Our blades sang through the air. Isobel's rapier was a blur, thrusting and parrying with the precision of someone who'd trained her whole life for moments like this despite her just being an Illusion Mage. I met her strike for strike, my longsword heavy but sure in my grip.
She pressed forward, her purple eyes fierce, black hair still mostly contained in that tight bun, though a few strands had escaped to stick to her sweat-dampened forehead. The fur trim on her silver armor shifted with each movement, gold patterns gleaming from the afternoon light.
"Who are you to claim that you deserve ownership of this House over its rightful owner?!" She shouted, her voice echoing through the battlefield laced with a raw edge I'd never heard from her before. "House Greaves has existed for centuries! My family's blood soaks these stones. I will not let it fall to you!"
