A clang that stopped it, before the gauntlet could fall. Then an icy comment from Lady Blackthorn. "If you dare," she warned. She finished it there, all that needed to be said. The rapier that she pointed at him spoke the rest.
Firyr growled, but looked away. Angry enough to continue the fight there, but not foolish enough to try her. Even he was uncertain of where he stood in regards to the likes of Lady Blackthorn.
Oliver watched, acutely aware. Ever so aware. As aware of his men as he would have been at his best, right in the thick of battle, commanding them to the sorts of victories that they had come to expect from him. Only now, his awareness fed his lacking. It fed the budding image of doubt that was building up in the back of his mind. Their difficulty in dealing with the enemy in front of them – and now, they were even fighting amongst themselves.
