“You did what?”

Frances blinked. Elizabeth didn’t scream. Her voice was soft, dulled by sleep, and yet everything in how she said it screamed rage and pain.

“I requested Elowise to withdraw us from the frontlines and she said that if you agree, she’d approve it.”

“And why didn’t you—Oh...” Elizabeth groaned and buried her head in her hands. “I… sorry. How… how many did we lose?”

“Twenty-eight. A hundred and ten more wounded. We’re down to two-hundred and twenty-eight with a hundred and fifty-four wounded.”

“And now they pull us out. God-damnit. How are the other battalions?”

“Lu-Anne’s was holding the southern section so her troops were mostly unscathed. The 9th and 31st took more casualties, but they’re getting reinforcements.” Frances knelt down beside her friend. “Elizabeth, we received new intelligence that tells us we were fighting some of the best in the Alavari army. The casualties weren’t your fault.”

“Frances, I know you are trying to make me feel better, but… I’m the commander of the battalion. I’m responsible for their wellbeing.”

Frances sat down beside Elizabeth and leaned against her shoulder. “I know, but I think we are going to lose people in this war, Elizabeth, whether we do our best or not. I know that doesn’t make you feel better, but it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, so what do I do about it?” Elizabeth muttered almost mutinously.

Frances squeezed Elizabeth’s arm. “Let me work on that. Just pack your things up. We’re heading back to the Windwhistler Mansion.”

It was an exhausted battalion that marched into the grounds of the Windwhistler complex followed by wagon-loads of their wounded. To Frances’s relief, there were more permanent wooden barracks set up on the grounds of the mansion, allowing everybody to have a roof over their heads.

This was especially useful as the spring rains had begun in earnest and they needed to make sure everybody was warm.

First, though, Frances headed to the field hospital set up by the Windwhistlers. The single-story wood structure was remarkably well-built, with paved floors and even running water and toilet facilities. Still, she had to make sure their wounded were settled in.

Among them was Ginger, who Frances was personally handing over to the doctor in charge of the hospital, a pleasant human gentleman by the name of Dr. Forest. He didn’t even bat an eye when Frances mentioned Ginger’s background.

“If you need anything, Ginger, just let me or Martin know, okay?” Frances told the convict after the doctor left.

Ginger yawned. “Thanks Frances.”

Smiling, Frances left Ginger to rest as she went to search for her grandmother, she needed to find somebody.

“You need me to find a harpy courtesan called Renia? The same harpy you told me to look out for earlier?” Eleanor asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Yes. My friends… they’re getting overwhelmed, grandma, and I think I can help them, but I would like a professional, or someone more skilled in that field.” Frances felt her cheeks warm. “Renia helped me confront some of my negative feelings when I was feeling down and I think she can help my friends.”

“Hmm, indeed. Especially since we don’t have “mental health” professionals that you speak of,” said Eleanor. She pulled a pen and paper to write a note but a knock on the study door made her pause. “Frances, do you mind if I take this?”

“Not at all,” said Frances.

Eleanor smiled. “Come in!”

A slightly damp harpy walked in. On her belt was a satchel used for carrying messages and her uniform, a blue and grey Erlenberg army uniform, was quite wet. Her long hair was tied in a bun.

Yet, Frances immediately recognized her tawny wings and chocolate-brown eyes.

“Renia?”

The harpy blinked, but smiled. “Why hello, Frances. Are you doing well?”

“I’m doing good um, we were just talking about you,” said Frances.

Chuckling, Eleanor pinched the bridge of her nose as Renia blinked, though, she managed to keep a serene smile.

“It’s quite the coincidence, but my grandchild does need your services, Renia um…”

Renia curtsied to Eleanor. “Sunwing.”

Eleanor blinked and smirked. “Oh? You have quite the reputation Renia Sunwing.”

That made Renia blanche slightly, and her smile quivered. “You are truly quite attentive, Councilwoman Windwhistler.”

