We spent the rest of the day enjoying freshly cooked meals while relaxing around the roadside inn. It was nice and peaceful and one of the first opportunities we had for casual conversation since this ragtag team formed from the ashes of Danver. There had not been much time for basic chit-chat when we were running away from bloodthirsty Kurskins and the mysterious and powerful Voxals.

  Since we had time to kill, I thought it would be worthwhile to get some sword practice in. I'd rarely seen Ersabet use a weapon, but when she did, she wielded it with practiced skill. It was my hope that she could teach me some of her moves, and I could potentially level up my Swordsmanship competency. I didn't know if it would work, though. The competency likely required experience from real sword fights but one could never know with this game design. Regardless, I needed training.

  Ersabet had been hesitant at first, but after some ribbing from me and cajoling from Delen and Kitz, she relented. Thus, we found ourselves in the same field where Petri had been performing aerial tricks earlier. Delen and Kitz found a nice rock to sit on, while Ersabet and I stood facing each other in the empty field. She insisted on using sticks we had cut down into a reasonable simulacrum of a shortsword, as I was apparently too impulsive and reckless to be trusted with a real weapon in a practice fight.

  I had to bite my pride and admit to myself that she was right.

  "We will begin simply," Ersabet said. "I attack once. You defend. Then you do the same to me."

  I bowed and raised my stick. It was solid, although it did have a slight bend to one side.

  Ersabet's stick-sword was in her right hand. She took two steps to close the distance and feigned an attack. I completely fell for it, and she adjusted quickly with a backhand swing, which caught me hard on my hip.

  I grunted. "What the hell, ‘Bet? Take it easy. This is practice."

  She sneered at me. "I am teaching you how to identify a feint, and you are practicing how to defend against it."

  I sneered back. "My turn."

  I raised my wooden-stick-sword high and swung down at her. Her eyes were on it, waiting for me to redirect with a feint, but instead, I took something out of the Kurskins' playbook and raised my boot, kicking her hard in the belly.

  She gripped her midsection and stumbled back a couple of paces, but she didn't fall. Without waiting for consent, she went ahead with her next attack, and this time, it wasn’t a feint. I only barely managed to block her practice sword from bashing my shoulder.

  She danced back away from my counter and moved in again, driving low and successfully poking me in the gut, which hurt like hell, as my belly wound was still healing. With my improved healing ability, the stitches were able to be removed after only five days, but the scars were still fresh and tender.

  We went back and forth like this, trading blows, and slowly pissing the other off until eventually, we were fighting for real.

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  After Ersabet whacked me across the face with the tip of her stick, I threw mine at her. She deflected it but couldn't stop me from tackling her to the ground. I sat atop her, ready to pound her face, but I underestimated her flexibility and took a foot to the back of my head. As she hit me, she rolled me off her and smoothly transitioned into a submission hold like a jiu-jitsu expert. By the time she snaked her way around me, she had my arm bent backward and her shins locked around my neck.

  I tapped, and she gave my arm one last painful tug before releasing.

  She stood, preening as I slowly found my feet.

  I wiped dirt and grass off myself and said, "You're a shitty teacher."

  She huffed a laugh. "And you are a terrible student. Perhaps you should find another teacher."

  "You could have just said no if you didn't want to."

  Ersabet raised a brow. "I did. Then you insinuated that my refusal was because I was scared you would beat me." She thumbed over to Kitz and Delen. "Additionally, these fools kept begging me to.”

  I shook my head. "I'm going to eat."

  A sharp whistle cut the air some distance down the road, and we all turned to look. "Picking on the locals, are you, Dalari?" yelled one of the oldest Kurskins I had ever seen. Other than the monster of a horse he was riding upon, he appeared to be alone.

  Ersabet stood tall and said, "They were actually the ones picking on me, but I think I taught this one a lesson." She pointed at me, and I scowled.

  I saw some of the tension leave the Kurskin's shoulders. I had been worried for a moment that he meant to do us harm.

  Val, why no heads up on this guy?

  She made a who me gesture. “I'm sorry, I was busy watching Ersabet beat you silly. Had that not been so entertaining, I would have been paying more attention to our surroundings.”

  "You're a long way from home, Dalari," the Kurskin said, closer now. "What brings you out this way?"

  "I've had my fun in the mountains," Ersabet replied. "So, I'm moving on to warmer weather. Where are you heading, sir?"

  I was surprised by how cordial these two enemies were, but I reminded myself that outside of this game, their species lived together in eternal peace.

  "I'm off to try my luck in Danver," the Kurskin said. "Heard there are grand adventures to be had in the mountains."

  Everyone in our group did their best not to react to those words.

  "I wish you good fortune on your journey," Ersabet said, wrapping up the conversation.

  But the Kurskin wasn't quite ready to ride away. "What about this lot? Friends of yours?"

  She laughed. "Friends? Definitely not. More like useful pawns."

  "Hey!" I said, turning to her. She backhanded me hard across the face.

  "Some are more useful than others," she said sharply.

  The Kurskin trumpeted with laughter. "Shame we're going in opposite directions. I admire your spirit."

  Ersabet bowed deeply. "Fates will it, we will meet again someday."

  He nodded to her and trotted forward. "If that's the case, my name's Cal."

  "Ersabet," she replied.

  "Stay safe, Lady Ersabet," Cal said. "I'd tell you to keep these humans in line, but something tells me you have that handled."

  And with that, Cal trotted away, and we all let out a collective breath.

  "You didn't have to hit me, you know," I said to Ersabet.

  "You should not have spoken out of place. You brought it upon yourself, as you always do."

  "You are a terrible friend, you know that?"

  "It is you who declared us to be 'friends,' not I."

  Annoyed, I said, "I'm going to eat and spend the rest of the evening in my room. You all do whatever you want. We leave tomorrow."

  I stomped my way to the inn. Clearly, Ersabet was upset with me, likely because I was hiding important information from her, but she had agreed to deal with it. Perhaps beating me up on occasion was her way of dealing with it.

  The slap in the face was worth it considering the knowledge I had gleaned from Cal's conversation. He was going to Danver, utterly unaware of its destruction. That was good. We were still ahead of the news, and we'd need to keep it that way if we wanted to have a clean exit through Nessa.

  I wished I had a horse.