Idelle gazed across the courtyard at the man, fighting back her confusion. Who was he? Why was he here? Looking closer, she saw that a loose group had formed in front of him, all equipped like her with training swords. He was the sword instructor, then? Ivar, if she recalled correctly. Could he be someone she knew…?

No, she had to think rationally about this. Why would she know this specific man? He must just remind her of the other, barely remembered teacher. They were both sword instructors, after all. They must just have the same atmosphere. Or something like that.

Nonetheless, she felt her nerves bubbling as she cautiously approached the group. What would she do if he DID recognize her? Should she try to play it off, and figure out what he knew about her? Or should she just try to take him aside and explain the situation? 

He glanced over at her, and her heart stopped. Their eyes met and time seemed to freeze for a moment. 

Then, without any obvious hint of recognition, he made a motion for her to join the group. She started forward and quickly stood with the others. A conflicted emotion swept through her, at once relieved and disappointed. She was probably overthinking this, right? She was wearing a sword, surely that was the only reason he’d invited her? 

Still, almost against her better judgment, she hesitantly spoke. “...Um, excuse me, sir? Are you Ivar? The sword instructor?”

He nodded, giving her an affirmative noise, and she awkwardly pressed forward. “Do I know you?”

He fixed his hard stare on her again at the question and she fidgeted awkwardly in place as he considered. Then, he spoke, “Not that I’m aware of. But we’ve had a lot of men come through here over the past year, too many to remember every face. Have you attended here before?”

She hesitantly shook her head and he shrugged. “Then perhaps you may have seen me around the city?”

“...Yeah. That must be it. My apologies for bothering you.” He made an unconcerned noise, and with one last slightly curious look he turned his gaze back to the field and away from her. Idelle looked down. Despite the negative answer, her sense of incongruity around the man had only grown. No, not just around the man. She felt like she’d been here, in this very courtyard, learning from him before.

She forcibly shook her head. The idea was silly and didn’t make any sense. Why would she have been here, learning the basics of combat along with a bunch of soldiers? And how would she have ended up several hundred kilometers away on the other side of a mountain range and dangerous forest with no memories? No one here had shown even a hint of recognizing her. It was just deja-vu and her own insecurities speaking.

Yeah. She was definitely being irrational. It would be an absurd coincidence to just happen upon someone who knew her like that. If there was one thing here that could help her remember or track down her past? It was magic. She remembered back to Cecilia, the way she had known exactly which house she was in and the little ball of warm light that held perfectly still as she moved. 

She’d been too upset and scared at the time to give it much attention, but something about the memory entranced her. It’d held a fantastical, strange kind of beauty. Like she had accidentally stepped into another world, a mirror of this one in which the ordinary was new and unique and a little frightening again. Like a child seeing fire for the first time. 

And more than that, it was practical. If there was a way to track down a person, surely there would be a way to track down memories. And even if not… An image of a wolf, blood flowing from its ruined neck and snout, flashed through her mind and she forced it away. There was a lot she needed to understand, that was all.

A clap sounded, breaking her free from her thoughts. Ivar was officially beginning instruction. 

He spared no time for a warmup, immediately setting them into lines and having them repeat the simple footwork he demonstrated. Three steps on each side, one moving forward, one moving backward, and one moving purely sideways. All with a sword held on guard in front of them.

The motions seemed simple to Idelle, and a quick glance around confirmed that no one seemed to be struggling with them, but she continued without complaint. The group quickly settled into a rhythm, moving almost meditatively to Ivar’s count. Finally, after a few minutes, he stopped them.

“Those of you who are new,” he glanced in her direction, “might wonder why I spend so much time on footwork, something easily practiced on your own. The reason is simple. The sword is not a soldier’s weapon, but the weapon of a dualist or a champion. Nothing about it is easy. Mastery relies on an unbreakable foundation of fundamentals.” 

He stepped forward into a stance and held his sword forward to demonstrate the full reach. “And beyond that, a soldier with a spear or pike is far away from the enemy, be it a fellow soldier or a tainted beast. If he stumbles or loses his grip, he remains out of range of the enemy. For a swordmaster, even a single such mistake can lead to instant death. 

His sword flicked, lightning-fast, and was at the throat of the nearest student a moment before her training sword batted it aside. 

He nodded approvingly. “Not bad, only a moment too slow. But nonetheless, too slow.” He turned back to the group. “If you take one lesson away from me, let it be this one. Do not lightly pick up the sword, because it seems glamorous or heroic. If that’s what you think, let it stay a hobby, or sidearm, and focus your energy elsewhere. To do otherwise is bravery and foolishness in equal measure. Now…”

The lesson continued, as he drilled them in a series of basic motions. Thrusting, slashing, and chopping from different angles and then alongside different steps. After a while, he started to move between them and give specific pointers.

Idelle walked through the motions despite her vague sense of shame. She remembered Adrian’s earlier advice about using a spear. Wasn’t learning the sword half out of pettiness and half out of some vague hunch even worse than using it to seem cool? 

“Focus.” Ivar’s voice was mild as he stopped in front of her. “Your eyes are wandering. Keep them on your target, imagine where and what your sword might strike.”

She flushed a little and nodded. She was here now, wasn’t she? She should at least try her best. She focused, the image of huge jaws lunging for her shoulder flashing through her mind again. For a moment, she was there again, and her foot slid back as her wooden sword sliced through the air with a whoosh.

She looked at Ivar for approval only to see his eyebrows raised quizzically. She hesitated. Had she done something wrong? He spoke before she could ask.

“You said this was your first time here. Where did you get that training sword? Did you have another teacher?”

She hesitated, eyes falling onto the wooden blade in her hands before she responded. “Not really… Adrian arranged it for me.”

“Hmm. You must have practiced a lot then. Good work. Might I see it?”

She looked up, surprised at the compliment, to see him gesturing at her sword. Confused, she handed it over. He hefted it; a flicker of outright surprise crossing his face for a moment before he handed it back. “You’re very strong, aren’t you? This would be much too heavy for most here, even for practice. Don’t overdo it, it’s important to maintain good form even while you build strength.”

With that, he moved on. She stared after him, then looked at the wooden sword in her hands again. She thought back to Adrian’s dismissive “Suit yourself.” earlier. She stepped forward, repeating her earlier motions, weight lightly balanced on her feet. 

Then, experimentally, she forced herself not to adjust her stance as she slashed through the air with her full force. The momentum of the swing nearly made her stumble, but she caught herself just in time. She hefted the blade in her left hand, staring at her slender arm and wrist. It really didn’t feel that heavy to her. She felt equal parts giddy and uncomfortable at the realization.

Then, she turned her head and looked back at the barracks, in the general direction of Adrian’s office. Her eyes narrowed. Maybe pettiness was a good enough reason to keep practicing with a sword, after all.