Chapter 30; The foe revealed;

Characters of the chapter

Alexander de Rozien, Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand Army of Orlais, supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

Edmond Brahms, Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

Gilbert Gagnon, Spymaster for Marshal Alexander de Rozien, liaison on behalf of Marquis Briala

Jon Snow, also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

Michel de Chevin, Chevalier of Orlais

Ynessa des Montagnes, Chevalier of Orlais, Dueling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais

Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian

Jon was at the head of a marching column, his horse plodding along a dirt path. To his left there was a patch of forest, before him the path was snaking forward endlessly, and behind him his army streamed forth in a line just as endless as the road. The sun was setting. In an hour or two it would be dark, and his army would be setting camp for the night. For several days this had been the routine. They marched for the whole day, stopped at the evening to rest, attended to whatever the army needed attending to while they were stopped, then started again the next morning.

And he was bored out of his skull.

These were the dull parts that never made it into any of the songs. On this journey to the next battle there was absolutely nothing to do except travel, travel, travel, travel… It was almost a relief to stop at the evenings and attend to the supply situation and the other minutiae of the army's functioning. At least that broke the monotony with more varied activity.

Jon tried to remind himself to try and enjoy the calm while it lasted. His army was now on its way to Moat Cailin. Lord Glover was already there, and by his latest reports he had been engaged by a large Orlesian force that by his message numbered in tens of thousands. It was impossible to know whether the force attacking Moat Cailin was the entirety of their army or just a portion of it, but it was now obvious that the Orlesians had decided to focus their attention on the North. Jon was pleased to note that his words had been taken to heart, and that Lord Glover was holding his ground despite the numerical superiority of the enemy. Now it was just a matter of reaching them before it was too late. Once they arrived it would be their job to hold the line in their turn and wait for Daenerys's army to catch up. Once that fighting started there would be no more calm for a long while to come. Once it started every day would be a day of fighting, with the Orlesians pushing against them and them resisting.

Jon was confident that they could hold their own while the enemy was still trying to get through Moat Cailin. There the forces of the North would have the advantage, no matter the enemy's numbers, no matter what crazy supernatural weapons the Orlesians might bring into the fight. That Lord Glover was able to defend the castle at all with just five hundred men against a force that outnumbered his many times over was proof this. But as soon as the enemy concluded they couldn't fight their way through Moat Cailin, they would begin seeking their way around it, and they had a fleet to accomplish this. He would have to be careful and be ready to act at once if the Orlesian army tried to make landfall elsewhere in the North. Early warning would be critical in that. The Orlesian army was far larger than his, so if they sought to come ashore he would need to hit them before they had had time to disembark all their troops. If he managed that he would have a chance to push the enemy back into the sea and inflict a crippling blow to them in the bargain. If they managed to level the bulk of their strength against his army… the situation would become very dangerous. But hopefully Daenerys's army would come along soon to attack the Imperials from the other side or to reinforce his army if the Orlesians had already circumvented his defenses.

As to where his wife's army was right now, he was uncertain. It had been impossible to get news south of the Neck. Even the raven he had sent to enquire whether Daenerys had been attacked by the Orlesian assassins had never returned. As a result he didn't even know if she was alive. That lack of knowing had made him worry constantly. He tried to keep it from getting in the way of his work. But during quiet moments it was difficult. Particularly during nighttime when he was trying to sleep his concerns over her had a nasty way of bubbling to the surface, depriving him of rest. During those times he tried to remind him of reasons that gave him cause for optimism. There had still been no attacks against him or any lord in his army. For some reason the Orlesian agents had avoided them altogether. The same could well be true of Daenerys as well. Perhaps the assassins had only targeted Winterfell after all? And surely if her army had been defeated on the field he would have heard of it despite the difficulty of getting news. Surely in that case the Orlesian army would have turned southwards to secure the far more tempting prize of the South Kingdom. Unless they already had, and were now on their way to finishing off his Kingdom as well? But no. Their army could not possibly move that fast, and if the South Kingdom had surrendered, then surely the Empire would have sent messengers telling him so in the hopes he too would yield.

In the end there was nothing to be done except hope. He just wished he could know for certain. He wished she could be there with him. Her council and her love would have been welcome things to have at his side.

Jon shook his head. The uncertainty was one more reason he disliked being on the march right now. There was far too much time to think, far too much time to conjure up one nightmare scenario after another. Still, had he known what would happen in a few moments he might have preferred the current circumstances.

