"Faster!" the voice of the hardhearted rock man echoed across the valley and through the ripples of river water.

Their weapons clanged, and the splashes from their shoes caused the valley to stray from its calm nature. It didn't stop the two combatants from ending their duel.

"Tighten your muscles!" Markus Siegfried added instructively. "You're acting too flimsy for your sword! A warrior doesn't let their own weapon weigh them down!"

Of course, that wasn't easy for Silva to overcome since she was unaccustomed to swinging heavy metal back and forth. She tried to hold the sword with two hands this time, but her strikes became slower.

Markus took advantage of this, dodging her upcoming strike easily to the right. He raised his sword and countered with a blow to her unprotected right side. Silva tried to parry his attack, but she couldn't turn as quickly and suffered a hit to her waist with the flat area of the sword. She staggered back, clenching her waist, and snarled at Markus.

"That hurt," she said to him, putting one knee on the rocky bottom of the shallow river as she couldn't stand the blow. "I thought you were going easy on me."

Not much to her surprise, Markus just shook his head and kept his fighting stance. "Is it because you are a little girl?" Markus asked coldly. "Or is it because you are inexperienced with swords? What excuse will you give me this time?"

Silva was angry that he treated her just like another soldier he would meet on the battlefield, as he knew that she wasn't a natural-born fighter. She had her quickness and her agility from her blood-related Wood elf ancestors, but there was neither willpower nor grace that she had when she was fighting. She looked just like a novice, like one of those young boys fighting each other in the city with wooden swords.

The only difference was that her sword was made from dull stone, and it hurt a lot more than a wooden one. It also didn't help that it was a hot Thursday afternoon where sweat had started to form from Silva's brow, and she was already exhausted.

"Stop calling me a little girl," Silva retorted, as that was also another one of the things he said to anger her. "I am seventeen and a young adult, and I won't lose to an aging geezer like you!"

She brushed aside the pain in her waist as she stood back up. With her sword pointed tip first at Markus and both of her hands clutching it, Silva began to charge at him again.

I'll make him misread my attack, she thought with a grin. I'll make him think I'm doing a one-handed thrust to his chest, but then I'll switch to two and swing it to his right side! It doesn't matter how fast the strike is if you don't see it coming!

And Silva did just that, acting out the first attack by arching her left arm that held the sword back and her right hand facing forward at his chest. Because she was left-handed when fighting, she knew that her other hand had to support the other greatly if she wanted to pull off a two-handed strike. Markus had said that Silva wasn't as good at fighting two-handed, as she didn't have the strength to move her body accordingly and create a heavy heave. She was better off using her agility to create multiple faster and lighter strikes at her enemy instead.

But Silva also knew that if she wanted to impress Markus, she had to do something out of the ordinary.

Markus responded to her attack by facing Silva with the side of his sword, with one hand on the hilt and the other clutching the top side. Silva figured that he was just going to block her attack, so she lowered her thrust and used her other hand to grab the hilt. With a desperate effort, she swung up towards his right as hard as she could.

Alas, Markus had read where she was truly going to hit him, turning his body so that his sword could still block hers. After the sound of the dull metal rang, he spun in the opposite direction, hitting Silva once again on the right side of her waist. Now the pain had doubled, and with a yelping cry, she fell back almost immediately to the bottom of the shallow river.

When she thought that she would have hit the rocky ground of the river, Silva felt two cold, webbed hands grabbing her shoulders. It was Guren who was standing behind her, and he was in his merman form.

"Come on, pops!" he shouted out to Markus with a concerned glare. "She isn't your enemy! Why are you trying so hard against her?"

Guren had noticed that Silva kept clutching at her waist. Without hesitation, he lifted her drenched shirt a bit so that he could look at the bruise.

"Hey, stop that!" she demanded instantly.

"It's turning purple!" he gasped.

Because of this, Guren raised her arms and put them around his, hoisting Silva onto his back.

"What are doing all of a sudden?" Silva asked but had given up struggling because of the pain.

"What I'm doing is taking you back home," he answered. "We need to treat that bruise quickly before it swells up more."

"Guren, what are you doing?" Markus questioned him from the edge of the river. "Your training hasn't finished yet. There's still ten minutes left to go underwater."

