[center][color=#FFF4B7][h1]Albrecht von Varley[/h1][/color][/center]
[right][indent][sub][color=#FFF4B7]Interacting with:[/color] Everyone & No One — [color=#FFF4B7]Location:[/color] Garreg Mach Monastery[/sub][/indent][/right][hr]
[indent]It was a strange thing. Albrecht had spent most of his young life preparing for moments like these. To take up arms in the name of the Goddess, defending her loyal worshipers from the depredations of those who chose to flout her laws, or live beyond her light. Yet now, standing the thick mists of Magdred Way, he found himself beset by a foreign unease. If it could have been classified with a single descriptor, the feeling would not vex him so. Not fear, no. He had looked oblivion in the face when the Black Death burnt through Fódlan and lived to tell the tale. Nothing a group of heretical mountain brigands could bring to bear could hope to rival that which fell commoners and kings alike. Apprehension perhaps described it best. He had never tested his steel in true battle. He had sparred with some of the finest blades in all of the valley, yes, but never with the aim of truly harming his opponent. The men he would face on the field were apostates, but could he truly bring himself to fell them like so many trees? Perhaps his gentle nature betrayed him. The Goddess was forgiving, but those who fought in her honor would sometimes need to be merciless. Today, Albrecht would reconcile that fact.

Their foes had certainly made that much easy. While he lived in his own mind, caught up in a philosophical reverie, the enemy had managed to surround his company. They had employed some foul sorcery to encircle the group entirely, and it seemed they would need to fight for their own lives before they could begin to save the lives of others. The young knight drew the blade at his hip, taking comfort in its weight as he rolled his wrist in preparation for the combat to come. The Professors did well in delegating tasks to the forces under their command. He could do little and less to the mages on the roof tops and the pegasi soaring high above, and so their elimination would have to fall to their own mages, and the archers who supported their efforts. That made things all the easier. All he had to do was place himself between the heretic infantry and the ranged component of their group. With the Goddess guiding their hands, the rest would solve itself. 

Professor Tomai's standing order to hold their positions proved unnecessary—they were descended upon by footmen from every direction before even the boldest of their number could go charging into battle. His prince had taken to one of their flanks to engage the soldier closest to him, and to better round their defenses, Albrecht hurried to the side opposite of Kayden. It was somewhat difficult to see his opponent through the remaining mists, but armored in his faith as he was, he found the apprehension of earlier moments melting away in the face of the coming fight. Fingers coiled tight around the tilt of his blade, the blond called out to his opponent.

[color=fff4b7]"Are you men or beasts, to attack a foe while unseen? Do your worst!"[/color] It wasn't entirely clear to him whether his rebuke of their actions caused the brigand to charge forward, or whether he had intended to attack anyway, but true to the orders given, Albrecht fell into the defense as the enemy's blade rushed to meet him.

Fortunately for the young Varley, he had always been fleet of foot and lithe of build. He was able to backpedal a step and a half, leaning back so as to let the sword cut the air before him rather than find purchase against his mail. The opening strike had been wide and powerful, and it took the footman a heartbeat to recover his momentum and prepare to swing again. He let the sword roll, channeling the momentum of the first into his second, another heavy diagonal swing. In the heat of the moment and with fog blurring his vision, Albrecht couldn't make out much of his opponent, but he must have been powerfully built to depend so heavily on might. But might did not trump skill, and the flower of a thousand practiced parries bloomed as the blond raised his own sword and let it clash against the incoming blow. With the side of his blade he deflected the incoming strike, letting it fly to the wayside. 

He could still feel the familiar ring of steel on steel in his hand and up his arm as he stepped in. Albrecht's parry had opened the man's guard, and he executed on that opening with a rare swiftness. Normally, he would stop shy just before contact. Normally, his opponent would also be dressed in fine plate and steel rings, good armor to stop the tip of his blunted weapon before it could even result in an accidental injury. But this was no normal spar in the yard. This was a fight to the death. A fight for the Goddess and a fight for good. He wouldn't stop. 

He didn't stop.

The sickening crunching noise that accompanied the sharpened tip of his sword finding purchase in the brigand's throat. Right where the collarbone terminated, where a gorget would ordinarily be on a man who could afford it. He drove forward, hard and fast, bracing his pommel with his off hand as the opponent recoiled in shock and pain. Another horrible crunch, and he was convinced the tip must have exited through the other side. He stood for a horrible second, staring with eyes so filled with adrenaline that his pupils may well have been pinpricks. He had hardly realized what he had done until the body slumped forward and he was forced to shove the staggering swordsman off him, pulling the stained steel of his blade free and watching the life blood pour from his foe like so much water. 

All the agonizing he had done, and in the blink of an eye, on a reflex alone, he had taken a life. And in the moment, with the knowledge that others would soon be upon him, and he would be forced to take others, he felt only a numbness in his heart as he wheeled around to face another. 

[color=fff4b7]"Who is next?!"[/color][/indent]