At that time-

Ifrit had returned home from another one of his conquests, and Nova watched him practice his swordmanship out in the West Wing's garden. It was another one of his favorite haunts; quiet, understated, with Kaama's mother the principal attendant of the plants growing there.

" Nova, you're about ten or so, aren't you?" Ifrit called out to him.

He was caught off-guard, a little surprised to be spoken to; most days, Ifrit was quiet and concentrated when he practiced.

" Uh- Mhm! Yes!" he answered quickly, alert.

Ifrit took his second sword, the sukyn, and threw it to him.

" You should start practicing as well. I'll instruct you," he said.

Nova stared down at the leather sheath and handle for a moment, hesitant to touch it.

It was Ifrit's, after all, and it was a sword.

Ifrit always counseled him on how dangerous such things were.

He picked it up.