King Arthur was a year younger than Tristan, but when it came to martial prowess, he was a whole level above him.
Arthur had easily countered Tristan's first attack, and a haze of gloom settled over Tristan's heart.
Could he really lose twice in just two days?
His teeth clenched, Tristan swung his sword in defiance.
The blades clashed with a crisp ring.
Arthur was stronger than Tristan. He spotted an opening as Tristan drew back his sword and forced his way through Tristan's defense, striking the side of his leg with the flat of his steel sword.
"Ugh!" Tristan cried out in pain, then forced himself to endure it and put some distance between himself and Arthur.
Arthur pressed his advantage, holding his sword in his right hand while grabbing Tristan's wrist with his left and squeezing hard.
"Mm!" A strange sound escaped Tristan's lips. His right hand went limp, and his newly replaced sword clattered to the ground.
The steel blade stopped just short of Tristan's neck. He looked up and saw Arthur's confident smile.
"The match is over, Prince of Mark."
Still on one knee, Tristan stared blankly at Arthur. After a long moment, he finally said, "How sad..."
He slumped helplessly to the ground. "What I've truly always been proud of is my archery... But since I've lost, please call me Sir Tristan from now on... Your Majesty."
Arthur reached out and pulled Tristan to his feet. "Remember to attend tomorrow's council, Sir Knight."
Tristan silently nodded and stepped aside.
Arthur returned his steel sword to the weapon rack, then turned to Gawain, who stood nervously to one side. He said earnestly, "Gawain, I accept your oath of fealty as well. But you still have to improve your skills. I hope you learned something from my