Miranda walked out of her rooms carrying the black case in her hands. She almost collided with Ianto, coming down the hallway not from the north stairs that led to the Hub but from the other direction, from the staircase that led down to the staterooms. Not a complete cock up then… a spectacular disaster! She said nothing and the two of them walked down to the gym together. She didn't speak until they'd gotten to the middle of the room and she'd set the case down on the floor.

"Morning, Ifan," Miranda said.

"This is an ungodly hour, Mandy," Ianto said, yawning.

"Get used to it," she said, laying the case onto the floor mats and kneeling in front of it. She opened the case and flipped back the oiled cloth. Ianto took a knee next to her, admiring the blade. He reached for it but stopped looking to Miranda for permission.

"It's yours. I hope it serves you well," she said with a smile.

Ianto reached for the hilt, pulling the sword from the case, his arm dipping from the weight of the lead filled pommel. "This isn't just for practice is it?"

"No, it isn't. Some teach with practice blades but I think it's a waste of time. You adjust to the practice blade only to have to readjust to the real one. This longsword is from the twelfth century. It's a hand and a half sword and can be swung either one or two handed. It once belonged to Owain Glyndwr." She smiled at the look of awe on his face. Worth every penny. "The hilt and scabbard are original but twelfth century steel is too brittle. I had the blade replaced with one made from modern heat treated, carbon tempered steel that has a hollow ground double fuller."

He nodded, running his hands over the oiled leather of the scabbard. "Where did you get it?"

"That's neither here nor there," she said with a smile.

"It isn't stolen is it?"

She laughed, "No. I purchased it from a private collector. It was the hilt I was after. Since the blade was badly corroded and pitted, I got a good deal. This blade was forged by a blacksmith in Canada."

"This must have cost you a fortune. You didn't have to do this, Mandy."

"It's tradition, Ifan. The teacher provides the sword for the student. It wasn't a large expense." She was telling a half truth, knowing Ianto would be appalled if he knew the sword's cost. She'd acquired the twelfth century Welsh treasure for a song. The corroded and pitted blade had ruined the value despite the sword's illustrious owner. The leather of the hilt had also been cracked and damaged. What had also destroyed its value was the fact that there was no modern documentation to support the owner's claim that the blade had been used by Owain Glyndwr. Miranda had used her own resources to discover the truth. The true expense had been the restoration of the hilt and scabbard, and the modern blade. Blacksmiths who could forge a battle ready blade of quality were almost non-existent.

Miranda tapped his hip with her hand and said, "Let's begin."

The two immortals stood opposite each other. Ianto felt awkward and stupid. He wondered if he should bow or something.

Miranda drew herself up. Ianto thought she looked almost regal standing there with her own Chinese jian in her hands. When she spoke again, she sounded like she was reciting.

"Only one immortal may challenge another. Do not break the sanctity of holy ground with combat. When there are but a few of us left, we will be undeniably drawn to a far off land for The Gathering where we will compete for the prize. In the end," she said and then paused, her voice darkening, "there can be only one."

Ianto swallowed nervously. It hadn't felt like a lesson. It had felt more like an induction, like he'd just been baptised into some mad religion. Ianto remembered his childhood days in church and repeated, "There can be only one."

Miranda smiled and lifted her blade, saluting him with it.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Ianto said standing with the sword in his left hand.

"That's why I'm here. Try swinging the blade with one arm as much as possible, it will build your strength," she said then nodded to his right side. "Use your right arm, Ifan."

"You're using your left," Ianto said, switching hands.

"Fighting with your non-dominant hand is far in your future," she said. "Don't choke up so high on the hilt, good."

Miranda moved Ianto through a few exercises and manoeuvers. After a short time, she stopped the lesson. Ianto was clearly exhausted.

"Christ, I used to think I was in good shape," Ianto said, panting, sinking heavily down onto the bench.

"I'll go easy on you these first few weeks," Miranda said, tossing him a towel.

"That was going easy on me?" Ianto gasped.

"You'll do better if you get more rest," she pointed out.

"You and Jack never sleep," Ianto said.

"There are other reasons for that, Ifan," Miranda said softly. She bent over the case, digging out the scabbard. "Hold the sword with the blade up, examine the edge for any nicks or damage. Use your eyes, not your hands."

Miranda showed him how to hone and oil the blade and then slid the sword into its scabbard. "I know that it's bulky and heavy and that you're relatively safe inside the Hub but I want you to get into the habit of carrying it everywhere. Never more than a few steps out of reach, okay?"

