A Fight With Roderick
GERALD'S POV
Roderick's eyes narrowed, his face a mask of determination, as he moved with a skill that belied his memory loss, a skill honed by instinct, by training, by a warrior's heart, his sword a gleaming extension of his body, as he faced me, his gaze filled with a mixture of respect and challenge.
We circled each other, our movements lithe, predatory, as we each studied the other, our eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, as our blades glinted in the light, a promise of steel and blood, of power and skill.
I watched Roderick, my gaze never leaving him, my movements fluid, and controlled, as I waited for the perfect moment to strike, to test the limits of his warrior's abilities.
Roderick's voice filled the hall, a roar of challenge, of adrenaline, as he lunged forward, his blade a blur of steel, his muscles coiled, powerful, as he attacked me with the ferocity of a warrior born.
