King Titus Tatius ducked to the right, using the column as a barrier between the assassin and himself. Another swipe but the Greek stone protected him from death.
Read more... Metrius opened his eyes and awoke into a world of pain.
Agony seared through his head, thumping away as last night’s drink struck blow after blow into the anvil within his skull.
Read more... The face was thinner than his, showing the creases of age and hair a sheet of grey. How had this happened? How had he aged so much?
Read more... Even as he passed through the packed bodies, the familiar strong stench of musky sweat hovering in the air, he could not help his thoughts from wandering. Fifty four?
Read more... Metrius panted on the floor, his chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath and recover from the fight.
Read more... Stance. Stance and posture.
You could tell a lot from an opponents footing, his aura. Confidence, fear; anger, courage; skill, inexperience: aura and stance showed it all.
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