Idelle stepped out of the door into the courtyard, annoyed. Part of her was making the reasonable argument that Lieutenant Adrian probably knew what he was talking about and was trying to help her. She didn’t like that part. She wished people would just let her have her own reasons for things. Even Mirabel and Aldo had done it, asking their not-so-subtle questions. Was it so hard to just give her some space?

“All right, everyone. Let’s finish it up with a run. Twenty laps around the courtyard.” The woman who spoke was tall (why was everyone taller than her?) and toned, and several of the nearby group of youths arrayed in front of her groaned. The woman only grinned.

“You know the drill. You don’t need to be fast, just to finish.”

With a few more muted complaints, the assembly started to run, almost instantly stringing out into a ragged line with the fastest few springing into the lead. The woman settled somewhere into the middle, but not before catching Idelle’s eye and making a motion for her to join them.

Idelle shrugged to herself. Why not? No one had ever called her slow. Well, no one that she could remember. She broke into a sprint and quickly caught up with the group. No one seemed to give her a second glance.

The exercise felt good, regardless. Her breath came slow and easy, and the cold air seemed to clear her head. She let her strides lengthen as she got into the flow of the motion. It was calming, actually. Just letting one foot go in front of the other, with no worries or plans, no one chasing her, no fear for her life or future. Easy and unhurried. Movement purely for movement’s sake...

“Hey, you know you’ll be completely tired after three laps at that pace, right?”

Idelle’s head snapped over. She realized that she’d caught up with the lead group of runners and that the girl currently in front was the one addressing her. Idelle looked at her and tossed the little voice that thought the best of people out the back of her mind

“Oh yeah? Want to bet? Are you afraid you can’t keep up?”

This new source of annoyance narrowed her eyes. “Try me.”

“I think I will, actually.”

And with that, Idelle let herself really run. The other girl was almost right, in the end. She did have to slow down a little again after about nine laps. But her temporary rival had only managed to keep up with her for three. And even after slowing Idelle had easily come back around the entire courtyard again and caught up again with the frontrunners, earning her various looks of shock and respect. She was surprised, and a little guilty, to see that the girl who’d warned her was among the respectful ones.

It didn’t stop her from easily keeping up with them until they finished, though, despite the extra laps.

As the group started to reconvene, panting, the instructor who had been leading the group earlier came up to her, grinning. “Hey, you’re a fast one, huh? Wouldn’t have known it from looking at ya.”

Idelle fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah, looks like I am.”

The instructor didn’t seem to notice her sarcasm. “Good job. Always nice to have someone put these hotheads in their place, especially someone who isn’t even a soldier. Or are you a new recruit?”

“Um. Not really?” She considered for a moment, then amended her statement. “Well, I don’t think so at least. I’m a, uh, a friend of Ce— Her Highness, I guess?”

The woman raised her brows and seemed to size Idelle up. “That so? Well, feel free to keep dropping by either way. It’s always a pleasure to have someone here who actually enjoys the exercise. Though you might want to find some new shoes first.”

Idelle flushed. “Yeah, I think Adrian is having some arranged for me.” The instructor seemed surprised by her words, but nodded and started to move on without further comment until Idelle spoke up again.

“Oh, one moment! Adrian mentioned weapons training, are there classes? What about for swords?”

“Ivar is the sword instructor, he usually begins around noon.” The woman explained over her shoulder as she walked away, “Feel free to drill on your own until then.”

“Thanks!” She wasn’t sure if the woman heard her, but Idelle figured it didn’t much matter, she’d probably see her again if she was going to be staying here. Or, at least she assumed she would. She realized that she didn’t really know who the woman (or indeed anyone) was. Not even their names, but the practical realities of their positions as instructors. Was she technically a recruit in the kingdom’s army now? Most of the others here were wearing uniforms...

She turned to a nearby participant in the run. “Hey, so what’s the situation with all this anyway?”

He blinked at her. “The situation with what exactly?”

“You know, like the instructors and stuff. Is everyone here part of the kingdom’s levies?

He gave her a funny look. “The instructors? They’re Princess Cecilia’s personal troops. Who else would they be?”

She tried not to scowl at him, telling herself that he was being nice enough to answer her questions. “Oh yeah, obviously. I meant, why are they here teaching?”

Now he was definitely looking at her like she was an idiot. “As part of Her Highness’s initiative? The one she claims will both improve training standards in the army and help to teach basic fighting to the citizenry? What are you here for if not for that?”

“Right, um, that makes sense. Sorry, one moment, I’m new here, got to go get my gear...” Idelle let her fumbling series of excuses and explanations trail off as she casually strode (in what she very much hoped looked like a purposeful manner) back towards the barracks entrance. She really wished she’d thought to ask Adrian these questions when they spoke this morning. Maybe she’d be lucky and not run into whoever she’d just made a fool of herself to again after this.

Oh well. Since she was here, she might as well go and see if her new clothes had arrived.

Making her way back upstairs she found that they indeed had. Someone not only had laid out on the bed the thick leather-covered gambeson, leggings, and boots that served as a uniform for the Kingdom’s troops, but they had also managed to find several pairs of undergarments in what appeared to be roughly her size. She sent out a silent thanks to whoever had brought the clothes before happily changing.

As expected, the gambeson was a little baggy and the boots a little loose around her toes, even when laced extra tight, but the rest fit well enough and she ended up setting aside what remained of her old clothes to dispose of later. All but the dress, which she carefully hung in the cabinet as a gift from Mirabel. She glanced out the window. Noon wasn’t too far away. That’s right, wasn’t she supposed to get a sword as well?

She looked around, and her eyes settled on the weapons rack she’d noticed earlier. An inconspicuous wooden practice sword had been placed on it, complete with a simple sheath and belt. But it looked awfully big to her. She reached over and picked it up with her left hand. It didn’t seem that heavy, at least. Maybe this was just the normal size?

Shrugging, she laid it on her right hip and went to clip the belt before suddenly pausing. She hesitated, then flipped it over to lay on her left hip instead. She grabbed the hilt and slowly drew out a few centimeters of the dull wood before fully unsheathing the sword and hefting it.

She took a practice swing, first on her right side, then with her main hand. That was odd. She had learned swordsmanship before with her off-hand? But she felt like it wasn’t uncommon to fight left-handed. Maybe whatever teacher she’d known had insisted on it?

The moment of doubt blossomed into frustration and annoyance with herself. Part of her knew that it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t remember, but being reminded of it left her feeling foul regardless. She shoved the sword back fully in place and pushed the door open, letting her new boots stomp satisfyingly down the hallway.

She continued down the stairs and back out into the open courtyard. Some of her fellow learners were scattered around, practicing swings, stabs and footwork with wooden training weapons both on their own and in pairs, while others had formed groups to drill both with and without apparent instruction. Idelle stepped forward, eyes roaming the field, only to suddenly freeze in place as her eyes locked onto someone.

Standing a little ways off, with a real sword strapped to his hip instead of a wooden one, was a middle-aged man with greying hair and a strangely familiar cold half-smile.