Suddenly there was a commotion behind him, and he turned his head, thinking that perhaps one of the wagons had broken down or something similar. What he saw instead was that his marching army was being peppered with arrows coming from the woods. The arrows weren't many and they were not fired in volleys, but they were striking with remarkable accuracy, almost every one fired claiming a life.

"Empereur et Empire!" A shout echoed from the woods before Jon had even had time to recover from his shock. Then to the thunder of hooves hundreds of cavalrymen charged from deep inside the forest, crashing into the column.

"Shit." Jon cursed. "Defend yourselves! For the North, with me!" He shouted, charging against the enemy, drawing his sword. The ambush had sent the northerners into disarray, but they rallied to their King's example and attacked the enemy with everything they had. The parts of the column nearest to them had also realized what was happening and were moving to reinforce their comrades.

Jon cut down the first two enemy riders that sought to intercept him. Then Jon spotted an enemy mounted atop a an armored horse barking orders to the other ambushers, using a sword wreathed in lightning to cut down any of Jon's soldiers that managed to get too close. Guessing that this one had to be the leader of this raid, Jon urged his horse to a gallop heading straight for the Orlesian. Along the way two more riders and one dismounted enemy tried to get in his way. Each got a taste of Longclaw, not even managing to slow him down.

His target spotted him just as he was on him. The Orlesian spat out words that to Jon's ear sounded like curses, and swung his weapon in response to the King's attack. With a clang metal met metal, the electricity on the Orlesian's blade intensifying briefly. Fortunately the electricity was not conductive, but remained on the blade where it originated. Jon noted how skilled the Orlesian was as they exchanged a dozen more blows before Jon finally managed to land a hit on his opponent's shoulder. Then, for the first time ever, Longclaw failed to get through the armor, merely denting the metal. Yellow runes glowed on the section of armor he had struck, disappearing as soon as Jon withdrew his blade.

"Enchanted armor." Jon concluded with slight astonishment. He had heard that some rich Thedosians could have such things, but this was his first encounter with such. And apparently it was strong enough to repel even Valyrian steel. This was going to complicate things. The two battled on, matching blow to blow, Jon's eyes seeking a weak point in his opponent. Then he remembered what he had heard Edmond instruct about Orlesian armor: Go for the parts not covered in metal. With that memory in mind he brought his horse as close to his enemy as he could, their steeds flank against flank, and swung a heavy blow to knock the Orlesian's blade aside. Then, rather than waste precious moments to bring his sword around, leaving his opponent time to recover an parry, Jon instead made a pulling motion with Longclaw, sliding the edge along the Chevalier's belly. There was not much force in his attack, but the unnaturally sharp Valyrian steel bit through the fabric easily enough. Clearly the fabric was not enchanted like the rest of the armor. Not perhaps the most elegant of moves on Jon's part, but it got the job done.

Trying to hold his guts in with both hands the Orlesian fell to the ground with a groan. Like with other warhorses, as soon as the Chevalier was off the saddle his horse went crazy, rearing and kicking, and Jon hastily directed his own horse away to avoid being hit by the animal's hooves.

He turned his head to look around, then flinched as an arrow brushed his cheek, leaving behind a red scrape. Arrows fired with pinpoint accuracy were still hitting his troops, dropping northmen as they fought amidst the chaos. Raising his free hand to his cheek, Jon turned his eyes towards the tree line, trying to see where the arrows were coming from. It had flown in a fairly steep angle. Could it be that…?

That was when he spotted movement among the branches of a tree before another arrow was sent flying toward him. He ducked in the saddle and the arrow sailed over his head.

"Archers! Fire into the trees! They're in the trees!" He shouted, pointing. Those of his archers that could hear him and were in a position to follow his orders began sending arrows amongst the branches. Jon meanwhile spotted a crossbow lying on the ground, left there by one of his dead soldiers. Deciding that he was far too big and obvious a target on horseback Jon dismounted, letting his horse run away, and went to retrieve the weapon. As Jon picked up the crossbow he lowered his sword to the ground. Then he aimed it towards the tree where the previous two arrows had come from. As soon as he spotted movement Jon loosed a bolt, rewarded with a humanoid shape falling out of the tree. His joy over this victory was short lives, as just then he heard a woman's shout to his left, and turning his head he saw yet another enemy cavalryman charging toward him, weapon raised high. Having no time to reload or retrieve Longclaw, Jon instead chose to throw the crossbow at this new assailant. The improvised projectile barely grazed the Orlesian, but it did create enough of a distraction to make her miss her opportunity to attack, riding past Jon before stopping to turn her horse around for another attack. It was enough time for Jon to get his sword back into his hand. As the rider closed again, Jon spun, his sword striking in a wide arc. It struck the Orlesian in the chest, knocking her backwards off the saddle. Then, as she lay stunned on the ground Jon closed the distance with a few striding steps and opened her throat.

