A scream hung over the killing grounds as Jess charged forward, saber cleaving through the air.

The jar of crumpling bone pinning blade, her weapon spraying the battlefield with blood as she wrenched it free.

Her enemy dropped, spasming his last, helmet crumpled forward, blood and grey flecks of brain pouring from the back of his ruptured skull.

"Rowan!" Jess crashed to her knees, terrified for the brilliant Squire she admired so fiercely.

The girl she had cherished in silk and lace but an hour ago chuckled softly, lurching to her feet, wincing slightly. "I owe you one, Jess, thank you."

Jess saw the cuts in Rowan's hands. The result of a desperately parried blade piercing cuir bouilli, the tip wedging between steel links, both bruising and tearing into her flesh, but not too deep, thank the gods.

Jess shook with relief to see that despite the gouge in her gorget of stiffened rawhide, Rowan's throat was fine.

"Damn it, Rowan, be careful!" Jess sobbed, blinking free hot tears, gazing about her, catching the widened gazes of her battle companions, seeing that, save for bodies writhing and moaning atop the mounds and in the sprung pit trap, not one foe was left standing.

Rowan's only response was to hold her fiercely tight, whispering words that made Jess blush, holding her trembling shieldsister close.

"By all the gods, Jess, I thought I was dead."

Jess found her heart pierced by the most captivating eyes she had ever seen. The softest lips she had ever kissed.

"That was too close," Jess whispered. "Please don't ever do that to me again."

Her lover chuckled throatily. "One night in your arms, and I am a damsel in need of her knight." She shook her head. "I thought I had the bastard mastered, then someone smashed into my side and I toppled and, well, he held just the right sort of blade for close-in killing work, didn't he?"

Jess shuddered and nodded.

What horrid games they played. All her friends, dancing so close to death. All of them, counting on her.

She felt the sudden weight of intense regard upon her back, and spun around.

Mord, gazing at her so fiercely, bowing his head.

“Well done, Jess. There's fire in your soul. I can see that now.”

Jess swallowed and forced herself to say it. “Your war hammer was timely, Mord. Thank you.”

Mord flashed her the strangest of smiles. “I'm sure I can think of any number of ways for you to properly thank me later.”

Neal's intense gaze pinned her, his voice filled with concern. "Jess, you're trembling. Are you all right?"

A desperate shake. She would not weaken her resolve. Not even for a moment.

“Clean and sheathe your blades this instant! And pick up your spears.”

Neal blinked before slowly nodding. A number of Squires flinching as they took in the cries of the wounded, trembling hands cleaning and sheathing sabers and war hammers before retrieving their spears.

Jess forced herself to face the Velheim crossbowman closest to her, even then writhing upon the mound they had fought upon, bowels clearly lanced by the spear that had lain him low. "Quarter!" he begged. "You have taken the field. Please... a healer. I... gods, the pain!"

He whimpered, gazing desperately at Jess, who was steeling herself for what must be done. "I was to be an officer. My family has coin. Please! You have our parole. Take us to a healer..." Eyes widening in sudden horror. "Oh by the goddess, please don't!"

And then the most horrified of screams as Jess ran him through. Again and again. The last thrust through her foe's unarmored neck, cleaving into his brain. Only then was he still.

“Well?” Jess snapped, her friends stepping back. “You're Squires of War, and our daggers are as black as sin! You know our master's lessons! No mercy, no quarter to our enemies! Lest the man you spare would hunt you down and all your kin, but a handful of years from now!”

Pale faced and grimacing, her peers nodded, finishing the grim task no matter how their fallen foes begged and pleaded, until at last the grounds were silent as death once more, all eyes upon Jess, solemn and grave.

Jess shivered and looked away.

“Well done, Calenbry. Well done indeed.” Quiet words that filled Jess with fiercest pride, burning all shame away.

Slamming fist to chest, Jess bowed before her leader. "Yes, my general. We live to serve."

Eloquin flashed a bleak smile. “Then next time, lower your damned visor. I don't care how focused you are upon your Druidic arts, you're too precious a prize to lose over such stupid folly.”

Jess's face flushed with shame, even as Mord's mocking laughter washed over her.

She turned to glare, then saw how he gazed at her, and she swallowed, speechless, focusing on anything but him.

Jess took a dark sort of satisfaction seeing that she wasn't the only one who had fought with visors raised. They all had. Each and every one of them. For in truth, most armored knights did, once volleys of arrows had passed. Fighting at night, in the moonlight, tingling with the rush of first blood, none of them had even though to lower them. Most visors were fragile things in any case, their exotic helms some of the few exceptions, and only against short thrusting blades designed for closest combat were they vulnerable. Exactly what the Velheim crossbowmen had used against them, smart in their own way, rushing the Squires when their ambush had failed, their crossbows proving useless. She swallowed and hung her head, as did half their number.

