Serious as Ever

Serious as Ever

Postby Rance » Sun Jul 20, 2014 6:41 pm

They all looked the same, with their polished helmets and their pikes, their boots and their colors. All so frightfully similar, each the product of a life replaced by ritual. They ate early breakfasts prepared by mess-cooks; after, the morning arms-drills, where squared regiments of men coordinated the work of blades and shields; later, acquisitions, when new rations were distributed among the soldiers and mail was delivered daily by couriers from North Passage Down. In the evening, much to the fascination of Myrkentown's children, there was always dress-parade. Small pockets of the Crown's men demonstrated the majesty and the prowess of their training to handfuls of curious boys and girls. Sometimes soldiers broke rank to squat down beside their miniature onlookers and let them feel the weight of Crown-funded steel in their little hands.

This was the heart of a military at peace.

Gloria Wynsee watched over the heads of tykes and tots who thrust out their fingers and begged their mates to look, look! as two soldiers worked through a dance of thrusts, parries, sweeps, and ripostes with halberds that seemed nearly as tall as they sky.

Soldiers rarely mean to hurt innocents, Lady Egris had said.

She followed the whispering memory of those words through the small crowd when the display was done. She sought out the Kestrel's banner and the scattering of men underneath it. Their shadows cast great black streaks across the earth. The girl approached them, her skirts cracking, snapping against her thighs and ankles in the stifling summer breeze. Her right hand lifted to hold tight to the ribbon of her dirty bonnet. Squinting against the Glass Sun's last few rays, she waved to hail one of the Lady's nearest soldiers.

"Your pardon," the seamstress said to the handful of soldiers, tilting into a greeting curtsey as a few turned to regard her. "I'm trying to find one of your fellows. I thought you might know if he's here.

"Henderson," Gloria said. "Have you seen him about? Could you be so kind as to point me in his direction?"
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Kestrel » Fri Jul 25, 2014 12:46 pm

The soldiers ran through their drills, their minds focused on the very real foes they would meet one day soon. The traitor's men were waiting for them. Despite the current assignment's relative peace, they could not afford to be lax in their training. Only a few of them bothered to spare the seamstress a passing glance as she moved through the camp. Occasionally that stare was a soldier's shrewd gaze and the Kestrel's words likely echoed again.

The men milling around under the Lady Egris' banner did not have the same coiled tension in their shoulders. They had lived among the Myrken people for months and this quaint little town was as close to home as they had. As Gloria approached, she would note that they were far more jovial. They spoke with the easy camaraderie of friends, jostling one another and laughing easily.

When Gloria called to them, their eyes shifted to her. One stepped forward, a charmingly polite smile on his face. The Lady Egris called this young woman a friend and that meant something. He was unable to stop the surprise from his features when she asked after Henderson, though she likely would catch the nudge he gave his closest friend. Clearly Henderson's affection was well-known.

"He is yonder, with the King's men. I think you'll find that he is a man that is unable to rest for overlong," he mused.

Should she turn, the man was deeply entrenched in a friendly spar with one of the King's men. Both of them had shed their shirts and sweat glistened on lithe muscle and battle-scarred flesh. Henderson had talent in combat, but he pulled his punches, unlike his fellow. Steel clanged against shield, more defense than offense.

There was an underlying kindness to the man that was unmistakeable in all he did.
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Rance » Fri Jul 25, 2014 1:25 pm

"Much obliged," she said to the other men. She'd glimpsed that nudge of the elbow, wondered -- for all their affability -- if it was some underlying humor: her lack of an arm, the darkness of her skin, the width of her belly. But she bent her knee to them nonetheless, and swept beyond them toward the pair engaged in battle. Gloria watched with quiet admiration despite the discomfort that started to stir inside of her. They collided against the sleep-seeking Sun, their blades ringing, their shields snapping out, meeting, smashing.

Gloria Wynsee had never thought that men could have so much skin, at least not here in Myrken Wood. Or to wear it so comfortably, and with such acuity.

