A young squire loosened the binding on Motto’s chest plate and he thanked the boy.  With the heavy armor off, he felt leagues better and wiped his face with his tunic.  It would be pleasant indeed to step into the shade and take a rest.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Well Sir, you almost made it. You gave my brother a good challenge and the crowd loved it. I am so happy to meet you."</span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="https://i.imgur.com/PHTj7rh.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">“..and I .. you.. my Lady.” </span>Motto shifted his stance awkwardly and looked at the woman.  Her poise was like that of a princess and her features reminded him of the Fey he sometimes encountered in the wood.  She spoke of healing and he remembered his own prolonged endurance during the match.  A pang of guilt was felt in his chest and the knight’s poise shifted ever so slightly.  He looked at the handkerchief as if were a delicate treasure and up again.<span style="color: #00FF40"> “My Lady, this is most kind..you have my thanks.”  </span>Nodding to his friend, Motto gestured to where he noticed a few noblewomen stood smiling by a table laden with fine things.<br/><br/>Motto’s heart was heavy.  With each passing second it became increasingly clear that his victory was a lie.  The meats and wine that awaited him would be savory indeed but was he truly deserving of them?  Instead of feasting, the troubled knight continued to trudge his weary legs towards the creek.