A Clash of Swords; A Clash of Words

"Well, you're obviously a good fighter if you survived this," he says. "Show me how well you handle a sword." He retrieves a sword from one of the bodies lying in the field and hands it to you. He then pulls his own sword from the mud. "Come on. A duel."

Before you can respond he swings his sword at you. Is he mad? Instinctively, you block his attack with your own sword. He swings his sword at you again, and you block again. You then swing your sword at him; he blocks and returns the attack; you barely block it.

So the exchange goes, for several minutes. You're evenly matched, and neither you nor he betters the other. Then suddenly the Prince backs up and throws his arms out.

"Okay," he laughs, "you have me. You can stop now."

You glare at him, then, panting, throw down your sword.

"Not bad for one so young," he says, "and a girl at that. Of course, I never wanted to hurt you, so I went easy on you. Still, you put up a good fight."

You bristle at his condescending attitude. "Look," you say, barely containing you anger, "what's the point of this? What's your plan?"

"I was getting there," the Prince says. "You see, the only way to fight force is with force, so the only way to avenge the deaths of these women is to take the livese of those who killed them."

"There's no way we can stand up to an army!" you protest.

"I know that," he says, somewhat annoyed, "so I say we take a somewhat different approach."

"And that is...?" you ask.

He responds,

1. "I know a man who can help us..."

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