The battle faded around them.
Not in truth—
Men still fought.
Steel still rang.
But in that moment…
It became distant.
Muted.
All that remained was the space between two men.
Corvyn Ravaryn.
Ser Roderic Bolton.
They stood facing one another in the blood-stained snow.
Roderic moved first.
Fast.
His blade cut low, aiming to take Corvyn's leg.
Corvyn stepped aside, Nightfeather snapping down to deflect the strike with a sharp ring of steel.
No wasted motion.
No hesitation.
He countered instantly.
A clean, direct cut toward Roderic's chest.
Roderic twisted, the blade grazing his armor instead of biting deep.
He smiled.
"Good."
Corvyn said nothing.
He pressed forward.
Strike.
Turn.
Strike again.
Nightfeather moved like a shadow—silent, precise, relentless.
Roderic met him blow for blow.
Unlike the soldiers around them, he did not panic.
He did not rush.
He fought with control.
With patience.
Their blades clashed again.
And again.
Each strike measured.
Each step deliberate.
Snow churned beneath their boots, stained darker with every passing second.
Roderic lunged suddenly, faster than before.
Corvyn barely turned the strike aside.
The force of it pushed him back a step.
Roderic followed.
"Not just a hunter," he said, his voice low. "A warrior too."
Corvyn steadied his footing.
"I don't talk while fighting."
Roderic laughed softly.
"Pity."
He attacked again.
A flurry now.
Faster.
Sharper.
Corvyn gave ground under the sudden pressure, deflecting each blow by the narrowest margins.
Sparks flew as steel met steel.
Then—
Corvyn changed.
His stance shifted.
Lower.
Tighter.
His movements became smaller.
Sharper.
More efficient.
Roderic noticed instantly.
"Ah," he murmured. "There it is."
Corvyn struck.
Not with force—
But with precision.
Nightfeather slipped past Roderic's guard and cut across his arm.
A shallow wound.
But enough.
Blood darkened the Bolton knight's sleeve.
Roderic stepped back slightly.
His smile faded.
"Valyrian steel…" he said quietly.
Corvyn advanced.
"Ends things quickly."
Roderic's eyes hardened.
"Then let's not prolong it."
He came forward again.
Harder this time.
All restraint gone.
Their blades collided in a brutal exchange.
Corvyn met him head-on.
Strike for strike.
Step for step.
The rhythm of the fight changed.
Faster.
Deadlier.
More dangerous.
Then—
A mistake.
Small.
Brief.
Roderic overextended.
Just slightly.
But enough.
Corvyn saw it.
He moved instantly.
Nightfeather flashed.
A clean, dark arc through the cold air.
Roderic tried to recover—
Too late.
The blade cut deep across his side.
The Bolton knight staggered back.
Blood spreading fast across his armor.
Silence returned between them.
Heavy.
Final.
Roderic looked down at the wound.
Then back at Corvyn.
For the first time…
There was no smile.
Only understanding.
"Well fought," he said quietly.
Corvyn held Nightfeather steady.
"Stay down."
Roderic gave a faint, almost amused breath.
"That was never an option."
He lifted his blade again.
And stepped forward.