Before Silva could try to intervene, Guren's anger grew toward the old man once again. "She's in pain, can't you see?" he shouted at Markus while treading the water back towards the green ground. "We are ending this and taking her back home! Our training's been long enough, hasn't it?"

Silva had noticed that the whole valley had responded to their argument, as the wind started to pick up. Even the bristles of the tall grass behind them were noisier now. It was unnatural, as the valley was a quiet place, closed off from the rest of the plains. It was a serene area, where wildlife flourished until the three of them had come to train alongside it.

"She can still stand," Markus explained to Guren. "A single little bruise is not going to stop her from fighting."

"You're always so damned stubborn!" Guren retorted, his ear fins twitching back and forth.

She could still not figure out why they would do that when Guren was infuriated, but there were also many changes he was going through that she didn't understand. Guren was a rarity too, so that might have affected his feelings and emotions.

"She's in no condition to fight any longer!" Guren continued. "Can't you tell by just looking at her? Or is your head so thick that ya only know how to fight?"

"Put me down, Guren," Silva said silently, as she was ashamed that she had let Markus best her so easily again.

She had been training with him for months now, and it had felt like she had accomplished nothing. Silva was not stronger than before, nor was she a skilled warrior either. Markus had promised his good friend and ally Alfred Fernwood that he would turn Silva into a fearless fighter, but it had seemed like that promise still had ways to go before being fulfilled. It wasn't just for Markus; Silva wanted to become stronger so that she could protect herself and the people around her. She wanted to become stronger for her mother too.

"Put me down," she repeated. "I can still fight him."

Guren was surprised that she had said this, but he shook his head in response. "No, I'm not going to put you down," he exclaimed, returning the stubbornness that she and Markus had.

Guren then took the sword she was still holding and tossed it in the water, and it soon dissipated from being made with rock magic. Markus stared at Guren in disappointment, but he soon complied with Guren's request after throwing his sword in the water as well.

"If that is the case," he began to say, "Then we will go back to the manor and get her some rest and treat that bruise. But once she has rested enough, she will come back to the valley and train once again. We have not finished with our duel."

"Bastard," Guren grumbled under his breath, and it seemed like he wasn't done with his father yet. "You're going to overwork her now because she hasn't shown any results? Don't you have any empathy for what she's gone through at all?"

Guren, too, knew about Silva's past and how she came to live with the Siegfrieds. He knew about her parents and how her mother died, about how she was found in a rowboat alone as a baby, about how she lived as an orphan for as long as she could remember, and how she lived life now as a castaway. Even Silva did not know the full truth about her life, and when Markus finally explained to her how exactly he found her, all she could do was deny it, and run away from it.

Before he explained it, Silva had just thought that the Blood Hunters kidnapped her. Just before they could kill her off and report back to Blazen, the one who hired them to do it, Markus swooped in and saved her. The real story was that he didn't actually make it in time, and Silva was mortally wounded by these ruthless people.

I had experienced near death, she thought again while shivering from head to toe. And I was helpless and wasn't able to save myself. I was weak. And now, I'm being felt sorry for again.

If it wasn't for her mother's blood crystal that she had made for her daughter, Silva assumed that she wouldn't be where she was right now. She would have said goodbye to all her family in Rolnik in the cruelest way possible. So, Silva was eternally grateful to be alive now, but she also knew that she had only lived because Markus was in Czésta and had known Andriel Dreida to be a close friend. She wanted to believe that it was more than just luck, but there was nothing else she could believe in.

And then, if that wasn't enough for Silva, she had found out as well that she was indeed a Fireborn.

Silva possessed the genes of her Fireborn father and now was showing signs of it on multiple occasions. Multiple times she had tried to deny it through dreams and reality, saying repeatedly that it wasn't true, and that she could never be a monster born from the flames of hatred and destruction.

Even so, that was the only truth that revealed itself, and it was a terrible feeling.

Soon again, they were traversing through Markus's caved-out tunnel originating from the hill. There was a silence that arose as they walked, as only the footprints of the dirt and drops of groundwater were heard across the tunnel. Silva had looked back to see that Markus had closed the tunnel entrance so that no wild animals would find their way inside.

She remembered one time after training, that Markus had forgotten to do this. Eventually, a group of brown jackrabbits had made part of the tunnel their home. Silva almost laughed out loud, remembering the amount of effort it took just to catch them or shoo them back into the wild.

