I dodged to my right, keeping my shield between myself and where his blade (and later himself) appeared. Thinking myself lucky, I swung my blade. It cut through cloth, and threw off blue sparks from the chainmail underneath.
"Ah, crap." I remember saying.
The statistics he'd quoted before the battle weren't all fictional; there was some manner of enchantment on his armor. <1>
He swung (yes, swung) his estoc. It was foolish and arrogant enough that it almost caught me off guard. An estoc has a sharp edge, yes, but it is not built to endure such impacts. It isn't, properly speaking, only a dueling sword, but...
Yes, I agree. The details of blades are not important to this tale. Weapon of History or not, enchantment or not, he was willing to use his blade improperly. As though he weren't trying to harm me, but only touch me with the blade.
It was a clue; if I'd been paying attention, I'd have seen the truth of the matter then.
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You are all wonderful, and you deserve more than the intermittent chapters I'm putting out. Thank you, for your ongoing patience and for just being here to read. It matters to me, and makes my life better.