The wiry man—her initial attacker—charged, believing her to be vulnerable. In one fluid motion, he had dragged his sword across Cynthia’s belly and repositioned it for a strike against Jenny. XXNX He circled her warily. Emmy deflected the blade and countered with a thrust at his gut, which he parried at the last moment. A young girl whimpered pitifully, curled on her knees and hugging the hole in her belly. I could favor those who pledged loyalty to me, or demand tribute from those that did not. Emmy looked around for something to fight with. Cynthia herself was still alive, screaming shrilly on her back a foot away from Jenny, frantically trying to stuff her guts back inside her. Defending the town were a bunch of sniveling trainees and a handful of ritually blooded but untested fighters. “Thank you,” I whispered as I closed her eyes,
