The enormous sword came down again. Fanilly's body lurched to the side. She could feel the air rushing past her, the narrow miss of the enormous hunk of steel's edge.

Sir Rickert's body, cut in half, lay just a few meters away.

Her fault.

If he'd been able to pay attention, maybe he would have evaded it.

If he hadn't been concerned about her.

But now he was dead. A noble knight in her command, dead.

"Do you know why I'm here, little girl?"

The man's booming voice came at the same time he raised his enormous sword, bringing it down.

This time, Fanilly couldn't move swiftly enough. All she could manage, just barely, was to raise her own blade in a bid to put something, anything, between her body and the enormous hunk of steel.

Her vision flashed white, pain shooting up her arms just from the impact like a bolt of lighting, and she was taken entirely off of her feet.

The small blonde gasped as she hit her back with a gasp, barely maintaining a grip on her own sword.

It was her fault.

Jeremiah advanced, raising his blade skyward, over his head.

As it came down, Fanilly ignored the protest of her limbs and rolled, the tip of the huge man's weapon slamming into the spot she had just occupied seconds earlier.

A direct hit, even if it couldn't fully pierce the dwarven-forged plate, could mean death.

"The Iron Rose Knights [i]slaughtered[/i] my men at Gervohnnen!" snarled Jeremiah, "Butchered them, one after another! It only makes sense to return the favor, doesn't it!?"

His sword was still stained with Rickert's blood.

Fanilly could see it in the fire's glow.

Her fault.

But...

That was no reason just to fail.

This man, Jeremiah, was a monster. A hunter who preyed on the weak. Was it all for the sake of drawing them here, just so he could take this revenge for the men who died during the Red Flag Rebellion.

Fanilly didn't know. But the site of the stolen armor cladding the bodies of the bandits, of the injured farmer who had callously been used as bait, the prisoners caged, in chains...

"... E... Enan Ilisir."

For Justice's sake.

The old words in Talderian, spoken again and again by every Captain since Saint Elionne herself, left her lips.

"Hah, so killing my men was justice, is that it?!" Jeremiah declared with a laugh, raising his blade.

The deaths of the rebels who sought to overthrow the crown, slay the royal family, incited by Ansel Cazt. The rebels who would kill anyone in their path.

It was justice.

And there had to be justice here today, too.

For the soldiers killed. For the prisoners.

For Sir Rickert.

Fanilly tilted her blade forward, the tip of her sword pointing towards the huge, muscular man. She was no captain if she couldn't stand before him. She was no captain if she couldn't do all she could in the name of a slain knight.

In the name of justice. In the name of victory.

"Hah, very well then!"

She pushed forward, as his blade swung, missing by a hair's breadth.

His abdomen was exposed.

But she couldn't reach it. The side of Jeremiah's enormous sword struck her in the side, the blow reverberating through her sturdy plate and forcing her to the ground. The blonde knight gritted her teeth, breath hissing through them as she staggered and hit the ground, trying to roll over and bring her sword to bear immediately.

A huge hand slammed into her helmet, and she couldn't suppress a gasp as it was wrenched from her head, that same hand suddenly wrapping around her throat and hauling her into the air, gripping tightly. Her sword hit the ground below as she was lifted upwards by her neck.

No... no, she couldn't let this happen... she couldn't...!

"The ultimate humiliation for the Iron Rose Knights wouldn't be to kill you," commented Jeremiah, a fire burning in his eyes, "It would be to take its captain as a trophy. A plaything. I'll break you down. Your mind, your will. You'll be a broken doll who can only dance to my desires!"

His fist was tightening. It was getting harder to breath. Fanilly's legs kicked, her heart hammering, eyes wide as her breathing grew more strained by the second.

It was growing harder to see. Harder to move.

Then, a voice. Even now, over the din of combat, she could hear it.

Sir Gerard. Then, Sir Fionn.

"What?"

The Bandit King's eyes left her. He hadn't expected anyone to get here so quickly.

Fanilly's hand found her dagger on her hip in that split second of distraction.

In seconds it was thrust upward, embedded deeply into the flesh of left arm.

With a gasp of pained surprise, his grip loosened.

Fanilly was free.

Coughing, she hit the ground, falling to her knees as she caught her breath, air rushing back into her lungs. Her right hand reached out, snatching the hilt of her sword as she sprang back, just barely evading the edge of that massive blade. Once more.

His left hand was stuck open, the fingers twitching weakly as rivulets of blood ran down his muscular arm.

"You little bitch!" he snarled, now forced to wield his enormous sword one-handed.

She was still trying to recover her breath.

But now she wasn't alone.

[@Raineh Daze][@Rune_Alchemist][@Psyker Landshark][@HereComesTheSnow][@Saiyan][@The Otter][@Crimson Paladin][@ERode][@Psychic Loser][@Richard Horthy][@Rin]