The rush of battle began to swell, and Kirian was going to let it flow. As soon as Gernev jolted into action, Kirian was moving panther-like across the battlefield. He caught Phia's nod as she passed into the darkness of the stagecoach ahead, both warriors silently positioning themselves as quickly as possible, killing intent compelling them forward like it blew ashes on the stained wind. While Phia darted forward, Kirian moved to flank, dashing east while keeping his concentration trained for the slightest movement. From five yards away from the coach, he pressed forward to his right at a 50 degree angle, anticipating the possibility that an opponent would engage him at any instant. With cold recognition, his expression glinted at the first of the Silver Shields that came to defend the final gate, a woman wielding what appeared to be a tremendous knife. Something in her mein suggested more danger than Kirian had encountered thus far, the possibility flashing before him making him bristle with anticipation. Maybe it was the way she stood. Maybe it was the way she held her weapon. Maybe it was the way that when he caught her eye, he was sure that she knew that this first move would decide their duel an instant.

Very well.

He came around the corner of the coach just far enough from the wall that his mark would have to extend to meet him, keeping himself at an angle to her, so as to attack on her diagonal from the right side. As he stopped his momentum, he kept his blade downward in a "Fool's Stance"-- it was a relatively defensive position for an attack of opportunity, but Kirian elected not to take chances with a foolhardy attack, and instead readied himself to whip a defense into place. He was canny enough to want to read his opponent first, but it was important to close the distance on his own terms, in case another soldier thought themselves bold enough to join the fray. This time, he decided to test her by pulling his sword upward and stabbing toward her right side, sliding his right foot forward but calculating to keep his weight close to his center. 

If she decided to press forward before he managed to complete his offense, his sword would have been close enough into his guard that he could react to it in his own space, using it as a lever to shift her attack around his center of gravity. This would allow him to press his advantage off of the parry, but if she decided to look for an opening in his guard after a dodge, he intended to keep a good six inches of his blade within her guard. In that case, she'd be able to attack before he could pull back to defend himself completely, but Kirian had often kept his life using his sword as a measurement stick; spacing an opponent out was often more valuable than a bit of blood lost early.

Kirian's movements were sharp and clean, almost mistakable for lazy in their apparent lack of effort, deadly in their deceptive speed. If this opponent decided to take her chances among these fractions of openings, she'd find herself bleeding on the cobblestones. A second's hesitation, a touch more force than necessary, and it would all be over. She had the look of a seasoned veteran, but there was only one means of proving the worth of that experience. Staying alive.