The remaining three finally overcame their shock and attacked together, trying to use their numbers advantage. They moved with the trained coordination of those who'd studied combat, their enhanced elf reflexes making them fast.

Not fast enough.

Jorghan ducked under the first punch, redirected the second with a movement that sent its owner stumbling past him, and caught the third elf's wrist mid-strike. He twisted, using leverage rather than pure strength, and the elf's own momentum became his enemy.

A sickening crack suggested something important had broken as Jorghan released his grip and let the youth fall.

The elf who'd stumbled past recovered quickly, spinning back with a kick aimed at Jorghan's head. Jorghan swayed back just enough for the foot to pass inches from his face, then stepped inside the elf's guard. His fist drove into the elf's ribs—once, twice, three times in rapid succession, each impact making precise contact with vulnerable points.

The elf folded, gasping, trying to retreat but finding Jorghan following relentlessly.

A sweep kick took the elf's legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and Jorghan's boot pressed against his chest, pinning him there with casual ease despite the significant size difference.

The last youth standing—who'd made the comment about ladders and step stools—was backing away, his earlier confidence completely evaporated.

"Wait, we didn't mean—"

"Didn't mean what?" Jorghan asked, his voice still quiet, still controlled. He stepped off the downed elf and moved toward the last one with deliberate, unhurried steps.

"Didn't mean to insult her? Didn't mean to disrespect someone who's done nothing to deserve your mockery? Or didn't mean to get caught?"

"Please, I—"

Jorghan's fist struck faster than the elf could finish pleading. Not as hard as the others, this one at least had shown some survival instinct, but it was sufficient to send him sprawling backward into a wall.

The entire confrontation had lasted perhaps twenty seconds.

Six Amasurata youths, each eight to eight and a half feet tall, each trained from childhood in combat, were laid out by a six-foot human using nothing but technique, a kind of cold efficiency that came from real combat experience rather than training ground practice.

A crowd had gathered, elves emerging from buildings and side streets to see what the commotion was about. They stared in shocked silence at the scene, the human standing calmly among six downed elves who were groaning and trying to recover.

Kel'mars pushed himself up on shaky arms, blood still streaming from his ruined nose, his perfect features now marred by swelling and the beginning of spectacular bruises.

"You... you'll pay for this. When the guards—"

"The guards aren't coming."

The new voice cut through the tension, feminine and carrying an authority that even the groaning youths froze at.

The crowd parted immediately, respectfully, as a figure approached.

She was magnificent.

That was the first word that came to Jorghan's mind, and it felt inadequate to describe what he was seeing.

Yaudheyi Amasurata stood perhaps nine feet tall, her height at the higher end even for her clan, with a presence that seemed to fill the street despite her slender build. Her skin was a warm bronze that seemed to glow with inner light, perfectly smooth and unmarred. Her hair fell in thick waves of deep black to her waist, framing a face that was beautiful not in the delicate way of conventional prettiness but in the strong way of classical sculpture, high cheekbones, strong jaw, and eyes of brilliant amber that carried intelligence sharp enough to cut.

She wore a gown that was somehow both elegant and practical—deep crimson fabric that hugged her athletic frame, with a crescent cut at the bodice that revealed sculptured collarbones and the upper curves of her chest without being immodest. The gown had a high slit from hip to ankle, revealing long legs and suggesting freedom of movement despite the formal appearance.

The most striking element was the embroidery—a golden lioness worked into the fabric across the bodice and down one side, the beast depicted mid-roar, fierce and regal in equal measure. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, each thread catching the fading light, making the lioness seem almost alive.

But it was her bearing that truly commanded attention. She moved with the confidence of someone who'd never questioned her place in the world, who'd been raised knowing she was exceptional and had spent her life proving that confidence justified. Her posture was perfect—straight-backed but not rigid, relaxed but ready to move at any moment.

She was a warrior and diplomat, scholar and leader, beauty and power woven together so seamlessly it was impossible to say where one ended and another began.

She looked like a goddess who'd decided to walk among mortals for her own amusement.

Yaudheyi stopped a few feet from the scene, her amber eyes taking in the six downed youths and Jorghan standing in their midst. A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth, not cruel, but appreciative, like someone watching a performance that exceeded expectations.

"Your grace," Kel'mars managed to say through his broken nose, "this human attacked us without—"

"Without provocation?" Yaudheyi's eyebrow arched elegantly.

"I've been watching from that balcony—" she gestured to a second-story overlook, "—since this confrontation began. I heard every insult you threw at Sigora. Every crude comment about her appearance, her choices, her companion."

Her expression hardened fractionally. "I also watched as she attempted to defuse the situation peacefully, multiple times, showing restraint that you interpreted as weakness. And I saw you—" her gaze fixed on Kel'mars with intensity that made him flinch, "—put your hands on Jorghan Sol'vur after he attempted to leave."

She turned to address the crowd that had gathered, her voice carrying easily.

"For those wondering why the guards aren't intervening, I ordered them not to. I wanted to see how this would resolve itself."

Her smile became slightly wider.

"And I must say, the resolution was educational."

She moved closer to Jorghan, her height forcing her to look down at him, but somehow it didn't feel condescending, more like a warrior acknowledging another warrior regardless of physical proportions.

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