Rain. Not the first time. Training made them stand in the rain. Fight in the rain. Training yes. Just like then. Only this time, no trainer that yelled. No Swordmaster to tell her how she deserved every droplet. No, this time, it was just normal rain. And they had to seek shelter. Late caravan needed an escort. She volunteered. She had to show the others that perfection wasn't just in how clean and fluid your sword cut. No. It was in all things that came with the honour of becoming a Swordmaster or mistress. Even a job of escorting vulnerable people to safety.
So here she's trying to get to the inn. A dwarf here too no less. And that strange human, named after a vegetable. Not sure which one. But apparently the word that came across the gates, he had a good head on his shoulders. Well, hopefully it will remain there longer than most