With more and more of the marching column reaching the battle site, the tide was beginning to turn against the Orlesians. Sensing this the Imperials tucked tail and ran, bringing the brief clash to an end. As they retreated Jon happened to catch a glimpse of an Orlesian with a sword that glowed like the sun itself. One of Jon's riders managed to close the distance only to be promptly decapitated by a swift slash from that sword. As she rode away the Orlesian turned her head, briefly locking eyes with the King before disappearing between the tree trunks. The other Orlesians also rode away, while the archers hiding in the trees had apparently vanished into thin air, the arrows and the dead the only sign they had ever been there at all.

With the fight having come to an end the surviving northerners went on to caring for their wounded and clearing up the remains of the battle. Wandering among the fallen Jon spotted the one he had shot with a crossbow, noting the slim figure and pointed ears of the individual. Other dead enemy archers had the same appearance.

"Elves… the enemy archers were elves." Jon realized with some surprise. He had heard of this people that lived in Thedas, but this was the first time he was seeing one. Only a handful of them had ever visited Westeros, and in the North they were even rarer than elsewhere. And he had certainly not expected to see any here, believing that the Grand Army comprised only of humans. Apparently that was only mostly true.

Moving on he next came across the horse of the Chevalier he had fought, apparently also killed in the heat of the fighting. "Horse armor. That stuff must cost a fortune." He muttered as he observed the animal.

"Not to mention raising the horse that can carry it." He heard a voice behind him. Turning he saw Edmond, having also arrived to the field of battle.

"There were also a few elves here, shooting at us form the trees. Can't say I was expecting that." Jon said, nodding at the Nevarran knight in greeting.

"Scouts probably." Edmond commented. "Back home I heard that a few such units comprised of elves had been established by the Orlesian military. And as I understand it elves do have a reputation of excelling in that battlefield role."

"And all these cavalry soldiers?" Jon asked, motioning around him.

"Responder battalions most likely. Orlesian armies frequently have a few units behind their scouts and in front of their main body of forces. Their job is to blunt surprise attacks so the main army has time to assemble. Also to disarm smaller ambush forces and exploit opportunities. What most likely happened was that the enemy scouts spotted our marching column and directed this responder battalion to attack it." Edmond said.

"So you're telling me that these were forward elements of a larger enemy force out there?" Jon asked.

Edmond nodded. "They're here. And now they know where we are as well."

"That's what I was afraid of." Jon said grimly. He turned to one of his soldiers. "Send out scouts of our own. Find out where the Orlesian main force is and how they got here. Until we know the army must maintain battle readiness. No setting up camp until we have a better understanding of the Imperial positions. And set up sentries as well so if the Orlesians try to attack us while we are looking for them we will have some advanced warning."

Dawn of the next morning was a few hours away when Ynessa and her units rode back into the Orlesian camp. She dismounted from her horse, and with her armor still caked in the grime and blood of the battle strode into the Marshal's command tent. Finding de Rozien and the Spymaster there. Briefly she wondered if they were up early or if they had been working through the night, before she went to stand before them at attention.

"Pardon me, My Lord. My unit just had a run in with King Jon's army. We engaged them as they were on the march, inflicting damage on then until their numbers became too great and we had to withdraw to preserve our combat effectiveness. Our forces sustained moderate losses during the battle. Unfortunately I have to report that Ser Louis Mignard is among those, slain by the King in the North I believe." She told them with a formal voice, although at the mention of Louis and Jon her tone briefly turned into what could best be described as being impressed.

"I see. How far away is their force?" The Marshal asked.

"Not far. Half a day's march, at the most." Ynessa replied.

"Very well. Thank you for your report. Stay put, I have new orders for you in a moment." The Marshal told her, then turned back to the spymaster. "Messere Gagnon, please continue your report."

