Barely, though, each time, the peasant managed to dodge them, just swaying barely enough out of the way, though his fear was more than evident in the erraticness of his movements. He was backed up step by step, breaking up another duel elsewhere on the field with his hasty retreat. His sword still hadn't moved from down by his side. He could only stand to dodge – he had no counterattack against the length of the spear.
Already, Patrick men were charging onto the field and separating fights, with first blood being drawn. A soldier cast his helmet down into the mud in frustration. "It's barely a surface wound!" He roared, pointing to the shallow cut above his eyebrow, where another soldier's weapon had just barely nicked him."
Queen Asabel did not fail to pick up on that. "I suppose, in that instance, we can say that your rule set managed to declare a victory with far less bruises than would usually be required."
