy a little too enthusiastically before the herder reloaded her belly bow to continue her own practice. She couldn't understand where the young noble found the drive to learn all those complex lessons from Lady Angela, oversee the construction of yet another groundbreaking structure that she had designed with minimal guidance from the dragon, and still have enough energy to train more than anyone other than the guards whose job was to stay in peak combat readiness.

As the herder girl aimed and let fly, she reflected on her own accomplishments since arriving. She was still mostly in charge of preparing meals for their household but also had her hands full training Grim and tending to the Arlack, so the rest were helping out a little more than before. Still, she was amazed to realize how much she'd also been handling. In her own way, she'd already come a long way since arriving at the outpost.

Of course, her bolt flew wide of the intended target, reminding her that she was still far behind even the average worker at the outpost in some areas. Of all the workers here, she was the worst shot and by a noticeable margin.

Grim looked up at her expectantly before Sare'en sighed and nodded. "Alright boy, fetch!" With that, grim bounded off with eager abandon. Maybe he was a little too enthusiastic...

Sare'en shouted after him. "Gentle! Be Gentle! Fea'en will throw a fit if you maul another bolt so soon!"

Grim reached down and retrieved the bolt with a gentleness that would have surprised anyone who hadn't seen his progress since he'd arrived at the outpost before bounding back and dropping a well-slobbered, but otherwise mostly intact bolt at Sare'en's feet.

Slobber she could handle. Sare'en picked up the bolt and started cleaning it off when she caught a chuckle from behind her. Looking back, she could see Em'brel laughing while trying to catch her breath by leaning on a spear. "He's come so far in such a short time! I never would have believed it if I didn't see it for myself!"

Sare'en sighed as she examined the bolt for teeth marks. Since she was also using them to train Grim, she only used the worst and most worn bolts. Even so, if she went through them a little too quickly, it would only earn her the ire of the woodworkers who had to replace them. "Yeah, at least one of us is showing improvement. I'm starting to wonder if he's not the smarter of the two of us."

Em'brel grinned as she leaned. "Now, you're not being fair to yourself. Look at Grim and the arlack herd! Both have come such a long way so quickly!"

Sare'en smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I was actually just thinking kind of similar a minute ago. But still, it's frustrating that I just can't seem to get this."

Ger'ron chose that moment to walk around the bend and catch the two women at rest. "Well, if you want to get better, might I recommend you actually practice instead of merely talking about it?"

Sare'en's tendrils flattened in shame while Em'brel chuckled a little guiltily and got back to stabbing her dummy. Though Sare'en noticed a little of the wild edge that had been there before seemed to have faded.

-

To'brel had been uncertain just how long he'd have to wait to find out more, but apparently, the answer had been not long at all. S'haar, Jack, and Lon'thul came walking into the cell, and S'haar unceremoniously plopped a large flat-faced stone down onto a rough table. The stone had an odd symbol carved into it, consisting of a circle surrounded by a triangle with three lines connecting the two.

The intimidating woman turned to the noble with an undecipherable expression. "So I hear you'd like to get out of this place and get a breath of fresh air. That's fine, but you're gonna have to swear an oath first."

To'brel nodded hesitantly. "Well, yes, though I suppose it depends on the oath... I was thinking..."

The noble was suddenly cut off when S'haar took a knife and quickly cut a slash into her own hand. "He who swears on my blood this day will stay within the bounds of the outpost, seek not to harm any of the guests or residents herein either directly or indirectly, and will obey any reasonable command he is given in return for greater privileges and freedom until such time as his release is negotiated by myself or Jack."

Following that, S'haar placed her hand on the stone, leaving her bloody mark before flipping the knife to catch it by the blade's tip and extend the handle to the kid. "That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

To'brel looked up at the warrior woman before looking down at the knife whose design was totally at odds with the pragmatic attitude of its wielder. He'd seen several oath knives before. Their quality varied based on the status of the parties involved, but they were always far finer than most others of their more common counterparts, but this was something else entirely. The blade itself was made of simple but obviously high-quality steel. The edge was so fine he couldn't imagine how many hours went into sharpening it. The handle was carefully wrapped in supple leather that almost looked like it was grown rather than cut to fit. At the end of the pommel was a sizeable clear rock, cut in an odd way to show sharp edges and flat-surfaced that shone brightly in even the dim light of the cell.

