He put up his defense, ready to parry the second an attack came. He could just see the attack through the smoke. A knife, held by a slightly short stickwoman, aimed at his head. A twist of his right sword caused a clash of metal, the left sword sent the knife skywards. The thief charged him, hoping to gain the element of surprise. Nathaniel dodged to the side, just escaping a flying kick. She rolled out of the attack, pulling daggers from her belt. She turned, blocking a slash.
A series of clashes, as swords met daggers and weapons met armour. This thief was no newcomer to the field of battle. But every foe has their weakness. His Father had taught him so. He broke the pattern, feinting and stabbing for the woman's stomach. She stopped suddenly, holding her hands to the wound. The hilt of one sword delivered a crushing blow to the thief's temple, leaving her incapacitated, and a cleaving swipe relieved the head of the body.
His training HAD paid off it seemed.