The sword was fast, as was the woman holding it.
The best sword-fighter in the country was my opposition and she was a woman.
If I lost it would be with complete humiliation.
Not that I would necessarily be alive.
I ducked as a particularly deadly looking blow whistled over my head.
I made a cut at her leg, completing it with a spin as I came to stand straight.
She had dodged it easily and she delivered another sweep that knocked the sword from my hand.
I stared at her in disbelief and then pleadingly as I saw the evil glint in her eye.
Humiliation, then a funeral.
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