Jezin was shocked by the man's reply, and more so by his ability to speak without moving his mouth. He cursed as his attack failed, feeling the sword knocked towards the ground. He was used to the reach a polearm granted, he was out of his element entirely. He saw the counterattack coming, and lept backwards, but he was too late. Though the longsword missed it's mark, it's tip did manage to strike upwards into Jezin's chest. The scale mail offered some protection, but the bodyguard felt a sharp sting. The tip of the blade had found it's way underneath one of the scales and into his chest. He stumbled back a few feet, blood dripping from the hole in his damaged armor. A drop hit the floor. He clutched the wound for a moment, eying his opponent. No, not here. It was not his time yet. He had to protect Sophia, it was the oath he had sworn. His blood, his body, his very soul were in service to the Empress and her family, he would not allow this man to do her any harm. He gripped the hilt of Tyler's sword. Awkward or not, the blade would taste blood. He had fought someone with two weapons before. He struggled to remember any lessons the fight had taught him. He charged forward, rearing the blade back for a full on thrust, but just before making it he twirled around his opponent on the side of the dirk, just out of the weapon's short range. He used the momentum from his spin, swinging the blade with all the force he could muster in a horizontal swing towards the back of the man's knee. A crippled man couldn't jump.