A strike from behind! Kris staggered forward, dropping his canteen and coughing up the water that had been sucked down the bad part of his throat. He stopped, and steeled himself. He couldn't keep his guard down, not even if he was choking! **"I-I'll not be defeated by a c, a cowardly trick like that!"** he hacked, still working out the last bit of water. He turned to face his assailant, eye-to-eye, ready to--

Pause. His gaze shifted down to meet hers. This was no dirty cutthroat in a black hood. It was a girl fair in face and limber in body. A fire welled up in his cheeks, but a vision of his grandfather's face formed in its smoke. His words rang inside of Kris, louder than they ever had before: *Prince Marth's enemies are yours, and they can be anywhere, anyone.* He shook the heat from his face. His cough had subsided.

**"I apologize for raising my voice."** he said, after a stiff bow. **"Are you also here to become a Knight of Altea?"**

He may have tried to put a sweet slant to his words, but his eyes were sour, wary. He couldn't help it. He still saw through the smoke of his grandfather's spirit.