"Damn it, I refuse to accept this!"
"Are you still going on about that?"
Cavalry Commander Pensler must not have had much else to do, because he came around once a day to whine at me. I'd never imagined he'd cling to me this persistently, dragging up his tournament loss every single time.
After being unhorsed by my surprise attack in the first round of the third match, the cavalry commander had fallen for the exact same tactic again. He knew what had taken him down, and he'd still walked right into it. Michael had predicted as much—they were men who only knew how to charge, so they'd fall for the same trick twice. Even the Viscount had agreed.
Surely not, even so.
But it actually happened.
The cavalry commander had charged in exactly the same way as the first round, and I'd ambushed him again. The only difference was that, expecting the ambush this time, he didn't go down as easily.
