If I had to fence against a ruffle-shirt Duke on the field of honor, I would simply wield as many rapiers as my turkey-sized mitts could wrap themselves around and beat him to death with a sword bundle rather than faff about with poking, riposting, parrying, thrusting, advancing, keeping feet aligned, bleeding from an attractive cut on the cheek, realizing that a sword fight is a conversation and it can be flirtatious, etc. etc.

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Ragged Feathers

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