When eventually their battle came to close, she gave her thigh a few hard slaps with her palm, a congratulatory clap. She couldn't tell the winner, but only when the blades and shields had found their rest did she dare to shuffle forward and--

Her mouth became suddenly very dry, and her tongue lolled in her mouth like a lifeless slip of leather. The girl was going to say something, something, but all she managed was rattle of noise. So she scrambled for her satchel, threw open its flap, and peeled from it her lumpy waterskin. She pried out the cork with her battered teeth and thrust the bladder toward the man -- the soldier -- named Henderson.

"A drink," she croaked, never meeting his eyes, "for the victor. Yes?"
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Kestrel » Fri Jul 25, 2014 1:49 pm

In truth, Gloria Wynsee was a source of much admiration for Henderson. So much so that his brothers in arms had taken note of the one-sided crush. They took every opportunity to tease him about the cow-eyes he leveled upon the girl who barely noticed him.

When the spar ended, Henderson's grin was infectious and the two clapped hands together. It was a gesture of respect and readily accepted. They both offered quiet, playful jabs at the other's skill, but soon separated.

Henderson leaned to catch hold of his shirt and slung it carelessly over a shoulder. His path was arrested by the seamstress and surprise slipped into his gaze. The flush from exertion already upon his face deepened at the appearance of the girl. He paused to sheepishly pull his shirt across the broad expanse of his chest.

"Ah, I did n--," he began, before smiling. She did not glean that he was the loser in the fight. "Yes, thank you, kind lady," he mused with a deep bow of gratitude. He would accept the skin of water and gulp greedily - his adam's apple working with the motion.

When it was lowered, his wrist was swiped across his lips to mop up any droplets that might cling to his chin. "Again, you have my thanks. What brings you to this place, Miss?," he questioned - sparing a glance behind them at the rest of the men. His stance shifted a little closer, protectively.
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Rance » Fri Jul 25, 2014 2:08 pm

He drank. Her hand, seeking business and distraction, smoothed down the front of her dress, sweeping across the sprig-patterned kirtle to dislodge some bit of dust that wasn't there. "You're -- you're very welcome," she chirped, her voice leaping several octaves.

Today was one of the seamstress' days of finer care. The dress she wore spread out in volumes just above her ribs, a sprawling skirt scattered with countless geometric embroideries. Across her waist was a sash whose loud colors came together in a starburst at the knot just above her hip, and there was a wooden scabbard bearing a large, smoothly-curved handle jutting out from under her sock-swaddled stump. Vestiges of her regular qualities still remained: her Sun-faded bonnet and its blossoms of old sweat, her tattered satchel bulging with all manners of belongings.

"You needn't call me miss. Gloria is fine. Just Gloria," she said, the muscles in her neck tight as she tried to stifle her accent. A few moments of hesitation drowned her words before she plucked at the folds of her dress. "My brother made it when -- when I was in the infirmary, with some help from his friends. It's quite fine, don't you think? I try not to wear it too often, as you never truly know when you might lose a hand, and I'd be loathe to get much blood on it."

She laughed; she laughed and it was a cumbersome, rumbling sound. Her cheeks blazed with heat.

"It was very kind of you to -- to watch over me when I was there. Needless to say, I surely made a fool of myself one too many times under your observation. So I thought it best to come and express my gratitude. You see?"

Her weight shifted from one heel to the other. She smiled at him, at his shirt, at his bouncing throat-apple.

"I have some cheese and bread. Would you like some," she said. "I imagine you're famished after -- after swinging so much."
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Kestrel » Fri Jul 25, 2014 2:44 pm

His quick eyes darted to the hand that smoothed down the cloth of her dress. They caught upon the bulge of her belly in wistful manner before lifting to meet her own again. His smile was eager and unassuming. "It looks quite lovely," he agreed, bobbing his head in a nod - the compliment making him rub at the back of his sun-kissed neck in bashful manner.

Her jest made him sober abruptly. "You should not take such risks, my lady. The world would be a much sadder place, without you in it," he offered, his expression both troubled and earnest. "I heard about you in the swamp, Gloria. Mayhaps we should hire you a guard to spoil all of your adventures," he remarked, only half-joking.

