It became clear very quickly that Sir Ennis was not used to fighting someone as quick as Isaac; he was slow and most of his strokes were very obvious. He tired quickly, as well, ripping his helmet off barely five minutes into the battle, which Isaac easily took advantage of. Still, they hammered at each other for what seemed a very long time to Summer, great clashes of metal from block or strike.
But slowly, Cora began to lean forward in anticipation, and Derek leaned back, looking satisfied, and even Summer could see that Sir Ennis was slowing even more, struggling to lift his sword high, and Isaac pressed his advantage, forcing his opponent into greater and greater exhaustion. Both were bleeding from various cuts now, though none were immediately life-threatening. And then something — Summer couldn’t see through Isaac’s body, but Sir Ennis was down on one knee awkwardly — then he lowered his sword, one hand from the hilt, and it clattered to the ground, and Isaac’s sword was at his throat.
He allowed a small slither of hope to flicker inside of him, considering now the possibilities of him winning and surviving this conflict. But it was too early in the fight to make such assumptions and for now, all his focus went on ducking out of the way and retaliating with a shout. His teeth were clenched as his eyes glittered and he’d never felt more alive, everything else around him a blur except his opponent and his weapon.
And then, it happened. Without even realising he’d done so, he’d struck Sir Ennis and the other male dropped to the ground like a fallen tree, the tip of Isaac’s sword pressing into his jugular. He was panting harshly, chest heaving violently under his armour, curls matted to his forehead with sweat, eyes wide and wild.
“Do you surrender?”
Sir Ennis wiped blood from his eyebrow and nodded, rasping, “I yield,” despite Sir Kit’s enraged shouting. Lord Argent’s face was set with fury, but he didn’t speak. Summer slowly relaxed back into her seat, letting go of Cora’s hand to press them both over her mouth. Now that it was over, the tension collapsed in on her, and she felt on the verge of tears.
The Prince stood up and beckoned to the two champions, and to Lord Argent. “Are you satisfied?” he asked.