"The speed of your success is limited only by your dedication and what you're willing to sacrifice." - Nathan W. Morris

I am not sure if Lord Caith was serious about me joining his men at arms practice, but the next morning at sunrise I find myself arriving at their field.

Lord Caith and all his men are dressed in white. Caith's golden curls are still wet, probably from his morning bath. His short-sleeved shirt shows his tanned muscles. He aims an arrow and shoots a perfect hit.

He does not look away from his target: "Good morning, lady Aebbé. I am glad you have come. I feared that you had thought I was joking."

He aims another arrow - another perfect hit.

"My lord, I did believe it a joke, but my curiosity won."

"We are currently practising archery, but we already did a lengthy run and next will be sword practice. Do you know how to shoot with a bow?"

"I have tried a few years ago," I lie, "but I was no good."

"Nonsense! Here, take my bow and try to shoot."

He offers his bow and quiver to me.

I hesitate.

"Your brothers cannot say anything without insulting my order."

His argument is sound. I take the weapons. I pretend as if I do not even remember how to hold the weapon.

"Do not try to fool me," he says irritated.

I smile, aim and pull the string.

It is a good shot, but not perfect on purpose.

"I'm sure you can do better than that or were the rumours of you besting the elves in Inwir just outrageous lies?"

I blush: "They might have a ring of truth in them."

I am quite astonished that I have been the topic of elf gossip. Elves don't partake in gossip - only when they are utterly dumbfounded or bloody murder angry. I hope the former rather than the latter was the reason for me being discussed among the elves.

"Break!"

The men and elves rush to the side, put their weapons down and drink from their waterskins.

Caith sits down in the middle of the field. I hesitate for a moment and then sit down on the grass opposite him. My plain green dress probably makes me look like shrubbery on the green grass. I stifle a giggle.

"How long have you been a soldier?"

He chuckles as if the question amuses him: "From my late childhood."

"Why did you choose to be a soldier? Did you have no other choice? I do not think I would like being a soldier. That would mean that I would have to purposefully kill people, and two -," I swallow my words. And two lives are already too much for me to bear.

Luckily Caith does not seem to notice my hesitance to complete my previous sentence as he starts answering my questions: "I had a choice. I could have become anything else, but it is as a soldier that I can make the most difference - and I am good at this. I have never been able to grow plants. That is my sister's talent. I cannot make weapons, and I really cannot look after animals. They just run away from me."

He laughs warmly as if at a private thought that amuses him.

"Being a soldier is not only about killing. You must be prepared to work in a team towards an achievement. It is about the discipline to train every day. It is about studying the weaknesses of your enemy and knowing your own. It is about thinking of different scenarios that might result from a certain situation and deciding which one is the most likely to play out. It is about teaching your body to think for itself and react without using your mind, but still thinking about every move you make."

"I have never thought of it like that. If you had a choice, which career would you have pursued?"

He looks at me intently: "No one has ever asked me that question. I do not know. Maybe a healer or a teacher, but definitely not a royal advisor or appointed leader. They are all talk and afraid of doing anything. I have also found them to be hypocrites."

"I have found that to be true. So you like action and not passivity?"

"I have no other choice there. It is just who I am. I have never been able to sit still and not do everything within my capability to change the world around me for the better."

"It does not sound if you have many choices then," I say mockingly, but underneath I know I am serious as I ask the question.

"I was denied one choice in my life, and now I do not have nearly enough choices," he says resentfully.

I don't pry, but I am dying to know what in all of Ardam that choice was. I take a peek at his hands: No rings, thus not a marriage. A title? But he doesn't seem to care for titles. No, it has to be something that I would never be able to guess. What event or decision could take away all your choices? War? Death for sure? Life?

"The day after I arrived, you told me it does not matter who your family is and where you come from, but that clearly shows it is important. I deduced that you come from a very important family and are either too ashamed to be associated with them, or you want to make your own name."

I cannot help my inquisitive statements. Lord Caith really is mysterious and curiosity might be my fatal flaw - curiosity and the disability to say 'no'.

He ignores me and shouts: "Swords."

At his command, the men and elves draw their swords and start to practice again.

That signals the end of this line of our conversation.

"How much do you know about swords, other than that they shatter if they are rusted and you try to behead a tree?"

I grin. He is sharper than the piece of blade that cut me yesterday.

"My father taught me a few things."

He walks to a corner and picks up two swords. He throws one to me. I catch it perfectly at the hilt.

"You are too discreet with your talents."

"Modesty is one of the most important characteristics of a maiden," I say mockingly.

"Well, fair maiden, show me what you can do with a blade."

He swings his blade at me. I block it. He strikes again. I block again.

"Your father did a good job."

"He gave me lessons regularly. He believed that I was as worthy as my brothers and that it is my duty to protect his realm and my people. He fought all his life to unite all the humans under one king. He even thought that he would be blessed with three sons and not two. He named me 'Strong Bear.'"

"I once met your lord father. He was a better man than most. His intentions started out pure."

