Ludwig's reaction was instant as he drew Durandal preparing for a battle, "You guys are making a mistake," Ludwig said.
The blade cleared its way out of Ludwig's ring with a clean, low note that cut through the forest hush. He set his feet without thinking, weight evenly split, the boy's breath quickened as he realized blood was about to be spilled. Sap-sour air pressed close between trunks; the canopy filtered the light into silver metal bracelet that striped Ludwig's left sleeve. He held his gaze level, not at any one bowstring but at the spaces between them where decisions were made.
"STOP!" the boy howled. "He isn't a bad guy! He said he knew lady Ulesse!" the kid shouted.
The cry broke against the leaves and came back thinner. It pulled a dozen sights off Ludwig and onto the small figure half-hidden by his cloak. The boy's throat worked after the shout, as if the word had been heavier than his ribs could carry. He flinched at his own boldness, yet did not take the words back.
