Illinfer awoke with a start, jacking her body up, off the soft mattress. Standing in the room she looked around. She was alone. As tears rolled down her cheeks she realized she was crying, soft sobs heaving her chest. This happened sometimes. She dreamt of him, his touch, his warmth, his laughter . . . and then she woke to a cold and empty bed. His absence cut into her heart as though someone had plunged a dagger into it. This wasn't good! In an attempt to calm herself she started pacing the room, passing by the trunk, the bed, her sword . . . this wasn't helping. With a soft curse she put on her boots, took all her things and went down to the entrance of the huge manor. Whilst passing she heard voices from the dining room. It wouldn't be appropriate to barge in and surely Rhoynar would want a few hours alone with his loved ones before they set sail. So the northern woman passed the room on quiet soles and descended into the courtyard. 

It took her a while to find the stables where she tended to her horse. Then she looked for another occupation. It was when she heard the sound of swords clashing against each other that her mood lightened somewhat. The stable boy led the way and brought her to a huge pen layer out with sand. Men were practicing swordplay. One in particular caught her eye. He was tall and swung his sword with deadly precision. “Greetings!” She said when they came closer. The boy introduced her as Rhoynars guest before running off again. “Greetings lady Ilinfer.” the man replied. The northern woman laughed. “Oh no. I am no lady!” With a galant stride she came closer, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. “I was wondering if I might join your practice. It would be a waste not to use this opportunity.” Her eyes locken on those of the man and she knew he wouldn't refuse her. If it was because she was a guest of a family member or that she seemed persuasive - she didn't care much as long as her mind got distracted from the death of her husband. The void he had left inside her was so consuming that at times it was hard to keep it at bay. But this past year she had learned what helped her cope. Fighting was one of them. “I should let you practice with one of the new apprentices. They . . . “ She cut him off by lifting her hand. “Forgive me, I wasn't clear enough. I wish to cross swords with you.” The man was surprised. “I do not think our skills are equal.” He mumbled, obviously not wanting to insult Illinfer. But she wasn't. Even in the northern regions where women fought just as men did they barely matched a mans skill. Luckily for her she had been taught by the best swordsman of the guild and she wasn't afraid.

With a quick movement she brandished her sword and smiled at him with a challenging smile on her lips. Swords crossed with the typical sounds of metal crashing against metal. At first he had underestimated her and Ilinfer quickly won the upper hand. But he was fast to recover. And so they fought, surrounded by others who first watched then focused on their own combats. The northern woman and the to her unknown soldier? Knight? Fought for a long time until finally she found an opening and lunged at him with a shout. Little did she know that she could be heard in the dining room where a sleepy Rhoynar had just entered.

Although her attack had been quick the other managed to block it and let his sword swing towards her head. She fell to her knees and used the hilt of her sword to stab at his stomach. The same moment she felt the cool steel of his blade at her neck. They halted, frozen in a pose that under other circumstances would have been their deaths. Panting Ilinfer moved first, lowering her weapon, as did the other quite slowly. Glaring at each other they burst into laughter. All the tension had fallen off Ilinfer and she was happy to see that the guards of this manor had talent and obviously a great leader, too. She needed a few moment before she could get up. It had been a while since she last had the opportunity to fight on such an equal level and she was happy how it had turned out. She felt a the hair in the back oft her neck stand up. Someone was watching her Form not too far away. Slowly ehe Turner to See who it was.