Dusk was beginning to set as Leo Dalmer sat upon a hill overlooking the village of Presper, honing the edge of his saber for the umpteenth time while the forces of Belisio gathered overhead, airships flying in from every corner of the kingdom.

Even on the eve of battle he was the picture of a knight in meditation, calm and serene before the coming storm. Yet as the wind howled around him, so too did his blood thrill for combat. It sang for it. For all his tranquil appearance, there was a beast within him waiting to be unleashed, hungering for action.

The other knights of Belisio never thought much of him for it. Not only was he of common birth, but he had come up from the ranks too. An upstart foot soldier who had risen to knighthood solely by the number of pirates he had slain, almost always on his own and receiving merits each time. A bad influence for the apprentices.

Whether he was a glory hound or simply foolhardy, all agreed that had he been a lordless strider, he would surely have walked the path of a demon. One who fought simply for the sake of fighting and taking to bloodshed like a drunkard to wine. An enemy to peace. Still, he had his uses and his skill with the saber was undeniable.

Sensing a disturbance in the wind, Leo held his sharpening stone aloft over his blade as he looked up from his work and saw someone approach.

Tyrhallan ever the obedient son and knight had set out as soon as the news of unrest reached his ears.
His uncle had burst into the estate with as much haste as that old leg of his could muster.
The old man had long since retired, but still held an important post at court. Close to the king to offer counsel, when asked and instructed to be of service as an honour guard and instructor to the queen. It was a position of honour, without actually seeing any battle, but offering the queen his knowledge on matters. Which wasn’t all that often.
So it came to pass that his ‘friendship’ with the royal Spymaster developed through their love of Ur. A game that required; risk, luck and strategy. It was through this friendship he heard of the new developments on the border. During a game, which he had been winning, the Spymaster calmly had informed him of the new situation.
So it was that his uncle gave up his victory and his winnings, hurrying down to the Venray estate. To warn his brother’s family of what was about to come.

Prepare.
The Empire is on the move.
Coming to crush the resistance by conquering Belisio and force them to their knees.

War marches ahead to dine on the Lionhearted

Or so the rumours and whispers of the spies had spoken.
The Spymaster’s spies had also reported the upcoming stream of refugees fleeing from the incoming wheels of war. If they would be overtaken, they would get caught up in the middle of all of this.
The poor souls would be stuck between two terrible forces.
They would probably be the first true victims to be fed to the ever hungry beast called War.

‘The machine that would grind all into dust and leave behind nothing but a barren wasteland, as fields are painted red as the call of the carrion cuts through the deafening silence...’ Or so the scholars quoted Folken, one of their philosophers of old.

And they wouln’t be wrong, but sometimes war was inevitable.
Tyrhallan had seen battle before, though he did not doubt that those were but a taste of what the Empire was capable of.
He remembered his Uncle's stories, telling him of the strength of the Vaimese Empire and the might of their mages.
He has spoken of the fall of Rhevendahl a small kingdom bordering their Empire, how they had quite literally smote the capital into a pile of ash and dust.
A thousand years of peaceful coexistence torn asunder for the hungry expansion drift of the Empire.
Renamed, their own history and lore was ripped from the pages, droned out until only the words of the Empire remained.
It was a fate that would befall all those who failed to resist the Empire.
Tyrhallan had questioned his Uncle on the truth of these matters.
Surely not all in the Empire were so keen on the destruction of history and knowledge?
He remembered his Uncle laughing at him. Telling him that true conquerors know that in order to conquer completely, you need to wipe out more than just a defending army. You need to erase all the things that binds those that resist together.
One thought, One ruler, One Empire. Create separation and stifle the opposition, then indoctrinate.
Now the soldiers of Rhevendahl, belong to the most fearsome, most terrifying forces of the Empire.

Soon enough his mettle would be tested once more, in the defence of hearth and home. As the last troops were boarding the airships or calmly awaiting orders Tyrhallan noticed the lone figure off to the side.
He instantly recognized him as 'Upstart Dalmer'.
At least that was the name he had called him the first time they met.
He had rocked quite a few boats with his mercurial behaviour.
By the Gods, the boy was a talented fighter, but his rebellious nature would cost him one day.
Tyrhallan moved over towards him watching him hone his blade.
"I believe you sharpened your fang enough, Spider." He said striking up a conversation.
"Of all the upstarts they had to stuck me with...they gave me you."
A smile curled around his lips as his stern gaze softened and connected with the younger man.
"They must be desperate indeed. So tell me, who did you annoy?" He asked cocking an eyebrow.

