The Knights marched on. They had been on the move for a few days now. Some scouts went ahead. They found a company of soldiers.  Those who were not fighting stayed where the group was resting, and a group of fighters went out to ambush the soldiers.

At a signal from Bran, who was leading the attack, the group's archers began firing. When the soldiers came on the attack, the rest broke cover and charged. There was a clash of steel and the air was filled with shouts. Jeth fought hard, Gavin beside him. A young man came barreling toward Jeth, and Jeth engaged with him. The man fought ferociously, his blows taking all Jeth's strength to parry. Gavin came at the soldier, distracting him slightly. Jeth stabbed the soldier in the throat. 

The fight continued, until Bran gave the signal, and the Knights melted into the forest. They were faster and quieter than the soldiers. They had a few casualties, but their surprise attack had been costly to the soldiers of the Empire. 

Jeth was shaking. He had done it. He had killed a man. A man not much older than he was. A man who maybe was forced to fight. His first kill. Why did he feel so guilty? That man would have killed him. "It was me or him," thought Jeth. "What choice did I have?" But it didn't make him feel better. 

When they had found a safe place to stop, Jeth cleaned his weapon and himself as well as was possible. But he still felt unclean. 

The group rejoined the main company. That night, Jeth couldn't sleep. He couldn't get the face of the man out of his mind. He cried silently.