“Oh don’t be so worried. I won’t bite, and I’ve found my grandchild to be a good judge of character. Frances, don’t worry about Renia’s expenses, I will take care of them, assuming she doesn’t want to keep being a plain old army courier?”

Renia blinked owlishly, but glanced at Frances with a clearly curious look. “I am happy to be of service, Frances, but for what do you need my skills for?”

Dried off, Renia used her clawed feet to raise her cup and straw to her lips. Frances, had seen harpies do this, but she never got tired of noticing how darned flexible they were.

“I see. Well, I do believe I can help you, Frances. However, if I may provide you with a bit of advice, I believe you should not start off by introducing me to your friends.”

Frances, seated on the couch opposite to the harpy, blinked. “I’m sorry? Why not?”

“Your friends might not be seeking help, Frances. You need to try to help them first, or help them realize that they do need help. I do believe some will be more willing to talk to me, but as their close friend, you have the advantage in helping them confront their anxieties.”

“But… I’m not sure how.”

“Well let’s start with Ginger. She recognizes she has a lot of fear, trauma and a flawed image of herself. How would you try to help her feel more comfortable?”

“Um, I’d remind her she has a choice. That she is safe with us, or at least, as safe as can be, and that um… um…” Frances frowned. She was addressing Ginger’s fears and trauma, but what could she do to try to correct—no, not correct, but try to help Ginger revise how she saw herself? After all, it was something Frances herself was having trouble doing.

“That’s still a good start, Frances. I can offer to help with that last part, but now you have an idea on how you and others who care for her, could help her,” said Renia.

Frances nodded, feeling relieved, and suddenly realizing what was the harpy’s motive. “Oh, you want me to try other ways to help them first, so that you can focus on the things that I can’t help with.”

“Mm-hmm. That and people can often be ambivalent about sharing their private troubles with a stranger.”

“Ambivalent?”

“To have mixed feelings about something. Some people think that it means the same thing as “fine.” However, most who have such traumas are often torn between wanting to share it, and wanting to bottle it up.” Renia smiled. “I know this wasn’t the case for you, but not everybody is as brave as you are.”

She couldn’t help it, but Frances found herself snorting at that notion. Brave? There were things that she wasn’t so afraid of, but she would hardly call herself brave for opening up about what had hurt her. It was the only way to help her manage her trauma after all.

“People are rarely able to do the right thing just because it’s right. Often, they need to admit they need help,” said Renia.

Frances blinked and felt her embarrassment growing. “How are you always able to read my mind like that?”

Renia giggled. “I wouldn’t say I learnt how to read minds, but I received training on how to counsel people during my apprenticeship. You see, Frances, male and female courtesans in Durannon either attend a finishing school, or are apprenticed to a more skilled courtesan. Think of it as a close-knit, very private and professional guild.”

“You mean there are others that are trained the way you are?”

Renia nodded, smiling. “Mmm-hmm. There’s a saying in Durannon. In matters of the body, seek a doctor. In the matters of magic, seek a mage. In matters of the mind and heart, seek a courtesan.”

Frances blinked. “Huh. In my world, there are doctors specifically for physical health and mental health.”

“Really? I wish I were able to discuss techniques and practices with them,” said Renia, sighing wistfully.

The harpy’s words gave Frances an idea that made her lean forward. “Renia, how would you be interested in working as our battalion’s—um, mental doctor? My friends are not the only people who need help, many of our soldiers are going to be under a lot of stress as this battle goes on.”

Renia blinked, her smile widening into something less serene and more intrigued. “I am very interested in your offer, and I think I will accept, at least until the siege is over. Then we can discuss this again.”

“I’ll have grandmother draw up a contract.” Frances shook Renia’s claw. “Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for this opportunity, Frances. You can count on me.” Straightening, Renia composed herself. “Now, let’s move on to Ayax, what can we do for her fear of losing her loved ones?”

When Frances entered Ginger’s room, she found Martin there as well, a book in his hand.

“Oh, hey Frances, what’s going on?” Martin asked, closing the book.

At first, Frances wondered if she should just get to the point, but she decided that maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to just get her friends comfortable.

“Well there was something I want to talk to you about, but it can wait. How are you two doing?”

“Good. Martin’s just reading me a book, but if you want to steal him away, don’t mind me,” said Ginger.

“Want to be rid of me already?” Martin asked.

“Want you to get out of this ward and get some rest from me,” said Ginger, smirking. Something about the look she was giving Martin gave Frances the notion that she wasn’t entirely joking.

“I thought you were bored?

“Well, I am but… Martin, dude, don’t you have places to be? Things to do? You mentioned you needed to get your armor looked at,” said Ginger, arching an eyebrow.

“I do… I just…” Martin sighed and turned to Frances. “Sorry, she’s been swinging between wanting me to stay and wanting me to leave. I want to stay, though.”

“And that’s fine, Martin, but you have spent some time with Ginger. And you should get your armor looked at,” said Frances. She frowned, “I heard you were hit by a bullet in the last moments of the battle.”

Ginger pushed herself up, “Wait, what! You didn’t tell me this—Ow!”

“Ginger, that’s why I didn’t tell you,” Martin groaned as he helped her lie back down. “The armor got cracked, but I was fine.”

Frances frowned, “Martin, go fix your armor. I’ll meet you there. I want to catch up with you too.”

“Catch up—Ah right, you want to talk to me about what happened. Of course,” said Martin, he shook his head and sighed. “Alright alright, I’ll go make myself useful somewhere else. See you later, Ginger.”

“See you big boy,” said Ginger, grinning.

The moment he was gone, Ginger leaned back and groaned. “Amura and Rathon you have no idea how long I was trying to get him to leave. I love him to death but he almost forgot to eat; he’s been so worried.”

“He’s worried about you and… I think Martin has something on his mind.” Frances swallowed and took the chair that Martin had been sitting on, noting how warm it felt. “To be honest, I have something to talk to you about too.”

“Is it about that argument before the final Alavari assault?”

Frances nodded once. Ginger sighed and seemed to sag into her bed. “I’m fine. I know Ayax is sorry about it. Martin told me. She’s just too embarrassed to apologize and I don’t blame her.”

Knowing she would have to coach her words carefully, Frances didn’t immediately reply. Instead, she watched Ginger’s expression. She seemed relaxed, but there was a tension in her shoulders.

“Ginger, I’m glad you don’t blame Ayax, but you do know that if you ever don’t feel comfortable, or unsafe, you can ask us for help, right?”

The convict gave Frances perhaps the flattest, driest, stare that she’d ever seen.

“Our job isn’t exactly a dance in a flower field, Frances.”

Frances pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think you know what I mean, though.”

Ginger’s stare somehow got even flatter. It helped she’d narrowed her eyes and arched one eyebrow like how she’d seen Edana do so on occasion. “Frances, get to the point.”

“Right!” Frances squeaked, and collapsed her hands over her mouth. She did not mean to make that sound, but Ginger was already chuckling at her.

“You need to relax, Frances.”

“I’m trying. Anyway, I know you have worries, and I want to know how I can help,” Frances said.

Ginger hesitated, her eyes looking away from Frances. “I’m not sure if you can.”

“Maybe not, but I can try. I want to try,” said Frances. She took Ginger’s hand and squeezed it.

The convict took a deep breath. “I’m not sure where this… thing with Martin is going. I’m… I think I’m in love, but how are his parents going to react? What are the other Erisdalian nobles going to think of me?”

“Are there any laws forbidding relationships or marriage between nobles and commoners?” Frances asked.

“No, but… I can’t imagine his parents being happy that he’s with me.”

“But they can’t stop you, right?

“They—well…” Ginger blinked. “Huh, I don’t know. Rachel is a judge, and Esther’s a lord, but that means they are bound by the laws of the land. They can’t really stop us legally. I mean, they could disown Martin, but they only have two children, that would be very unwise.”

Frances smiled eagerly. “Good. That’s a start. I mean, we don’t want Martin estranged from his parents, but if that’s the case, and they can’t stop you two from being together, we can work to get them to warm to you.”

“Yeah. Yeah! That would work. Um, I’m also worried about… about…” Ginger’s voice trailed off and suddenly, her grip on Frances’s hands felt very clammy. “I’m worried about how I think, Frances. Sometimes I have these moments of… of being a bitch and it feels right to me. Ayax, what she accused me of wasn’t wrong. If it came down to it, like, really came down to it, I’d save Martin and myself first over anybody else.”

Frances frowned, “I understand, and I think that you are right to be worried about that. I do want to ask, though, aren’t you in this bed because you saved Ayax and Elizabeth?”

Ginger flinched, and her hand suddenly clenched around Frances’s so tightly the younger girl yelped.

“Sorry! It’s just… I almost didn’t, Frances. I nearly just let them die. I knew how bad Martin would feel if they died, but I almost decided to just save myself.”

A cold chill ran up Frances’s spine, but she didn’t let that dictate her response. Instead, she let the feeling pass and considered Ginger’s words.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing to value your life, but I also understand why you’re concerned. If you would like, I know someone you can talk to.” Frances swallowed, this part would need to be done delicately. “The Windwhistlers have hired a courtesan called Renia to provide counselling for the Lightning Battalion. I talked to her before and she helped me with some of my own feelings of inferiority. I think she can help you too.”

“Do… do you think I can really get better?”

“I know you can,” said Frances. After all, she’d gotten better and she was not nearly as resilient or as much of a fighter as Ginger was.

Ginger smiled weakly and nodded. “Alright. I’ll talk to her.”

Frances found Martin walking back from the armourers. Smiling, she waved. He smiled back, but that smile seemed to fade into an almost placid expression. It wasn’t to say he looked unhappy, but Frances didn’t think he had the happiest of thoughts on his mind.

“Hi Martin. What did the armourers say?”

“It’s just a few dents. They’ll have it fixed up in no time. Do you need me for anything?”

“No. I just wanted to spend some time with you. Ginger’s asleep and she told me to tell you to get some dinner for her later,” said Frances.

Martin blinked. “Why not Ayax or Elizabeth?”

Already somewhat worried about her friend, Frances did not like how confused Martin looked at her statement. The feeling that she needed to talk to Martin now, not later, grew.

“Because I want to talk to you, Martin. Do something fun. I was wondering if you could show me some hand to hand techniques in case I ever lose Ivy’s Sting.”

Martin frowned. “Isn’t Ayax the one with the martial arts skill?”

“She’s good, but she’s a troll. I’m a rather poor sparring partner for her,” Frances explained.

Martin nodded, a smile slowly forming on his features. “Oh, well okay. I have some time, let’s get to the duelling hall.”

---

They weren’t the only ones using the Windwhistler’s indoor duelling hall and sports room. Much of the wounded of the Lightning Battalion were undergoing physical therapy, or just trying to get some exercise. Frances and Martin both preferred to be outside, rather than in the room that smelled distinctly of sweat, no matter how hard the Windwhistlers tried to clean it, but the rains weren’t stopping.

After a quick warmup Martin had first reviewed some basic techniques with Frances. After that, they’d run some drills, with Frances either pinning Martin, or her trying to escape from his pins. Once they’d finished, the pair had started to spar.

Perhaps it was odd to be in such close contact with a boy and punching, grabbing onto his shirt, arms, and kicking at his legs. Frances could still recall when she had dance class in elementary school and in Grade 8. The girls all tittered about the boys and who they danced with, and whose hands were sweaty. The boys were either shy, or bragging about which girl they danced with (despite how it was always random). Finally, there was always a group that was just bored and didn’t want to dance at all.

Frances had always just been plain scared about someone touching her because she was worried they’d find out about her bruises, or just how thin she was. However, the bruises were long gone and three years of good food, and physical exercise meant that she had built some lean muscle.

This rather helped because Martin had just knocked her legs from under her.