"Annoy? I'm the one who's annoyed," Leo scoffed as he returned his attention to his sword, Silverfang, shining brightly even in the waning sunlight. "I thought the action would've started already by the time I got here, but it looks like I showed up too soon."

Running the sharpening stone along the edge of his sabre with a few final strokes, Leo stood up and held his blade in the air, examining his work as he continued, "Still... war, huh? Who would have thought. I wonder if your uncle knows who to thank for that. Well, not that I'm complaining. Kind of feels like I was born for this, you know?"

Turning his eyes towards his fellow knight and Captain, Tyrhallan the Crimson Rider, Leo looked him up and down with an appraising gaze as he took note of the highborn lordling's equipment. Fancy sword, fancy armour, red as his knightly name and pretty as a painting. Fully prepared for battle apparently.

"Say, how about a sparring session?" Leo asked with a glint in his eye as he swept his blade through the air in a flourish. "Just to warm up a bit."

Tyrhallan calmly listened as he watched the ever eager Leo get up.
"My Uncle and I were expecting something of the nature. The Empire has grown rather substantially in a relatively short amount of time.
'That' usually indicates War, unless the Vaimese have grown capable of reconstructing the planet. Landstitching is one thing, creating land is quite another feat and I don't see the mages of the Empire pulling that trick off just yet. My Uncle as ever was always concerned about Belisio's fate. Considering the last show of might of the Empire, I feel more unnerved about this one."
At Leo's eagerness he frowned growing more serious, hoping his words would one day stick.

"You are made for it, but being born for it is something else entirely. 'If blood is all you crave, blood is what your share will be.'" He said quoting the old scholar Folken.
"Look for something more than just blood. Look for something higher, greater than your own lusts or glory." Tyrhallan advised before he sighed.
He watched Silverfang slice through the air, as the muscles in his legs and feet tightened, ready to react and dodge should the boy be as brazen as they claimed him to be.
"You sure you want that?" He asked once more as he took hold of his own blade.
A eyes darkened in colour as the seriousness was set to steel, a look of a bird of prey focussing on his potential opponent.

The marching orders had been cryptic but simple. Arn had merely nodded and gotten his ruck sack ready unlike the groans of complaint from the others in his squad. The battle mage was finished before the other had even reached for their own gear. He did not have much in the ways of possessions. Indeed, almost all he owned was gear issued to him by the military. The only things that had ever meant anything to him were already on his person.

On his neck was the medallion which had belonged to his mother. It was made of cheap metal and it had melted into a charred twisted version of its original self, much like his own mother when she died. Some may confuse it for abstract art, other would say that it was a trophy from the many victims of the Hellspawn’s flames. Few would know that it was the only thing he had of his mother.

The other items were strapped to his midsection. A set of ebony looking Daisho. These, unlike his medallion, reminded him of the temperance of mind and body. They had been a gift from his master and commander. The only man to have been able to get Arn to listen and the one who taught him about how to tamper the fire rolling inside him. His master taught him that war is no place for anger. Just as the blade does not feel so must the man. However, it is also the man who must decide who falls before his blade. It is here that the true essence of the warrior lies. Any man can kill another. Only a warrior knows that the life he takes is the necessary one. This would prevent any future self doubt and self punishment in deciding if what he did was right, just or honorable.

Arn shouldered his pack putting the straps through the armholes of his Flak armor. He had been on many raids and missions so certain habits were second nature to him. The battle mage set it down at their assigned spot. It would stay there, undisturbed, until it was time to load the ships and begin the mission. They would drop from the sky. His squad was nicknamed “The Shooting Stars”. However, the name had nothing to do with something as simple a wishing astral body. Indeed, many in the squad never stayed long. For just like their nickname, they soon burned up. The squad was made up mainly of lower ranked soldiers which were “Expendable”.

The battle mage cared nothing for these semantics. His job was to fall from the sky and unleash hell while the more prestigious members of the military came in and cleaned up the rabble to earn all the glory. He cared little for the politics of rank and station.

He was approaching their designated gear area to drop off his battle gear. This would be the place his squad would meet up at and receive their orders as they donned gear. He was the first one there which meant that his red tinted, samurai styled flak armor would mark the area the squad would utilize.

As he approached, he noticed two men, knights by the look of them, talking. He felt no need to approach them as he was not a socially inclined person but a name caught his ear.

