"So," says the Dragonslayer, drawing his jagged, wicked sword from a black sheath. "Sir...Chance, is it? It seems the famous commander has finally graced me with his time."

You try your best to ignore his banter: you need to focus on your next move--

"I doubt I could ever beat someone as strong and merciless and fierce as you, Oh Chance," he says, mock bowing while twirling his sword expertly behind his back. You get lost in the hypnotic, lethal movement of his blade tricks. You copy his stunt effortlessly in an attempt to intimidate him until your blade scuffs the ground and stops. You look at it, realize your mistake, and look back at him. Surprisingly, you aren't even dead yet, but you must have looked like a flustered fool.

"Oh, never mind then," he feigned thoughtfulness, rising from his bow. "I must have got it the other way around, haven't I?"

Enraged, you glare at him. If you make the wrong move here, you would surely die.