Hardy's sword cleaved downward like a falling guillotine. The polished steel caught the morning light, casting fractured rainbows across the cobblestones as it descended toward Pierre's skull.
Pierre didn't retreat. He stepped forward and to the left, his pipe rising at a sharp angle. Metal rang against metal as the pipe caught the sword's edge, deflecting the blade's trajectory just enough to send it whistling past his right ear. The force of the deflection sent vibrations up both their arms, but Pierre was already moving.
Pierre's left foot pivoted. His body rotated, slipping inside Hardy's guard. The captain's eyes widened. He'd braced for a clash of steel. Instead, his target simply wasn't there.