The Spymaster nodded. "As I was saying, Lord Kronos reports that his delaying attacks have begun." He said. "I do hope that the loss of his son will not degrade his performance overmuch." He added dryly.

"He can be forgiven for being distressed over it. That dose is one of the most bitter ones a person can taste in life." The Marshal reminded.

"So I gather." The spymaster said with a shrug. "Although it is my understanding that Lord Kronos and his son did not always get along, which was the primary reason his son split to form his own House. They were even enemies at some small skirmishes between their forces before they eventually found a way to reconcile their differences."

"But as you said they eventually found a way to resolve their problems. And Lord Kronos did care for his son. We have conversed now and then, and he has frequently mentioned how despite their differences he had come to admire his son's progressive mindset, of how he was always the first to seize on new ideas and innovations that could improve his House. But I wouldn't expect you to understand the affections between father and son." Ynessa countered, not caring for the Spymaster's unfeeling attitude.

"On the contrary, it is precisely because I understand how this could affect him that I am worried about his performance. The next stage of our plans is dependent of him doing his part in holding the Queen's army back. If grief over the loss of his son should compromise his ability to do so, or worse if he should decide to blame us for what happened…" Gagnon replied calmly.

"There will be no grounds for him to do so." The Marshal interjected. "Lord Blackstar had my advice and permission to depart from that engagement and save himself, but he turned the chance down. His choice was his own, and so the blame for his death cannot be cast at our feet. Furthermore the rest of their family is safely on their way to Orlais, away from any possible harm. The Emperor himself has guaranteed their safety and wellbeing. The same applies to the families of the other Upstart Houses, as is evident by the fact your spies are helping them sneak past the enemy lines and to us, to safety. That is proof that we have no intention of treating our allies callously. And in any case he is stuck with us now. His is the last Upstart House standing from those that sided with us. On his own he has no chance of holding his own against the Royalists. If our forces fail then his son has died for nothing and he will never get to avenge him. That knowledge will ensure that he will do his part vigorously in our support."

"One should hope so. It is important." Gagnon said.

"On that note, what are the news from our forces at Moat Cailin?" De Rozien asked, bringing the discussion back on track.

"Major General Robespierre has arrived and has begun to lay siege to the castle. His initial reports are promising, and he is now considering various options to take the castle quickly but intact, as you directed. The enemy garrison luckily isn't very large, a few hundred soldiers at most, so he anticipates he will be able to take the castle in reasonably short order, provided unforeseen complications do not arise. The Major General also reports that as his troops passed through the marshlands they came under attack from the Crannogmen, just as Lords Kronos predicted they would be. Robespierre's troops have sustained light casualties as a result, but nothing that would compromise their ability to carry out their orders. In response your specialists have been deployed to the region." Spymaster said.

"Good, good. Then they will be ready to engage the Queen's army when it arrives. In the meantime they can contain the problem of the Crannogmen to the best of their ability." Alexander said, pleased.

"My Lord, if I may ask… what are these specialist you speak of? You never told us." Ynessa inquired.

"Troops recruited from the Nahashin marshes. Experts in fighting in that kind of environment. Now that they have been deployed they have been given broad leeway to conduct their efforts, so they can use that expertise to the best possible effects. No interference from higher levels of command or from regular military units unless they request it." The Marshal explained.

"Wow. Sounds like the Queen's army will be in for quite a shock." Ynessa said.

Alexander chuckled. "Quite."

"Now then, there is likely a battle in a day or two. I want you in command of the left flank. Michel will be in command of the right. Find him and bring him the news. And get word to my other officers as well. I want them all here one hour from now so I can give them their orders." He told her then.

"Very good My Lord." She said, and turned to leave.

"And Ynessa?" The Marshal said in a voice that made her stop and turn back to him.

"I believe I recognized a familiar glint in your eye. There may be chance for you to battle the King in the upcoming battle. But both I and the Empire want him taken alive so he can be used to force his kingdom into peace. If you come up against him you are not to kill him unless he gives you no choice. And under no circumstances are you to chase after him unless I order you to. Do not compromise the army." He told her.

"But ser…" She tried to protest.

"That's an order Ynessa." Alexander said.

"Yes ser." Ynessa said reluctantly, then left.

