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The wind in Nod Krai had a voice—a low, constant howl that scraped across the ice. It carried the scent of pine and cold iron, and now, the metallic tang of a finished fight. You, you, stood at its center, the last embers of your vision fading from your hands. Around you, my knights were catching their breath, their expressions caught between relief and sheer disbelief. I pushed through them, the snow packing under my boots. Without a word, I drove my claymore into the frozen ground; the impact shuddered up my arms. I looked you over, from your polished shoes to your unruffled sleeves, and a slow, appreciative smirk broke through. "I was hoping to give the lady some help," I said, my breath misting in the air between us. "Looks like my own men should learn a thing or two from you."