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— Don't worry. — The Lady Captain handed the musket to her aide, palms on her waist. She smiled with her ears perked up. — It's about another of your inventions, which we have adopted and improved upon. The infantry formation. I intend to turn your battalion of pikemen into a true elven tercio...
The drill began the next morning and hasn't stopped since. Rosa had never really understood how the battalion differed from the elves' tercio. Both formations looked the same to the girl — a square of infantrymen bristling with pikes. It all seemed to come down to the ratio of shooters to pikemen. As Jeanne explained to her, usually soldiers with guns made up a tenth of the battalion. In the tercio, however, they were much more — almost a third. Expectedly for a formation invented by the elves. This arrangement required better coordination of actions, because it was more difficult for the pikemen to cover the numerous shooters from the cavalry. Lytel assured that she would teach the soldiers the necessary manoeuvres in a couple of months. In addition, the tall elf took it upon herself to train new shooters from former pikemen and militia volunteers. Captain Utlt was in charge of supplies and finances. Vittoria kept active correspondence with dozens of recipients outside the gorge, but she did not discuss her plans with her apprentice.
— Seize the moment, my dear, — the red-haired Donna said to Rosa, once again cancelling the necromancy lesson. — The days when no one wants anything from you are precious. You will miss them. Idle if you like, or keep yourself busy.
And Rosa found things to do — a wide variety of things. She strengthened old acquaintances in the Black Guard, dining with officers and talking to magicians, practising necromancy, poring over old scientific notes, as if she were a different person in a different life. Most important, however, were the hours spent in the company of Donna Minerva. In the hustle and bustle of retreat and settling in, Don Mariuse's cousin had been forgotten by all but the dragon knight himself. But even he was always away on missions. Auguste's former prisoner had been sitting in a tavern room for three weeks, communicating only with the maid assigned to her. Now Rosa was in a hurry to correct this injustice. Since the memorable meeting with the Marshal, she had visited Minerva daily, dined with her, shared news, and sometimes performed examinations. The knight felt well, and even learnt to speak without whispering because of her sharp fangs. Her memory still hadn't returned to her, and Rosa didn't know how to approach the problem. At first, she thought that talking about familiar topics could awaken dormant memories — and the young sorceress could talk about dragons for hours. But alas, although Minerva listened to Rose with avid curiosity, the conversations did not cause a change in her state of mind. Help came from an unexpected direction — from Jeanne. One day the guardswoman, who always silently watched the meetings between the knight and the sorceress, brought a bundle with her. As soon as Rosa and Minerva had exchanged greetings, she placed the bundle on the dining table and said, pressing it with the palm of her black gloved hand:
— Madame, as far as I know, dragon knights are trained by the best mentors. The body's memory is the most reliable.
The woman unwrapped the cloth. In the bundle was a sword. A simple one, with an unadorned grip and a slightly jagged blade that had clearly been poorly maintained. Jeanne must have borrowed it from one of the Guards' arquebusiers.
— Milady, take it. — The warrior slid the sword towards the confused Minerva, hilt forward.
The white-haired girl wrapped her fingers tentatively around the hilt and pulled the weapon towards her. She raised it, pointing the blade at the window. The point trembled visibly.
— Best not to wave it around in the room. — Jeanne gave Rosa a quick glance, and she nodded, handing the initiative to her friend. — Let's go out into the courtyard. But put on a coat, it's chilly out there.
— Maybe we should have started with the training sword? — the young sorceress asked quietly as they walked down to the ground floor.
— Training blades have a different weight and balance because of the breakaway edges, — Jeanne shook her head. — It's the feel that counts, I think. She should feel a familiar weight in her hand.
After leaving the tavern, the women walked to the far side of the village square, where several straw effigies stood. They were usually used as training grounds, but it was lunchtime, and the square was empty.
— First try just working the blade. Don't touch the scarecrows. Kill the air, — Jeanne suggested, folding her arms across her chest.
Minerva obeyed. She swung her sword like a wooden bar and frowned. She seemed to sense something wrong with her actions, but she didn't know what it was.
— Relax, milady, — Jeanne said surprisingly softly. — Don't think. Trust your body.
— I... — the knight girl started. But she didn't have time to finish.
A massive grey carcass crashed down on them from the roof of the nearest house. The creature landed with a clatter between the knight and her companions, immediately drowning in a cloud of dust.
