((First in a series of scenes depicting elements of the backstory shared by Shaye Dervla (First Blade) and Liam O'Connor)) _____________________

The military training camp for army brats and others had been stationed in the region of Phalia for centuries. Every year, a new contingent of Arctra's brightest and best - usually more female than male - were inducted into the camp, given their barrack places, and set underneath a training sergeant. Even those adolescents who were destined to be the officer class spent their first year covering the basics with their fellows. This year, the group was smaller than usual, but strangely determined; a purposeful set of young adolescents who seemed to want to prove themselves beyond any shadow of a doubt. It was beginning to look as though the first day on the training field was going to be filled with so-called 'accidental' injuries again.

The boy stood out like a sore thumb from the others. Tall for his age, but lanky, all arms and legs, not having filled out yet. Unruly blond curls tumbled across his forehead, framing hazel eyes that seemed too old for the young face they looked out from. The son of a royal guard, he had been born, bred, and groomed to follow in his father's footsteps, and in the footsteps of those who'd gone before him, but he expected and received no special treatment. He was just another youth looking to prove himself worthy for the position he had yet to yearn, despite his family's birthright.

He was a quiet boy who kept mostly to himself, those sharp brown-green eyes in careful observation, not missing a thing that went on around him. Those eyes would serve him well in later years, but this part of the story is about his youth and how he came to meet another of the trainees that fateful year - one whose fate would be tangled with his for a lifetime of adventure and companionship. This is their story.

Shaye Dervla, at twelve years old, was the youngest of that year's intake. She was also the smallest, weediest, least likely warrior you could imagine. Even their training sergeant, the gruff Sergeant Makos, couldn't see quite why this tiny, immature girl had been accepted into the ranks of his recruits. Her father was a sergeant himself, known for his cruelty to his men, often posted as far from the main cities as possible, always leaving his daughter behind to fend for herself. She'd become a familiar face around the Soldiers Quarter in Phalion. And now she was here, taking her first step on the path that might well send her following in her own father's footsteps, but for the intervention of one particular voice who influenced those first years of their training together.

"O'Connor!" a voice shouted as the boy made his way onto the practice field. "Stop lollygagging. This isn't a nursery. Your mama isn't going to come and wipe your nose for you. Get your ass out here and get to work." The Drill Sergeant tossed a glance around the yard, catching sight of the runt of this season's litter he was in charge of shaping into young recruits. "Dervla!" he called, waving the girl forward. "Show O'Connor you don't have to be born of a royal guard to be worthy of serving the Queen."

The laugh that answered the Sergeant from the small girl was wild enough to match the almost feral cast to her dark eyes. Those dark eyes found the boy marked out as O'Connor, her laugh growing louder - he was bigger than her, yes, but she was willing to bet she was faster. One arm reached out to grasp a training staff made from springy ash, supposedly so that it wouldn't kill or seriously injure, and she made her way toward O'Connor, twirling that staff with worrying ease. "Royal guard, huh' Ever been beaten up by a girl, ladyboy?"

The boy threw his satchel atop a wooden bench and turned toward the Sergeant when he heard his name called, cutting a glance to the slight, blond girl who was headed his way. Those sharp hazel eyes looked her over, as if sizing her up. She didn't look like much, but he knew looks could be deceiving. "I've no quarrel with you," he replied, his voice already changing, deepening, though his body had yet to catch up. He turned his back on her and opened his pack.

"Yeah, well, sergeant's got a problem with me," she countered, advancing on his turned back. "I've got more to prove. Looks like you're the one I'm proving it on." The staff swept toward his back, only to stop short barely half an inch from making contact that could have broken bones. "You're not any better than the rest of us, you still have to obey orders!"

He froze in place, almost as if sensing that staff coming so dangerously close to making contact with his turned and exposed back. If he lacked the skill of a soldier, he at least possessed the perception of one. He glanced at the girl over his shoulder, turning slowly to face her. "It is dishonorable to strike an unwary opponent," he told her, as if from rote. His father had taught him much before sending him here. Whatever he lacked in skills, he made up for in bravado.

She stepped back as he turned, meeting his disapproving gaze head on. "I didn't strike you," she told him, applying a very specific kind of logic. "And besides, it's smarter to strike first when your opponent is bigger and stronger. But then, I'm not going to be a royal guard. I'm allowed to fight dirty."