Even when all of their troops were not yet ashore the Orlesian camp was very large, so it was taking Ynessa a lengthy while to find Michel and deliver him his orders. Along the way she stopped on a hill where the army's engineers were setting up several trebuchets to be used in the upcoming battle. Further afield other engineers were hammering staves to the ground for range testing later. The machines were the lighter stone throwers in their army, the ones that could simply be dragged into position. The larger siege engines would have required assembly, and that would take too long. And such machines would be simply too unwieldy in a field battle, unable to be moved to stay in range of shifting battlelines. All the machines were pointed further inland, to the west where the enemy would most likely be coming from. As such this hill had a commanding view of the coming battlefield.

Ynessa examined the field of battle, trying to picture where the Orlesian army would be, where the Northern army, how would their forces be arranged, where various units would move during the course of the battle. She tried to guess where the king would be. And she tried to picture her confrontation with him, how they would clash while battle raged all around them. What he would do in a fight based on what she had already seen of him in the last battle, how she would respond and he would respond to her attacks in turn. In her mind's eye she delivered the final blow in a hundred different ways.

She was still thinking this when Michel suddenly spoke up behind her, making her start: "Ynessa, there you are. Is it true? Did you have a run in with King's army?" He asked, sounding exited.

"Oh, Michel. I was looking for you. I have some orders for you from the Marshal." She said.

"I know. He already told me. You missed the meeting." He replied.

"What?" She asked, turning her head around, confused. Had she really been here for that long?

"Damn, I forgot. I was supposed to bring word to the other officers." She cursed, slamming her palm to her forehead.

"Well, fortunately you weren't the only one he sent. It's as if he knew something like this could happen." He said.

"It's entirely possible that he did. I was just thinking of the encounter with the King, which yes, I did have. Also about tomorrow's battle. I suppose I lost track of the time." She said.

"Sorry about Louis." Michel said with a sad shake of his head.

"It's alright. I didn't know him that well. He was a good fighter though. Good enough to keep me entertained during a practice fight. And you know how difficult that can be." She said.

"The Westerosi King slew him personally, I saw him do it. For him to do so… it was most impressive, very skillfully done. And I have had words with the locals, the prisoners we captured and soldiers from House Kronos. They have spoken of him. They call him the best swordsman who ever lived. He might well be the best in Westeros. I think in him I might finally find a worthy enemy to face, the first in Westeros. I had almost thought there would be none in this country who could give me a challenge. But perhaps he will. I hope it to be so." She added, eyes gleaming.

"The Marshal did give the order that the King was not to be slain. You're not going to listen to that order are you?" He said.

"By the Marshal's orders he may be slain if he allows no other choice. I'm afraid those exact unfortunate circumstances will arise if I make it to the King first." She said nonchalantly.

"Walk softly there. De Rozien will be very irate with you if you defy his orders. He has overlooked such behavior on your part before, but his patience has limits." Micheld warned.

"He won't know enough to angry. Battles are chaotic things. My version of events will seem plausible. It might even be true. I'll be alright, so long as you keep your silence." She replied.

"I'm not in the habit of betraying the confidence of a friend, don't worry. But you could help me understand why this matters to you so much. This isn't the first time this has happened. You find an opponent close to your skill level and you become focused on them to the exclusion of all else. It's almost like an obsession. Why is that?" He asked.

"…You could say it's my nature." She said after a pause. Then she removed her helmet, showing him her face. Her face was plain but attractive enough, her hair short and dirt brown in color. Her most notable feature was the tattoo depicting the constellation Draconis on her left cheek.

"You see this?" She asked, raising a hand to her tattoo. "My mother's people gave this to me, when I still lived among them. The people of my Hold, the Starwatchers, had certain beliefs peculiar even to other Avvar. Whereas most Avvar worship a pantheon of gods, our hold worshipped the Lady if the Skies to the Exclusion of all the other gods. It is their custom to mark the faces of children with the constellation they determine to be in prominence at the time of their birth. They believe that the Lady of the Skies in this way communicates the nature of the child and their destiny. And so they mark us, so all in the Hold know what we are meant to be."

"And Draconis was the one you were marked with?" He asked.

Ynessa nodded. "The mark of the Dragon as they called it. I know what you must be thinking. Why should such heathen superstitions matter in explaining what I am? Perhaps it is just a superstition. I certainly have never been able to make up my mind on that. And perhaps that doesn't even matter. What matters is that the Avvar half of my people believed. I bore the mark of the Dragon, and in their eyes that influenced my very nature. It shaped what they thought of me, and how they chose to raise me."