— Oh God! — Rosa recoiled, grabbing the dagger at her belt. A moment later, Jeanne, who had already drawn her sword, covered her. Suddenly the warrior cursed and lowered her weapon. The young sorceress looked out from behind the guardswoman and saw... Luca, Donna Vittoria's dead ape. The bald orangutan was sitting on his arse, his paw outstretched with a piece of paper clutched in it.
— Mistress... — Jeanne elbowed the sorceress and nodded at Donna Minerva. As the necroconstruct slammed to the ground, the knight took a step back and stood in a magnificent defensive stance, shielded by her blade. Her eyes were wide open, her chest heaving with deep breathing, but her hands did not tremble.
— Milady, lunge! — Rosa commanded, following her instincts. She'd seen fencing lessons before, and she remembered her instructors' intonations well.
Minerva delivered a stabbing blow, piercing the air above Luca's head. She stepped back, shaking her head, blinking often.
— Don't stop! — Jeanne supported the sorceress. — Stab the scarecrow! Feel the blow!
Leaving her friend to continue the onslaught, Rosa leaned over to the orangutan and took the note from him. She read it. With a snicker, she looked up at the knight and the guardsman. Minerva had already stabbed the scarecrow to death twice, and was now trying to chop it down with increasingly confident blows.
— It's working, — Jeanne said, catching her mistress's gaze. — We have to keep going, so that we remember new movements and techniques.
— With any luck, that's just the first step. — Rosa handed the paper back to Luca and he waddled away. — Well done, Jeanne, you're a clever girl.
The warrior shrugged her shoulders uncertainly and said nothing. Minerva turned to Rosa and, panting slightly, complained:
— I'm uncomfortable in a dress.
— I'll take care of the trousers and jacket for you, milady. And we'll find you your own sword. — Rosa smiled broadly. Walking over to the knight, she took her hand. — Also... you should definitely fly a dragon. What if it becomes a new memory hook?
— Master... — To the wizard's surprise, Minerva lowered her eyes and pressed her lips together. — I... don't really know if I should... do it.
— What? — Rosa didn't understand.
— To bring back my memory. — The knight stepped from foot to foot, stroked the blade of her sword with two fingers. — Something bad happened there, didn't it? Something very bad. So bad that I broke. I don't remember it now — maybe it's for the best. I can start again. Marius is with me, you, miss Jeanne. I haven't forgotten how to use a spoon or read. Why do I need anything else?
— But you must... — Rose hesitated. What do Minerva must? Remember her last fight at the portal to the other world? And perhaps break down again after that, for good? — I... don't know either, milady. That's something to ponder. — She forced herself to smile again. — But you should ride a dragon anyway. Toad remembers you from your childhood, I take it. So renew your acquaintance. Jeanne?
— Yes, mistress?
— My mentor wants to see me. I'll go to her, you take Donna Minerva to the dragon stables. Marius and Toad are supposed to be back from their flight. Milady must hug and pet the dragon at least once.
— Are you going alone? — The warrior frowned.
— Yes, Jeanne. — Rosa sighed. — 'I'll go to my tutor's house alone. But you can come later, when you've finished with Donna. If anything happened, you can avenge me.
— I can do that, — she agreed, though she didn't look happy about it. Maybe she shouldn't have joked about revenge — Rosa had forgotten that her friend had some sore spots. Girl touched the warrior's shoulder, and she nodded in response, showing that she accepted the silent apology.
Donna Vittoria had settled in a little worse than the marshal, having taken a good stone house in the village. The necromancer could not get enough of the furnishings left by the owners, so she had some of the furniture from the headman's dwelling moved into the house, the walls draped with cloth, and the floor covered with thick carpets. Now Rosa's mentor lived and worked in relative comfort. The young sorceress was met by the same Luca. The bald orangutan opened the door and gave her a comical half bow. He took her warm cloak and hung it on a hook while the girl shuffled the soles of her boots on the rag on the floor. From the hallway Rosa went straight into the main room, which was the only room in the house apart from the bedroom cubbyhole. There were two tables in the middle of the oval hall, an oak table left by the previous owners and a folding table that had been in the necromancer's tent. The red-haired donna sat at the latter, poring over a stack of papers.
