Aaron's strength was failing.
Each strike from Solomon's rapier came faster, harder and more precise. Aaron blocked desperately, his arms shaking with exhaustion, his side screaming in agony where Solomon's blade had cut deep.
Blood soaked through his shirt, running hot down his skin, and his vision was starting to blur at the edges.
He was going to die. That realization settled over him with cold certainty.
Solomon was simply too skilled, too fast, too experienced, and Aaron was wounded, tired, fighting a battle he couldn't possibly win.
Solomon seemed to sense it too. His lips curved into a satisfied smile as he pressed his attack, driving Aaron back step by step, his rapier moving in a deadly dance that he could barely follow anymore.
"You fought well, Your Majesty," Solomon sai