Michel nodded his understanding, listening intently to her story.

"You must understand what kind of creatures dragons are like. They are beings of vast, raw power, glory on wings as they say. Only the mightiest warriors can hope to stand against them. But they are also creatures prone to violence, death and devastation. A High Dragon on her rampage can lay low entire nations. The Lady of the Skies had told my Hold that this was my nature as well. The best chance for me was to learn to control the power in me, to channel it in a useful way, so I wouldn't become a force that consumed all before it before consuming myself also, like a fire that runs out of fuel. So from an early age I was selected to be trained as a warrior. During the course of that I discovered my talent for combat. I also discovered my taste for testing my limits. I began to take more and more risks with my training, seeking ever greater challenges for myself. With every triumph over adversity my craving to reach even further grew. When I was old enough I began to develop a habit of seeking out worthy enemies to test myself with. People or creatures, it didn't matter, so long as they could provide me with a challenge. When I faced them I felt as if I truly lived. Sadly for me every time I found something worth my while I ended up killing them, and my search had to begin anew. It's a habit I've continued to have, and today it's the King that has caught my interest." She explained.

"So that's how that works for you." Michel said.

"You know, you never have spoken much about the Avvar half of your heritage. For instance you have never told me how your parents met." He said then.

Ynessa gave a small laugh. "It's not as exiting or romantic as a lot of people seem to think. But maybe I should regale you with that story too. Might as well now that I've started right? It does have some bearing on how I came to be here, after all. My father was with a caravan transporting goods from Ferelden to Orlais, when they got caught in a blizzard. Most of the caravan froze to death, and the rest were found by warriors from my would be Hold, including my mother. It might have well ended up with the merchants dead and the Avvar taking the goods for themselves. But it turns out that even half frozen my father is an excellent speaker and managed to talk the Avvar down and make a deal with them. In exchange for their lives and shelter from the blizzard the merchants agreed to bring the Hold goods for free in the future. In the course of honoring that bargain over the years my mother took an interest in my father. A few dalliances later I was conceived. As I said, not very exiting or romantic. Merchant meets girl while trading, merchant has kid with said girl, the end. There are countless people with a similar tale, the only remarkable detail in my case being my parents being a more unusual pairing than is typical."

Michel could only nod.

"My parents never married because of too different traditions but they continued to meet each time my father visited the Hold, meaning he was able to keep up with my life. And fortunately for me he did love me as his daughter, just as my mother did. Anyway, the reason why this matters in my tale is because eventually I became interested in the world my father had come from, so I started visiting Orlais with him as he returned. And I became enamored with the civilized world, the world of the Orlesian half of my heritage, a world so much larger than I had previously known. I saw the wealth, the artistry and craftsmanship of the other people I shared blood with. And I saw your armies, and I realized that among them I would have endless opportunities for advancement, endless opportunities to test myself against able opponents, far more than my life in the Hold could have given me. The Chevaliers were the greatest fighters in Orlais, so that was what I wished to become. Fortunately under Emperor Gaspard the laws allowed it, and fortunately my father had the patronage of de Rozien, who agreed to sponsor me. But of course in the bargain I became distant from my Hold, spending less and less of my time there, less and less of that part of my life I kept with me." She said.

"And how did the people of your Hold react to that?" He asked.

"Not very well unfortunately. Many of them thought I abandoned them, in favor of a people who many of them viewed as an enemy. My mother was perhaps the only one of them who understood. She knew my nature better than anyone. She knew that my desire to hunt was a fire that I could not quench. I could only feed the hunger. She grieved for me, because she came to believe I was doomed to hunt until I came across something I could not defeat, and that would be the end of me. She belived that their efforts to teach me control had failed in the end. But she knew that I had to pursue my destiny. So she let me go, and we parted on good terms." She said.

"Your story does explain a great deal about you. For instance how Sunblade came to be yours. That is the kind of drive it takes to claim it." Michel said.

Ynessa smiled and tapped the sword sheathed on her belt. "I remember the fight that earned me it. It was a good one. And the previous owner got to live, unlike most who fight me."

"You could say that he was one of the few who fought you and lived to tell the tale." He said with a smile.

She laughed. "All too true, my friend, all too true. Sometimes I think the Sunblade makes things too easy for my liking, but then again the truly great opponents can compensate for its power. Hopefully Good King Jon will be able to do so as well."