The woman nods and props her legs up on the table, flips back her flaxen hair and stats to speak. She spoke in a voice low and hesitant, quite the opposite from the friendly tone she chose earlier. "I was five when I first picked up a sword, for where I am from is Fraldien, a town of spies and assassins, there is a rare one who knows not how to use any type of weapon in my father's kingdom." Said she, stirring her drink with her nail thoughtfully. "And I trained vigorously, until I was fourteen. That, good sir, is when my confidence got the better of me. I got into a swordfight with an arrogant woman much older than me, by the name of Varessale. She thought she could beat me in a long dress. Well, she was wrong, I beat her, but she was so frustrated she put a knife in my flank. And then sir, is when I began to get afraid for I got a vision lying there bleeding on the sandy ground, my father and my friends around me. I saw my mother, and she was telling me to go with her, to wherever she was, to a land of dreams or a land of nightmares, I know not which. My mother can communicate by sending dreams or visions, but right then and there I was not sure what to do and was very frightened. It was my father, who jolted me back to conscience. I am glad he did, for if he did not my mother the Dreamspeaker would have had me in the Dreamworld forever." She loks up asking with her eyes to continue.