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Knights of Tezoth

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Count Orlov

"Of hatred for the despicable vegetable now must I compose a sonnet..." — thought Ambrose, but despite his hatred of pumpkins and the offense of his horse being struck yet again, he gallantly helped his opponent to her feet.
— What a desperate spirit is hidden in such a fragile body! Behind a comely face, a most dangerous talent.

- It seems I am running dry, my lord... - The loser clutched her side, from which, despite the doctors' efforts, something liquid was seeping. - ... Oh, it's just melted chocolate. What a loss.

-- O Aconian light... -- holding an extremely high opinion of the power of his thrusts and an extremely low one of the chocolate lady's constitution, Ambrose was for a moment even taken in by this joke. -- It seems I remain in your debt, for with my fierce thrust I deprived you of your treat and damaged your elegant attire at the same time.

E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers