A heavy thud rang out as the sword bounced off the raised shield, sending a horrible judder up Nemireth's arm and into her shoulder. Her opponent was too close and she stepped back to widen the gap. Her own blade came around in a counter-sweep but it was slow, muscles protesting as she tried to catch her opponent's blind-side. He evaded with ease, the giant of a man coming back for a fresh attack that was barely parried as she was driven back again. The sounds of battle around them were dull, the clashing of sword against armour and shield alike so close and yet it may as well have been a continent away. Her world was her blade, her shield and her foe. Lessons ran through her mind like water passes over a cliff; keep moving, stay on the initiative. Don't let the fight be dictated to you.

So easy in theory but aching limbs refused such wisdom. Her eyes stung fiercely from sweat and dust but she forced them open, breathing laboured and uneven but still she refused to back down. Let him come. Come he did, weapon over his head as he brought it down hard, intending to crush her with a single, mighty blow. Her shield met it in mid-air but the impact sent it clattering from her grasp, tired fingers unable to hold on any longer. Before she could register what had happened, a fist like a mace struck her chest and sent her sprawling, dust kicking up where she landed on her back. She looked frantically left and right for an escape but there was none, the man casting her in shadow as he stood triumphantly over her. Damn it, if this was going to be it then her final lesson would have some meaning; always go down swinging.

Her strike was like lightning, whole body twisting as she caught him cleanly in the midriff, arms above his head to finish her off. It evidently hurt for he let out a string of curses in Ellayan of which she recognised only a few.

"Enough!"

The single word was enough to bring peace to the arena. The world came back into focus as soldiers stepped away from their adversaries, arms dropping to their sides. Many stooped over, gasping for breath while others worked tired muscles with a weariness that came from repetition. Jumping up off the ground, she glared at the silver-haired man in plate armour who approached, hands behind his back, wooden whistle hanging from his neck and scabbard bouncing at his hip.

"Why have we stopped, Captain?" She asked breathlessly, fixing the officer with a glare. He looked back with brown eyes, entirely unperturbed by her challenge or tone.

"It's approaching midday, your Highness." He answered with a well-practised patience, "And time for the men to get under cover before it gets too hot." He indicated to burning sun high in the cloudless sky.

The cloth beneath her armour was sticking unpleasantly to her skin, thick beads ran over her olive face and brown hair clung to her forehead. She wiped her face, hating how that simple act proved his point, "But Karos, the north will be as hot as Minas Luin correct?"

"Hotter."

"So why should we get under cover now, when we may not be able to when we march into battle further north?" Nemireth crossed her arms, trying to ignore the dull ache in her shoulder.

Karos' answer was quick and diplomatic, "We've been preparing them for the heat and I believe them ready, Princess. However, they've also been drilling since first light without food or drink and I'd rather end this practise than lose half our men to exhaustion before we even begin to march. We'll resume this afternoon once everyone is rested and fed."

She could practically feel the gazes of the assembled men burning into her back. They wanted to get into the shade but with a single word she could shatter all those hopes. They would hate her for it, curse her name, wonder for the millionth time why she was Captain-Commander and not Karos. Because she was the damned Princess Royal, not him!

The debate could have gone until evening and neither would have backed down, but she recognised the look of the elder Officer, the gentle warning that always signalled some unspoken boundary had been crossed. With a weary sigh, she nodded, "Fine."

"Very good. With your leave, Captain-Commander?" A curt nod was his answer, as if the use of her military rank would somehow placate her. Instead she stood alongside him in sullen silence, as he took over the company like he always did.

"King's Guard!" He called at the top of his voice, "Omáran!" He blew a single, long shriek of the whistle.

The Ellayan command had the soldiers formed up in two ranks quickly, standing bolt upright with shields at their sides and hands resting on their scabbards. Each of them looked about as exhausted as she felt but in far better mood with the prospect of lunch so close.

Karos held them longer than they were doubtless expecting, running his trained eye over them for some unknown imperfection before issuing a final command, "Tafenan!" that had them scrambling for the safety of the shade, conversation buzzing amongst them.

Only when they were alone did the Princess ran a hand through her long, brown hair, slimy and slick even through the glove, and swore angrily under her breath.

"Your Highness?" Karos asked as the pair left the training yard together, heading for a nearby drinking fountain, "Is there a problem?"

She simply shrugged her shoulders, unable to avoid the seething annoyance that bubbled just beneath the surface. She played over the spar with Nikos time and time again, trying to find the moment when she had lost. It had been as soon as he stepped past her spear, early in the fight. Once he was close to her, it was only a matter of time before he overwhelmed her. Her only response? To try and tire him out before he could do the same to her. The idiocy of the strategy was particularly galling. Nikos was a veteran soldier, who had more years in the Legion than she had walking the earth but somehow, she was going to tire him out? That was even before she got to the matter of dropping her shield! Even remembering the sound of it bouncing across the ground had her clenching her fists.

"I was sloppy today," She managed to choke out through her frustration, "If that had been a real fight, I was dead."

"You were," The Princess rolled her eyes. Of course that would be the one thing he agreed with her on, "You lost the initiative and allowed him to fight on his terms rather than yours."

She longed to know what her terms were supposed to be. He was taller than her, stronger than her, faster than her and more experienced than her. At what skill was she supposed to outmatch him? She could have challenged him to a sewing contest perhaps, hoping that he was somehow not a master of that as well. Maybe a kiss would have thrown him.

"Even with that," Karos continued as she cupped her hands in the cool water and threw it over her face. The feeling was divine, a morning of grime simply melting away and draining into the pool over which she leant. If only her memories of such a shambolic fight could go with it, "You worked Nikos harder than he has been worked in a while. Normally he wouldn't break a sweat but there was a nice shine to him today."

"I was basically running away from him."

"You were, but you did it much better than most manage. It is academic anyway, Your Highness. You will not need to stand in the frontlines."

The next splash of water on her face was a bit harder than the first, bitterness biting through her at his words. Even though she was Captain-Commander of the most elite formation in Aeanor, even though she had been training to be a soldier her entire life, she would never get within a thousand leagues of a real battle. She would stand like a good girl and watch as the professionals did their job. Her job.

Karos knew exactly how she felt on the matter so quickly changed topic, "With luck, we will be marching next week. Once the 11th Legion joins us from Ice Anvil."

She looked up at the taller Aeanoran, biting her lip in worry, "We're sending two legions to the Dunelands? Are things so dire?"

"The Hill Tribe raids are increasing in frequency and strength. We've already had to abandon some areas to them and if we don't make a stand soon, we could lose the entire Dunelands."

She looked out over the sapphire roofs of the city and beyond to where the waters of the Bay of Vigilance glimmered in the sun, frowning as if it were somehow the sea's fault for what had happened. "My father should have sent forces years ago. He should have acted when he could, not when he had to. He hesitated, like he always does."

Karos had no answer to that as they were interrupted by a rustling of clothes and the bouncing of boots on smooth stone. A courtier appeared, seemingly out of thin air, breathing hard.

"Princess Nemireth," He nearly bowed double, "My apologies, your Highness, but his Majesty requests your presence immediately."

Of course, he did. Sometimes it was like the King had her followed at all times, ready to pounce when it was of maximum inconvenience. With a dirty look to the undeserving messenger, she turned away from the sea and back onto the high towers of the royal palace. "Did he say what for?"

"He did not, Your Highness."

"I'm sure it will be endlessly thrilling, whatever it is." She met Karos' eyes and saw the wordless rebuke that was probably deserved there. That was rewarded with another shrug. Karos was only a Captain, he wouldn't get it, "Don't start training again until I get back."

"I wouldn't dare, your Highness."