[center][h3][u]--Olmsbridge, the Seventh day--[/u][/h3][/center]


	Abigail let her forehead fall onto the cold stone wall. She was alone in the small library of the castle of Olmsbridge. All around her were book filled shelves and decorative suits of armor and parade weapons of yore. Her eyes were not focused on the all too familiar decorations of a Lynnfairish castle however, as she stared blankly in thought.

	Anxiety curled her stomach and she propped herself from the wall. Her mind swarmed with every possibility, both good and bad but they always fell onto the same fact: Henry was dead. In one single day she lost all that had brought her to where she was today, and she couldn’t help but mourn in her own silent way. Grief choked in her throat, grief for her long lost friends, grief for all she had built, and not without their aid. 

	She turned and paced along the shelves, scanning titles for no other reason than the chance it might spur a different thought, a different scenario: she was alone, and she knew it. Rage danced with her sorrow and her fists clenched as she continued her repetitive journey among the tomes, every step bringing the image of a laughing William, a bleeding Henry, a dead Lynnfaire. 

	She passed many books, too many recounting the tales and exploits of monarchs past, how they held Lynnfaire together, how they saved it from this or that, and she couldn't help but feel as if she was not one of them. She rallied the resistance against William, she drove the progressive nature of the unheard masses to the heart of Lynnfaire, and she provided a face of a new chance, but she did not act, or at least not entirely. Her fists clenched again and she began pulling books from the shelves, flipping them without reading, hoping to catch a word to stop her, to bring her to a conclusion, to center her whirlwind of thought. 

	She grunted and slapped the last book closed, tossing it with anger. The book dinged against a suit of armor, knocking a prized arming sword from the loose grip of the stand and sent it clattering to the floor. Guilt rose in her stomach, guilt for the book, guilt for the history of the armor and blade, but then -- an idea. A sharp light opened in her mind as she looked at the mess she had caused. It is not true that she did not act, she knew this, but there was something more she could have done, should have -- will do. 

	She walked over to the book and blade, and picked both of them up. The hilt felt at home in her left and the book at home in her right. She placed the book on a shelf, not bothering to return it to it’s nook. She stared at the blade in awe. It was about time she brought both sides of leading into her hands, both the diplomacy and strength of voice, and the power and tact of arms.

	She swung the blade -- albeit clumsily. It made a whooshing sound in the air and caused her to smile. She turned the blade slightly in her hand and swung it again and instead of a whoosh, it made a sharp whistle. Her eyes focused on the edge, she swung again, another whoosh and she cursed silently. Again, the sharp whistle, again, another whistle. She had no real idea what she was doing, but it felt right. She could feel the blade sink through the air without a tug and finally every swing granted her that satisfying whistle of a perfect angle. 

	“You wish to swing swords now?” A woman’s voice echoed and Abigail turned to Edith, Abigail’s cheeks red with embarrassment. Abigail straightened herself, “I feel it is only necessary if I am to be a leader, I know what every order I give entails.”

	Edith cocked her head, “Well it sounds as if you already know how to angle it.”

	“It is hardly a difficult thing,” Abigail replied humbly, “I cannot see any reason weapon-craft was ever withheld from me.”

	Edith nodded silently, “It was b-”

	“Because I am a woman,” Abigail finished Edith’s sentence, her eyes focused on the tip of the ornate blade, “but I am not just a woman, I am a leader -- and one who needs to take things into her own hands.”

	Edith bowed her head, “your words are strong… perhaps we get you a real blade, I can show you what I know.”

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