28 April 2012
It was early in the morning, with a mist still in the air. One man had a dark demeanour, the other man was fair.
They had come to settle a quarrel, they had come to set things straight. Each man to stand, with pistol in hand, to seal the others fate.
Ten paces then where taken, on turning powder sparked. Neither bullet found it's target, neither man had found his mark.
Both the men where stubborn, neither waning in their pride. Where flintlocks failed to judge their duel, the blade would now decide.
An artful clash of rapiers, their swordsmanship advanced. On a mist enshrouded morning, the Duelists now danced.
One man went to parry, but missed the cruel reposte. The duel had been decided, the fairer man had lost.
He walked away the victor, her honour now reclaimed. Returning to the Lady that the fairer man had shamed.
The Duelists • Opuss № I