But memorable moments like this one, in particular, had come and gone. With a slight ache in her chest, Silva realized that she was desperately trying to hide away everything that she didn't want to remember. During these past few months, everything had seemed so peaceful, so still in all that progressed throughout the days. It was starting to feel like home once again.

But it was all going to end sooner or later. Silva would go back to feeling afraid and weak, and it would all come with dangers looming ahead, berating her peaceful conscience.

The silence then continued for many more minutes. Silva could hear the quiet, grunting sounds Guren was starting to make as he was carrying her.

"I can walk by myself now," she said to him, breaking the silence in the tunnel.

"Are you sure?" he asked, hesitant of what to say but still seeming worried about her.

Silva nodded. Agreeing with her wish, Guren set her down on the ground.

"Try leaning on the left side wall while you walk so that you don't put too much pressure on your bruise," he also advised her.

Silva did so, putting her left hand on the wall and using her left leg to carry her other side. The pain was still great on her right side, and she was walking slowly as a result. Markus, who was in front of them, turned his back to them. With a stone-faced expression, he didn't say a word and kept trotting to the exit.

For a while, Silva was walking at a steady and progressive pace. As time began to pass, and the tunnel's end didn't seem to be up ahead soon, she was starting to show signs of wearing down. Guren had noticed this, ushering her to go up on his back once more.

"No, I'm fine," Silva tried to tell him. "I can go on for a little longer."

"No, you can't," she heard Markus declare with a sigh. He walked back towards them and squatted down with his hands on his back.

"Come on, up you go," he said to Silva. "And I won't tolerate any arguments against it."

With a slight grin on her face, Silva didn't argue with Markus's decision, using the last of her strength to climb onto his back.

"Stubborn old man," she whispered to herself.

Guren soon followed them from behind. Silva could then hear the sounds of the cavern again, and perhaps that was because she wasn't so focused on pushing herself to the limits.

You need to relax, she told herself. Relaxation is good for the soul, right? Thinking about all the negative aspects of yourself won't do you any good.

Sometime later, there was a light shown from the end of the tunnel. It was indeed the exit, and Silva knew this because of how many times she had walked to and from it for many days and nights. It was the same light she was always excited to see after a long day of training, and it was the image of the manor resting on the flatland in all its beauty.

"Home sweet home," Markus whispered to himself, but Silva had heard what he was trying to say.

Silva knew that it was true but wondered whether he liked staying in this house again. She figured that he might remember all his memories of the past when he was with his parents. Since they had both passed away when Markus was an adolescent, those memories might be painful to remember.

Markus was without any parents when he was around my age then, Silva realized with her eyes widened. That means he can relate somehow to what I'm going through now. Could that be one of the other reasons why he traveled all this way with me?

They reached the entrance of the manor with the afternoon sun shining bright in the background. The nature around them was silent as it had been for most of the days, with only the leaves and branches rustling in the wind. Silva looked up at the sky, and she noticed that there were more clouds than in the morning.

There's a chance of rain tonight, she thought. If my bruise heals quickly, then I might have to train in the rain again.

Guren turned the brass handle to the splintered, white wooden door and it opened not so swiftly to the main hallway of the manor. Many of the compartments in the house were old and probably weren't used for many years, so it was only natural for them to show some rust in their condition.

This area looks like a graveyard, Silva said to herself, only plains and fields as far as the eye can see.

Markus trudged into the house while still carrying Silva, and they were met by Abigail and Judith who seemed to be playing tag with pink dolls in their hands.

"Abby, come back here!" Judith exclaimed as she ran past the stairs. "That's my doll, not yours!"

"Come and get it then!" Abigail retorted with her tongue out. She sat on the top of the stairs while waving the doll back and forth. "She likes me better anyway!"

Suddenly, Guren rushed over to Judith and picked her up by the arms, placing her legs over his shoulders in the process.

"We'll be taking her back from your clutches!" Guren said in an exuberant tone to Abigail. "The princess of the mighty king will never fall into your hands! Come, brave Judith, we shall catch the thief and give her due punishment!"

Judith then giggled while pointing at Abigail and saying charge, while Abigail ran off towards the hallway of the second floor with Guren and Judith in pursuit. Their cries echoed through the hallway, while Missus Emilie was found slouched over the sofa in the living room, her eyes peeled on a book she was reading.

