Knights of Tezoth

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

- I fear I am spent, my lord... - The loser clutched her side, from which, despite the doctors' efforts, something liquid was seeping. - ... Oh, it's just the chocolate melting. What a loss.

-- O Aconian light... -- holding an exceedingly high opinion of the power of his thrusts and an exceedingly low one of the chocolate lady's constitution, Ambrose for a moment even fell for this jest. -- It seems I stand in your debt, for with my fierce lunge I deprived you of your treat and at the same time damaged your elegant attire.