With the customary spin of his wrist, Arthur brings his sword level with his chin. All the sounds-the clang of other swords meeting nearby, heavy grunts of exertion and shouts of support-fade as his concentration centers on his opponent.

With a powerful, two-handed strike, the first blow is met; steel against steel. The strength of the blow vibrates up his arms to his shoulders. The battle has begun.

The singing of the swords, as they clash, echoes in his ears. Repeated thrusts and strikes are separated by agile pivots and parries. As the hot sun beats down, sweat is dripping from his fringe, leaving a salty taste on his lips.

He begins to tire, with his sword growing heavy, yet still performing as an extension of his arms. He turns and twists, attacking and defending. As King of Camelot, his duty directs him to lead his people. His destiny calls him to dance to the song of steel ringing forth.