She managed to break her fall by punching out her arm, and roll away from his followup kick. For such a short guy, the knight was fast. She didn’t have time to get up.

Frances lunged at Martin’s leg. She wasn’t heavy enough to knock him off balance, but if she could grab his leg and get leverage, maybe she could pin—Oh crap that was Martin’s knee.

Blinking, Frances groaned. How did she get onto her back and why did she see stars?

“Frances? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Agh, I shouldn’t have tried to go for your leg.” She touched her nose and groaned as she felt blood. “Martin, can you throw me a handkerchief?”

He did, and she pressed it against her nose, wincing as she applied pressure. “Thanks.”

Sitting down next to her, Martin grinned. “Don’t feel too bad. You’re doing a lot better than before.”

Nodding, Frances grabbed her water bottle and took a sip. “I do feel a bit more secure now.” Although she hadn’t won even once, Frances wasn’t lying. At 5’6” Martin was only taller than Frances by three inches. He was however, far heavier, allowing him to overwhelm her defenses. He was also a surprisingly good grappler.

Getting up, the pair vacated the space and went to the side of the hall to cool down.

Martin put a knee down on the ground and leaned forward to stretch his quads. “This was nice. We’ve been fighting so long I forgot what a good, clean spar was like.”

Frances nodded, and immediately moaned as she eased herself into a cobra pose. “I really need to work on my core more. I’m exhausted already.”

“Mm hm.” The knight stretched for his toes. “So, what’s this really about, Frances?”

“I can’t spend time with one of my best friends?” Frances asked, smiling innocently.

Martin arched an eyebrow. “Now, I would normally think that, but you seemed almost a bit too cautious today.”

“You know me way too well. I do have another motive.” Frances stopped stretching and sat on the ground, meeting Martin’s eye. “I know we’re all tired and stressed, and I’m worried about you, and the others. I heard about the argument you all had, and I want to try to make you all feel better.”

Stopping his stretch, Martin let his legs go limp and turned to face Frances. “Don’t you want us to make up?”

“I do, but I don’t think any of you wanted that argument. I think we just need to feel like ourselves a bit, and the recent battles haven’t let us do that,” said Frances.

“I know.” The knight exhaled slowly, and bowed his head. “I’ve been feeling very worried about my place in our group. You girls have always tried to make me feel happy, but you and Ayax have your magic. Elizabeth has her strength and command skills. Ginger’s got her war experience and I… I feel like my contributions don’t matter as much.”

“I thought you handled our battalion’s logistics?” Frances asked.

“I did, but ever since we returned to Erlenberg, it’s gotten much easier. That and… I… I’m a knight Frances, but lately, I can’t seem to protect the people I care about.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I know it’s not my fault, but I… I don’t like feeling so helpless.”

Frances nodded. “I understand, um…” she chuckled and brushed several beads of sweat from her brow. “You know it’s funny, and um, I need to apologize. I kind of overheard you talking to Ginger a while ago when you said you saw me as kind of your little sister.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Frances leaned back on her hands. “My point is. I knew that, but… even then, I was really worried that you were going to drift away as you got closer to Ginger. I know that’s not true and I’m happy for both of you, but what I’m trying to say is that it’s okay to feel that way.”

The knight nodded and smiled. “Thanks. I… I really needed to hear that. Though, I’d really prefer if I didn’t feel that way, and I bet you do too!”

“I know! It’s really annoying, having feelings and close friendships.” Frances ran a hand through her sweat-sodden hair. “We get worried that we might lose them. But my bond with you is also why I just wanted to catch up with you. Cause well… we’re kind of family, right bro?”

Immediately, Frances slapped her hand against her forehead and winced. She didn’t mean for it to come out that way. She meant to say that they were a kind of family and that’s it. Calling Martin ‘bro’ of all things…

“I think I prefer brother, little sister.”

Frances stared at Martin. He was grinning, his blue eyes bright, and he’d stretched out his fist.

She bumped it with hers, grinning right back, for no other words needed to be said.