"Quiet down, you rascals!" she exclaimed, darting her eyes towards Markus and Silva still standing by the door.

"Home sweet home," Silva repeated what Markus had said before with a chuckle, with the old man just grumbling back in return.

"The moment where I can get some peace and quiet will be when I'm resting under my grave," he declared with a frown.

"Oh, don't you say that," Emilie responded, as she put her book down and started walking over to them.

Silva could see that Emilie was still wearing her yellow nightgown even though it was the afternoon, which was not much of a surprise as of now. Emilie, unfortunately, didn't get out of the house much. She had no work at the moment and was away from all of the friends that she would visit in Czésta City.

Silva knew this because Emilie would talk to her about it all the time ever since they arrived here. They had spent much more time together than before, and Emilie would always be there to talk to if Silva had anything to say. She would even talk about her past from time to time, even though it was bits and pieces that Silva couldn't always put together.

"What's the matter?" she asked Markus after noticing that Silva was still clenching her hip.

He then walked over to the sofa and placed Silva on it. "She's got a nasty bruise on her right side," Markus said with a sigh, already setting foot towards the kitchen. "I'll go get some cold water."

Emilie put her hand on her forehead and stared at Silva's eyes with another one of her worried looks. "What has he done now?" she asked Silva as if she already knew that her bruise was because of Markus.

"It's not that bad, Missus Emilie," Silva tried to reassure her. "And it's not his fault either! I was careless again, that's all."

"No, Silva, I'm sure that it was somehow his fault," Emilie replied with a smile. "That man brings you nothing but trouble."

Emilie then placed her hand on Silva's forehead. With a dissatisfied expression, she roused it again.

"It looks like you have a fever as well," Emilie said softly. "Promise me that you'll get some rest, my dear."

She saw Markus walk back now with a rag that was soaked in cold water. Emilie took it from his hands and placed it on Silva's forehead, and Silva could feel the refreshing ooze of water on her skin which made her feel more at ease. The pain from the bruise still felt excruciatingly swelling, however.

"Now let's see how bad it really is," Emilie said, lifting Silva's shirt so she could see the bruise. The color of it was still quite purple, and Emilie noticed this almost right away.

"Markus!" she cried out after seeing it. "Markus, it's starting to swell up! This might be even worse than the one that she had before!"

Knowing this, Emilie had started the process she had done before to treat Silva's last bruise. Silva had heard Emilie yell out to Guren, and he came rushing downstairs to see what he was needed for. She gave him a small plastic bag and said, "Go out to the icehouse and fill this up to the brim." Guren nodded without a word and hurried out back.

Then Emilie told Silva to lie on her left side to ease the weight of the bruise. Markus had come back with his hands full of bandages, and Emilie took a roll of it and started to wrap it gently around Silva's waist.

"We're very lucky to have all of this," Emilie had said with an exasperated sigh. "If not for this house, there would be many more problems we would have to face."

Silva heard the girls upstairs still playing with their dolls even though Guren had left, and it was reassuring considering they didn't have to see Silva in pain again. She could recall the sad looks on their face every time she came back in pain, even if it was the smallest of injuries. That was a moment Silva dreaded, for some reason.

After a short while, the door opened again and Guren had come back with a bag full of ice in his hands. He gave it to Emilie, who then placed the bag on top of the bruise. Silva felt a nice and long chilly feeling after that.

"Ice is halfway full now," Guren said to Markus and Emilie. "I'm surprised that it's not melted even after all these years. That house sure comes in handy."

"It sure does," Markus responded.

From his expression, those words sounded nostalgic now. All Silva knew about the icehouse was that it was used to store ice from the pond when winter had come, and Markus's parents had kept it in there all year long. Emilie said that the house was used by the people who lived before his parents. They used it for ice, and also for storing the meat and carcasses of game that had been caught from hunting. Markus had called it a larder, and even though it sounded grotesque to Silva, she knew that it was for the good of their survival, especially since they were isolated from the rest of the country in this land.

There were a lot of things about Markus's parents that Silva still did not know, and she was curious as to how they lived life here. Sure, her life at the orphanage was somewhat similar, but their church was situated near Rolnik, which was good for getting food and other sorts of resources. The people living out here had no markets or shops to browse around; they had to fend for themselves with the nature around them.