— Good afternoon, milady, — Rosa greeted her from the threshold.
— Good afternoon, my dear, — the necromancer said absently. She picked out a few sheets of paper in different handwriting and placed them on the oak table, where a mountain of opened envelopes and unfolded scrolls was already piled up. — Sit down.
— I believe you have something important to talk about, milady. — The young sorceress lowered herself into the padded chair, pulled up the flaps of her boots. — May I show you something first? It will take a moment.
— Hmm? — The Necromancer pushed aside another document and looked at the girl over her glasses. — Yes, of course. I can always find a minute for you.
The young sorceress unzipped the square purse on her belt, feeling goosebumps run down her spine with excitement. Carefully she took out a tiny grey mouse — cold and motionless, like a stuffed animal. She placed it on the table in front of Donna Vittoria and pushed it gently with her finger. The mouse shuddered, came to life, and staggered forward, wobbling and tangling in its own feet.
— O-o-o... — the red-haired donna stretched out, not taking her eyes off the grey lump crawling across the table towards her. — Your work?
— Yes. — Rosa nodded and began to explain, — The tavernkeeper was poisoning the mice, and I asked her to give me the bodies. She gave me three. I started with the biggest one, but it caught fire when I... well... and the second one I didn't treat the preserving solution correctly, and it started to decompose. But this one...
— What can he do? — Vittoria interrupted the girl.
— He could... go ahead. — The young sorceress blushed for the first time in a long time. Her cheeks were flaming. — And turn left on command. He can't turn right yet, I don't know why.
The red-haired donna put up her palm, and the mouse that had reached the edge of the tabletop crawled over to her hand. The necromancer brought it to her eyes, smiled. She said softly:
— My first construct also caught fire. Excess energy converts to thermal form... Well, congratulations. You're a necromancer, Rosa. What did you call him?
— Where did you... — The girl thought she couldn't blush any thicker. As it turned out, she could, and she did. — Monsieur Jacques.
— Mine was called master Geoffroy, in honour of our dean. — Vittoria turned the mouse round and let it run back across the table. — Only it was a rat.
The necromancer shook her head. She was no longer smiling, but her eyes behind the lenses of her glasses glittered familiarly.
— I'm proud of you, my dear, — the red-haired donna said, meeting her eyes with the student's. — You are growing very fast. But I am not standing still either. Soon I will have something to surprise you with. For now, though, let's get back to the more boring stuff. Like politics and intrigue.
She leaned against the edge of the table and intertwined her fingers:
— Our gorge is probably the calmest and safest place in the Coalition right now. There's a storm brewing. Auguste has thrown all his troops into suppressing small rebellions within the kingdom, leaving almost no one in Velonda. From the steppe came new tribes of nomads — those who had no treaty with the rebellious duke. They invaded the duchy and plundered its lands, some moved further into the interior of the kingdom. The remnants of de Velonda's garrisons are locked in fortresses. The capital is gone, a charred ruin in its place. A disease that causes people's teeth and hair to fall out is spreading around the city. They say it's spread by rain and wind. Imperial troops are gathering at the border. Swarms of dragons have been seen in the skies above the neutral zone. The Iolian fleet has travelled to the waters of the Republic of Erdo for some reason. There's unrest in Erdo itself.
Rosa shuddered. Her mentor's words seemed to breathe the cold of impending calamity.
— More important to us, though, — the necromancer continued. — According to many circumstantial evidence, Auguste's alliance with the aliens had broken down.
— Is that good? — The girl asked without much confidence.
— Yes and no. — The red-haired donna took a writing quill from the stand, twirled it between her fingers. — All indications are that Armando has succeeded. The portal to the other world was closed, and there would be no more supplies of weapons and resources from there. But Auguste, realising this, had dealt with his alien allies. He took over their main base, seized control of the weapons and captured some of the specialists. Now he's even more dangerous.
Not knowing what to say, Rosa picked up the necro-mouse and tucked it into her purse. Needlessly, she pulled up her boots once more. Vittoria leaned back in her chair without waiting for a comment from her student:
— We will find favour here too. Several of the Grand Dukes of the Coalition are prot"g"s of outsiders, just like Auguste himself. No-one controls them now, and they may not obey Auguste. Fear of the King may push his former associates to our side... or someone else's. It all fits my plans.
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