Jess felt a curious rush of relief after Eloquin forgave them with the slightest of nods, curtly instructing them all to check for injury, quickly making use of the liniments Jess had prepared alongside Lady Vaila several days ago, and Jess was happy to note that save for superficial cuts and bruises, none of them had taken serious injury.

Then she caught Rowan's tremble, beautiful eyes too wide, gauntleted hands rhythmically clenching and unclenching.

Jess gently clasped her hand.

"Rowan, are you sure you're okay?"

Her friend shuddered and nodded. "Thanks to you, my Jess. Only thanks to you." Jess spent some moments carefully removing Rowan's gauntlets, happy to see that the cuts she had suffered had not gone too deep, for all that she had been fighting off the viciously thrusting blade with armored hands alone. Jess carefully applied her liniments even as Rowan hissed, before bandaging her friend's hands, gazing into eyes filled with a tenderness that sent Jess's heart racing.

"How does that feel?"

Her friend gripped her spear tightly and smiled. "I will be fine with a spear, Jess. For your liniments and for my life... thank you."

Jess grinned, stroking Rowan's cheek but once before gently lowering her friend's visor with a wink.

Twilight, Jess could tell, did not look pleased. “Outclassed as they were, multiple pairs sought to rush you. Somehow, they knew to focus upon you.”

Jess had no answer for that, even as Eloquin turned to address them all.

“Squires of War. This, your first skirmish, and you have handled yourselves well. Prudent enough to scout out what would have been a deadly ambush,” he said this while gazing at the mangled bodies of the men who had been crushed under tons of logs, buried by their own trap. “And wise enough to trust to the talents of your peers to give you the edge you needed to grasp absolute victory from this trial of battle.”

Everyone beamed at the praise. Even Mord appeared moved, strangely enough, and Johan as well, both Aspirants slamming fists to chest, much as did every Squire.

“Yet this was but the first test you face. A massive fortress lies before us, and it is for us to enter, claim what prizes of war lay captured within, and cut down our foes to the last man.”

Everyone nodded at this.

"Do not be shocked by what you might see. The depredations of slavers are many and varied, and we do not know to what extent these predators have savaged their prey." His lips curled up in a cold smile. "What we do know is this: No slaver will be leaving this keep alive."

Mord flashed Jess a fierce grin she instantly returned, a hungry wolf once more, eager to cut down these interlopers who had dared to rape and plunder her sacred forest.

When Eloquin spoke, it was to business once more.

“Jess. Shorten a score of these spears to five feet. Neal, Mord, secure the poleaxe heads.”

He turned to the others as Jess and her companions got to work reshaping near a score of spears to poleaxes, Jess giving a satisfied nod as she tested each head she placed upon shortened ash wood shafts, satisfied that the fusing would hold, the balance of the weapons just what they had trained with back at Highrock. Lighter than some poleaxe heads, the spiked tip was sharpened death, the axe blade and hammer head perfectly balanced.

The weapon could be used like a quarterstaff, hands wide upon the shaft for countering other heavily armored knights with poleaxes or longswords, each seeking to master the center and drive their opponent off balance before finishing them off. Yet against standard infantry, the poleaxe could be held and used similar to a halberd or greatsword, thrusting the tip forward like a spear, or lashing out with fearsome overhand blows, capable of crushing even armored skulls, few weapons or shields able to parry such an onslaught.

With now plainly visible tree stumps lining the field, Jess knew they would be fighting exclusively on foot, and so a score of poleaxe men made perfect sense, along with a dozen spearmen able thrust out in unison, break formations, and butcher their enemy before they could even close the distance. And as much as Jess loved her longsword, she knew the power and potency of formation fighting, and was able to use spear or poleaxe near as well as any member of their band.

Horses secured in rich foliage that would serve both to feed and hide their mounts, they proceeded carefully across the pitted field, springing neither trap nor alarm, though now the gates were firmly closed.

Jess looked up at the massive gate to the wooden fortress beyond, smiling grimly as she spied Velheim soldiers drawing a bead on her, quarrels from two crossbows whining harmlessly away, for all that hot eyes glared down at her from less than twenty feet.

“You had best leave while you can, scum! We have every right to be here, treaty signed by king and Crown! It is you who are trespassing, and you may rest assured that King Richard will hear of each and every one of your transgressions, General Eloquin!”

Jess blinked and hissed, catching sight of an imposing man shouting at them from the roof of the keep beyond the gate, wearing a cloak and doublet of burgundy and crimson, well-barbered goatee and mustache affectations almost exclusive to those of noble blood, and how he glared at them all with darkest hate.

Jess's breath hitched as the horror of recognition washed over her, dreading what was to come.