[h3]Rionach[/h3]
[hr]

The sudden interjection of a fellow lancer turned the entire situation on its head.  With both enemies' focuses diverted due to Jarde's arrival, Rionach enjoyed the opportunity to maneuver herself away from the cliff wall.  With the dangerous prospect of a two-on-one erased, Rionach could re-engage the fight with complete confidence.  Though she could not afford to take her eyes off her foes' blades for any longer than a split second, the brief glance she managed to get at her rescuer confirmed that he, too, seemed to be a blue blood.  [i]That's some luck!  As long as we survive, of course.[/i]  Jarde's status didn't go unnoticed by the sword-wielding soldiers, either.  They stood at the ready, far enough apart so as to be able to prevent any attempt to surround them.  Rionach kept still, spearpoint forward, as the prince interjected an idle comment into the midst of battle.  [i]Confident enough to be chatty, huh?[/i]  She didn't know whether that was a good or a bad thing.  Either way, this shouldn't be too difficult.  “Yes, sir!”  

Without further ado, she lunged forward, and Jarde feinted a thrust before bringing his lance around in a heavy sweep.  Rionach's spear sped in before the swordsman could reorient his shield, and a painful jab to the upper thigh came before the shield could repel it.  With an iron grip the spearwoman pulled her weapon back, returning it to neutral position to ward off a counterattack.  Meanwhile, Jarde's sweep knocked his adversary's sword aside, leaving his shield out alone.  A followup bash with the butt of his lance to the side of that shield sent the swordsman spinning a half-turn sideways, and from there a kick to the torso opened the way for a finishing blow to the ribcage.  By that time, Rionach was already breathing heavily, having to avoid and block a number of slashes from her enemy, each carefully calculated to not overswing and leave an opening.  Desperate for a way in, Rionach changed her stance to hold her spear with both hands above her head, the point at a downward angle, and she made a jab at the foot.  Anxious to avoid another potentially lethal hit, the swordsman flinched, then -realizing his mistake- threw caution to the wind for an overpowering charge.  

Not expecting such a bold move, all Rionach could do was hold her spearhaft horizontally to catch an overhead strike that might have otherwise split her collarbone to navel.  The swordsman did relent, and bulled forward with superior weight and strength.  Rionach stumbled backward, all her focus and energy expended on just remaining standing, until a final shove sent her sprawling.  Out of sheer luck, the butt of her spear stuck on the ground, propping her up for a split second.  Before her relatively-untrained mind could race to think of a way to capitalize on the situation, however, the swordsman was upon her.  A thrust would have killed her then and there, but her foe -his enthusiasm perhaps overpowering his reason- went with a wild horizontal slash.  At the last moment Rionach managed to hold up her forearm, and the blade caught equal parts pauldron and sleeve, stopping in its tracks.  The force rattled Rionach's bones, and a blossom of pain shot up her arm, but all she could see was the shield edge rising up to careen toward her face.  Before it could, a lance point sprouted from the swordsman's sternum, and with a gasp of agony he slumped sideways.

Jarde pulled his weapon free and held out a hand.  With a nervous, numbed laugh, Rionach accepted it and was pulled to her feet.  Around them, the battle seemed to have ended for the time being—furious but brief.  The Archaneans seemed to be on their way out, their leader presumably dead, while a look at the Varjans confirmed the same.  “Whoa.  Guess this group's got some real talent.”  Embarrassed at forgetting herself, she glanced back at Jarde.  As far as she was concerned, he might have as well had a halo above his head.  “Er, thank you, sir!  You saved my life.  I am forever in your debt.”  Still jarred, she performed a bow as best she could.  To have a royal scion intercede on a mere peasants behalf...she was astounded that any prince would stoop to such a level.  It was a footsoldier's job to be expendable, after all, whether or not she actually was one.  Everything she'd ever heard about royals indicated that the idea of risking one's neck for the life of a commoner was ludicrous, yet here he was.  Still smiling like an idiot, she ran her fingers through her hair, staring at the ground.

A yell rang out the next second, belonging to Anna.  Startled back out of her thoughts, Rionach packed up her spear and ran in her direction.  

Everything was a dark blur until the misfit platoon came to a stop in a forest, congregating around a stream.  The water could have been flowing a little faster for the sake of safety, but thirsty soldiers seldom thought of viruses and parasites.  As they alleviated their thirst, the big names spoke one after another, and Rionach listened carefully.  For the most part, she snuck glances in wonderment at Ferrian—only once before had she ever seen a Manakete, and even that was from a distance.  Fighting alongside one added another point to the list of unforgettable experiences she'd gotten in a single evening.  It would have been easier to believe this whole thing was a dream.  When Rionach held out a hand, she saw that it was still shaking from the shock of almost dying.  Closing her eyes for a moment, the spearwoman took one steady breath after another.

When the question came up of dispersal, Rionach knew she wanted nothing more than to run away from this conflict, and find somewhere safe to live and work until things felt normal again.  Then again...wasn't this the opportunity of a lifetime?  Her eyes settled on Jarde.  Agenda or not, she owed him her life.  Fear and doubt whirled about in her mind, but Rionach picked up her spear and approached him before kneeling, head bowed.  “Uh...pardon me, sir.  I d-dare not presume, but if it please my Prince, I would swear myself to your service to try and repay you for saving me.”  The butterflies in her stomach formed a whirling tumult, though Rionach couldn't tell why.  This was hardly the first time she attempted to ally herself to someone of note.  Was it the lingering shock of battle?  It had to be.