[Salone]

Ylnjor never had a chance.

His thrust had been easily deflected. Her aim felt as if it had been guided by the hands of a higher power, striking true. He was carried off of his horse, hanging nearly comically in air before the fall to the ground knocked air from his lungs.

His world was pain. His head swam as stars exploded in his eyes. The agony wracking his body was shattering. The roar and laughter of the crowd overwhelmed his hearing. His head rolled back and forth, scrambling to make sense of where he was.

Had he really been defeated? Had he been carried off so easily by a woman? For all his boasting, had he been defeated in such an ungracious way?

He continued to lie there, slowly attempting to regain feeling in his body that wasn't fire and ache. All the while, the laughter of the crowd at his buffoonery kept him company.