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Hefting the saber's toothy blade, an old man's eyes narrow. His cane rests against his leg, and he lazily draws it back into its sheath. It waits to be drawn forth once more should the fight last too long, but for now he spends his time watching me face my opponent. "You'll find this sword to your liking," he says as if speaking for all of us behind him across the expanse of time itself. "I think you'll like it." We grin toothless grins at each other across the thrusting swords' length as we duke it out in equal measure. I'm an old man now, but I still can swing a blade if I have to. My opponent is no match for me, then. He has spirit though, that's for sure. He's fast enough to keep up with me. But he always loses the battle of strength between us. Eventually he tires out, and I can see it in his eyes. That last ounce of strength that was holding him up finally fades away when his sword meets my blade across the bridge of our fingers and we giggle at each other like grandmothers when we're done playing with our grandchildren. I let the sword drop to the ground and turn away from him. The tendons in my hand sting slightly from the clashing of metals, but it isn't anything that I can't live with. I've been doing this for a while now, and I'm used to such little discomforts. The old man waves me over, and we meet in the center of the sparring ring. It's only a few steps between us at most, but you can barely see me in all of this ancient splendor. He wears his hair in long white braids with beads and rings and other decorative trinkets hanging off of them like a child would when playing dress-up. His clothes are wrapped in cloth that is cut into scalloped patterns, and he wears a giant collar of white fur that makes him look like some mythical beast. He's like an ancient warrior-priest with enough rings around his neck to choke even the most powerful bull. His hair, so long it almost reaches the ground, is tied back in a loose ponytail. I wear my hair short now, though I always did before with the military. It's the same with most people my age now. We don't have time to waste on things that used to matter so much once upon a time, but maybe it's not all bad that things have changed so much since then. I wear faded blue jeans and simple black shoes. The only thing that's changed with my clothing is that I'm wearing some kind of jacket without any sleeves that some old lady gave me on the street. Despite the fact she was wearing almost no clothes, she was still cold in today's weather, so I can't really complain about her generosity. "You've come a long way," the old man says, holding his cane up in front of him like some sort of scepter or holy relic. "I do my best." "I would expect nothing less from the Dragon. Your power is strong within you. cfa1e77820
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