On the outskirts of Minas Tirith Port stood a heavily guarded military camp.
This was the Training Ground for the Gray Marsh Fief's recruits. Wooden posts and sandbags dotted the packed earth, where young soldiers sweated through their drills.
In a secluded corner of the Training Ground, however, the atmosphere was markedly different.
Kale held a blunt training shortsword, his gaze fixed intently on the girl opposite him.
Since returning from the Southern Isles, Xiao Lan had seemed like a different person. She was still quiet and still instinctively lowered her head around strangers, but the uncertainty once in her eyes had vanished-she had found a reason to fight: protection.
"Focus, Xiao Lan," Kale said steadily. "An assassin's battle isn't a clash of strength. It's a contest of timing. Your enemy is always the next instant."
Xiao Lan said nothing, merely adjusting her breathing slightly. Gripping two wooden daggers, she lowered her body like a cat poised to pounce.
Kale moved.
His footsteps made not the slightest sound. His figure traced a ghostly arc as his shortsword thrust straight at Xiao Lan's flank.
Just before the tip touched her clothes, Xiao Lan twisted with astonishing flexibility, sliding half a step sideways in a way most people could never manage and narrowly evading the attack. At the same time, she swept a dagger back toward Kale's wrist.
Clack!
The wooden sword and dagger collided.
Kale flicked his wrist to shed the force, then attacked again. A web of sword shadows closed over Xiao Lan's vital points.
Xiao Lan did not retreat. She wove through the barrage, every dodge and parry perfectly timed. She was like a fallen leaf dancing in a gale-seemingly in peril, yet always finding gaps in the wind.
"Not enough!" Kale abruptly quickened his attacks. "You can move