A duel between knights. That's what Lady Ashlynn had called it, and that's what everyone in the room believed they were watching. The useless, cowardly soldiers had laid down their weapons. The Inquisitor had lowered his flames. The knights and sailors of Blackwell were standing at ease, watching the fight play out with gazes that ranged from disturbed to determined, but not one of them held any doubt that Sir Ollie would win this fight.
Everyone thought he was already defeated. No one thought that Sir Franc had enough left in him to pose a threat to anyone. Not after Sir Ollie had carved into his armor like a butcher with a spring lamb. In fact, a few of the Blackwell knights were even looking at him with pity in their eyes, which only made things worse.
But Franc hadn't survived the political snake pits of the Lothian Court by being predictable.
