Peris Téri sharpened her blade in the dim light of the War Garden barracks. The metal sang against the whetstone, each stroke bringing her closer to what she wanted most. She would destroy the Hill Plague bandits who terrorized the northern roads. She would claim victory at the Iron Games and prove herself the finest warrior in all the kingdoms. The horned helmet sat beside her on the bench, its dark metal catching the firelight. Tomorrow she would lead her battalion into the mountains where the bandits hid. But first, she needed to be ready. Peris stood and strapped on her weapons. She walked across the muddy grounds to the Amazonian War Training Range where brutal combat drills awaited. Wooden posts wrapped in leather stood like silent enemies. Hanging chains held spiked weights that swung at shoulder height. Practice dummies wore scraps of armor over straw bodies. She drew both blades and attacked the nearest post. Her strikes came fast and hard. The leather split under her blade. Sweat dripped down her face as she moved to the next target. Each cut, each thrust brought the Iron Games closer. When she finished, her arms burned and her breath came in gasps. She was getting stronger. The bandits would fall. Victory would be hers. A low growl echoed across the training grounds. Peris turned to see three massive cats padding toward her through the morning fog. Their coats showed dirty orange and blue-gray, marked with long dotted lines and red patches. Lightweight chainmail covered their shoulders and flanks. The Shepherd Panthers had returned from the northern territories. She knelt and studied their paw prints in the mud. Fresh blood stained the lead cat's muzzle. They had found something in the hills. The bandits were moving closer than she thought. Peris grabbed her helmet and ran toward the barracks to gather her battalion. The time for training was over. She pictured the Bone Ring waiting for her in the distance. Red and black sand covered the coliseum floor. Chained skeletons hung from the walls as warnings to the weak. That savage arena would host the Iron Games where she would prove her strength. But the bandits had to die first. No distractions. No mercy. Peris strapped on her horned helmet and felt the weight settle on her shoulders. Her path was clear now. She would hunt down the Hill Plague in the mountains, then march straight to the Iron Games. Both victories would be hers.

Peris stood at the gates of the War Garden barracks and studied the road ahead. The Hill Plague bandits were broken, their outpost burned to ash. But victory in battle was only the first step. The Iron Games waited in the south, and she needed to learn how champions were made. She strapped on her horned helmet and walked toward the training master's quarters. Her dual blades felt light on her back after days of combat. The training master led her north through dense forest to a hidden clearing. Smoke still rose from the bandit camp they'd raided three days before. Burnt Bedouin tents sagged against scorched poles. Weapon racks lay toppled in the mud, axes and maces scattered like bones. Peris walked between the ruins and found maps nailed to a wooden post. The bandits had marked every road and village for fifty miles. She studied their attack patterns, their retreat routes, their supply lines. This was how you won wars—not just with strength, but with knowledge. The training master watched her trace the routes with her finger. He nodded once, then turned back toward the barracks. Peris rolled up the maps and tucked them into her belt. She understood now what champions knew. Victory began with preparation, not glory. The afternoon sun beat down hard as Peris walked the camp perimeter. Her throat burned from the heat and dust. She found a water station near the eastern edge where clay pots sat in neat rows. Ceramic cups hung from wooden pegs on a post. She filled a cup and drank deep. The cool water cleared her head. Two Amazonian warriors stood guard beside the barrels, their faces marked with war paint. One gestured toward the Bone Ring visible in the distance. Peris nodded. She would need more than battle skills to survive the Iron Games. She needed to think like a champion, to see the fight before it started. The bandit maps had taught her that. Now she had to learn everything else before the Games began. She made her way to the southern corner of camp where an armored carriage stood waiting. Trophy cases lined its sides, each shelf empty and ready. The Queen's mark was carved into the dark wood. Peris ran her hand along the metal frame. Soon these cases would hold weapons from the Iron Games. Swords from defeated champions. Axes from warriors who fell in the Bone Ring. She would fill them with her victories. The carriage would carry proof of what she had become. She stepped back and looked at the empty shelves one last time. The Hill Plague bandits were finished. Now the real work began. She would train until her body broke, then train more. The Iron Games would show everyone who Hades' Dove truly was.