I abhore these little duels
These sparing matches where i have held your life in my hands.
an you get to walk away with a smug grin and some lesson I never offered.

My blade has never dulled
it is still as sharp as the day I began hammered it
In the days of my youth.
In the days of fire
In the seasons of silence.

For years I have honed it,
Through trial,
Through grief,
Through betrayal,
Through loss.

Few have seen me draw it.
Even less so have lived after.

But you,
You have earned that right.

If the King permits.
If his judgment out rules my mercy.

Then know this.
On that fated day.
I will not miss.
I cannot and will not save you.
Many will fall.
An you will just be another among the slain.