Snippet #2687181

Officer Warde's muscles tensed and his hand twitched, ready to draw his sword off his back at a moment's notice. She wore a stance full of openings, practically begging him to cut her down. Her over aggressiveness would be her own downfall and all it would take is a single slash of his sword.

He gave her another look. The coat he thought covered her more risqué garments was one used to thwart the cold and the armor it was concealing was good, worn from use but still good. What's more, the hilt of her sword looked just as well used, it's leather grip discolored from years of sweat and friction.

“You really are a merc, huh?” Of course, he thought, they could be stolen. But her posture spoke of a readiness born of years fighting.

There's no way he could lose this fight, not to a lowly mercenary, not to a simple woman. He was no fool. She could probably hold her own, he could see that much, but he could probably take her down. The difference was in their armor. Warde stepped back and yanked off his cloak to reveal the steel half-plate armor he wore underneath. The problem is that neither of them would go down without a fight.

“Then let us make a wager” he spat out the words, “dual to first blood. You win, you can enter the city and do your business however you like. But if I win,” he sneered, “You join the City Guard.”

Slowly, Warde drew his sword from his back, “So, what do you say, girl?”