"When did you meet him?"

"At one minor feast or the other. I cannot recall. I was still very young."

It is strange that he cannot recall when he met my father. I would think that meeting a king as legendary as my father would leave a big impression in anyone's memory. Maybe he just doesn't want to tell me. Because it would give me a hint to his ancestry. Which of course, means that I am right about him being of noble blood.

"You could do with more practice, and I do not mean maiming a tree."

"My brothers would never allow it."

"Maybe it is time for them to accept who you are. You must know self-defence. What if someone was to attack you? I am merely showing you how to protect your family's honour. That is a relatively logical explanation and I am continuing the fulfilment of your father's wishes."

"It seems as if you want to go to a great extent of trouble to annoy my brothers," I say innocently. He is definitely back on my list of favourite people. His logic is flawless. Neither them or myself would be able to argue with his reasoning.

"I also have very annoying brothers, and it is not as if you never rebel against them."

"It is my right to. Someone has to let them know that they cannot remain unchallenged."

"You are very stubborn."

"You seem to know a lot about me."

"It is my business to know many things."

He strikes again. We parry forth for a few minutes until he calls a halt. I border on exhaustion. Lord Caith is without a doubt the best swordsman I have ever seen, even if it is clear that he is holding back while practising against me. I can see him decide his every move before executing it, in order not to harm me but still pose a challenge. He must have had excellent training.

I must ask someone about him. But who will know something about him?

He walks away to the side, picks up a waterskin, walks back to me and hands it to me: "Take a sip. You are dehydrated and exhausted."

"I am not," I contest.

"You do not always need to fight everyone," he states with a sigh.

Reluctantly, I take the waterskin from him.

I squeeze the last drop out.

He laughs: "Your throat was as dry as a desert, yet you still deny it in order not to be in my debt. Fascinating!"

"There are not many in court prepared to help me without expecting something in return. I have learned that the only person you can be dependent on and trust is yourself."

"That is a wise philosophy, especially in a land at war. But every once in a while a person is placed on your path and that person could better your life, if you allow them to. I do not trust anyone other than myself, but I have had to learn to trust my second-in-command, prince Eoghan. I also have to trust my sisters and my brothers at times, even if I really do not want to."

I consider his words. I frown. Does he also come from a large family? He can be someone's bastard son – a favourite bastard son - raised in the family and then pushed into the Order because he couldn't inherit.

"I have not had a person like that in my life."

"You are wrong. Your father, and your brothers, your master Elan and Ria your maid, they are all people you have to trust at times, and right now you could trust me."

He might be right about Ria and master Elan. I wonder how he knows my maid's name.

"Why?"

"Because I am going to propose something you cannot refuse."

"I am listening?"

"You can join my men's daily practice, and you are free to stop coming any time you would choose to do so. Prince Eoghan will oversee your practice and ensure that you better the skills you have, and gain the necessary ones you need."

I know that nothing comes without a price: "In exchange for?"

"I will be pleased if you turn out a star pupil. It would be a shame to let your talent go to waste. You have gone to some great lengths to practice during the past. I am merely providing you with the means and opportunity to do so."

I am cautious, yet too excited to refuse the offer. I have been waiting for an opportunity like this since my father died.

He senses my caution: "I understand that you are wary of people. You have been raised in a treacherous court. I have also been betrayed more times than I could count. Nothing I can say will right the distrusts of the past."

His words reassure me: other people try to sway my choices in their favour. Lord Caith is allowing me to make my own - a choice to my benefit.

"Now, you will have to go back to your castle. Be here an hour before sunrise every day."

"I have not agreed," but both of us know that I have.

"You did, by showing up this morning."

He flashes me a brilliant smile.

I sigh: "True."

"Thank you."

Lord Caith is looking past me to some of his men training: "Eoghan! We need to send some scouts out. Walter, come here!" He looks at me. "You have to go now. I will see you at dinner tonight."

I do not return to my castle. Instead, I take the stairs to the hospital and join Elan. He barely greets me and sets me to work instantaneously.

I see Marilla talking with the soldier from two days ago. I search my brain for his name: Dareios. Finally, I manage to put it all together: Lord Ewald's son's name is also Dareios. The soldier seemed well taken care of. That's why Lord Ewald didn't reply to Ria's note. His son was injured during the battle. I should ask Ria to help me choose something to signify that I share in their grief and angst. I walk to them.

Marilla's face lights up when she sees me: "Your Highness!"

"Marilla, please, here I am just Aebbé, "I say with a smile.

"Soldier Dareios is doing much better."

"You have been monitoring him?"

"Yes."

"Dareios, how are you doing?"

He smiles: "Much better, thank you. Nurse Marilla is doing a fine job."

I spend the following few hours checking up on other injured and helping where I can. Marilla is a jewel. She is keen to learn and eager to please. She has a knack for healing, and she is popular among the patients. I make a mental note to speak to Elan to help me to pass all our knowledge down to her.