Dalmer

He had heard the name before. Apparently, this knight was not like the others. Indeed they share very much the same status of low birth. However, apparently, this foot man turned knight had risen through the ranks. Arn was not sure if he was impressed or indifferent but he took a bit longer than necessary to drop of his gear. Just because he did not engage in politics did not mean he was not aware of them. He was no self proclaimed savior of those of low birth but he could not stand people utilizing their status to look down and harass others.

He straightened up when the obvious noble addressed the other knight with derision. An annoyed looked crossed Arn’s face as he looked in the direction of the two men who could not be more than 20 or so feet from him. the Battle mage did not want to be caught off guard in the event the lower ranked knight all of a sudden sprang on his superior. Arn took a step back and raised his hands.

He reached into the Aether. His eyes saw the the hidden bands that held the broken world together. He felt a buzz as his own soul connected in harmony to Gia. He felt that familiar feeling of falling through the air as his connection to Gia grew stronger. I his mind he pictured the very air atoms in front of him. If needed, he would push the strings in front of him. The result would be a blast of air he would aim at Leo.

Arn did not know what was going on but he did not want either of the knights to start something that would put the rest of the Army on edge an eve before the actual battle. He would not harm anyone but if needed he would try to talk them down.

"You sure you want that?" He asked once more as he took hold of his own blade.
A eyes darkened in colour as the seriousness was set to steel, a look of a bird of prey focussing on his potential opponent.

"But of course," Leo replied as he moved into a guard stance, straightening his posture with his free hand held behind his back and his sabre pointed forward at Tyrhallan. "We could be facing the biggest fight of our lives soon. A bit of last minute practice wouldn't hurt. Much."

Tapping into the energies of his very soul, Leo closed his eyes and breathed deeply until he felt strength flowing through him from the core of his heart to the fingertips of his sword hand. In another breath that strength extended to the hilt of the sabre then onto the blade itself, forming a sheathe of ki around it and reinforcing the bonds within the steel until it hummed with power. When Leo opened his eyes, he felt as though he could cut down Gaia herself as he cracked a smile at Tyrhallan.

"Will you oblige me by attacking first, sir?" the Silver Spider asked amiably. "Or shall I make the first m-"

@Omni5876

Sensing a disturbance in the air, Leo looked away from his opponent as he searched for its source and saw a squad of battlemages gathering nearby, one of them looking back at Leo in particular with hands raised in front of him. Seeing the faint distortions of light in the space between them, a clear sign of mana at work, Leo lowered his sabre as he said, "It looks like we have an audience."

Whatever his differences with the other knights, if it was one thing Leo shared with them it was their rivalry with the mages. All knights had this in common. That was unless their noble leader, Tyrhallan, had anything to say about it of course, but then again Leo was never one to pass up a good opportunity for entertainment. Shooting a mischievous glance at the Captain, Leo raised his hand in greeting towards the mages as he called out, "Ho there friends! Looking for the war or are you just lost?"

"Confident as always. Some would say such confidence will not always hold up."
Tyrhallan watched the man shift to a more suitable battle stance. He could sense Leo was adjusting and raising his ki, probably as much as he was. The only difference was where they chose to send that energy.
To Tyr it was spend in a single fraction. What good were barriers and walls when your opponent was already within one's own inner circle. No way to deflect, all that was needed was one strike. It was his preferred method of fighting. Like a Viper or a Falcon swooping down with outstretched talons.
He was about to oblige Leo for once, knowing the young man’s reputation and love for the deathly dance.
It would be a good way to warm up indeed and to allow the man to lose some that unspent eager rage. That need for a fight, a gnawing feeling that would overcome every warrior, even someone like himself fell to its powers when he was not careful.
With the battle closing in on them, this might be his only reprieve before the storm.
Tyrhallan needed to silence his own troubled mind, he was about to respond when he noticed that Leo had noticed their spectators.
Or rather the mage who had been quite ready to use his magic on them.
Hearing Leo's words however made him roll his eyes in resignation, could the young man find some more wisdom in the silence of his tongue instead of using it to start another fight to release the bottled up desires. He was itching for a fight all right, by all accounts he best prevent the fool from being burst into flames.
He turned as well facing the mage and those behind him with a stern but friendly expression, holding up his hand in a gentle gesture.
"All is well, there is no need for your well-meant interference Battle Mage. Keep your watchful eye though, for I believe it will prove lifesaving in the battle to come. Be assured for I have control over this particular situation.”
To Leo he send a look of ‘Don’t goad them. This is not the time.’

Arn lowered his arms when Leo addressed him. He cancelled his connection with Gia and the casting ceased immediately. The feeling in his stomach dissipated and his heart rate went back to normal. He gave Leo a quizzical look. Most of sarcasm was lost on the battle mage. He wondered why there was an annoyed feeling in the air.

