The afternoon sun hangs high in the air, making everything bright, and so very hot. You feel sweat spill from your forehead, dripping down your face and spilling on to your chainmail and plate. You'd give anything for a respite, a break from the dredges of war.
Yet your foe across the field would be devoid of a chance to die.
The pair of you have been keeping equal pace all day, cutting down each of the other's forces until you both stand face to face, separated by a small swatch of bloodied mud and grass. It was if the almighty had ordained this moment, two knights facing one another, death waiting close by.
"Good Ser Knight, I'd ask the honor of seeing the face of he who I will soon match steel with. Will you remove your helmet?"
Oh, so he's desperate to see the face of his doom!
You slowly undo a few straps, lifting the helm from your wet head. The sun and air kisses your face and neck, hair bouncing free. Your opponent nearly staggers back, you can hear a small gasp of surprise.
"What's the matter, Ser Knight, were you not expecting the likes of me?"
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving your figure. "Nay, I was unaware that the warrior responsible for such violence was a woman..."
He blinks nearly taken back with befuddlement. Oh how you love this part.
"Forgive me, your fair appearance fooled me in the sunlight, my lord."
The anticipation is almost too much to bear, your grip on the sword tightening, your breath picking up. Oh god, the anointed battle is close at hand and you want it so very bad. All he has to do is...
"Then how do I address you? What manner of name should I give you?"
Your helmet comes down, sword raised high. Both feet launch off the ground as you both rush at each other. A single answer escapes your breath, filling the air before the clash of steel and flesh.
"You can call me your doom!"
