The way I see it, everyone is addicted to something; alcohol, tobacco, opium, money... Personally, I am addicted to killing people. In my youth I was addicted to something far stronger.
That was why I found myself, once again, pacing back and fourth in the early morning mist, in some glade of a wood on the outskirts of the city. Waiting to fight. I never can sleep much the night before a Duel , and I hate being late, so I am often waiting for my opponent. I tried to remember advice from my former fencing master. Only two things came to mind;
'There are only two things worth fighting for,' he once said, 'Love of Country and Love of Women. And you will only ever be rewarded for one of those...'
'It's all in the wrist,' he also said. 'Just like my love life.'
Not very helpful. He was a strange, but brilliant man. I think that service in Wellington's army had bothered him more than he showed, and extensive travel in the East had changed him more than he let on.
Nevermind.
The thump of horses hooves on icy earth and rotten wood announced the arrival of my opponent. Soon, one of us would die.
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