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The attacks came like a blur, the slender blade of the rapier in a double thrust before a backpedal slash that deflected the expected attempt to get an upper hand and force the veteran back on defensive. Sparks flew from the cross of blades as the Marcus lunged forward with another straight thrust, side stepping the retaliatory swipe of the longsword from his opponent. The flat of the rapier struck the mans rump as he tried to reposition for an overhead attack at the seemingly overextended Marcus. 
One more clash and the duel was over as the agile Marcus slapped the longsword away with a brutal backhand slash before another lightning thrust, the tip of his sword resting at his opponents throat. 

"Fair win, as usual." Said Templar Augustus Lorne. A senior of the order himself, the man was largely built and favored powerful swings as opposed to Marcus' swift stabs and slashes.

Marcus lowered the rapier and tossed it aside to shake the mans hand, offering a hearty pat on the shoulder.

"One day you'll swing that sword right. Till then, you're stuck at the bottom rung." Marcus offered a rare laugh as the big man playfully punched him in the shoulder, both had wry grins on their face. 

Another Templar waiting off to the side cleared his throat to get Marcus' attention. When Marcus turned to view the messenger he had a good idea what it was about.

"Are they here, then?" 

"Yes sir. Led by a red haired woman escorting a sea elf. She's at the head of a large group of rather unsavory looking fellows. Shall I send word ahead of your arrival?"

"No need. Return to your duties, thank you." 

The Templar offered a bow and strode off as Marcus hooked his foot below the rapier he had thrown aside, deftly kicking it up into his waiting hand and into the sheathe at his hip. Right beside it was his recreated artifact weapon, fury. Despite only being a few years old the handle showed a lot of wear from its use. A larger barreled version of this same weapon was waiting just off to the side, a long leather strap had been attached to make it easier to carry across his back. Slinging the weapon over his shoulder he offered one final salute to his sparring partner and left the training halls.

The corridors to Sunderlands audience hall were bustling with activity as usual, the machinations of the city were all run through this building, the cogs of civilization turning at the command of one powerful woman. To work by her side was a pleasure he would not have enjoyed 5 years ago, but the war had been hard won. The watchers now outlaws. The Ocular enforcing his strange commands with an iron hand. Things had changed so much over so little time that it all seemed like one big dream of some sort.
Still, there was no time to rest. If Tyr was in the city then something big was happening.

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Marcus arrived at the audience hall just as Evelyn Sunderland addressed the gathering. Interestingly, there were a few faces he recognized and others he did not. A hooded figure with a slender staff was one of them. Like himself, a watcher. One who had been loyal to Theodore Doubleblade in the past. Karl Shadowthorn was in attendance as well, a fact that brought a small smile to his face. The heroes of the dawn were still looking for a fight apparently.

Marcus silently treaded up to the back of Evelyns chair and took his regular position at her right side. Marcus caught Tyrs eye and slowly brought his hand over the holster of his pistol, casually unsealing the harness before moving both hands behind his back. A silent nod was all he offered to his comrade.