[h2]Sir Tyaethe Radistirin[/h2]

Even after the other two had gone inside to eat and even when her arm had healed. Maybe the comparison with Elionne was a useless one to the newcomers in the order? They couldn't know that she meant them to rise to match themselves against the most graceful combatant she had ever encountered, to sharpen their skills as normal knights rather than comparing themselves with her style based on overbearing physical force. It was something that she found hard to relate to the modern knights on.

Delicate fingers reached up to scarf, tightening it as she headed for the chapel and her armour. To the current knights, Elionne would be just a story, an idealised heroic figure without flaw. They wouldn't have remembered her as a talented but untrained peasant girl, an oversleeping messy eater moving in social circles that she had no understanding of. Even by the end, her manners were far from the perfection etiquette tutors would demand, and she ate more than anyone else she'd ever met. But to all these knights, just a story.

Tyaethe hesitated at the chapel doors, looking over her shoulder at the moon still hanging low in the sky, washed out by the early morning sun. Had anyone been nearby, they might have heard one muttered question: "But why did you leave me?"