“With the smile that thought brought to his lips, he stepped into the Made Men with his staff spinning. Four swordsmen who knew what they were doing—any four veterans in the royal army, say—could’ve cut him to collops in their initial rush. Two who were really skilled could do the same, men like Chalcus or like Garric when his warrior ancestor was in charge. But these Made Men—well, they were willing to fight, which put them one up on the Sons of the Heroes, but there wasn’t much to choose betwe...en those boys and these fungus-white creatures for skill. Curved swords lent themselves to wide, flashy flourishes, which the Made Men did a lot of. Cashel chose, feinted toward the pair in the middle, and brought the quarterstaff out of its spin in a thrust at the creature on the left end. The iron butt cap crushed the Made Man’s forehead. Instead of flying backward from the force of the blow, the Made Man spasmed to the side. Its sword, held in a literal death grip, clinked and sparked on the plaza.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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