Because the hut, this small world, was full of swords.
Phantom blades hung in the air around him in a suspended constellation, the sword domain blooming to its full radius in the little space, and the assassin's blade and a good portion of the assassin's sleeve simply entered the ten meter sphere and were divided into their components, and the man stared at the stump of his weapon and then at the impossible wall of hanging steel.
The roof burst again, properly this time.
Nymeria came through it like a comet of fury and green light, and she had never actually left the hut's perimeter, because she trusted neither the prince's guards nor the human's intentions and had spent the night in the branches with her bow, hating everyone equally, and now she hit the fight exactly as advertised.
