Pyrus pulled back his visor, allowing the sunlight to bask upon his face. He drew in a deep calming breath, as he always did once the battle was complete, soothing his mind that for the past few hours had teetered between the possibility of death and life. The sun shone brightly, blinding his vision temporarily and instantly warming his skin, and yet all that he inhaled was the stench of death. Decay and rotting iron, as a thousand bodies pooled their entrails into the swamp built of blood. Every step he took through the grass caused him to sink while bubbling blood boiled in his wake. He removed his sword with that same comforting peal of metal, wary that as he trenched through a sea death, some of its inhabitants may be lying.

'Lord Commander Pyrus!' came a young shout.

He lifted his chin to better see through his raised visor. A fine dewy mist was rolling down from the mountains now, coating the dead in a translucent sheet. A gauntleted hand waved at him between broken spear, upturned carts, and fragmented shields. The voice called him again.

'Here I am, Captain,' he replied, as he plunged his sword down into the chest of some man. His twitching eyes and fluttering hands had alerted Pyrus that he was still alive. It was hard to tell, through the grime of battle, which side this wretch had been on, but little matter, there was no life for him, whether Pyrus dispatched him quickly, or allowed him to bleed out, it would have resulted in the same end.

'Lord Commander, we have gathered the survivors,' Rycard informed him breathlessly, after dashing through the battlefield.

'Survivors?' Pyrus removed the sword and gave it a quick flick with his wrist. The red-soaked edges glowed a vivid blue, and then cooled to a clean silver, gently simmering as the aetheric current pulsated along the edges. 'Why did these ones not run? Hmm? Too slow...?' He glanced up to see a row of men in the distance, kneeling in the mud, their hands tied behind their backs. 'Too stupid?'

Captain Rycard eyes remained transfixed on the body, while his mouth twinged with disgust. 'Uh...One is a Magi, Lord Commander.'

He lowered his head to better study for signs of sincerity from the captain. He was a young man, only twenty at the most, and his armour still seemed impeccably smooth. 'A knight?'

The captain shook his head, still transfixed by the sight of a man, no older than himself, hands reaching up the sky, yet stiffened by sudden death. 'Uh... no... no...He's dressed as a peasant, Lord Commander, but he wears the colours of Montpensier.'

Pyrus reached out one hand and placed it heavily upon Rycard's shoulder, causing the young man's eyes to lock upon his own. 'Captain, what is a knight, but a magi who is armed? We should know, for we are as that. If he's dressed as a peasant, then he is a liar or a spy. Is he there?' 

'You think he's a spy, Lord Commander?'

Pyrus continued his trudge across the battlefield, but this time with more determination, leaving the young Captain Rycard running in his wake. As he reached the line of sorry men, their faces streaked with the blood of their friends and enemies. he did not need to ask who the magi was. As people can recognise their own countrymen by sight, a Magi could identify another of their kind.

'What is your name?' he asked.

Some of the actual peasants looked up at him in curiosity, wondering if in their last moments, a Magi would lower himself to speak to them, but his actual point of interest paid him no attention. Pyrus removed his sword, the blade flashing blue with the movement, and swung it down to a quivering stop by the magi's cheek. Dark brown eyes rolled to study the edge lacononically, and then he sighed, twisting his face from one side to the other, as if this was a minor, but otherwise expected inconvenience.

'Answer him, sir,' Captain Rycard ordered.

'You would know my name if you were to look upon my face and see what lies within,' the magi replied.

Pyrus turned his blade to the human next in line. 'You, peasant, you know this man?'

'No, not I, me Lord. As sure as the sun doth-'

'Shut up.' Pyrus redirected his sword back to the Magi. 'Your rank at least,' he asked.

'I have no rank... but,' he raised his head and smiled up at the knight. 'I would speak to you. I have a great story to tell, and you would seem the man to tell it to.'

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