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It is doubtful this will end peacefully.
Faldron untied the cord of his cloak and let it to the ground. He drew both swords, holding the short sword in a reverse grip, blade pointing down like a dagger. Demeas untied his cloak and let it fall, but he did not draw a weapon.
“This doesn’t need to happen, Faldron,” continued Demeas in a soft, but firm tone.
Many times he had sparred with Faldron over the years. Faldron had been Demeas’ student after he arrived at The Temple as a young teenager and responsible for his weapons training. On occasion Faldron had bested him, but sparring was not a matter of life and death. This was the last thing Demeas wanted. All personal feelings had to be set aside should this fight become unavoidable.
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