His head tilted when she gave her offer to share her lunch, but he nodded eventually. "That is kind of you." Something he had not seen in many others in Myrken. He nodded towards a stump at the edge of the camp. They could break their bread there, together.

He led the way, a hand seeking her elbow to guide her. "How fares your child, Mis --" A cleared throat, remembering her request. "Gloria?" The entire town whispered about her and the child, it was no surprise that he had heard something.
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Rance » Sat Jul 26, 2014 6:10 am

"You either know very little about me, or very little about the world. I would be very easy to -- to forget; my absence would leave no holes but those which could be swiftly occupied by kinder things. Now put on your shirt," she countered, tossing her chin in the direction of the gnarled stump, "else I -- I may find it too difficult to look at your face while we enjoy our meal."

That was forward. Her cheeks were on fire, and the blush gleamed across the bridge of her nose before she swiftly turned her head to consume her face in the shadows of her bonnet. He reached for her elbow, and she bent her mutilated arm enough to accept his guiding touch. Underneath the sleeve of her dress, she trembled, a nervous electricity drumming beneath her muscles.

"The swamp," she said -- then repeated, "The swamp was a matter of necessity. A friend was in need, and I needed her. But I was not the person she wanted to be needed by."

Around the stump there was a halo of unkempt grass, the tip of each blade crowned in a wispy sprawl. Her skirt-hem dragged and bounced across the earth. With his assistance, she squatted on one side of the axe-chewed stump, her spine an arch bent to support the thickness of her abdomen. She withdrew a lump of sweating cheese from her satchel and peeled back its parchment and twine. She picked at the wax rind.

How fares your child...Gloria?

"It fares." Her voice was soft and sober. "Poor and harmful decisions cannot be undone. By all rites, it will be a bastard, and by the time it grows to -- to speak, to laugh, and to know, it will become all too familiar with its mother's arrogance. I would wish to love it; I would hope it accepts my apologies."

She offered him a small lump of cheese. Her fingers were clean, her flesh as dark as newly-turned peat. Soft beds, pink and irritated, peeked out from beneath the barbs of each fingernail where long-worrying teeth had gnawed them too far down.

"You fight gently, ser. You -- you let him swing at you, and you deflect, you dodge, you parry, but when you are given room to strike, you hesitate. Why?"
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Kestrel » Sat Jul 26, 2014 11:45 am

He opened his mouth to protest her assumptions that she was forgettable, when she surprised him with the forwardness of her comment. He obediently, quickly tugged his shirt over his head and let it fall to cover him. Cheeks flushed, he would make haste to guide her away from the other soldiers. Their steps carried them towards the edge of the camp and he let her settle upon the stump. There was hardly enough room for them both, so he remained standing.

His gaze ghosted over the camp as if searching for danger before it dropped again to the seamstress unwrapping their shared meal. "Your friend is lucky to have you. She likely knows that, despite her assumed lack of gratitude," he offered, gently. "She would not be the first to yearn for something they can not have," he remarked, casting her a sidelong glance.

As she spoke of her child, his features softened. "Your child will know honest love when it arrives. You will be a fine mother," he assured. "My mother wed again when I was a teenager. She had three other children with her new husband. I enjoyed helping to raise them. I've always wanted a large family of my own." Hence the wistful expression from before. His life as a soldier prevented much.

Carefully, he took the section of cheese from her hands and popped it into his mouth. While he chewed, he considered her question.

Then, "I suppose because this is hardly a real battle. It is a friendly spar. If I took if seriously, what if I missed and my aim was true enough to actually harm him? The King would have one less man to fight for him." He nodded towards the soldiers. "Not all, but many of them are new to this life. They are eager to prove themselves and have not yet known the horrors of war. After battles with the Duke's men, they will be changed. They will find caution when they spar, lest there be unforeseen consequences." He assured her, with a gentle smile.
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Rance » Sat Jul 26, 2014 12:35 pm

"Perhaps she is lucky to have me. Perhaps she is smarter to let me go," she said. "For what little I bear of talents and affinities for -- for the wondrous, I am complemented with convictions that all too often put me at opposition with those around me, whether out of sense or out of solidarity for my own identity."