His chin lifted a fraction as her words wounded him, a matter of pride at the imagined or unimagined slight. He was proud of his bloodline, but had never used it to his advantage and wouldn't start now. "Bigger just means a bigger target, and strength is nothing if an opponent is faster on their feet." He studied her as she stepped back, knowing he had no choice but to engage her. He, too, had something to prove. The son of a royal guard, failure would bring shame on both himself and his family. His destiny had already been laid out for him long before he'd been born.

As for Shaye, she had no pride, nothing to lose. Her father wasn't interested in her; her mother was long since dead; any siblings she'd had were keeping themselves out of her life. She was working up from nothing, and that made her wildly dangerous on the practice field. She'd take an injury as easily as she could give them out. "So what?ll it be, ladyboy?" she asked O'Connor tauntingly. "Pick your weapon, or are we going hand to hand?"

Liam was not without friends - a few of the guards' sons and daughters were among the group - but there was competition even among them, and some of them had misjudged the quiet boy as being too soft for battle. Sending her sprawling onto her back, he hesitated one second too long before going in for what would have been the killing blow, giving her time to lash out with her foot. Quick reflexes saved him and he hopped over her, the kick only barely making contact with his knee. He swung back around, taking up the defensive stance once again. "Get up!" he shouted, unwilling to attack her while she was prone on the ground.

That was a major difference between them; Shaye would have finished him while he was down, regardless of honor or practise. The fight had been his for the taking, and he'd given up that chance. She wouldn't make the same mistake. Rolling onto her knees, then up onto her feet, she charged him, thrusting one end of the staff toward his head only to abruptly change direction and thrust the lower end with unerring aim for the inadequate training armor that protected his stomach.

With little time to think things through and used to fighting honorably, he misjudged her attack and lifted his staff to parry her blow and protect his head, realizing too late that she was feinting the attack, the lower end of her staff making contact with his abdomen and forcing the breath out of him as he doubled over momentarily in pain. He stumbled back out of the range of her staff as he slowly straightened and tried to catch his breath. If she wanted to fight dirty, he could do the same. He waited for her to make the next move.

It was just as well he did stumble back; Shaye's staff had already begun to sweep down toward his unprotected back as he doubled over, only to miss his head by an inch or so to thump into the sand. She over-balanced because of it, staggering back into the range of O'Connor's staff as her soft-soled boots skidded in the sand.

He regarded her for a moment, not really wanting to hurt her, hearing his father's words in his head: "Don't think of them as girls, lad. They won't give you any quarter. You are nothing to them but an opponent. You will have to earn your place, if you want to be a royal guard. Not everyone becomes a Queen's Man, no matter their bloodline." This time, with his father's words ringing in his head, he didn't falter.

He drew a deep painful breath and gathered what strength he had left, bellowing a challenge as he charged her, swinging his staff around to collide with her chest, following the blow with his own body to shove her onto her back on the ground, his legs straddling her chest as he held the end of the wooden stick at her throat. "Do you yield?" he asked, eyes glinting green and brown as he hovered over her and waited for her answer.

Only just regaining her balance, Shaye didn't stand a chance. The blow at her chest knocked the breath from her; her smaller, slighter form went down hard under the crash of his body into hers. Dazed with such an abrupt lack of oxygen, her grip on her staff loosened, sending it rolling away over the sand as she coughed, blinking up at O'Connor's triumphant stance even as she struggled for breath.

"I'm small, not stupid," she rasped. "Of course I bloody yield!" Even out of breath, though, she lifted a wide grin up at him, approving of the way he'd finally harness his fighting instincts even if it had taken a few good hits. "Going to let me up, or did you have something else you wanted me to do while I'm down here?"

"Bloody fool girl," he grumbled as he tossed the stick away and rolled off her, reaching down to offer a hand and pull her to her feet. He hardly had a chance to recover when the Sergeant was barking orders again, and the crowd of onlookers was slowly dispersing.

"You two!" the Sergeant shouted at the pair of them. "You're done for the day. Go clean up and get something to eat. Put the fight behind you. We all fight for the same Queen."

"Aye, Sergeant Makos, sir!" As Shaye pulled on her opponent's hand to pull herself back onto her feet, she flashed O'Connor a cheeky wink and grin, turning the same expression onto their training sergeant as she snapped off a mockingly smart salute. A moment later, she let out a yelp as the Sergeant thumped her soundly for her cheek.

