The ringing song of steel on steel echo off the walls. It was good to be fighting again, he thought. The uncomplicated duel, where only two people are ever involved without the distraction of politics or religion, fills him with contentment.
A flickering flash, followed quickly by a parry and thrust. The rush of blood through his veins remind him of years before that have long passed. Too few years ahead; too many behind. He pushes that thought from his mind, concentrating on the sword before him, dancing in the flickering light. No sense fighting two foes today, the enemy without, and the enemy within.
A parry to the left and a brief thrust forward and it is over. With lights fading from his eyes, the swordsman drops the blade he carried for a lifetime in defense of his king. With waning strength, he reaches for his sword with nerveless fingers; his mind keenly aware of his impending death.
His name was never known nor his exploits immortalized in song or script, yet without him a country may have fallen. Now his tale has been given voice; his story forever heard.
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