The knife was worth a small fortune. This was a blade worthy of the leader of a great city, not the son of a replacement leader for a backwater village struggling to survive.

To'brel looked back at S'haar. Her words echoed around in his head though her face betrayed none of her thoughts. The noble couldn't find any flaw or trap in her words. If anything, it had been more generous in its simplicity than any of the more complex oaths he'd been contemplating. True, the term "reasonable" held the potential for complication or misunderstanding, but his gut feeling was that its ambivalence was meant more for his benefit than harm. That made him wonder again why did he trust these people so quickly and easily despite his situation?

Realizing he'd been standing there quietly lost in thought for more than a short while, To'brel made a decision. He reached up and grabbed the knife. He paused a moment at the absurdity of them letting him be armed when their hands were clearly empty, but he didn't even have to glance at S'haar to realize that if he was foolish enough to try something stupid right now, she was more than capable of handling anything he was capable of.

Instead, he slashed his own hand and applied his blood to S'haar's. "On pain of death, I so swear." Then it was done.

S'haar merely nodded while Jack spoke. The warrior woman looked at the tiny male before turning her cool gaze back to To'brel. She took a breath to translate when Lon'thul spoke up first. "He says, 'Welcome to the outpost.'"

Both S'haar and Jack turned and looked at the hunter with evident confusion. He shrugged in response. "What? I've been listening to you all translate for him for the better part of a year now. So it was bound to sink in sooner or later!"

Jack said something else unintelligible, and the hunter laughed. "Well, evidently, it is that easy because I did it! Though I admit, I only really understand about half of what you're saying most of the time. Less if you're explaining something more complex."

Jack spoke again, more rapidly this time, and Lon'thul's face scrunched up in confusion or distaste. "Yeah, like that. I have no idea what half those words meant!"

To'brel cleared his throat, drawing all three sets of eyes back to himself. "Ummm... So what now?"

Lon'thul grinned. "Now we go out and get you into trouble!"

Jack spoke somewhat sharply in response, to which Lon'thul's grin only widened. "Yeah, go out and see some more of the outpost. That's what I said!"

S'haar glared at Lon'thul with enough heat that To'brel was certain the hunter would finally be cowed. But, instead, he shook his head, looking for all the world as if she was an overbearing parent rather than a dangerous warrior and the leader of this outpost. "Yes, fine, I'll keep him out of any real trouble! I know you've got some bodyguards set aside for him, but since I've got the rest of the day free and he already knows me, I figure I'd give him a brief tour. At least that way, he'll have some idea where he's trying to get to while being escorted by total strangers in an even stranger place. I think you all forget just how weird this place really is!"

S'haar glanced at Jack, who merely shrugged before turning back to Lon'thul. "Alright, but you are going to be responsible for any trouble he causes or gets into while he's in your care!"

Lon'thul's grin never wavered. "That's perfectly fine. What's the worst that could happen? I have to clean a few more dishes after dinner tomorrow? Maybe clean a latrine or two as well? That sounds like every other day anyway!"

S'haar's glare lost some of its edge, and she looked slightly defeated as she turned to Jack. "Maybe you should go too. You might be able to keep Lon'thul from getting into trouble while he's keeping To'brel from getting into trouble."

Jack developed his own grin as he answered. To'brel didn't know what he'd said, but Loj'thul's laughter was evident that it had appealed to his own unruly humor.

S'haar evidently had enough because she heaved the world's most defeated sigh before gathering up the stone and knife and turning to leave. She stopped momentarily to speak quietly to Jack before, much to To'brel's astonishment, she leaned in and gave him a quick affectionate nuzzle before continuing on her way.

To'brel remembered they'd referred to each other as partners, but he'd assumed they meant that in an academic sense before this moment. The longer he stayed here, the less the young noble understood anything about these people.

-

Ger'ron was finishing up his inspection of the guards. They were pretty good kids, though most of them were inexperienced. They were well trained and a rival for most of the village veterans, but there is a world of difference between training and experience. The old guard was worried about how many of the kids he'd lose if it came down to a real fight.

As he did his inspection, Ger'ron was also doing his best not to limp. As much of a miracle as the prosthetic was, it still hurt at times. "Phantom pain" was the term Lady Angela had given it, and given that a foot that didn't exist was currently in pain, Ger'ron understood why.

