Never mind what it is, for now. I look. This is how it was. Here, the impact, where the wood is scuffed by his heel as he twists at the first contact; there, the exit, where his teeth and skull dimpled the wood. All four blades at once—I say "blade" but that is not quite right—at great speed: an instant death, but not perfectly symmetrical, so his body was given rotation. He was fully clothed, and yet the cloth is untouched. The blade is a ghost, as well, to cut flesh but save linen. I wonder what god would invest time and energy in making a weapon to preserve an enemy’s wardrobe—but perhaps it passes likewise through armour. That would be a terrible thing to face for a man used to doing battle in a caul of steel.