They shared the cheese. While he spoke, she ate a bit and shifted down to gently seat herself in the grass. If the stump could not be shared, then it would serve as a platter.

"Your mother sounds like a keen woman. Even not knowing her, I envy her resolve. Women make no living with sword or shield. We are best suited as baubles, as decorations meant to bear children. I am, unfortunately--" and she peeled out her lip in a hooked finger to display her ragged teeth, "--not nearly so pedantic." She paused to pop another lump of cheese in her mouth. "I imagine you were an admirable older sibling. If you were so protective of me at the Rememdium, I could only imagine how much moreso you were with your blood."

When he explained about the spar, her gaze never turned away. She sat in the billow of her skirts and watched him as he spoke, as he ate, seeming pleased to be sharing a quiet and simple moment with someone else. A hot breeze blew at the nape of her neck, bonnet-strings snapping out like little arms to dance against the wind.

"I don't believe you'd be the kind to miss. I think you doubt yourself too much. I -- I think you are gentle," she said, mirroring Lady Egris's observation. And then, softer:

"They will be changed. Have you already been changed, Henderson?"

Another coin of cheese. Another question.

"Have you known those horrors of which you speak?"
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Kestrel » Sat Jul 26, 2014 2:45 pm

"Your strength of character is what made me like you in the first place," he remarked, warmly, before catching himself. He cleared his throat, before amending his words. "As a friend, I mean. You seem an interesting woman to converse with," he added, meekly.

His smile was warm as she settled upon the ground, knowing that he would have to aid her in rising when it came time to leave. He lowered himself beside her, his knee brushing against her own. The grass was still a little damp against their backsides, but neither seemed to notice or care.

He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, humble for his mother's sake. Though, his brows furrowed when she spoke of women as baubles. "Do you think so? The Kestrel seems more at home on a battlefield than on a man's arm, don't you think? You remind me a little of her. Your resolve is just as sharp," he complimented. "As is your tongue," he jested, with a wink. "She thinks the world of you."

Her mention of his task at the Rememdium made his gaze cloud over, troubled. "You were so small in that bed. And that woman, that Agnieska woman, took advantage of your state. She is a snake, a powerful one, and you stand against her. It was so brave, I could not help but be swayed." The man had a weakness for powerful women, it seemed.

Her comment about his gentle nature made him shrug slightly. "Maybe I was not supposed to be a soldier, but that was the task that lay before me. I make the best of it." Her questions were getting more difficult, more insightful. It made a flush creep across his ears. "We all change, even when we don't mean to. I've known horrors, but not as bad as some."

Evasive.

"This is not polite conversation, Sera Gloria," he gently reminded her.
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Rance » Sat Jul 26, 2014 5:03 pm

"The Kestrel is a different sort of woman, able to stand steadfast against blades, fangs, and men. I respect her a great deal. I admire her the way a child might a figure of myth. To succeed so greatly, to strive as she has. I quite like her. But," she reasoned, her chin tilting and her eyes glancing at a stubborn knot on the side of the stump, "I believe I may fear her, too."

He sat beside her. They were equals, their little world near the stump one ignorant of class or rank, citizen or soldier. Gloria's posture was slumped, unpracticed; he sat, however, like a man who knew all too well how precious leisure time must be spent. Their knees touched. A tap, a gentle nudge. She did not draw away from the meager pressure of his leg. Beneath her bonnet, her lips stretched into a smile.

"I could turn my head," she whispered quietly, "and see you out the door of my room in the Rememdium. I could sometimes scarcely repeat my own name, but when I awakened in the dark confused or sick from the herbs and seeds, I would see you standing outside like a sculpture, a familiar statue. It..."

The accent bled away. When she whispered, she could have been a Myrkener. The unsure lilt that too often languished between prepositions vanished. Her tone was sure, soothing, and grateful.