Ianto nodded as he twisted the top of a water bottle. "Probably should get a belt for it or something."

Miranda shook her head. "No, you won't be able to wear that out in public. It's better for you to just carry it here as I do. I'd like for you to familiarise yourself with the location of every church, temple, mosque and cemetery in Cardiff. Everywhere you go, I want you to think about where the closest holy ground is."

Miranda produced a piece of paper from her bag. "The name and number for Warren Lanning, my solicitor in London and my financial agent, Arthur Meredith, they're both expecting your call."

"What for?" Ianto asked.

"I really have no idea how Jack has managed to keep his name and stay in the same city for over a hundred years. He's the exception, Ianto. Most of us must move around and change our identities. That can be a complicated matter in this modern era," she said. "Every time I've come to work for Torchwood, I've done so under a different name."

"I've seen your real personnel file - five aliases over sixty years."

Miranda nodded. "Precisely. You need someone to handle your legal and financial affairs who knows exactly who and what you are."

"But Jack-"

"Jack is the exception. We cannot draw attention to ourselves, Ianto. I am amazed that I am the only immortal of the Game Jack has ever encountered. The mad way he behaves with regards to his identity should have every immortal in Europe descending upon him for his non-existent quickening. Not concealing our true nature not only draws the attention of other immortals, it draws attention to the Game and to what we are. We exist in the shadows, in the background and that is where we need to stay."

Ianto stayed silent for a moment. Their conversation was interrupted by the lights flashing. Miranda sighed and put her comm unit into her ear.

"Sure, Jack. I'll be right up," she said and then turned to Ianto. "UNIT is on the line for me. Go get cleaned up and get some breakfast."

She patted Ianto's shoulder. She shook her head as Ianto walked into the locker room leaving his sword behind on the bench. It was an error. She'd wait to see if and when Ianto realised. She had barely broken a sweat so she went to her rooms and changed clothes quickly before heading up to the main Hub. After kicking Jack out of his office, she settled behind his desk and transferred the call to her comm unit. She was more than annoyed Jack hadn't seen to this call himself.

"This is Doctor Ryan," she said.

"Good morning, Doctor, this is Colonel Mace. My apologies for the early hour. Code in please," he said.

"No apologies necessary, Colonel. Ryan, Miranda. Torchwood authorisation alpha five seven three, november, foxtrot, four, one one six," she said.

"That is verified," he said.

"Your code as well, Colonel," Miranda said activating the authorisation software on her comm unit. This bit of protocol was required for calls not scheduled and initiated outside the UNIT switchboard. She wasn't surprised it was Colonel Mace calling. Since Miranda and Colonel Ashline's daughter, Nora, had ended their relationship, Colonel Ashline had handed off the Torchwood liaising to Mace. Given how their relationship had ended, Miranda wasn't surprised to find the Colonel unwilling to speak with her.

"Mace, Gerald. UNIT authorization five five two, dash, eight, one, seven, three alpha tango," he said curtly.

Miranda's comm unit didn't disconnect the call. "Verified. How are you Colonel?"

"Well, Doctor Ryan and yourself?"

"Fine. What can I do for you today, sir?" she asked.

"I'm sending down a few items I'd like for your technician, Doctor Fischer, I believe, to look at."

Miranda was surprised. UNIT had a number of scientists at their disposal. "What is the situation?"

"The first item is a new industrial lubricant that could revolutionise the machine industry. It's non-petroleum based, cheap and easily synthesized by our technologies."

"Sounds too good to be true," Miranda said, suspicious.

"That was what we were thinking as well, Doctor," he said. "The second item is a soil additive, similar to inorganic commercial fertilizers but doesn't require natural gas for its production."

"Again, it sounds too good to be true," she said, her suspicions growing.

"The third item is a new form of battery. I'd describe that one to you but I don't understand it in the slightest. Again, it is a piece of technology that seems too good to be true," the Colonel said, sounding weary.

"Torchwood is at your disposal, Colonel. You suspect alien technologies are involved?"

"That is our suspicion, Doctor Ryan. The items should be arriving shortly by special UNIT courier."

Miranda's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Mace was wasting no time. "We shall make them our top priority, Colonel."

"I appreciate it. You will update me daily?" he asked.

"Of course, end of business," she said. "Good day to you, sir."

"And to you, doctor," he said, disconnecting the call.

Miranda pushed back from the desk and went up to the tourist office to collect the package herself.