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The confrontation is brutal, and for a mont, only you and your opponent exist, locked in a deadly dance. Finally, you land a well-aid blow to your opponent's face. Your weapon splits the tal mask covering their face in two, sending the helt flying.

A beardless, undeniably feminine face appears, scrutinizing you angrily. A braided lock of her red hair falls to the ground, soaked with the blood flowing from the wound you inflicted: stretching from her cheek to her forehead and across her eye, you narrowly missed blinding her. It will likely leave a scar… if she lives long enough for that.

Letting out a howl of rage, she lunges at you, determined to make you pay for her humiliation. You barely manage to parry her weapon, but she uses her head to strike you in the face. Dazed, you are caught by a direct blow to the face that knocks you completely off balance. You fall to the ground as your weapon is snatched from your hands.

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You glare furiously at the dwarf woman who is threatening your face with her axe. Wiping the blood from her face with her other hand, she returns your gaze.

“I'd heard the Queen's Guard employed a lot of won,” you say. “Apparently, the rumor is true. I imagine you’re also responsible for poisoning my n?”

She smiles at you and explains:

“A harmless little poison. What a pity you didn't succumb to it like your comrades: you'd be much more at ease on your sickbed than suffering this humiliating defeat at the hands of a woman.”

“I don't see what's so humiliating about that,” you reply, “it was an honorable fight between knights. The only humiliation I feel is the failure of my mission. Go on: finish off and let's not speak of it again.”

She nods, then, as is customary, gives you her na:

“I am Moïla of Threemountains, knight of the Queen.”

You reply with your own na according to the established formula and close your eyes, awaiting the fatal blow.

Roll 1d6. On a roll of 1 to 4, she mysteriously decides to spare you (consider that you regain 3 Endurance points), and you note the code F3, increase the Ti by 1, and go to the morized number. On a roll of 5 to 6, don't ask the question: you are dead.

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