Salvador was walking down the hall to enter the chamber where they would train Samee. He was with Gerard who was attempting to tell him that anger with Samee would serve no purpose.

What good it did.

"Salvador," Gerard snapped. "Listen!"

"What does it matter, Gerard!" Salvador protested. "Her Magnanimous Holiness the Duchess won't even tell us how much she'll give us for the job. I'm only doing it for a favor and I can easily take that favor away!"

Gerard sighed. "It won't do you good to anger Her Grace nor the duke consort."

"It won't do me any bad either," he snorted.

Gerard threw his hands up into the air in a sign of exasperation. "I give up."

"You shouldn't have been trying in the first place."

They entered the chamber and were greeted by the sight of a few lords and ladies waiting for the session to begin. Samee had already grabbed a halberd and was examining the blade.

"Put that down, young man," Gerard scolded. "Do you have even the slightest idea how to use that weapon?"

Samee's face flushed a deep red and he put the halberd back into the weapons rack. "Sorry, sir."

"And rightly so. Now, let us begin with our training," Gerard said, ever courteous.

"Aye," Salvador mumbled under his breath.

Samee grinned. "With pleasure, Sir Gerard."

Salvador let Gerard do most of the teaching, for he had no interest in teaching Samee. Why? Salvador thought it was because of how spoiled Samee had seemed. Or maybe it wasn't. He was Salvador Castellano, the Peasant, did he really need a reason to hate a highborn?

"You've taught me how to block, dodge, and counterattack, but I still do not know how to kill a man," Samee complained loudly.

Gerard sighed. "Patience―"

"Stab them with the sharp end," Salvador interrupted. "Not yourself. The enemy."

A few chuckles ran through the crowd of highborns. Sometime into the session, the duchess and duke consort had entered with their children and their spouses.

"In any case," Martyn Aguino said, "you should not be so eager to learn how to kill someone, Nephew."

"Why not?" Samee asked.

The duke consort smiled. "It is costly―and let you know this as true, Nephew―It is costly to kill someone." A murmur of agreement swept through the audience―including Gerard.

Salvador shrugged. "Not always."

The heads of many highborns turned sharply toward him.

Salvador looked at them in confusion. "What?" They continued to stare at him incredulously. "I have a feeling we are not talking about the same 'cost,'" he said.

Even the duke consort had to smile at that.

"Nonetheless," Gerard began, "we cannot learn everything in one day, young Samee. However, if it is truly your wish to learn how to finish off a man, Salvador Castellano can teach you that."

Salvador's head shot up from his nails and he glared at Gerard who avoided his gaze. Samee, however, complained boisterously.

"I don't want to learn from him!" Samee seethed.

"What's wrong with him?" Gerard asked calmly.

"W-well. . . he-he's. . . he's a peasant!" he screeched.

Salvador felt his hand unconsciously stray to his knife.

"A peasant with more skill in arms than you may ever have!" Gerard reprimanded. "If you refuse to learn from him only because of his birth then you are a greater fool than I truly thought! I have half a mind to end your training this very instant!"

Samee stared at the ground meekly before the rage of the Freelancer. This was one of the few times Gerard ever got angry.

But Salvador fought his own battles.

He went to the weapons rack and chose a bastard sword. He lightly shoved Gerard out of the way and faced Samee, sword in hand. "Let's see if you can beat this peasant," he snarled.

Samee paled visibly, but his stupid highborn pride won out and he held the longsword Gerard had given him in duel stance. Salvador felt his lips curl up in a malicious grin as he steadily approached Samee. The lordling slowly backed away in fear, he was visibly shaking.

"Don't worry," Salvador crooned. "I won't kill you."

His sword was a blur of glimmering steel; Samee could not keep up with his attacks, barely blocking some of them or getting slapped by the flat of Salvador's blade. Every time Salvador had a chance to finish him off―which was beyond count―he stepped back and allowed Samee to recuperate. Like a cat playing with a cornered mouse.

After what seemed like an eternity, Salvador felt as if he had played with Samee enough, so he knocked the the lordling's blade from his hand and swept him off the floor. Samee landed flat on his back with a thud! and did not move.

Salvador stood over Samee's body, smiling. "But he's a peasant!" he mocked. "Well, it seems as if this peasant just handed your arse to you."

He walked out of the chamber without saying another word.

***

When the news was delivered to Salvador's room, he simply stared at the servant who had brought the message in shock.

Did the duchess truly think she could do this? He could just decline the mission, after all, he was a mercenary, sworn to no lord or lady, duke or duchess.

But would he?

The message stated that Salvador would leave for Carcino earlier than anticipated. The conflict had grown and both sides had allies who had called their banners. Veroña was being pressured by Carcino to join the fight. In addition, the duchess was sending him with some five hundred men. Five companies; half a battalion. He would set sail on the morrow.

Alone.

That was it. Salvador had never gone on a mission without Gerard at his side. They had formed a bond deeper than friendship through their adventures, so strong that nothing could break it. He didn't understand why the duchess was doing this, for she knew that he went on all of his missions with the Freelancer at his side.

They were the Freelancer and the Peasant. The Knight and the Peasant.

After he got over his initial shock, he stormed to the chambers of Duchess Lilliana Florjes. He knocked on her chambers and waited for an answer.

"Come in," the duchess called out. And so Salvador threw the door open, not carrying about all the chivalrous and gentlemanly laws he just broke. The duchess was getting her hair done, and the maids attending her stared at Salvador in shock.

The duchess was unfazed. "I see you received my message."

"Yes I did," Salvador seethed. "And I would like to ask you who you think you are that you can make these terms."

"Why I am Duchess Lilliana Florjes of Veroña."

"And I am Salvador Castellano, a mercenary who is not sworn to you. Nor is the Freelancer."

"And yet you owe me," Lilliana countered.

"You imply that I have not paid off the debt yet?" Salvador asked incredulously. "I have done so much for you; I have eliminated your enemies, secured you allies, I have helped make you a true power in Sersalvon through my reputation!"

"Indeed you have," Lilliana agreed calmly. "Yet I made you anew. When you came to me, young Salvador, you were as vulnerable as a mewling kit at his mother's belly. You were broken and Gerard was the only thing keeping the pieces from scattering everywhere. So I picked up all the pieces by hand, melted them and forged you anew." She faced Salvador. "I made you who you are. Yes. . . you owe me."

Salvador stared into her sea-blue eyes and felt his resolve waver. "I could just say no," he said, but he knew he had lost.

Lilliana smiled. "Will you?"

He stared at her for a long time. His resolve shattered. "Fine," he croaked. "I'll set sail tomorrow, Your Grace. On my own."

"Good." Was all the duchess said.

Salvador slowly walked out of that room, feeling as if he had just fought a war. . .

And lost.