Chapter 399: When Love Takes Root
After her drills with the recruits ended and the clang of swords faded into the distance, Kane Mendel slipped into her black training gear and made her way toward the eastern edge of the grounds — a secluded grove bordered by dense rows of cypress and lush shrubs. The rest of the soldiers rarely ventured there. It was a quiet space, and she needed it. That’s where she trained the ones often overlooked by the battlefield — the women.
It had started small. Just a few curious members of the Gabriella Guild — healers, scribes, and messenger girls — eager to learn the sword, the bow, the basics of strategy. But word spread quickly. Within weeks, wives of blacksmiths, sisters of soldiers, daughters of stable hands came, unarmed but not unwilling. Even children — some as young as nine — stood in neat rows with fierce determination in their eyes.
Soon, they were over a thousand.
They wanted to learn to fight so when the time came, they would be of help and not a burden. They wanted to protect their home...their hope...their future.
Lara had split them into two groups — Sandoz trained the children with wooden swords and padded armor. She handled the women. Their training wasn’t as grueling as the men’s; an hour and a half each morning before they returned to their daily duties. But it was enough to spark something fierce in them.
Something that had long been buried.
The wives of the commanders, along with the elder guild women, prepared food during training. It was their way of showing solidarity — their men trained, and they fed the ones who strived to protect them.
That day, Thalia was hauling a steaming pot of rice nearly too large for her frame. Her thin arms strained, but she kept going. The makeshift dining hall was a long stretch of bamboo tables shaded beneath broad-leafed trees, banana leaves lining each surface like emerald table cloth.
A pair of calloused, sun-darkened hands reached out.
"Let me carry that," a voice said, deep and warm.
Thalia almost dropped the pot.
Before she could protest, the man had already taken it from her grasp. She looked up — and met a gaze that froze her breath. Dark brown eyes, calm yet smoldering, met hers with a quiet intensity that made her heartbeat stumble.
"T-thank you." she murmured, quickly averting her eyes. "Please put it there." She pointed to the middle of the table.
"Logan," he said as he set it down effortlessly. "That’s my name. "That’s my name. May I know yours?"
Thalia said nothing. She took the pot, emptied the rice onto the leaves, and focused on the motion — not on the warmth rising to her cheeks.
A voice pierced the air.
"Brother Logan! There you are — I’ve been looking everywhere." Yohana’s cheerful cry rang through the grove as she rushed forward, holding a small basket wrapped in linen. "I brought you food! I cooked it myself."
Logan smiled kindly and ruffled her hair. "Thank you, Yohana. But from tomorrow, don’t bring me anything special. We share meals now — a sign of brotherhood. It wouldn’t feel right to eat apart from the others."
"Oh. I’m sorry," she said, crestfallen. "I didn’t mean to—"
"It’s alright," he said gently. "Go on now, the men will be arriving soon."
"But Sister Thalia’s here too. I can help her." Yohana protested.
Thalia. So that’s her name, he thought. Beautiful — like a flower blossoming.
But before he could respond, the rest of the women arrived, bearing platters of grilled pork, chicken skewers wrapped in lemongrass, and steamed vegetables. The meal was simple, hearty, meant for warriors.
Soon, the units arrived by the hundreds. Discipline ruled their movements — those who had earned honor in training were permitted to sit at the long tables. The rest fetched their food with wooden plates and found places in the shade to eat.
Logan’s unit was first. He washed his hands at a washstand. The water source was from a spring that flowed down from the mountain, into the sculpted seashell, where they could wash and into the irrigation canals feeding the rice paddies and the potato farm adjacent to the training grounds.
The men were disciplined. After the food was set on three long tables, the women were free to leave. The men would also clean up the plates and the table after eating.
Thalia walked toward the grove behind the mess area — where the trees grew older, the air quieter. She would pass the time there, and then she would come back to the mess hall to gather the pots and plates. It was her turn to do mess hall duties today, together with Leah. But unfortunately, Leah was sick, and Zeeta had her own duties. Thalia had no choice but to go alone.
Logan followed, careful not to startle her. A branch snapped beneath his boot, and her head turned.
She was sitting on a wooden swing suspended from a tree limb, her black hair spilling like silk over her shoulders. Her gaze was distant and forlorn. Her fingers gripped the rope, poised to push off — but stilled the moment she sensed him.
Slowly, she turned.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, the world paused. No birdsong. No breeze. Just the hum between two strangers with unfinished words.
It wasn’t beauty that struck him — though she was beautiful — it was presence. Like finding music after silence. His breath caught. A spark, bright and unbidden, leapt in his chest.
But her eyes... they were not the eyes of someone meeting a stranger. They were guarded. As if bracing for something.
"Why are you here?" She asked, her voice a little stern.
"I saw you come here so I followed. We did not finish our conversation earlier." He said, a smile blossomed on his face.
She did not smile.
He studied her, brow furrowed. "I would like to know you," he murmured. "Beyond your name, Thalia. Let me be brave for once. To be honest, I like you the first time I saw you."
Thalia flinched and turned away, her face turning red from his words.
"That’s a dangerous thing to say to a woman like me," she said, in a low voice.
"It is," he admitted. "But it’s true." He stepped forward, and her hand rose—not in fear, but as if to hold something invisible between them.
Silence fell between them again. Then she spoke, barely above a whisper.
"You shouldn’t look at me like that."
He tilted his head. "Like what?"
"Like I’m whole. Like you adore me."
Logan’s gaze sharpened. He took a step closer, but she lifted a hand — not in fear, but in warning.
"You barely know me. We just met today." Thalia said, her voice hoarse as her heart drummed against her chest.
"I had watched you from afar for some time now. I saw you smile and laugh with Lara. Your laughter makes my heart flutter." Logan confessed.