Wren wasn’t only training the women of Coheed. She was untraining them, too, trying to undo the garbage training the soldiers of Neveremere were giving them. The inferior kingdom relied too much in order and control. The women were weak because they followed rules of engagement. No, the trust warriors way was to invest and to win, no matter the cost.

Wren wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She didn’t have the women going through useless motions. They clashed with one another every day, for only with authentic experiences would they learn to defeat a foe.

Currently, Wren was pacing the pairs, watching them attempt first blood. Those that had already were finished and recovering.

A woman slashed her blade through the air, catching her opponent in the arm. Bright red blood gushed from the wound. The attacker fell back as the wounded gasped and threw a hand over the cut.

“Good.” Wren said to them both, approaching the wounded woman with a strip of cloth to be tied around her arm. “Embrace it. With pain we grow stronger.” She would clap the woman on the back, then look to the one who had cut her proudly.

“You’ve done well today.” Her enhanced ears had not missed the arrival of the woman. Wren ignored her.

“When you return to your homes treat your wounds with herbs. Take time to sit, meditate, and heal. We train again in three days time.” It was her dismissal. The women started to put their weapons away, and Wren collected her mace to make her exit.

When Wren began to make her exit, Magda glided across the training yard in pursuit. She glanced at the woman now nursing a wounded arm, dipping her head slightly in respect before carrying on. Once she was close enough to Wren, she smiled.

“Willa Wren…” Magda’s voice was its usual purr, “It’s been a long time, but we've met before, you and I.”

Wren had intentionally ignored the woman, but she couldn't ignore the sound of her footsteps pursuing her. She might have taken off at an aggressive pace that surely would have left the butterfly in the dust, but morbid curiosity let the Nevermerean catch her. At her name, she turned and set her unfriendly green eyes on Magda Ivanova with a stony expression.

"We had no business then and we have no business now." Because Wren wasn't here to meddle in the affairs of Coheed. She had agreed to train their women because she believed it would help liberate them from Nevermere one day. Magda represented the very chains she sought to free them from. The only potential business Wren had with this woman was to put her down--for the sake of Coheed.

“Oh but I disagree…” Magda purred, stepping closer as the ring on her finger turned black with magic. Her dark eyes ran over the Cambrian. She wasn’t a creature inclined toward jealousy, but she felt a prickle of it now. Rian said Wren was what they needed. Wren—a woman who clearly possessed so much of what Magda lacked. Well, she thought, perhaps she would find out what made this one so special.

“Why don’t you walk with me?” She’d fix her eyes on Wren’s, smile soft and warm.

Wren was reactionary and unafraid of consequences. When the noble woman stepped closer the Cambrian reached out a grip of steel to close around Magda’s wrist, whichever was closest to her. The grip would hurt but it would not break anything.

It was in the moment that Wren touched Magda that she felt a sense of…of fogginess. As if she were caught between a dreaming and waking world. It was unlike her, but it only took a moment for her to lose herself, and then she did not know what she was like. She simply was. Her green eyes that had formerly been like daggers were murky. Her grip softened, though it did not fail entirely.

The question Magda posed, not a command, did not at once render Wren’s lips loose. In fact, she answered groggily,

“I don’t want to. I don’t trust you.” The training yard was still not entirely cleared. Some of the women who were cleaning up sent sidelong glances towards the two women, enhaced hearing as some of them had, curious about the exchange.

It hurt. Magda grimaced, her eyes darkening for a moment as if she might strike back—foolish as that might be. But she didn’t, and the moment passed as her magic sank in.

Hmm…” Magda considered the Cambrian before her manner took a more business-like turn. “There’s a matter I wish to discuss with you on behalf of the chieftain. You trusted him once, perhaps you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt for now. Please, follow me.”

Magda did not dawdle. After a moment she’d turn to leave, expecting Wren to do the same.

Wren didn’t like Magda. She didn’t trust her. Even in her trance-like state there remained a part of her, the essence of her person, that fiery lioness that didn’t take crap from anyone. With the witch’s request, once again not a direct command, there was freedom even within the power of the ring for refusal. A suggestion was planted, that perhaps there was benefit to following the woman, but the warrior was magically confined to a place of stupidity where base instinct got the better.

“I don’t want to.” She said flatly, flat from the trance but she likely would have said it similarly anyway.

The listening women of Coheed perked up a little at this. A direct refusal. They knew Wren and her reputation well enough to know that she always did what she wanted. They also knew Magda’s reputation, that she had an odd way of getting folks to do exactly what she wanted. It was a battle of the wits as far as they were concerned, and they eagerly listened in. This was a training ground, after all. Open and without any kind of private shelter for a good walk. And even once shelter was attained, the prying ears of the enhanced would surely follow.

Magda had better play her cards right.

Magda didn’t entirely realize the mechanics of her mistake but would double down to fix it. She turned back to Wren. Her smile had faded, an eyebrow raising as she observed the Cambrian before her. Rian had assured her Wren was useful. Worthwhile to explore as an asset. And Magda would trust him in that, even if it were perhaps wiser to abandon this venture as then eyes of Coheedswomen turned their way.

“I must insist on account of its urgency. Come with me. Now.” Magda would start to turn and walk again, slowly, tracking as to whether Wren would this time follow.

There was no getting around the command and the magic of the ring. The usually stern-faced, heavy-browed, stiff Cambrian warrior was loose-limbed and flat-faced, moving to obey the orders of the Nevermerean woman without any further protest. Wren. The woman who answered to none. There was no doubt that as she moved to step in line behind Magda there were prying eyes. Magda’s reputation in Coheed was not an unknown one. People whispered of her witchcraft, her way with men. But now, it seemed she had a way with women, too. Unrest stirred in the women, the ones who were more loyal to Wren than to the Nevermereans training them.