They talk of the separation between her Church and State! Utter nonsense, I say! The Church without her knights would be like without her bdes.

  - Attributed to Cardinal Mauros.

  Cordelia moved like swift-loosed lightning, her bde fshing in the te morning sun as it arced in descent. It struck Mistevan’s shield with a greater force than could be expected for such a slim weapon, biting deep and gouging a great rent in the metal and wood. Unperturbed, the Knight-Sergeant struck back with a businesslike chop of his axe.

  I saw another caravan guard, a jovial fellow named Timur, fending off two soldiers equipped with swords and shields. He was a dab hand at cards, and rather pleasant to game with, so I rushed to his aid. The tabarded soldiers, the features of their heavy helms reminiscent of faceless metal monsters, would make short work of Timur, unless I stopped them.

  Charging in with a Shield Bash, I caught the soldier to Timur’s left unawares, almost bringing him to the ground with the force of my assault. They were certainly a cut above the rest of the fodder, as the soldier to the right broke off for a moment to cover his ally. The guard gave me a quick nod of thanks, appreciation that the odds were now evened.

  The striking red-haired woman moved with a grace that was at odds with her heavy armor, performing well-timed single and two-tempo ripostes and strikes. She lured Mistevan with a weak hanging guard, only to roll her thin bde around her wrist to then ssh diagonally across his visor, momentarily stunning him. One of his subordinates stepped in to cover him and she was pressed to defend herself, her sword circling defensively to keep the lesser soldiers at bay.

  It was probably at this point that something broke within the remaining warriors of the Tides. Without their leader, they had lost their discipline and purpose, and the horror of the crystal spears had been simply too much for them. In the face of such magic, the taste of battle lost its appeal to them and they broke off from the engagement. Or tried to, at least.

  Some of them tried to ride double, to escape on what horses remained. They were chased down by Alik and the heavy spike of his war pick, and the nces of the other guards stabbed into those who had turned tail. The other Tides warriors who tried to limp away were cut down by the arrows and jarids of the guards. Truly, the tides had changed in our favor.

  The tabarded soldiers were, however, a different story. Seeing the fate that followed those who fled, a sense of grim determination stole over them. At their core, however, the dissonant note of discord only grew in volume, as Cordelia continued to fight for whatever she believed in. As if following a preordained script, her bde rose and fell in a circling and sshing dance as she moved among the melee.

  Timur, in a seemingly versed stroke of brilliance, lured the soldier to the left and caused him to stumble over a nearby corpse. His ally on the right tried to cover him, but the fil head of my weapon looped over his shield and struck him across his helm. It was enough to disorientate him, giving the caravan guard precious seconds to finish off the man who had lost his footing.

  With two against one, the soldier’s fate was written across his face, the grim lines of acceptance clear for all to see. He still fought gamely, but his existence ended when I blocked one of his desperate strikes with my shield. This allowed Timur to grapple him down. Dropping my mace, I drew the dagger at my waist and, with my comrade's assistance, I stabbed him in the armpit. My knife found a bloody path through the links of mail, striking deep into an artery and ending his life.

  You have sin a Human 7 experience gained.