The garrison fell into absolute silence as Jack held Oscar high above his head, the spear's tip angled past his skull in a stance no one recognized.
Lord Dustpire leaned toward Lady Veyra, his voice barely above a whisper. "What is that? I've never seen that fighting stance before."
"Neither have I," Veyra replied, her honey-colored hair shifting as she tilted her head. "It looks ceremonial, but the killing intent..."
"Is anything but," Lord Arydn finished, his scarred knuckles white against his wine glass. "His bloodlust is seeping out of him."
Lady Mistfang studied Jack's positioning. "The weight distribution is all wrong for using a spear. His balance is entirely on the back foot, which should make him vulnerable to forward pressure, but..."
"But he's not planning to defend," Evelyne Veyra observed with a keen eye. "He's loading power for a single overwhelming strike."
