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Today fate was more kind to animal lovers than to animal abusers...
Milady Alsira Vecchi d'Arcrede wins.
Dabbing the blood that welled from her eyes with a handkerchief, Alsira politely thanked the archer: — Bravo, milord, you left me not a single opening for maneuver. All that remained was to rely on fortune's fleeting current.
Ambrose loses all his morale and ceases the battle.
Milady Alsira Vecchi d'Arcrede wins with yet another zero on the balance sheet called "AP"...
This turned out to be the first battle that, by some miracle, went almost "by the book": first, drawing the heavily armored pet out of harm's way, and then its rider, without inflicting the slightest wound on either. — Not every Knight has the strength to bring down the Moon with a single backhanded swing! Pray forgive me, worthy milord, that I feared to gift you an exchange of heavy blows in honest combat: a fragile maiden has no chance to stand against a mighty knight's hand. Thus, by deft trickery, the most modest of chances for victory presented itself.
Forgetting courtesy, Ambrose lay on the ground, his gaze turned to the sky. It seemed to him that he was an old and crooked tree that remembers much but can do nothing, and only a soft breeze sways it, and it rustles in response, and leaves fall from its branches, turning into words. Spring will pass, the faithless words Will remain in the soul, like bitter poison in a wound Life's millstones will grind us down And gnaw at us until our final breath
Regrets of the past: here I stayed silent When I should have spoken, there I missed my mark... Like a heavy stone on the chest they rob us of sleep The ghosts of mistakes — such is memory's price
The shadow of irreversibility lies upon the heart Life grants no second chance, accepts no bribes To another the blade will return after the clash Another will I meet the coming day
And life will whirl by in a lunar dance Leaving only regrets of the past And I will remember this day Until the final eclipse arrives
-- I must... Simply rise, -- having restored a single point of morale out of one hundred seventy, Ambrose rose and bowed. -- It was not easy, and you may rightly take pride in your victory; anyone can shatter a body, but only a great soul can wound another's heart.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza, e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
Граф Орлов