Liam had no sooner turned his back on the girl when he heard her yelp, and without thinking, he stepped between her and the Sergeant, placing himself between them, shielding her with his body. "Sir, we're just going." If the Sergeant wanted to strike her again, he'd have to go through the boy first.

The Sergeant, unfortunately for Liam, was a hard man who was there to teach the newest recruits to obey without question or talking back. Despite the good practise of protecting a fellow from an unfair blow, Liam had just earned himself a thump of his own, which Makos was more than ready to hand out.

The boy staggered back from the blow, but brooked no argument about it, taking a thump that had either been meant for her or had been cast in order to teach the boy respect. Respect, however, was a lesson in which Liam needed little instruction. He wasn't foolish enough to argue or even defend himself. He only turned away, rubbing at his stinging cheek and snatching at the girl's arm to drag her away before she earned a beating. "Come on. It's over."

He glared up at her and shoved her away, albeit gently. "I'm not blushing and I'm not a ladyboy!" He moved away from her to flop down on the bench and tug at his own boots. "I'm not like you. You get to choose what you want to do with your life. My future is already chosen for me."

Staggering under his shove, Shaye giggled, the sound very girlish despite her pretence at being a boy. "Everyone's got a choice, Liam," she countered confidently, shucking out of her pants finally as she stepped away again. "You know my pa wants me to be a whore, not a soldier" I made a choice, and here I am. So don't try and hide behind that - you wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be."

"A whore!" he exclaimed, eyes widening, appalled at the thought that anyone's father would want their own child to become such a thing, much less hers. "Why would he want you to do that?" He set his boots aside and worked at loosening the strings on his breeches, distracted if only momentarily by the conversation and forgetting he was talking to a half-naked girl.

Now it was Shaye's turn to boggle at Liam's innocence, blinking in surprise as she began to slide the last of her clothing free of her unformed body. "Because it's a quick way of making money, and I'd have to stick with him to stay safe," she explained matter-of-factly. "It's what he did to my ma, why wouldn't he do it to me" Lazy bastard, my pa, a right nasty piece of work."

His eyes narrowed at her explanation, his face darkening but not out of embarrassment. Whether it was a female-dominated society or not, he'd been raised with an certain moral and ethical code that demanded he show women the proper respect and honor they deserved, and to protect those who needed protecting. "I won't let him do that to you. Ever."

He felt a sudden unexpected surge of affection for this waif of a girl he'd just met and just as suddenly, privately pledged to always protect her, even if it meant putting his own life at risk. The statement was made with conviction and the hint of an unspoken promise. Not yet a man, he would become a one who was true to his word and stood behind his promises.

She stared at him for a long moment, her own rough upbringing offering her little in the way of reference for his sudden insistence on protecting the little girl who'd taunted him so impishly on the training field. "You're not half bad, are you?" she asked quietly, appreciating the promise even if she didn't believe it was possible. 'C'mon, time for a soak. I promise, I won't dunk you unless you deserve it."

Flashing him one of those cheeky smiles that had earned her a slap from the sergeant, she turned her back on Liam, moving into the next room to slide down into the great sunken bath. The water steamed naturally, fed by hot springs from the caves a mile or so away, constantly replenishing itself in a natural system.

He watched as she turned her back on him and moved away toward the baths, puzzled not only by her c*cky attitude, but also by the feelings she was stirring inside him, feelings he'd never felt before for anyone outside his own small circle of family and friends. She was unlike him in so many ways and yet, it was those differences he seemed to find intriguing.

He pulled the ties loose on his tunic and tugged it over his head, stripping off his breeches to reveal a nasty bruise on his hip where her staff had made contact. He was a walking mass of bruises, it seemed, but if he was to be a soldier, he'd have to learn to live with the pain. He left his discarded clothing on the bench with his leathers and reluctantly followed her into the next room, hoping she wouldn't notice how hot his face felt in her presence.

She didn't notice his blush or, if she did, put it down to a flush from the hot steam that swirled around them. Stepping down into the water, she sat herself on the shallow bench that ran around the edge of the deep bath, submerged to the chin in the hot water with a happy groan. "Oh, I'll tell you this, Liam ....nothing is better than a hot bath."

He grabbed the first towel he came upon and wrapped it around his waist, feeling as naked as he looked in her presence, watching as she submerged herself in the hot water. All he had to do was get in there and sink down low enough that she couldn't see the obvious physical differences between them. He felt a thousand questions bubbling to the surface that he wanted to ask her, but he needed to hold his tongue long enough to get into the water without attracting her attention. He stepped closer, a tall stripling of a boy, not yet a man.

If she'd been paying more attention, Liam would have been given no quarter as Shaye's sense of humor would have left her no option but to tease him mercilessly into accepting his nudity and getting on with it. As it was, the concept of a hot bath you could submerge yourself in entirely was still new enough to the c*cky girl to take her entire imagination as she leaned against the warm stone edge, her eyes closed in softly moaning bliss.

The moan was distracting him in a way he couldn't quite comprehend and he very carefully stepped down into the water, only removing the towel at the last possible moment before submerging himself to the waist, lowering slowly until the water was halfway up his chest. "He shouldn't have hit you," he found himself blurting out, without much forethought, as he looked to the bruise that was blooming on her cheekbone.

Her dark eyes blinked open to look over at him as he spoke, the expression startlingly soft from someone who seemed to thrive on jokes and humor to keep the world at bay. Shaye could feel her newest bruise beginning to throb, but it was nothing new to her, really. What was new was the concern displayed by someone else because of that bruise. "I was asking for it," she reminded Liam with a smile. "Doesn't mean I'm going to stop being a c*cky little cow, I'll just get sneakier. How's your head?"

He tugged the towel away from her and sidestepped out of her grasp, bare feet slipping on the wet floor and going out from under him before he could catch himself, going down hard and whacking his head on the floor, dazed for a moment. He didn't have much of a chance to answer that question before he went topsy turvy on the floor. Oh, the humanity.

"Oh, whoa!" Shaye winced as Liam crashed down, moving without thinking to lunge and scramble up and out of the water herself. Slithering over the wet stone, she laid a hand against Liam's chest, feeling for the beat of his heart even as her fingers very gently eased beneath his head, testing for blood and bumps. "Liam' Stay still, but say something."

He emitted a single groan, before his eyes fluttered open and tried to focus on the face that was hovering in his field of vision. "Something," he repeated, not even realizing his own sense of humor that was swimming to the surface. He was none the worse for wear, a small bump on the back of his head to add to his other injuries. He'd be sore for a few days, but he'd live. He blinked up at her as her face swam into view, not moving a muscle but for the blinking of his eyelids. "You're pretty," he muttered, stupidly, not even realizing what he was saying.

She snorted with laughter as he said exactly what she'd asked for, laughing to herself as her fingers withdrew gently from the back of his head. "Nothing wrong with your brain then," she grinned down at him, still unashamedly nude where she knelt at his side. But then, she had nothing to be embarrassed of in her boyish, coltish, immature figure. His unthinking compliment made her blink in surprise as she met his gaze. "Uh-huh ....can you make your eyes squiffy by hitting your head" I think you can." Smiling, she inched back from him. "If you can sit up without throwing up, you're fine. That's what old Mother Magda says."

"Who's Mother Magda?" he asked, enunciating each word slowly as he just as slowly sat up. He closed his eyes as the room swam around him for a moment before it came to a stop, but the contents of his stomach thankfully remained there. His eyes opened slowly, and he reached around to rub at the lump on the back of his head, the fall adding insult to injury.

Shaye watched him sit up with concerned eyes, but as soon as he showed himself to be about as fighting fit as he was going to get for now, that concern was tossed aside. She rose onto her feet, padding to take a towel from the rack on the wall to wrap around herself. "She ran the brothel where I was born," she told Liam confidently. "Magic hands, that woman, she knows everything about healing."

"We could both use a little of that magic right about now," he muttered, the only complaint he made about his injuries. If he was going to be a Royal Guard, he was going to have to learn to take his lumps without complaint. His first day of training hadn't gone so well, in his opinion, with the possible exception of meeting her. He turned away from her until she had the towel wrapped around herself and then he looked back. "I'm sorry I got angry," he told her abruptly, looking remorseful.

"Good, so you should be," was Shaye's worldly wise response as she leaned down to him, offering a hand to help him up. The only problem with that hand was that it came attached to the grinning girl standing over him. "Don't get angry, get even, that's what I say. If you can get even with me, I'll ..." She frowned, trying to think of something he'd actually want from a rough and ready girl like her. "I'll introduce you to the prettiest girl in the city, how's that?"