Apparently, he had walked in on another Knightly duel. Knights often dueled for honor, or to prove something or etc. While there was some sort of unwritten rule that Knights and mages were to never get along this fell along the lines of politics for him and he cared little for it. He never even knew what the disagreement was supposed to be anyway. When the knight with noble demeanor utilized his politically correct address the battle mage shrugged.

"I did not mean to intervene in any sort of practice or sparring session. However, as you are well aware gentlemen, training must be routed via the appropriate channels and sanctioned by the Commanding Officer. Unless, immediate training is necessary to ensure efficient and safe mission completion. If this was a sparing session, the rules state that there must be at least a witness to prevent any sparring from veering into brawls."

He approached the pair. He moved easily and confidently. He was not much shorter than Dalmer. He could appreciate both the knight's stature and obvious fitness levels. If a spar match was to ensue, the mage had no doubt that they would give a good show. This gave him an idea and addressed the warriors in an even but respectful tone.

"I understand that you gentlemen would like to blow off some steam instead of all this waiting. Honestly, I think your spar would perhaps serve as a diversion for the junior personnel which would boost their morale and prevent any last minute jitter from setting in." He looked both directly in the eyes. He did not care for politics but he cared for the lives of men and women who served in the military. Arn would do his best to keep as many alive as he could even if that meant his own death.

To Leo he send a look of ‘Don’t goad them. This is not the time.’

I couldn't help it, Leo gestured back with an elaborate shrug.

As the mage spoke again however, it quickly became apparent that he would provide no amusement and his words soon became noise to Leo as he wondered what kind of magic the man might have used on him.

Leo had fought mages before, but try as he might, he never could decipher what the signs of their power meant before taking form and effect. Whether it was a slight shimmer in the air, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, or the physical movements of the mages themselves, it was impossible to read. All Leo knew was to get out of the way before anything happened and launch a counter attack as quickly as possible.

A horizontal slash towards the neck, unprotected by the armour, Leo thought as he imagined ways of killing the mage in a combat scenario, resisting the impulsive urge to do it for real.

Then with an abruptness that was almost surprising, the mage stepped forward to approach the two knights, close enough for Leo to see the man's brown eyes and startlingly small irises. This time, Leo could not help paying close attention as the mage spoke.

"I understand that you gentlemen would like to blow off some steam instead of all this waiting. Honestly, I think your spar would perhaps serve as a diversion for the junior personnel which would boost their morale and prevent any last minute jitter from setting in."

"Well, how about that," Leo said, nodding with approval as he turned towards Tyrhallan. "What do you say, Captain? Shall we put on a show for them?"

Tyrhallan unlike Leo listened patiently to the Battlemage. He observed the shift in demeanour and carefully took a long reading look over the man, who appeared closer to him in age, but with mages one couldn't really tell.
He was a bit perturbed by the man to lecture 'him' of all people on the rules, but he chastised himself stating that he most likely would have done the same thing. Nevertheless, it rubbed him the wrong way. He would have to find out the man's name later and make a mental note of it...if his underlings ever complained about his strictness towards the rules he would drag up this guy.
Still to his surprise and that of he actually proposed to turn their little warm up into a proper sparring match.
He pondered the request not showing his immediate thoughts on the matter, unlike Dalmer who's eagerness was akin to that of dog waiting for its treat.
He turned his gaze towards the sky again as if he was listening or searching for something, before a soft exclamation of breath was given in agreement.

"Very well and considering your own contribution to this sparring match Battle Mage, you can be the Arbiter." He said as he narrowed his eyes. "After all someone has to oversee the rules and judging of the match, someone as impartial as you would do nicely."

Arn felt both men studying him. He felt no danger or awkwardness from this. He actually expected it from veteran soldiers which actually spoke beneficially for the two knights. They were appraising him not on the looks of his clothes or age but on actual battle efficiency and theat. He felt it only proper that he would do the same. It was easy to see that these two had seen many battles. Real ones at that. The way they held their weapons was very comfortable, very learned. The knights had managed to meld with their weapons to the point that it was part of them. Just as one forgets they have toes or arms until they are needed.

The battlemage’s eyes fluttered to Leo, who enthusiastically agreed to the proposal. It was not hard to imagine that the knight enjoyed the thrill of battle. After all, the clang of steel and the din of battle are but songs to an battle happy heart. His attention was demanded by the hidden tone in the other knight’s tone. While polite and proper, Arn had been on the receiving end of such tones all his military career. He had no problem sharing his origin and his mother’s occupation. Disrespect of either of these however, would land him in the brig again or perhaps in the stocks.

