The previous King of Swords was a giant of a man, both faster and stronger than I. Yet I needed only look up at my Lady Merveil to know that I had no choice. I could not die this day.
I made him shiver under every parry, striking with all my might, so that my arms felt they might snap with every impact. All the while, I studied his face, watching for that moment when he began to doubt. It took an hour, but finally it was there.
Burning with pain, empty with exhaustion, I stepped inside his faltering swing and I slit the giant's throat.
I did not take my victory bow. I knelt in the sand, looked to Merveil, and cried out for my Lady's hand in marriage.
From that day forth, I wore the Crown of Swords upon my head and a ring of eternal love upon my finger.
Laureate Thaumaturge to the Eternal Empire The Father of Dreams