“STOP!” A voice rung out and Handy dropped his hammer in surprise. He turned his head about for the source of the voice. The gathered nobility had various expressions on their faces, as far as he could tell anyway, as expressive as they were, it was surprisingly hard to read griffon faces at times. He eventually turned and faced the king. He had his mace raised. The look on Geoffrey’s face was one of barely contained fury anyone could recognise. The king spoke again. “We believe we have seen enough. Dame Shortbeak, are you fit to stand?” He asked. Handy turned, the griffon’s wing  twitched but she said nothing, still lying unmoving on the floor. “Do you yield?”