Instead of feeling annoyed or irritated at the condescending tone the obviously nobly birthed warrior sent his way, Arn merely shrugged. The battlemage’s own tone was calm and almost monotone. “I will readily be the Arbiter. For ease of communication allow me to introduce myself. I am Arn of the second Battlemage battalion, the Shooting Stars. I have no family name.” He offered this last statement as a way to prevent any further questioning not as a way of apology.

“I do not believe that rules and procedures would need to be enforced in a battle between knights. It is understood that your honor is your bond. The match rules will be simple. The battle ends upon loss of consciousness or forfeit. However, I will ensure that no excessive force is used and would like to ask you gentlemen do not feel honor bound to prevent defeat. After all, tomorrow will require all available swords.” His tone was without feeling but his words could be construed as insulting. Arn however merely held the two knights gaze.

“Might I suggest we move this to marshalling spot B? I believe that they have yet to fully utilize it for the on load of stores.” He turned his head in the direction though he was sure that they would know where that was. All squad leaders and supervisors had been given muster orders and locations.

Tyrhallan's eyes changed for a moment at the mentioning of the man's name and Battalion.
The fact he was still alive, was quite miraculous. Not unlike his own Vanguard Battalion they were close to the front, they usually took the hardest hits, since the main focus would be on them, unlike Tyrhallan's who were truthfully more comparable to raiders.
Knives with stealth, leaving the enemy in disarray.
The insulting string of words Arn let out would have earned him a couple of demands for a Duel if he was facing any other knight.
"Yes, thank you." He said curtly and coldly, keeping in mind that the man either simply didn't care for manners or simply wasn't aware of his own rude behaviour.
Tyrhallan wasn't going to flare up for this man's enjoyment. As far as he was concerned if the man was actively trying to goad him into a reponse then he was truly to be pitied indeed.
It also didn't contribute to the actual sparring match.
Tyrhallan wouldn't bite anyway, he stepped away from them, making sure he gave orders to his Sergeant before disappearing, though as soon as his men would hear of the Duel they would want to observe it. It was only fair that he would inform them.
"We will reconvene at your suggested location."
Undoubtedly the bets would be placed.

"Finally," Leo drawled as he hung his sabre over his neck and followed after Tyrhallan with a swaggering gait.

The Spider had more than enough of all this talking, but looking back at the hilltop they were leaving behind, he couldn't help feeling a tinge of regret for moving away from that spot. Two knights crossing swords atop a hill in the light of dusk, nothing could have made a more ideal scenery. Then again however, there was something to be said for the wide open space and even ground of a windswept meadow such as the one they were heading towards.

"Here will do," Leo said as he lowered his sabre, letting it trail over the stalks of grass all around them before turning to face the Crimson Rider. "What do you think?"

Seeing soldiers and other onlookers pointing at them from a distance, Leo smirked as he continued while taking up the same guard stance from before, "Ready to demonstrate how a knight talks?"

