In the quiet of the dawn, where mist meets the green

In the quiet of the dawn, where mist meets the green, Two silhouettes emerge, both calm and serene. With steel in their grip, eyes locked in a stare, They commence a dance deadly fair. **Engage in the guard, blades poised to defend,** A feint to the left, the duelists contend. **Advance and retreat, a rhythm they weave,** Testing defenses, in what they believe. **Lunge with precision, aim to disarm,** The clashing of swords, a cause for alarm. **Parry and riposte, a swift exchange,** Metallic voices in a conversation strange. **Bind the blades, in a twist of the wrist,** Seeking control, through the foggy mist. **Disengage and strike, a move so slick,** The air cuts sharply, the tension thick. **Footwork precise, they circle and sway,** Each step measured, in this lethal ballet. **A cut to the flank, quickly deflected,** Intentions masked, and attacks redirected. **The final thrust, a fate to decide,** One stands victorious, as the other subsides. In the silence that follows, respect is paid, To the skill and the courage, in the duel displayed.