<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">Nikolai Vedeneyev</span></span></span><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“ATTACK IF YOU HAVE ANY HONOR!”</span><br/><br/>The words seemed to propel both Nikolai and Pietr into action. Training, experience and discipline have that sort of effect on a person. There is no time to take a personal evaluation of the situation. There is no time to ask questions or wonder about whether you will do well or die. There is only do and maybe die, but not concerning yourself with the latter, just do!<br/><br/>A recently fallen soldier yielded a sword Nikolei found fit his bear like paw quite well. He grabbed the sword and hefted it over his head and to the right. His right arm up, bent and parallel to the ground. His left arm bent and hanging low across his chest. A horsemen charged into him. The lance works great in tightly packed formations against infantry defending without pikes in tightly packed formations, but not one on one in open ground,<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">without trees anywhere in sight</span></span>, like this situation. One rider with a lance against an agile foot soldier has no chance, especially against an experienced footman. Nikolai was able to sidestep the destrier with ease. As the rider passed, Nikolai swung the sword up and through the man, forcing him to fly backward off the mount as it charged forward. The former horseman hit the ground with a thud on his back, knocking the wind out of him. The sword may have penetrated a layer of his armor or even given him a nice laceration across the abdomen, but it was not enough to kill the man. Pietr rushed in, pulled a dagger from the man's scabbard at his belt and jabbed it repeatedly into his torso until he lost consciousness. The man's blood flowed into the soil, his last breath polluting the air.<br/><br/>Pietr dropped the dagger and yanked the man's sword from its scabbard at his side, jumping to his feet and joining Nikolai where they stood with swords at the ready. Two guards attempted to move in on Pietr and Nikolai. The Khoszul men stood back to back, shoulder to shoulder. Each parried and attacked, dodged and thrusted in a death dance with two of Peschek's men. At one point, Pietr bent over and Nikolai rolled over and onto his back then landing on his feet on the opposite side of Pietr. Both men were down on one knee looking at the guards charging at them. They leaned in, while thrusting with their newly found swords, piercing their former guardians' bowels.<br/><br/>The guards fell to the ground adding more blood to the dry cold soil. The two Khoszul men stood by the three women and the third man who appeared to come from the mountains of the Patriarchy. By this time, the tiny little ferret-faced slave master had mustered his remaining guards behind him and attempted to make a deal in order to save his own sorry hide. This day would provide no life saving settlement for Peschek and his men.<br/><br/>The dark haired woman who appeared to have elected herself leader of this impromptu army of six spoke to the man from the Patriarchy,<span style="font-style: italic">“Stay close Magic-flinger or use the horse’s corpse as a shield. I want you to breathe in and out slowly and calm yourself. Then try another spell. This is a battle now and for helping me redeem my honor I will protect you to the best of my ability. But just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you should hide behind another, we are not weak. We don’t need protecting. Now fight!”</span>With those words, the woman tossed the useless lance towards the group of soldiers and the slave master. It clattered to the ground making a loud noise. And then she charged into them.<br/><br/>Her actions spurned the two Khoszul swordsmen to follow suit. They followed their new found leader into battle, flanking her on both sides. Once again, Nikolai was the reluctant warrior as he had been for the past thirteen years. Again, training and experience precipitates all other emotions and desires. The consummate professional warrior doing what he knows how to do. They were not hunting game or planting crops like he had done as a boy. That world was a lifetime ago. All he knew was fighting and killing. He hated it, but it was what he did well.