[Salone]

"I do not see the point, Charlamagne. Why have them fight if they are not going to kill each other?"

Ylnjor took the drawn out time to pronounce every word as he spoke. He had done a lot of speaking today. It seemed as if speaking was all he really had to do these days.

He sat slouched back in his seat near Charlemagne, his head supported to the side by two fingers and thumb. He could feel himself becoming fatter and dough-like by the minute. The so called 'jousting' raised all the excitement of crop farming for him. He didn't give Charlemagne a chance to defend the sport or even answer his question before he continued on in his slow drawl.

"They line up. They have two sharp sticks and run at each other. What is the outcome? A man is hit with a large stick. Or if that does not happen, the opposite man is hit with an equal stick. Gripping sport, you have here, Charlemagne."