[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zQXUPoA.png[/img]
[sub][@Richard Horthy][@Rune_Alchemist][/sub][/center]

Serenity nodded, once.

Bedridden for a few months; was that something this man could afford, now that the possessions of his profession had been damaged so? Unlikely. But that’s why [i]this[/i] order existed, after all. What use was the wealth of the Church, if it could not soothe the suffering of survivors? Off in the distance, she too heard of what words the dying and the captured spoke. Beyond stories of a caged beast, one that shrieked and consumed rabbit meat, it was nothing particularly noteworthy, and all within the expectations of what deserters could come up with. The smell of tobacco tickled her nose, the invitation founded in an open case.

She closed the lid firmly, gently, expression hidden beneath the visor of her helmet.

[b]“A kind gesture, Dame, but there’ll be plenty of smoke to inhale soon enough, if Alodia has any say in it.”[/b] A pause. [b]“Save one for me for after our victory march.”[/b]

…

And now, there she was.

Shield up, spear in hand, sword at one hip, and hatchet on the another, Serenity drew in a deep breath, feeling the blood in her veins, the tautness of her sinew, the flexing of her muscle. Lungs expanding, mind sharpening, thoughts flattening. In front, Sir Villis stood, resplendent as always. Behind, her comrades, shadowed by the treeline, immersed in the darkness of dusk. Firelights flickered in the distance.

Soon, those flames would become conflagration.

But no flames could outshine the Moon.

Fanilly’s cry sounded, a girl’s high-pitched call into the night, and Serenity responded with her own, a throaty roar rushing out from the depths of her stomach. Her spearpoint set, her shield aligned, she lunged forth, a cavalry charge on human legs. To their credit, the bandits were armed. To greater credit, none of them had moved to take their prisoners as human shields.

Didn’t mean she’d give them the chance to, either way.

The first lunge caught a [i]bandit[/i] in the chest, tempered steel puncturing through chainmail as if it were nothing more than cloth. She twisted the haft as she drew it out, letting him choke on his own blood, before the second thrust caught another mid-charge, slicing deep into his knee. He fell over, and Serenity herself advanced, a boot stomping down onto his neck. A glint of light caught her eye and on reflex, she deflected an arrow with her shield, the projectile skipping off the rounded top. An archer, further off from the rest. Couldn’t enjoy the advantage of reach against that one…but it was irrelevant anyways.

She had felt the force of that arrow against her shield. It was insufficient for punching through her armor, so Serenity turned her attention elsewhere.

A cage in the distance, covered. More bandits nearby.

A split second decision.

[b]“Dame Cecilia, I’ll open up the lines! Clear out the ones around the cage!”[/b]

Two hands grasped the spearhaft. Veins bulged out beneath the cuirass. Her heart accelerated. Her emotions heightened. Her fangs bared.

A true knight was both might and majesty.

A true knight was a lion.

And with a broad swipe, the Arcedeen scion displaced the men before her, scattering them just long enough for an archer whose skill surpassed the bowmen of House Autmere to have her pick of the targets.