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 | | "Bren, my friend," he called, a sweating smile on his face, "how are you this morning?" "I am well, Lansing," Bren replied, taking a step back from his inferior opponent. |
 | | Bren parried a thrust to push the duke's blade aside then lifted his sword double-handed; Clifton stepped aside quickly, turning as his opponent's balance shifted, but his opportunity was thwarted. |
 | | Then, whispered, almost inaudible, Bren's words: "I yield." Lansing relaxed where he stood and watched Bren reach for the duke's sword, twisting the blade until its flat surface was parallel to the ground. |
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