"I've never felt so safe, and you never even needed to say a word to me. You made the best of it. For me."

In the distance, throngs of men and soldiers began to strike flint against steel to light crisp brambles of tinder in their fires. Iron pots sang against one another as messes of the Lady's troops began to come together for their evening meal. The shadows of whole regiments flickered and waved, cast in long streaks by the sleep-seeking Sun, their distorted silhouettes reaching nearer and nearer to their lonely stump.

I've known horrors, but not as bad as some.

He wore his words like a buckler, angling them not to deflect her questions, but to protect them both from the shards of the inquiries' splintered arrowheads. The knuckles of her remaining hand gleamed like polished bronze in the fading daylight as she reached across her lap to rest her palm on the bend of his knee. A timid touch. A supportive gesture. Her fingers ebbed with warmth. "However you've changed, whatever you've known, I only know you for who you are here, for who you were when you stood outside that door. Quiet Henderson. Sleepless Henderson. Protective Henderson. Diligent Henderson. Punch-pulling Henderson. I rather like this man, this Henderson.

"But before I hold his hand, I think I'd like to know his first name."
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Kestrel » Fri Aug 15, 2014 3:56 am

He smiled down at her as she spoke of his Lady. She whom he served. "I think she is like that for most of us, as well. She is on such an elevated pedestal that it is hardly fair to her. Our heroine in our picture-books," he admitted, with a boyish charm. "Though, she is as human as we all are. She would be saddened to hear of your fear. She thinks highly of you." Though, there was no reproach in his voice.

He seemed startled when she spoke of how safe she'd felt. He ducked his head in bashful manner, his eyes sternly focused upon his lap. "The healers kept you addled with so many herbs, I doubted that you knew I was there at all, most times," he humbly side-stepped her sweet words, for lack of reply. "You were safe. You continue to be, as long as I draw breath." It was a promise. She would likely hear the honesty in his voice. He was given a task, but it was more than that, now.

The clash of steel distracted them, broke a little of the spell between them. His throat cleared and he kept his vision on the goings-on in the makeshift military town. He swallowed when her hand came to rest upon his knee, distracting him into dropping his gaze there. His own scarred palm came to hesitantly rest upon hers.

His eyes searched for her own. "Edmund," he returned, before clearing his throat again and averting his gaze.

"Gloria, I did want to ask you. I -- I was not sure that it was my place, but if you needed someone...," he trailed off, after casting a pointed look at her swollen belly. "What I mean to say, is that you've not spoken of your child's father and if you needed someone to..."

He could not quite manage to get across his intentions, foolish and noble, all at once.

The was Henderson, through and through.
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Rance » Fri Aug 15, 2014 4:59 am

You were safe. You continue to be, as long as I draw breath.

"Edmund," she repeated.

His hand encapsulated hers. Her skin was like worn leather under his palm, perhaps as familiar as the sword-handles he so frequently held. It was a very tiny little world, theirs; it seemed like the soldiers practicing and demonstrating were a thousand leagues away, the ring of blade against shield little more than an echo in the distant fathoms of brain.

"It's a good name," she told him. "Simple and strong. Lots of -- of hard consonants. It takes every bit of your mouth to say. Edmund," the seamstress demonstrated, the word slow, exaggerated. His gaze avoided hers, as if the name was a shame. "You -- you ought to be proud of it, from wherever it came. A first name means more than any surname can. Surnames are prescribed, forced onto us at birth, with all their reputations or their questionable histories. But first names? We take them for our own. We embroider ourselves onto them the moment we begin to speak, to decide, to -- to think on our own.

"You have made Edmund," Gloria said, "into a very good name."

His next inquiry, incomplete and generalized, does not receive a response for some time. Minutes pass. He observes her bulging abdomen, but she does not choose to hide it. Beneath her bosom her pregnancy is a perfectly-rounded stone hidden beneath a waistless dress, a blister that had not yet grown large enough to burst. She too glances down at it, then lowers her head and tries to catch his wandering eyes with her own.

I was not sure that it was my place, but if you needed someone...