Tyrhallan took the liberty of informing Sergeant Firenze of his sparring match, telling him for the time being he had command whilst he was occupied with his opponent.
Naturally the most curious of the bunch caught on and eagerly informed the others.
"Cap'n is gonna fight Spider. This is gonna be good."
"My money is on the Captain bet you 5 silverlings he's gonna make the boy eat dust..."
"Nah, I'll put my money on the Spider, I've seen him fight before, he's got some mean moves."
Tyrhallan ignored the other knights as they saw the opportunity to start a betting pool and placing bets.
His men eager to see the outcome followed quickly in his shadow as they moved towards their 'new arena'.
Here will do," Leo said as he lowered his sabre, letting it trail over the stalks of grass all around them before turning to face the Crimson Rider. "What do you think?"
His eyes ran over the desired area, following the lay of the land, the sweet early summergrass glowing golden as the wind sung through it.
He looked back at Leo and gave a single strong, weightful nod, before he watched the sun for a moment more.
Quickly the men began with setting up the ring, a large set of circles were drawn in the meadow, the grass flattened to establish the small little world Tyrhallan and Leo would contain themselves to.
A knights world.
A world wherein you waltzed with Death.
If the men did not take care and restrained themselves to a fine lined degree their dance would end...forever...
He watched Leo smirk, eagerly taking up the same guarding stance once more.
"Ready to demonstrate how a knight talks?"
Tyrhallan smiled at those words allowing a pause to fall as he moved fluidly, nonchalantly into position.
"Dalmer, tell me...What defines you?"
"What will you tell Death when Death finally shows you its face?"
"When it has had enough and is tired of all those poor fools that have had the sad predicament of being in the way of your blade?"
"Will you embrace it or will you battle it, I wonder..." Tyrhallan said as he slid his own blade out of its sheath.
As he held it up he gazed for a moment in the black abyss that reflected his image.
There were few that ever had the good fortune to see the unsheathed sword. This was due to Tyrhallan's fightingstyle and if they did, it was usually the last thing that flashed before their eyes, before they met the sharp steel of 'Fatebringer'.
As the wind changed so did Tyrhallan.
The wrist of his right arm turned and the blade rotated with it, its glint eerie, as it almost seemed that the rays of sunlight that reached the blade were slashed into a broken myriad of colours.
The predatory gaze had returned, his eyes darkened as his arm moved in a creeping pace into its position.
Starting in an open Vom Tag position he waited for the Arbiter to start off their little sparring match.
The muscles and nerves in his legs tightening and straining to literally burst into action. As soon as Arn had opened their match, Tyrhallan, true to his name, dove forwards at his opponent with a terrifying speed. Bringing in a mastercut, using his speed and momentum to swing the blade upward and tilt it. Knowing his opponent used speed in his attacks and dodges too not allowing Leo to simply block his blow.
Now it would come down to technique and skill.
As the blades collided, they sung, Tyrhallan turned his Zwerchhau inward, knowing most opponents would be too off guard by the first strike, that the follow up often was fatal.
He also knew that Leo wasn't a fool and had talent, but he would be pleased if their fight lasted for bit longer at the least.

[url](For the move youtube.com/watch?v=yejU_Cq8Qzs for those interested)[/url]

Arn followed the pair to the designated area. He gave a sweeping look towards those in the vicinity. Almost as if it could be sensed in the air, heads started to turn to their passing. He noticed that the White haired knight seemed to command respect. A very obvious shield with two crossed swords became evident. How had he missed that? The battlemage's opinion of the man grew some. If the white haired knight was indeed the commanding officer, and if Arn remembered his knight ranks correctly he was, then the amount of reservation and propriety at Arn's apparent impudence was astronomical. Most knights, especially high born ones, would have lashed him with tongue and later maybe even with a proper cat o nine tails.

As it was, Arn had observed some dissatisfaction register on the face of the knight but he had attributed it to the way he usually talks which off puts people. Their short walk to the designated area had gathered quite the following. The news of the match spreading like waves upon a still lake. The anticipation was brimming on the eyes of those starting to gather. A group of designated men prepared the area eagerly. He caught the names and code names of the knights' he had been so bold as to lecture.

It seemed like the white haired Knight was indeed the Captain Tyrhallan in command of the current outfit which he and his mage battalion had been assigned to. The other, as he had suspected upon hearing the family name was the one named the Spider. Both were renowned fighters and the usually calm and collected battlemage started to feel a twinge of excitement at being able to witness their prowess. In battle, its hard to actually measure a man's skill as any move that wounds or kills is a good one. Even efficient fighters must sometimes sacrifice finesse for numbers in the battle field. But here, it was just the two of them. Only skill would determine the victor.

Sensing the impatience of those gathered added to his own desire to witness a good show, Arn pronounced loud and clear the match to begin. A burst of noise followed. Jeers, cheers and swears stirred a cacophony that would have been appropriate if this was a covert mission. Their position on the hill would perhaps work to their advantage. The ruckus might travel to the village of Presper. Any person in favor of the Belisian's would take the noise as a sign of hope. Those that would raise arms against them would interpret it as a sign of danger.

Whatever the case, the fight was underway. Despite the chaos on the sidelines, the two fighters were all on their world own inside the circles. Arn himself was captivated by the dance that the knights had embarked upon. He would be able to learn about these me in each strike. For though he was only a mage, he appreciated all aspects of martial prowess. The battlemage gulped as he felt more than saw the disturbance in the Aether fields around the two opponents. After all, blade wilders tapped in a different way to the life force of Gia.

This match was indeed something to devote one's attention to.

"That's not exactly what I meant by how a knight talks," Leo responded wryly as Tyrhallan finished speaking. "But I can show you the answer."

Then the Knight Captain drew his blade and Leo noted the shift in his demeanor as he took up his stance, his eyes like that of a predator about to strike. There you are, Leo thought as he controlled his breathing, channeling ki into his sabre and bracing for whatever might come. The Crimson Rider.