Oh, how spoiled I've become, Silva thought to herself. What if my people had lived this way for centuries on end? Did they hunt for their own food and make their own clothing? I suppose if I knew that I'd have a whole different way of thinking.

Silva also figured that the elves probably had little knowledge of how humans lived, and vice versa. It was just how every race in Czahunlia lived that separated them from each other.

And I desire to unite all of these peoples, she remembered. I've never even realized before how difficult it sounds, considering the history of Czahunlia.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Emilie had stopped wrapping the bandage around her waist. It was a bit too tight, mostly on the bruise, but it wasn't too tight that Silva could feel the bandage squeezing at her waist. Silva knew that she could trust Emilie and her soft touch, assured that she wouldn't feel as much pain on her side as she did before.

"Thank you," were the words Silva silently ushered, and they were meant for everyone standing around her.

"Oh dearest," said Emilie, "Just get some rest, okay? You'll be all better in no time. I'll be off to prepare dinner now, so be sure to call if you need to."

She then walked away from Silva's side and to the kitchen, as there was much work to be done for dinner preparations. Guren left as well, saying he would play around with the girls some more. Markus was the only one standing by Silva this time, and his gaze towards hers was a bit awkward.

"I won't rush you," he tried to say. "Take whatever time you need to recoup your strength. Don't push it, no matter how badly you want to."

"You're treating me like a child again," Silva said, even when she knew that he was just worried about her. "I told you before, it's just a bruise. No warrior would ever be overcome by some silly bruise."

Saying this, Silva almost turned to her other side. Yet, she rethought it since it would more stress on her right side. She couldn't look at Markus, though.

"Now you're starting to sound like me," Markus acclaimed with a slight chuckle. "We can't have that or else you'll start to act like me as well."

"That very thought makes my stomach turn," she exaggerated with a smile, knowing that this was true. "Oh no, it's coming toward my waist, and now the bruise! I have to stop thinking about that or else it'll be worse!"

She had hoped Markus would make another sneering comeback, but all he did was chuckle again. It was always their pointless back and forth that raised her spirits. When he didn't say anything back, Silva could tell that there was something very pressing that he was thinking about. She didn't want the silence to return, so Silva desperately thought of something for him to tell her about, perhaps a story so she could fall asleep quickly.

"Um, old man?" she tried to ask him. "Well, um, I want you to tell me a story, or else I won't go to sleep."

"Perhaps you really are a child," Markus said with a sigh. "Oh fine, whatever you say."

Markus sat down on the mahogany tarnished chair, across from the couch Silva was lying on, slouching back to get comfortable. "These things should be said at nighttime," he told Silva. "I don't even know any bedtime stories."

What Markus said saddened Silva a bit, since she knew that he had probably never said any bedtime stories to Guren, Judith, and Abigail when they were children. But she wasn't interested in some fictional tale; Silva wanted to hear more about his family and his life before Czésta City and the Knight's Guard. She wanted to hear about his mother, father, and his sister, and how they lived in this house. Silva couldn't think of a reason why, simply because she wanted to know.

"I wish to hear a story about your parents," Silva asked wholeheartedly.

"Any reason as to why you're asking?" he inquired with a puzzled expression, taken aback by what she had requested of him.

"No, not really," Silva responded. "Well, since we're living in their house right now, I suppose it's only fair that we get to know about them, right? I am really curious about their livelihood as well."

"You're right," he said silently, sitting upright and with poise as if what he had to say was important. "The family should know about my parents and their life here."

Markus stopped for a moment, and Silva wondered if he was telling the truth. She decided to stay quiet, not wanting to seem persistent on knowing about their story if Markus didn't want to talk about them. She knew that their lives were unfortunately cut short, so that must have put a great deal of childhood trauma on Markus years ago.

"Alright," he concluded, looking Silva in the eyes, and taking a deep breath. "Make sure to listen, Silva, because I'll only tell you this story once."

By dismissing all of her ill feelings, Silva could focus on only Markus's croaky and deep voice. Her pain on her right side had seemed to vanish, and all was quiet in the living room. All Silva could hear now was steam blowing from the pans and stove in the kitchen.

"In the times that have gone by," Markus began, "There lived a man and a woman named Olaf and Matylda Siegfried.