The hand freed itself from under his. Its only purpose is to lift, that it might rest itself gently against his cheek.

"Need? No. Want," she said. "And -- and do you?"

How can he look at me, a Jernoan voice whispered in her mind, and not realize there are better girls with better smiles, better minds, better souls? Her gaze was comprised of two malleable, clay-soft rocks, and her face -- she hid her teeth -- was relieved, thankful, peaceful, and happy.

"Stand," she told him. "Stand, Edmund. Gather me a shield, and take up your sword."
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Kestrel » Fri Aug 15, 2014 8:57 am

His hand trapped hers, but it was gentle. Resting. She would not no trouble at all withdrawing. He watched her, lips curled in an expression of awe as she spoke of his name. In the end, he gave a little laugh and shook his head. "You are a wonder, Gloria. No one else has ever responded like that to a simple name." And there was no mistaking that he meant it as a compliment. She was just ... unexpected.

"Well, by that logic, Gloria is a very fine name as well," he teased her, seeking to nudge playfully at her shoulder with his own. "Starts with a hard noise and then becomes softer. Gentle," he remarked, his eyes just as soft. He reached out with a free hand to tap the hood of her bonnet.

Then, he was stuttering out an unsaid question, an offer that he left open for her to accept or decline in her own time. The honor that should belong to the child's true father. An honor that the unknown man had not requested. Still, there were other men.

She asked if he wanted what he offered and he gave a soft laugh. "Would I ask otherwise?," he questioned in turn, reaching out to pinch her chin.

Still, his eyes went strained, sad. "Still, there are many men better suited for fatherhood than soldiers. War is dangerous and my Lady has pledged to go with the Colonel if he needs us against the traitor. I wouldn't ask you to agree to something you didn't want. You are a strong woman, Gloria Wynsee. I know that you don't need me or anyone at all." His voice had that awed tone in it again.

"But I am here for the wanting, all the same."

Still, she bid him to rise and he did so, pushing palms against the earth to carry him to his feet. His sword and shield lay nearby and he took to one knee to offer her them both with bowed head.
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Re: Serious as Ever

Postby Rance » Fri Aug 15, 2014 5:19 pm

A nudge to the bill of her bonnet. A pinch to the round cup of her chin. Each of these motions drew from her a coltish flinch, a mischievous smile that hid something regularly unseen: a girl, barely a woman, who reveled in the opportunity not only to laugh, but to giggle, a rumbling sound both sheepish and uncharacteristically timid.

"Strong men make good soldiers. Compassionate fellows make better ones," she reasoned, "and such soldiers make fine fathers."

She scrambled to her feet when he brought forward the sword and the shield, a chance to let motions hide the sudden swath of redness that flashed across her cheeks. Though he offered both to her, it was the shield she procured. She fit her right arm into its leather straps. The armor-piece was a heavy circle adorning her forearm from elbow to knuckles. The girl gave it a rattling shake, its iron reinforcements catching an occasional glint of dying sunlight on their combat-polished edges.

"A lady," she trilled, giving her filthy, mud-scattered skirts a flare as if they were a royal's gowns, "still ought to earn an opportunity to be courted, doesn't she? You'll -- you'll not find me so willing to accept you simply for your quickness to take a knee, however fetching you may be. We've but had this conversation, after all." Over the shield's top, her eyes smiled. "The sword's for you. The shield--" Gloria wrapped her mutilated arm around it, giving the front a rap from her stump as if the appendage were a club, "--was for me.

"As -- as for the traitor, it doesn't suit you to think in extremes, Edmund. Governor Burnie is an arrogant man and a fool, but he's seen horrors enough to alter his perceptions. There's no war to be had here; rather, I'll pray for there to be no war. One man's grieving indiscretions doesn't make an enemy. It makes him a sad man, and not one worth dirtying good men's blades with the blood of confused crowds."

The words came unbidden; Proctor Duquesne, she thought, would be proud.

She set her heels in the grass, loosened her knees, and angled the shield toward him, her stocky frame a firm foundation behind it.

"Hit it," she playfully encouraged.
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