Time seemed to slow down as Arn called for the match to begin and almost immediately, Tyrhallan was upon him. His sword came as a blur from the left, tilting up towards Leo's head which he narrowly caught on the strong of his sabre, just above the hilt.

My reflexes are a match for his speed, Leo realized in that instant as he countered with a vertical slash, only to meet Tyrhallan's follow up attack whipping around to the other side of his head. Their blades clashed once again and Leo leapt back to avoid a potential third strike.

"Trying to give me a haircut?" Leo casually asked as he slowly circled around his opponent, watching every little movement. "I see you're good with the high guard, but what about..."

All of a sudden, the Spider dropped into a crouch and swung his sword in a wide horizontal arc, releasing the ki in his blade into the very air and sending it forth as a blade of wind aimed directly at Tyrhallan's feet.

There blades clashed once more, the wielders able to feel the weight and strength of the other as metal upon metal, scraped and sliced.
Pushing, Turning and Retracting.
As Tyrhallan watched Leo back away again, he paced himself, not giving chase immediately to allow his opponent a moment of reprieve.
A smirk had flashed on Tyrhallan's face as he heard his opponent comment his move, he watched as Leo tried to circle around him.
Tyrhallan meanwhile analyzed the young man's actions.
He was trying to find an opening, trying to tempt him to reveal something, anything he could use against him.
"You wished to waltz, not I. Though perhaps you had thought to lead..." Tyrhallan spoke teasingly enjoying himself.
There weren't many that could keep up with his speed, it had been a pain for him to find instructors capable when he had ultimately too fast for them. With the few that could, he now had to hold back, because of them not being able to keep up with him anymore. Which didn't help with bettering one's self.

"I see you're good with the high guard, but what about..."

All of a sudden, the Spider dropped into a crouch and swung his sword in a wide horizontal arc, releasing the ki in his blade into the very air and sending it forth as a blade of wind aimed directly at Tyrhallan's feet.

Clever dog! Tyrhallan's thoughts flashed as he was forced to move.
Normally knights were trained to react in two ways to such attacks. Either evading the blow, but losing one's stronger position or attempting to block it, risking to injure to oneself as Tyrhallan in this case would have to literally cut away at the wind itself.
However Tyrhallan wasn't like other knights, he was the Crimson Rider, if he allowed himself to be thwarted by such an attack he wouldn't be worthy of the name Baron of the Sky. He rode the high winds.
And so Tyrhallan did neither, he dashed towards it, before he used his momentum to propel himself forward, doing a frontal flip over the blow, mimicking the Spider's crouch as had brought his blade down, knowing he might have to parry the man's follow up, protecting himself in that very fragile moment.
From the sides, one heard the whispers of the onlookers, barely speaking their thoughts aloud as they watched the match intently, holding their breaths.

As Tyrhallan leapt into the air and evaded Leo's attack, the blade of wind exploded into a shower of grass where it struck the ground, cutting a scar into the soil. Aimed any higher and it would have severed the legs of those at the front of the audience, but then again Leo had no concern for such things when he was so focused on his opponent.

Magnificent, Leo thought as he bounded away once again to avoid Tyrhallan's counterattack, a vertical strike from above. But you've given me an opening.

As soon as the Crimson Rider had completed his descent, Leo sprang off from his back foot and committed himself to a lunging thrust aimed at his opponent's centre where he crouched upon the ground. It was a highly risky maneuver, but true to Leo's reckless nature, he saw an opening and wasted no time in exploiting it.

Just as the point of his sabre was about to run through Tyrhallan's chest however, it stopped just a hair short as Leo checked his attack at the last moment and said, "Spiders are ambush predators, you know. We let prey lead themselves to us... although."

Leo looked down as he continued, "Clearly not without risk."

At that moment, a dropship flew above everyone's heads and slowed to a stop as it descended on an empty patch of grass free from dueling knights and gawking soldiers. Its side door opened as soon as it touched down and a soldier came rushing out, calling above the whir of the engines, "Message for Knight Captain Venray!"

The blades sang the deadly song that was being danced upon by the two knights. Hard to say if the song was the lead or if the dance was what composed the song of steel upon steel. However, the fact that there was death in each and every strike was not debated. The rings were echoed by shouts and groans from the spectators. Obviously the fighting pair each had a following. So entranced where the spectators that they seemed to almost be blind to the obvious danger of being so close to skilled and probably honorable killers but killers none the less.