Going back to his original thought, Ger'ron figured that if he was worried about the kids under his charge getting themselves into trouble, the best thing to do was train them until their bodies reacted instinctually, even if or when they lost their minds to fear or bloodlust.

Ger'ron looked up and down the line of guards, keeping a stoic expression locked in place. "Alright. You've all been doing well. Good even, but there's only a couple dozen of us standing between this place and trouble. Just last winter, a group of over a hundred raiders came through here, and even with all the weapons, armor, and walls between them and us, there's just not enough of us to protect everyone. Even if we push them back by some miracle, how many of our charges would die in the time it took us to do that? We need to be better than good. We need to be great!"

One of the younger guards decided to speak up then. "But isn't that why the workers have been training with those new weapons of theirs? And what about Jack? He picked apart most of that army you speak of single-handedly!"

Ger'ron eyed the kid. He wasn't wrong, but the old guard didn't want him relaxing, thinking things were well in hand. "Oh? Are you going to depend on a woodsman or a tinkerer to save your skin when it's time? Will you sit back and let some children protect you from the raiders when they come calling?"

The kid definitely looked abashed, but Ger'ron wanted to drive the point home. "Then there's Jack. You've seen him limping around with his face half clawed off. What you haven't seen is the rest of the toll it took on his body. He almost died more than once that night. He should have died that night. He broke himself doing our job for us."

Gear'ron stopped focusing on the one who'd spoken up and turned to the rest. "It's our job to ensure Jack and the rest of the workers have to fight as little as possible, if at all. Look at this place! Look at the lives we live here! Even the lowest guard lives in luxury few village lords will ever know! The Lords and Ladies of the outpost treat you with dignity and respect! Given a little more time, this will be the kind of place you can raise a family, confident your children will flourish and grow with opportunities available to them we could barely imagine. But for it to become that, we have to buy it more time. We have to buy that time with our blood and tears. So train hard! Be the best! Secure that future!"

Ger'ron eyed the kid again, though a bit more kindly this time. "Fight so that those we are here to protect don't have to!"

The guards looked sufficiently fired up and would likely put a little extra effort into their training. So Ger'ron dismissed them and sent them on their way. They were good kids. They just needed a little shove now and then.

-

To'brel watched the guards get dismissed. He and the hunter had walked up on the guard captain mid-speech and stood back to watch. Of course, there weren't a lot of guards. Even his small village boasted more. It made sense when he thought about it. An outpost usually boasted just enough guards to make attacking it more costly than it was worth. But this outpost was different than most, and so were its guards. Every one of them looked ready for battle and had a fire burning in their eyes. This was a small force, but one to be reckoned with. Was this why the hunter had brought him here? To show him the discipline and loyalty of the guards?

As the old guard walked up to the two of them, To'brel noticed a slight limp. Looking down, the young noble could see a metal boot covering one foot. Except, it didn't look quite right... The foot was far too thin. With a jolt of realization, he looked up, meeting the old guard's surprisingly friendly gaze as he spoke. "Aye, I lost the foot just this last winter. But with a bit of help and this here prosthetic, even an old guard like me can be of some use."

Lon'thul laughed heartily. "Some use? Sure, and I'm an okay hunter. Kid, this here is the captain of the outpost's guard, Ger'ron. Whatever you do, never, and I mean never, believe him when he tells you he's helpless. This wily old wolgen has more dirty tricks up his sleeve than I've got years under my belt. If he decides to teach you something, listen to him. It might just save your life! Or someone else's..."

To'brel looked at the old guard, then Lon'thul in confusion. "Dirty tricks? But shouldn't a guard be more...honorable?"

Ger'ron smiled sadly and patted the young noble on the shoulder. "Listen here, lad. I know plenty of dead guards who were every bit as honorable as you wish. But when you're in a fight to the death, and it's either you or the other guy, you do what you have to so you can go home to your family at the end of the day. Dying honorably won't keep them warm or fill their bellies. There's a time and a place for honor. Keep your word, even to your enemy, and everyone will know and trust you when it counts. But once you find yourself in a real fight, you save your honor for when you're still breathing at the end."

Finally, Ger'ron shrugged. "Eh, it's about time for me to go rest my old bones for a while." He turned to Lon'thul. "If I don't, I won't be feigning a bad back next time we spar!"

With that, the old guard wandered off, leaving To'brel pondering the nature of honor.