Rayan waited a few more seconds for all to see his lifted sword, then sprinted south with the blade held high like a torch. As he neared, he better understood the situation. The imperial soldiers had formed a two-man deep barricade, and were determined to keep everyone locked into the intersection. Once things were calmed, they’d imprison everyone within, then beat confessions out of the innocent under the guise of locating the rebels among them. Though fires raged wild, and smoke choked their lungs, the soldiers refused to relent. A scattered dozen citizens pleaded and cried to be let through, to no avail. Bodies of those who pressed too hard lay bleeding at the soldiers’ feet. Their decision was clear. Better these people of Thanet be dead and ash than escape. That knowledge filled Rayan with fury that knew no limit.

The paladin dashed toward the line of soldiers, sword blazing with white fire. It shone with every ounce of his faith. Frantic soldiers readied their shields as the civilians moved aside. Doubt and Heretic followed a few paces behind, and though they were three against many, it was the soldiers who were afraid.

As they should be.

Rayan batted aside a spear thrust with his shield and then brought his sword crashing down. It pierced armor like butter, cleaving his foe in half from shoulder to hip. He curled the blade up and around, catching an attempt to impale him. The imperial’s sword shattered in half. Rayan kicked him aside, smacked the nearest soldier in the face as he attempted to seal the gap left by his butchered ally, and then slashed at a third. The blade sliced off his jaw and opened his throat. Blood soaked the ground, smearing in circles beneath his feet as he fought. Block a hit, counter with his holy blade. Step by step, one after another, he worked to tear down those who would see the innocent die.

Arn blasted into the line, his paragon strength breaking their defenses. With each punch, another body went flying. Panicked screams marked the line’s imminent collapse. On the opposite side, Keles was the only one to struggle. She lacked the gleaming holy blade, and so, too, did she lack the paragon’s gifted strength. Rayan rushed toward her, sweeping across the line. He trusted his shield and plate to protect him from their errant blows. He swept spear thrusts aside, and jammed his sword into their mouths and chests. No armor could withstand that edge. Upon reaching Keles, he put his shoulder to hers, shield up alongside shield, and dared any to attack.

“I have no need of a nanny,” she said, even as she gasped for breath, the exhaustion of battle taking its toll.

“I offer you a sword and a shield, not a blanket.”