The thought had barely been processed in his mind when the ground took the attack meant for the Knight Captain. Dirt and grass covered the shins and thighs of the spectators closest to the action. Arn gave thanks that it was not blood and sinew instead. He figured that as the arbiter it was his job to ensure the safety of those in the immediate area.

The battle mage grunted disapprovingly at the recklessness of Dalmer as his new strike was now aimed at the Captain's chest. While there was perhaps no doubt the Captain could handle himself, such reckless abandon was not befitting a duel. Still, both knew the risk and they had accepted it. Arn's immediate concern was protecting the soldiers who were definitely not in any way able to evade such attacks.

He would have to put up walls around the pair, who knew how long and how heated the battle would get. He concentrated on the Aether, an outline around him beginning to appear. A few soldiers around him stepped away from him in caution.

However, before he was able to utilize his connection to Gia and by sheer force cause the ground to rise putting up walls around the dueling knights a different sound from the cheers and metal against metal could be heard. The whirl of propeller and the sudden gust of downdraft cause not only the spectators but the fighters to diver their eyes to the interrupting drop ship. Apparently, a message requested the attention of the Captain. Arn had no doubt that Leo would be upset. He pitied any adversary the young Knight might encounter on who he could relieve his frustration and having been so rudely denied further pleasure in fighting a man of the Captain's caliber.

"Exactly." Tyrhallan said knowing the range of his blade as his own had come up, except if Dalmer hadn't checked himself, he would have impaled himself as well.
As the two glanced at each other in a moment of silence, Tyr's eyes changed again, the warmth and light returning as he pulled back his sword and rose from his position. He was about to sheathe it when a dropship flew overhead.
Frowning Tyrhallan watched as it landed and opened its side door. A single figure rushed out, demanding his attention.
The frown returned.
Trouble... He assumed as he watched the messenger address him.
"Here." He spoke up as he turned around completely giving the man his full attention.

Quite some distance away from them a small smuggler's barge slinked through the clouds. Peeking out of the clouds every once in a while to keep its cover as it tried to head for the border with Belisio.
On the bow stood a figure, a woman. She nervously gazed ahead clutching the frayed old cloak tightly around her as the unpredictable wind currents blew and tore at it in an attempt to blow it away.
Her mind was in turmoil, she kept replaying parts of 'that moment' over and over, wondering if she ever had any choice, wondering what had happened if she had chosen a different path.
Her eyes told stories of their own, there was a melancholic sadness and depth that told you they had seen more then one of her young age should.
They were staring into the clouds, reliving the memories once again.
"I won't do it."
"Submit Child! You have no say in this matter!"
"NO! I won't."
"Then you leave us no choice."
"Mardras, I beg of you no! NO!NO!"
"Hush now Eilis, stop your insolence..."
She had felt the burning eyes and felt how the Mardras had ripped her clothes open. How she had set her cold spellwoven fingers against her skin. She shivered reliving the sensation as the memories brought back a hint of the excruciating pain.
She had fought so hard, but the straps had held. Her torture had continued as he had watched on.
His eyes. She would never forget his eyes. That lifeless look of utter hunger, drinking in her struggle as if it was some sort of divine nectar.
She shook her head shaking off the pain and trying to block out the images her memories conjured in her mind.
But still those eyes watched her, it would be a while before they would fade again, back into the shadows of her mind.
Like she would, she prayed she would never have to look upon those eyes again. She would flee accross the border into Belisio and with some luck hide away in some no name village. She was still young and if the smuggler's payment was any indication, she wasn't all that undesirable, she probably would be able to find a nice young farmer and keep some pigs or something of the like.
"Seeing anything little miss?" She could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath, before she felt his hungry eyes. She didn't need to see him to know he was undressing her with his eyes. The look had been similar to the other one, only the smuggler's was...what was the word for it?
More transparent, was the best she could come up with it. The man had wanted a ridiculous sum of money, she had seen him take everything from the poor family that was hiding below decks, undoubtless he had done this before.
She had had nothing to give, no coin to please his gold lust, to make it worth his trouble. So she bartered with the only thing she had left, herself. If he delivered her safely across the border and away from battle then he could do with her as he pleased.
She stepped away from him as his roving hands had reached out, but missed, now making him lose his balance, making him readjust his footing.
"We'll cross the border soon and you know what that means little Miss. When I have kept my deal, you'll keep yours."
"Provided you'll be able to escape being sighted by those warships first." She demanded.
"What warships? They're miles off."
"Clearly their winds have changed, take a look over the starboard stern, they're going to catch up with us..." She said nodding behind the man to the small shapes on the horizon.