Pya was tending to the wounds of men who really shouldn't be fighting the war, and holding back tears. Some of these men she knew, some of these men he had grown up knowing. A few of them taught her to ride horse back, or fight with a sword. Pya tended to the last solider who had been wounded, and then walked to the chapel to pray.<br/>Kneeling in front of a bench, she asked for guidance and strength.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bf8000">Please give me strength in this time.</span>Making the cross over her body she rose and then went back into the castle and into her room.<br/>Once there she opened the chest that she had at the foot of the bed, and took out a long sword. Kneeling, she unsheathed it, on the blade it said, "Tribuo mihi vires ut ego have nullus. Tribuo mihi virtus ut sulum perdo spes. Tribuo mihi regimen of meus Senior quod Savior." She smiled, remembering what it said,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bf8000">Give me strength when I have none. Give me courage when everyone loses hope. Give me the guidance from my Lord and Savior.</span>She whispered, sliding it back into its sheath, she tied the leather strap around her waist, she stood and closed her chest. Pya then hurried back to Syeria, her purple dress flowing behind her and the deep green of her cloak billowing out as well.